#i am always here to plot with all three of them though

[iluvsanrio444]

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chapter two plot ⋆˚࿔ : A continuation from chapter one. Either Romance had heard over Huntrix and Y/Ns discussion on their sealing theory or hasnt, staying in the closet as Y/N wanted him to.

word count -> 4,051

#angst #slight-fluff #slightly comedic #movies-plot #context based

ʚɞ A/N: Thank you so much for the amount of support in the first chapter, I’m so glad you lovelies enjoyed it! I really appreciate all the support from you guys, TYY :3! I suggest reading this along with the songs i’ve put on here as it’ll bring more of an immersive experience, ENJOOYY!!

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Ever since that moment, the tension rises in your stomach the more it is prolonged. You knew that the ajar door to your bedroom meant one thing — Romance. The pinky was quite literally hiding in your closet. Rumi, Mira and Zoey were goofing off, impersonating each Saja Boys predicting how they’ll react to this theory they brought up. You openly wanted to just sit down and watch the others go to their shenanigans just to forget — even just for a second.

How much did he hear?

What’s this bastard thinking?

Am I safe?

Should I just tell them?

Fuck, many things spiralled into your head which just aggravated you even more. Taking a deep breath and trying to ease your tensed-up muscles now. A little jump was earned by Mira when she stood up like a bolt to impersonate Romance about his predicted reaction. You felt your intestines churning, twisting, and coiling, burning up with how much you thought Romance heard. You clenched your fists on your lap, trying to cloud out the panic and gut-wrenching tension, but you couldn’t swallow or breathe.

“Ugh!” Mira dramatically placed a hand on her forehead whilst both her legs crossed together. “No… we can't trust these girls... I—I love being a demon, Jinu! I don't want my hair to go!” Then her arms went to hug herself, being all in a swirling motion, — is she high or something? “I wanna stay as a demon; no, no, no! I refuse with all my..fibre.” The last word being more girly than ever, Mira flipped her imaginary hair, randomly locking in to shoot up heart fingers the entire time. Sure, it was playful banter between each other; it earned Zoey and Rumi to start dying, trying to catch each other to not fall from the couch… It even made me waver a small smile. Even though you were enjoying your time with the trio, you hoped they did wrap things up. The growing sensation of chillis being shoved into your throat made you struggle to breathe at a normal pace. Continuous side glances to your bedroom door that was still opened ajar. It got to your head that you even gave up waiting, knowing these three can go all night if they wanted to.

A clap whilst standing up, now looking at the three ladies, “I’m feeling really tired now guys.. I’ll—“ Cutting you off, Mira put her hand up and just did a swaying motion, “Yeah, yeah, no worries, girl. Go to bed.”

“Mhm go bed, Y/N; you must be tired!” Zoey followed along with Mira.

The smile you once had on, half-heartedly with the three, weakened. Your lips faltered almost to a frown, but the corner of your lips refused to fall, keeping up a small grin. Not to something truer, something more bitter.

No one was looking up.

Not even Rumi.

So quick to dismiss her with no worries. You shot a glance at Rumi, searching for anything; a flicker of acknowledgement, a sliver of care, maybe even a shadow of guilt? To no surprise, her eyes were fixed on her members, lit with loyalty you used to believe you were part of, your… own sister.

Yeah.

Maybe this was the real reason why you forced yourself to accept your helper role. The one who waited in the wings. Always watching the performance that you were supposed to be on.  You used to think you were part of Huntrix, part of the stage... part of them — but lately, it felt more like you were just the silence between their lines.

“Goodnight..?” You vocalised yourself more, heavier than a scream. No one answered. Greeted by their backs as your ‘goodnight’. You stood still, caught in that hollow pause before solitude fully settles in. In that moment a thought gnawed its way through your chest: do you truly deserve this just because you weren't...hunter enough—or to put it simply,

not enough at all.

Returning your back to theirs, too oblivious to know that Rumi had looked twice at you. Watching you. God knew what she was acting oblivious to.

Your room was quiet; a click sound echoed through the cracks in the walls. Too still for how your heart was beating, losing its pace. All the forced composure you had upheld dropped, the slumped shoulders following along before you turned your head. You hoped for whatever God there was; yet again, he was still in the closet. Just as you left him as. Your bedroom was only lit in certain corners, giving a warm ambience that would soon feel like eyes on the both. Taking a step closer whilst observing your room, your eyes locked on a crumpled origami heart. Sardonic, right? But the smile tugging your lips quickly faltered as your eyes began to adjust to the dimly lit bedroom. He was out of the closet. Romance stood there leaning against the glass-panel door with his arms crossed, a shadow draping across his softened features. You could've sworn you stood there frozen just admiring this man— demons.. face. Something caught your attention, though; his usual playful bitchboy glint was nowhere to be found. His normal demeanour fell off the more you gazed at him. His lips were no more than a firm line, evident to his now downturned eyes, almost like it was waiting for a heartbreak, waiting for that cue. You weren’t stupid; you knew why he was like this, doting back to the opened ajar door the entire time.

“You heard us… didn’t you?” You cut to the chase, your tone monotone and flat, cracking halfwaythrough. Just a moment ago you sounded at peace, but now..? Just because— just because of this demon bullshit?

He didn't answer right away, only answering with his body language. A slight quick nod. His eyes wavering to the floor, then to you, then back to the floor. Look at me damn it, you thought.

Similar to him, your gaze too faded away from him; a growing distance between each other only tensed in that same moment. Turning your body away as your hands made their way to squeeze your arms, holding yourself together if you just clutched enough. “How much, Romance?”

“All of it.”

“Why didn’t you just staye—.”

“How was I supposed to know that would be the topic, Y/N?”

“If only you just listened.. just once—.”

“Y/N.”

Desperately you turned your body to him again, eyes now widened, eyebrows upturned slightly. You wanted to say more through but Romance cut you off before you could, gritting your teeth until a deepened, hollow sigh came out.

“The plan makes sense, you know?” His voice wasn't teasing nor liveful. It was flat and hollow, like he himself had no person of his own.

He shifted from the glass-panel door, taking slow footsteps just to be closer to you. As if he was yearning for a moment of comfort, seeing your face was enough. Though his jaw clenched when he saw it this time, it was evident this was rotting you away; the facade moments ago was just relief, living in that moment with no worries, killing yourself inside. Instantly he changed his approach to one motion, like going up to a wounded animal.

“Seal the Honmoon. Starve Gwi-Ma. End it for good.”

A swallow filled with its own stones started to clog your throat, “And what, Romance?” Taking only one step closer, “What happens if it doesn’t work? To the others, t..to you—.” The ending you couldn't even finish without becoming a crying, hiccuping mess. Quickly retreating yourself to talk longer than that.

Hanging pause.

“..I dont……know.”

Crack.

Your hands now trembling from the heightened emotions starting to take over, fogging yourself. Taking another step closer, finally seeing face to face, “Then why so calm about it, Romance?! Why’re you acting like this isn't on your life on a thread, Roma—!”

“Because it is Y/N!” He shouted suddenly, which caused you to jump back, but you stood your ground and went face to face with him yet again. “It’s always been!” His voice cracked under the weight of everything, how he had to stand there the entire time listening to everything. Listening to what the girls had in plan. Listening to how even as hunters, they saw how their flaws weren’t all there was to them.

“Since the day Gwi-Ma spat us out like weapons for some stupid boy band! Since the first soul he shoved down my throat—I’ve never had a choice!”

Crack.

Taking in the shaky breath, how his eyes now glassy were fully on you, melting further into his emotions he once forgot when turned into a demon. “So what if it doesn't work? I can finally have a choice; I get to choose how it ends for me… even if I have to go so far by your hands— at least it was mine Y/-“

“No, no, — no!” You cut him off, tears threatening to strike your cheeks. From the tension being released, your hands made their way to his loose yellow blouse, grabbing it by the collar. “Don’t you dare say it like that!” Tugging him forward to your height, “You don't get to throw your life away like it’s nothing just because someone else decided you were a pawn!” Your voice raw, terrified and palpitating just as his was. Taking this as a signal, your hands retreated to your sides, and you even took a step back. Trying to get your breathing regular as you just choked back cries, which made it far more than a struggle trying to compose yourself. “Y/N.. wait.” Romance took that forward step as you backed away from him. Almost instinctively, your hand shot up

“Don’t—just… don’t come any closer.”

Crack.

“Y/N please…”

“Do you just take me as a pushover?! Do you really think I can do that?” Your hands now wiped away the once threatened tears now tainting your cheeks, “Watch you fucking disapp— for fuck sakes—“ the tears kept rolling down, so you had to look up for a bit before looking at him again. All the curses are now just spiralling everywhere. “Watch you get pulled into that seal if their plan doesnt work and never come back?!” By now you were yelling just enough to not alert the trio who were still bickering in the living room. You didnt care if your voice cracked each time you talked longer and longer, not out of anger but pure fear, “What do you take me for Romance? Do you know what that will do to me?”

The churns started to work in his head; Romance looked like he had just gotten slapped for no reason. His shoulders dropped now; almost their noses could touch by just an inch, his expression softening. “Weren’t we just a one-time fling, Y/N?” His voice was quiet to a near whisper.

Your shoulders flinched since you realised the amount of exposure of your feelings to him.

“Wasn't this something we’d joke about constantly? Until it faded? You never said—.”

“Because I was scared, okay?!” Your breath hitched trying not to sob it out, “Because you weren’t supposed to mean anything. You were the enemy. You were supposed to be a demon I hated, not—” your mind shutted it down, and you forced yourself to shut up. Not everything. Not the only person who saw you in a crowd full of stars. Not the one who you always looked around for. Romance just stared at you, silently, yet everything seemed to signal to you that he already knew as if he’d been hoping to hear it but dreading it too. All the risks.

“I should hate you,” you whispered, softening the more you spoke. “I should.”

“But you don’t, Y/N.”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze from his. “No. I don't. That's why this plan.. Rumis plan..” Just then your body rejected all doubt; your trembling hands slowly went close to his jawline as your eyes followed the same direction. Not touching but close enough to be grateful you even got this close with him. “It can’t include you,” to a whisper filled with relentless pain, your eyes softening as it flickered left and right like it was trying to remember everything about him one last time, “It can’t, Romance.”

Immediately, Romance decided to give up the forces that urged him to stop himself just like you, his hand clasping the same hand next to his neck, placing it on his cheek. “What if it’s the only way? Everything has risks Y/N..”

“Then we’ll find another…” you snapped back, the desperation only growing, drilling into your head. “Who knows what can happen? We’ll find a better way i promi—.”

“Y/N—“

“No!” Pulling him away now, the same distance reoccurring as you backed away, “No,” you whispered, blinking through the tears trying to urge out. “I already know what it’s like to be invisible. To be standing behind everyone, unnoticed, unloved…”

“But with you, I didn’t feel like that. I can’t go back to being alone in a world where you were once real and then gone.” Now the tears came down; you didn't care to wipe them away, nor did you care if he saw this side of you. Your fists balled up so tightly that the tips of your fingers turned white and cold. “You made me feel like I was worth something,” the other hand placed on your chest as you choked out. “You looked at me like I wasn’t just someone’s shadow, and now you’re telling me you’re okay with vanishing? Even if it was just a mere risk, that mere risk can flip everything Romance.”

Romance stood there, staring like he was watching the world crumble beneath your feet infront of him — he was the one who pushed you that far, he knew. His lips parted slightly to say something, but nothing came out. The still silence surrounded the two. You couldn't help but not care anymore, just trying to compose yourself yet again from the highs in these emotions, wiping your tears whilst taking deep, hollow breaths. All romance could do was stare at you, shattered infront of him but carrying yourself back up. Fuck, he hated that. Every ounce of fear slammed at him like some wave he couldn't swim out of, only to be dragged the more he moved.

Crack.

For a moment he hated himself for not looking like his usual self; all the tease and bitch-boy attitude drained out of him. But then again — he never known what it meant to be loved like this let alone the thought of it. The reason why his name was Romance, the reason why he became a demon, the reason why Gwi-Ma managed to manipulate him into another of his pets. Yearning to be loved by someone. He finally got it yet in the worst case scenario. “God Y/N..” he whispered low enough that it could pass as a simple exhale, his voice now hoarse, “Why’d you have to say all of that…?” He ran his fingers through his pink hair now losing its heart shape, a bitter laugh clawed its way from his throat, quiet, and broken. “You’re making me scared now.”

“I was ready to disappear, Y/N, if it meant you could live in peac—“

“Please, stop.”

“Y/N..I thought I was ready..” his voice cracked yet again as he took a step forward to you, hoping you didn't back away moments ago. Fortunately, you didn't; you stood still just wanting to hear him. He was always teasing, frisky, funny and flirtatious, but now? This was the reality of him, the side he was afraid to show anyone, let alone when he was a human.

“But now you’ve gone and made it impossible,” he whispered. “Because now all I can think about is… what it’d feel like to hold your hand when this is over. To laugh about all of this, just once, without a knife in our backs or a plan hanging over us.” He took your hand again, the same hand that hesitated to go near his jawline, the same very hand that grabbed him by the collar, the same hand that you pulled him closer.

“Just you. Just me.”

“You made me want a future that I don’t know how to survive long enough to have.”

He pulled back slightly to catch every single corner of your face, admiring it like he always did before where your dumbass would scowl at him in response or a scoff, ‘That guy's so weird ugh..’ that small flashback made him smile a bit, seeing the same person underneath him tear stained cheeks, ice melting eyes, the raw emotions. You. Just you.

“So I’ll fight beside you, even with the risk… I’ll be right by your side Y/N.” He lowered himself to your height again but more lower than usual, placing your hand onto his cheek.

A breath.

The final crack in his tone.

“Because I don’t want to die anymore.”

In the midst of this moment, the constant back and forward arguing, you just wanted it to stay quiet for a bit. You didn't pull your hand away nor did he push you away, both contempt with just the feeling of desperation. Your breathing not staggering more than before, the other hand now cupping his face. Nothing came out of your mouth, nor did you even think of anything. Everything went black on your side. His eyes searched yours, not for answers, but for something to hold onto. Something real. Following your lead he also held the other hand, both your hands and his intertwined randomly together. He hesitated to speak first considering how you took account of his mouth, parting and closing slightly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a soften whisper, hearing laughter dying down in the living room.

“Tell me I mean something to you Y/N.” His eyes now sparked fear— but not any kind of normal panic, fear of rejection. “please, I need it..” He was crouching by now, on his knees looking up at you. Tears now trying to pressurise before letting loose. That explained the way he looked at you, how he opened up to his true self to you. Your eyes flickered between his gaze and something  signalled that he should stop, take it back before anything.

“I'm sorry that was stupid—.”

“I cant.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t tell you that Romance.”

Taking a deep quivering breath whilst looking up trying to seep the reforming tears from staining your cheeks any longer, “Because if I say it.. and… and this plan doesn’t work.” The more you spoke, the more your eyes softened, the more intimate and careful your touch was to him, your fingers wiping few tears that escaped from his eyes, “I—I don’t know how I’ll keep breathing if you go after I say it.”

Romance didn't react nor responded right away, his eyes staring up at you, your hand still on his, his still on yours. Everything was trembling at this point. He blinked once, slowly, the tears you previously wiped away just came back more worse. His lips quivered and parted obviously trying to get his words out before anything could be misunderstood, but his voice caught in the back of his throat. A small “agh” left his mouth instead, taking a few deep breathes he got back up from his knees now looking down at you, his hands still clasped on yours not letting you pull away even if it was just a second. You feared he misunderstood the entire perspective with your reply, just like anyone would. How you always went out of the way to understand both side on a more spiritual level, more enough that you fully believed that no one can really get to that same level. Even as a kid. Seeing how he got ready to respond, you closed your eyes expecting a response that was twisted, mistaken, filled of assumptions even the thought of it made you flinch a bit.

“Hey, hey look at me Y/N.” One of his hand that once clasped yours went to your jaw causing one of your hand to drop down to your side. His hand gently pulling your head back up, instinctively opening your eyes, however your gaze never met his, flickering constantly anywhere in your bedroom other than his face. “Please.” The one plead made you fold instantly after everything that had happened, it was only natural.

“I know now why you cant Y/N, dont beat yourself up for it.” He gave a breathless chuckle, one that held no humor, just bare. “Until the day you can say it, I'll stay by your side. Even with this theory Rumi planned out, alright?”

You blinked a few times, surprised that he actually understood what she tried to say. Not even twisting it to his narrative; rather, he made it to where it was together.

Knock.

Another knock?

“Y/N..?” It was Rumi.

Your eyes darted to the door back to him, pulling away from him and sniffing up your blocked nose wiping the tear strikes. “I’ll best leave, huh?” Romance tried to soften the mood still; even with Rumi at your door, a simple tap on your cheek before he went to your balcony and exited.

“Look, text me if anything happens.” You were silent and unresponsive, “Please.” You grabbed the origami of the heart, but there were two from before, giving him one back and keeping the other. That alone said enough to him.

Seeing him leave via your balcony, you placed the origami heart in your drawer before opening the door now. A sheepish Rumi. Normally you would greet her with a smile, but after everything, your eyes drooped and reddened to the point where Rumi mistakened it for lack of sleep. “Holy shit Y/N, I—I’ll make this quick, I promise!”

“Just hurry it up.”

“Are… are you and Romance like—“

For gods sake. Face palming yourself and even running your fingers through your already messed up hair, “Do you know what time it is Rumi?” You peeked your head through your door just to see Mira and Zoey doing their dumbass couch time, “Mira.. Zoey?!” They both cranked their heads to you, “Oops..” the two girls said in unison before slanting to their shared room.

“Look, Rumi.” Taking a long sigh and turning your head to her, “I’m tired; just cut to the chase.” Rumi straightened herself a bit, hesitating more than she thought she would in the first place. “Okay, okay,” she placed her hands up in surrender.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop on you both Y/N, I noticed the way you were acting off and I heard some slight banging from your room. I was just coming to ask if you were okay… but.. I heard you. And his. Both your voices.” Relentless exhales made their way since your head was already fogged enough. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms now crossed, head tilted to the side. “So?”

“It scared me Y/N.”

“Since when did you care Rumi.”

“What?”

“Stop acting like you give a shit alright?!” You placed a hand on your forehead, trying to soothe the growing numbness in your head. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean to say that.. just listen okay?”

“Y/N—“

“Please just listen.”

The tone in your voice only grew more frustrated; it almost made you laugh seeing how she came up to ‘worry’ about you. Did she really think some simple half ass excuse would just turn your tables and act like it's fine yet again from back then? You were too tired and drained out mindlessly.

“I’ll tell you what happened tomorrow. You and Jinu, both. So just please... leave me alone.”

You didn't bother to hear her response knowing your ears picked up the faintest ‘what,’ before thudding the door shut. Locking it again with a faint clink. After that you made your way to your bed and practically flopped yourself face first onto it. Turning yourself side ways slightly whilst your gaze drifted to the drawer, where the last origami heart waited.

Still there.

Still intact.

But god, how it ached just to look at it.

[scoopstrooptm]

maybe i want to write here again soon ( even though it's currently robin fighting for her life against many other louder muses ) and maybe i've made a start by adding robin's d&d verse and wwdits verse to her page

[fireinmoonshot]

drawing the line | bucky barnes x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts. Warnings: There are very subtle mentions to reader having some issues mentally but nothing specific is mentioned other than her being very guarded and angry. This is inspired by and takes place during a scene from the Thunderbolts movie! It has direct spoilers for the film! If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this one yet. Word Count: 1.9k. A/N: It has been three whole years since I wrote for Bucky Barnes. Thanks to Thunderbolts, I am so back 🥰. I had this idea for the movie when I saw it again yesterday and I plotted most of it out at work today. I'm really happy with how it turned out so I hope that you will all enjoy it. More Bucky fics coming soon – as well as more Bob and Joaquín too! 💗 Requests are always open.

Bucky realises he’s made a mistake pretty quickly.

In his defence, he isn’t very good at checking his phone – especially now that he’s a congressman and he has even less time on his hands than usual. But he’d been worried about Mel, the assistant of Valentina, and had figured that by tracking her phone like she’d asked, he might have a better chance at finally taking Valentina down.

If he had read his texts, though, he would’ve seen one from you. Valentina says I have one last mission and my contract is up. I’m on my way. Have a bad feeling about this one though. Can you track me? 

Yeah, he’s messed up.

He’s even more certain of that when he’s pulling the unconscious bodies of Ava Starr, Yelena Belova, John Walker and Alexei Shostakov out of the limo he’d blown up and he finds you with them. Thankfully, you’re not injured. 

When you come to, the first thing you see is Bucky, sitting opposite you with his eyebrows knotted in worry. For a moment, everything is fuzzy and you’re not sure how you got here – and then everything comes back to you.

You’d been trying to outrun Valentina’s men who’d been coming after you after your escape when Bucky had shown up. Everyone in the car had been more than excited and you’d felt relieved – he’d seen your text and he’d come to save you – until he’d practically blown the limo up with you inside of it.

“What the hell, Bucky?” You blink, squeezing your eyes shut briefly as you adjust to the light in the room. You look around, seeing the others all sat nearby – tied up, some of them even restrained with pieces of metal that Bucky had wrapped around them. 

It’s when you see them tied up that you realise you’re not. 

“Doll,” Bucky starts, his voice soft. “Listen, I–”

“Do not ‘doll’ me,” you shake your head. “So, blowing up our car and almost killing me is okay, but you draw the line at tying me up?” You motion to the others and then to yourself.

Bucky sighs. He knew you’d be mad, but this is another level of mad. He understands – of course he does, you’d nearly died. But regardless, he’d hoped you’d be a little more lenient. “I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I text you and say hey, this mission feels wrong and you don’t think twice? Am I talking to Bucky Barnes right now? What happened to the guy that ran seven red lights two months ago when I got into a minor car accident just to make sure I was okay?” 

He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, walking a few steps away from you. Behind him, you stand up as well, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down – like you do very well. Bucky knows that you can be stubborn when you want to, but this is the next level to that. He loves your stubborn side. He loves this side of you as well… but he hates that it’s him that the anger is directed at.

This is not the you that he’d been tangled in the sheets with only a few nights ago. This is not the you that had kissed him goodbye before he’d headed off to work last week. This is the you that he’d seen the first time he ever met you. Strong, guarded as hell and pissed off at the world.

“You texted me?” He mutters, and then regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. He resists the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his unread messages. 

For a second, you just stare at him, and then you start laughing. “I texted you? Are you serious right now?” You exclaim, turning away from him and shaking your head. “No, why on earth would I text my boyfriend when I was going into a potentially life threatening situation set up by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? I’ll remember that for next time and keep it to myself, since you’re apparently too busy to check.”

“Well, would you have even read my message if I had replied? Considering you were on a mission? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Bucky can’t help but bite back a little.

“No, probably not,” you admit. “Because I don’t have a phone anymore – it fell out of my pocket when I was running for my life back at the vault and then it got incinerated, like I would have if it had been even one second later!”

Your voice is raised even louder now, basically yelling at Bucky, though you hate to do it. You and Bucky never fight like this, not really. But this whole situation has gotten under your skin and you can’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking Bucky had come to save you, when in reality he was just there to kidnap the others for some unknown reason.

Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing that Bucky can say to that. He stares at you, eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders. You’d almost been incinerated. And then Bucky had almost killed you himself. Was there any coming back from this?

In the silence, you hear a cough and both of you turn to look over at the others, all of whom are now awake and sitting upright, watching the two of you. How much of your argument had they heard? You wince internally and start to walk towards them.

“You either untie them, or you tie me up with them,” you say, sitting down beside Walker.

Walker looks over at you, a confused look on his face. He obviously had no idea that you’re with Bucky, even though the two of them know each other. You try to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the one that says that maybe Bucky means more to you than you do to him, especially since Walker doesn’t even know about you two.

Bucky thinks it over for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to you again. He crouches down beside you and decides he’s going to try again – even though the eyes of every other person in the room are focused on him. He reaches up to try and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear but you bat his hand away. 

“I’m not tied up so I can still tuck my own hair behind my ear, Barnes.” 

You turn away from him, looking over at Ava and Alexei. 

“This is your boyfriend?” Ava asks, looking between the two of you. “Girl.”

The one word says everything. You almost laugh at her.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to make his decision. He stands up again and then beckons for you to stand up as well. “Stand up and let me tie you up, then,” he says, hoping that he sounds as nonchalant as he is intending to be. Even though not one part of him is actually intending on tying you up. It’s true – he draws the line at that.

You stand up and one second later, Bucky has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. You yelp, hitting his back as he walks out of the room, leaving the other four alone. “Bucky, what the hell are you doing!?” You exclaim.

He pushes the front door of the garage open with a foot and then kicks it closed behind him. Once he sets you down on the ground outside, you move to push him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists and place them gently on his chest instead. You’re mad, but he’s not going to let you hurt him, or accidentally hurt you more than he already has.

“I’m not continuing this argument inside in front of all of the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the garage and trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on his hands and the pressure of them on his chest. You’re here. You’re alive. He didn’t kill you. Nor did Valentina.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you shake your head and try to pull your hands away, but his grip is too strong. “I’ve said everything that I needed to say in there, Bucky. I asked for your help, you almost killed me yourself. It’s clear enough.”

“You said what you said, but you barely let me get a word in, doll.”

You shrug your shoulders and look away from him, focusing on the mountains in the distance and wonder how long it’ll take the others to get free so you can all get the hell out of here. Even though a small part of you, the part of you that isn’t clouded by your anger right now, wants nothing more than to wrap your arms around Bucky’s body, bury your head in his chest and feel his arms around you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your message,” he begins, hoping you’ll let him talk. “I’ve been so bad with anything that’s not work these days and trying to bring down Valentina that I’ve put everything else to the side. I shouldn’t have put you there too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still unable to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were in that limo when I blew it up. I just knew that there were people in there that could help me bring down Valentina once and for all and I was going to stop that limo at all costs,” he explains. “You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you were inside of it. I swear, I spent five minutes just checking to make sure you weren’t injured before I brought you all here. I couldn’t bring myself to tie you up after all that, doll.”

“Likely story,” you huff under your breath, as if the thought of him checking you over to make sure you were okay doesn’t make your heart beat faster and your fingers, still pressed to his chest, itch to pull him closer to you.

Bucky removes one of his hands from yours and carefully reaches down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You try and restrain yourself for a few moments before eventually meeting his eyes. Just looking in them tells you that he’s speaking the truth. 

“I would never do anything knowingly to hurt you, doll,” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, voice soft as you try not to lean too much into his hand. 

“Then do you forgive me?”

“No,” you shake your head, but in the progress, you can’t help but relax into his grip a little. You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his hand on your face. “I don’t forgive you yet, Bucky. I need time.”

Bucky nods and lets out a small breath of relief. “I’ll take it.”

You remove one of your hands from Bucky’s chest and place it over the hand that’s still on your jaw. “We need to talk,” you start. “Not you and me, all of us. There are things that happened down there in that vault that you need to know about before we go after Valentina, if we can even get the others to join us.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Just one more thing.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead before dropping his hand from your jaw and stepping back away from you, clearly wanting to give you space even though you hadn’t asked for it. The thoughtfulness makes your heart swell in your chest. “C’mon doll, let’s go.”

[slttygeto]

SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.

synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.

c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.

word count: 2,1k

note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.

ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )

In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.

“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.

“First movie, pretty iconic.”

“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.

“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.

“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.

“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.

“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.

“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.

“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.

“Just saying.”

You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.

“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.

A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.

“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?

“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.

You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.

“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.

“Sugu—“

“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm,”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”

“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.

“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.

“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,”

“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”

He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.

Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.

“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.

“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.

“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.

“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.

“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.

“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.

He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.

You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.

Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.

“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.

“Let’s do it again, yeah?”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave a tip!

[truthscrapper]

Devlog #1 📚 The Very First Devlog

We announced Truth Scrapper with a beautiful trailer this month!!! The response has been absolutely incredible, thank you so much for following me on another funky memory adventure. Throughout the development of ISAT, I have written monthly devlogs on Steam, talking about the making of the game. People liked them a bunch, so…

That’s right. It’s time. For the Very First Truth Scrapper devlog!

In case you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I am the creator of timeloop RPG In Stars and Time, and now am working on my next game, memory visual novel Truth Scrapper. It’s gonna be a good one.

Alright! Development talk time. Where’s the game at?!?!

So, right now, I have just finished writing the script for Day 4, so I "only" have the art, code, and implementation to do for that day. Truth Scrapper is divided in 7 days, with three different routes you can go through from Day 6 onwards. So really, I need to write and code 11 days. Which puts me at almost ⅓ through development! WOAHRGH!?? At this point, I know where the story is going, I know what each route will consist of, etc. I just don’t know the Details. The portraits are all done, backgrounds are done sequentially for every day, gameplay is all figured out… TLDR: It’s In Good Shape!!!

“That was a good short paragraph, but can I have the detailed timeline of the game. Please.” ok fine you asked for it.

The Big Timeline (and some images!) under the cut

📚 this image was made so early in development, it didn't even have Betz's shibari-like pink harness

TRUTH SCRAPPER TIMELINE

DEC 2022: I finish ISAT around NOV 2022. I get an idea. I write it down. It was going to be an RPG but nobody got time for that. Main themes and ending are here. I work on pre-production very slowly over the next couple months (because I am recovering from finishing ISAT and still gotta keep working on post-production stuff for ISAT)

JULY 2023: Ok fine let's make a renpy file and figure out if the most important gameplay thing can be done. AKA: can I make a book menu where the game remembers the choices you make, and how complicated is that gonna be for me to add to it down the line. It works and I am happy

📚 this image was made so early in development, it just looks very bad

AUGUST 2023: Character design. They look Not Great and character design takes me like nine months. Plot is getting somewhere though!

NOV 2023: In Stars and Time comes out. People like it I think.

MARCH 2024: I decide I need to work on something, and decide to work on that and apply for the Ontario Creates grant. This game is actually starting for realsies!!!!!!!

MAY 2024: I actually lock down character designs.

JUNE 2024: I hire Dora, who was the producer of In Stars and Time and who rules.

📚 dora and i signing our lives to one another on discord. the bond between a creator and their producer can never be broken

SEPT 2024: I work on da gaem

MAY 2025: Day 3 is implemented. We announce the game. Now we’re here!!!!

Alright, that’s it for today! This first devlog is more about telling you where the game is at, and every month you will have a whole new devlog where I can tell you about all the great things I did that month for the game. You can even comment with questions and I might answer them one day. Ok. Thank you. And as always, DON'T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THATS THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

Links! 📚 Official Website 📚 Join the Discord 📚 Sign up for my mailing list 📚 Follow Truth Scrapper on Bluesky 📚 Follow ME on Bluesky

[blackbat05]

Detour

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: A little detour to the Children’s Hospital forms the start of a new relationship. (This takes place after Joaquin’s stint in the hospital)

Genre: Fluff, PG-13

A/N: Had serious brain rot trying to write? Loads of things happening at work and felt that I was just bed rotting whenever I came back home so very glad that I wrote this piece and try to do something creative. Hope you enjoy!

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” Joaquin steps out of the car, helping Sam with the bags stowed in the trunk.

“The kids will be happy to see you,” Sam dismisses his thanks. “They always love new faces. Besides, you could use that fresh air after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks.”

Joaquin grimaces at the memory as the two men amble into the entrance of the children’s hospital.

A bespectacled woman with traces of white in her hair greets Sam warmly before leading them down the sanitized halls.

“The kids are just finishing their story-time with Y/N.” They reach an automated sliding door that opened with a slide of the woman’s keycard.

“Thanks Doreen. We’ll take it from here.” Sam picks up the large bag of board games and toys they had picked up earlier from the shop.

Joaquin follows and is instantly greeted by intricate murals painted on the bookshelves. Children books of every imaginable size and color were shelved neatly in their respective places. He can’t help but to marvel at the sheer number of books in this place.

“So, if you’re not careful and you leave the book right beside your bed…” A voice could be heard up ahead. Joaquin sees a female volunteer holding a red book in her hands, at the centre of attention. The children dressed in their gowns, listening with rapt attention.

“It might just wake up and… EAT YOU!” She opens and closes the book, mimicking a ravenous monster, eliciting laughter from the audience and appreciative smiles from parents and guardians alike. Joaquin finds himself smiling too.

“Maybe if I give it some fries, the book won’t eat me!” A little girl with pigtails pipes up.

Joaquin locks eyes with the woman. “Well, that is a food for thought - no pun intended!” She stands up, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I believe Mr Captain America and Mr Falcon themselves are here!”

This immediately gets the kids attention again and excited squeals could be heard all around. Sam, charming as ever, takes over effortlessly with tiny bodies surrounding the two men.

Lunch arrives and the crowd eventually thins out with a couple of stragglers taking photos with Sam and Joaquin. Joaquin gives a stuffed Falcon to a little boy who was adorable and affectionate, giving one last hug before saying goodbye.

“You made his day.” The same female volunteer approaches Joaquin with bottled water. “I’ve never seen Luis so happy before.”

“I didn’t do much. You’re the one doing all the work. Reading to them, showing them different worlds.” Joaquin downplays the praise.

“I take it that you’re a bookworm?”

“When I have time. Saving the world can get quite hectic.”

“Don’t I dare doubt it.”

Joaquin grins, courage growing a little bigger. “Y/N right? You work here? I didn’t see you when I was warded in the hospital.”

“I work at the Children’s library three stops from here.” You explain. “Doreen is a close friend and mentor of mine. I wanted to do something for these children so here I am.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

“Not as amazing as saving the world from another World War.”

Joaquin can’t help but to notice Sam over Y/N’s shoulder. Needless to say, he did not like the googly eyes that the Captain was teasing him with.

“Are you always here?”

“Every Friday, just before lunch.” She affirms, though curious at Joaquin’s question. His throat is suddenly dry as the Sahara Desert but he has to try. What’s the worse that could happen right?

“Cool. Uh… Are you free now? Do you want to grab-”

Before Joaquin could finish his sentence, Sam comes running over. Phone blinking in his hand. That could only mean…

“S.H.I.E.L.D wants a briefing in twenty. Hostage situation.” Sam mutters.

The world is fucking with him right now. It took Joaquin all his energy not to groan. Instead, he plasters what he believes to be an easy going “everything is ok” face.

“I’m free next week.” You finish off for him much to his surprise.

“Go save the world soldier.”

***

“Does this plane go any faster?”

“What’s got your pants in a twist?” Sam comes out from the cockpit. “It’s that girl isn’t it? The one at the Hospital! Miss Librarian!”

“Her name is Y/N.” Joaquin looked up to Sam but he was not in the mood for being teased.

“Ooooh someone’s in loveeeee!”

“You know, for someone who’s the face of our country, you’re obnoxiously childish.” Joaquin retorts.

“Don’t you know me by now?” Sam laughs. “Seriously though, you really like her huh?”

“Yeah… I know it’s weird but… the way she was with the kids?” Joaquin trails off, unsure of himself. “I just hope she’s still there. Though I can’t blame her if she isn’t. You know, the sacrifices of being a hero.”

Sam frowns at the familiar words he had said to Joaquin years earlier while the young soldier took over the role of the Falcon.

The Captain gets up from his seat and heads to the cockpit.

“Hey Carlos! I need you to speed this up a little, our man here has a date he can’t miss.”

***

“How do I look?” Joaquin steps out with a clean set of hoodie and jeans.

“Like you clean up well.” Sam affirms as the plane prepares for landing. “Go get her Falcon.”

Joaquin starts the bike that was prepared for him, speeding towards the hospital. He really hopes that she’s still there - though the hope is shrinking by the minute.

He seamlessly parks his bike, not wasting a second as he sprints inside, nearly running over a bemused Doreen.

“Woah there! Hold your horses cowboy, she’s in there.”

Joaquin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Doreen gives a knowing smile as she bids Joaquin good bye, leaving him to enter the hospital reading room.

At the sight of her, his breath hitches and Joaquin feels rooted to the ground. He digs up every ounce of courage, heart thumping wildly against his chest.

“Y/N!”

She looks up from her book, eyes lit up at the sight of the solider. Joaquin could get used to this. “Hey solider.”

“I’m so sorry, we had to make a detour.”

“Duty calls, am I right?” She teases. “I got us some tacos. Figured you’ll be too tired to get to another place.”

“I could kiss you right now.” Joaquin blurts out. “Not that if you don’t want to- oh what am I saying!”

Y/N giggles at Joaquin’s goofy nature. “Let’s eat. The tacos are getting cold.”

Despite having tacos in a hospital, the two enjoyed each other’s company, engrossed in conversation.

“Thanks for the amazing company, Joaquin. Unfortunately, work beckons. I have to head back for closing.”

As the two pack in silence, Joaquin fights an internal battle in his head.

Just ask her already god damn it! You’re a superhero for goodness sake!

What if she thinks I’m weird?

Now or never Torres.

“Would you like to-”

“Wait sorry, you go.”

“No you!”

The two burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I really enjoyed today.” Joaquin says sincerely. “I know my schedule is really messed up and all, but if you’re free again, I know this really mean pizza place.”

“You had me at pizza.” Y/N doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Joaquin does a mini dance in his head. “So that means it’s a date?”

Before Y/N could respond, a little voice pipes up from the entrance.

“Say yes Miss Y/N!”

Little Luis was peeping in along with Sam who had a shit eating grin on his face. Although Joaquin knew he was probably never going to hear the end of this, he didn’t care in this moment with the wonderful woman standing in front of him.

“Looks like you got yourself a little wingman, Torres!” Sam hoots.

“I love you Sam but we’re kind of having a moment here?”

“Oh right, sorry! Good luck Y/N! Come on Luis, let’s get our own Tacos.”

[ithebookhoarder]

Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far. 

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans 

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers  example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.  

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.  

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous. 

No one dared to say another word, let alone move. 

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits. 

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night. 

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from. 

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.” 

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities. 

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process. 

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return. 

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle. 

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan. 

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances. 

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.” 

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal. 

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency. 

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach. 

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again. 

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down. 

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.” 

“Oh?” you croaked. 

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then. 

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...” 

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach. 

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.  

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?” 

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.” 

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong. 

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning. 

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on. 

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators. 

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother. 

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.” 

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?” 

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you. 

You remembered what you’d forgotten. 

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him. 

No one moved. 

No one said a word. 

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 4

one || two || three || five

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: seijoh4 x gn!reader [ oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, maki ]

warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, the word “dick” said over a million times lol this chapter is basically bigdick!4 supremacy, corny behavior, camboy!maki, slight mentions of degradation, iwa’s is the shortest (I’M SORRY), some minor errors probably and i think that’s it :] !!

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT :'))) life was kicking my ass and the last thing i could think about was getting metaphorically dicked down lol but hope you enjoy, thank y'all so much for your patience, and the last couple parts coming soon!

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen , @tsukiran

OIKAWA would be the reason the list even exists, let’s be honest. 

But, for the sake of the plot, we’ll pretend otherwise.

Once again, without fail, after another grand win for the great king, he’s swarmed by his devoted groupies—Shoving their phones, gifts, and themselves in his face hoping to catch even a sliver of his attention.

And once again, you stood on the sidelines, impatiently waiting for him to leave the spotlight; irked your soul sometimes.

It’s not that you were against him being praised or anything, even though his head was fat enough to begin with, you loved the admiration people had for him. But there’s a fine line between being a fan and being a straight-up weirdo. 

And right now, they’re tap-dancing on that line something fierce. 

“Tooru!~ will you sign right here?” 

One pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing more of her breasts that were pushed up damn-near to her chin whilst wearing a sultry smile. You caught a small glimpse of panic flash across his features before he covered it with a nervous laugh, eyes subtly shifting over to you as he replied. “..How 'bout a photo instead?” 

Things went on like that for the next few minutes. Someone would even take it a step further by flat out asking for his number, or if he was single. They already knew the answer to that, it was the same every time, yet they continuously tried their luck as if someday, through the power of delusion and manifestation, his answer would miraculously change despite you always attending his practices and his games, wearing his spare jersey, holding his hand, shoving your tongue down his throat, didn’t matter—Them hoes were relentless.

But, so were you. 

“Oh, Tooru!~ If you don’t wrap this up, you’ll be walking home!~” You sang, mirroring the tone of the girl from earlier. The semi-empty threat made the setter perk up like a hound, eyes wide as that same panic returned as well.

Although this time, he wasn’t so quick to play it off. 

“U-Uh,” he squeaked, then immediately covered by clearing his throat. “Yes, uh, well, it’s been great chatting with you all tonight. Thank you again for your love and support for the team, it's always appreciated. I hope you’ll continue to cheer us and myself oninthefuture—WAIT! [____]-chan! Don’t leave, y’know my poor legs won’t survive the walk back! Baby, c'mon, wait up!” 

Oikawa whined as he scrambled to catch up to your retreating form, no longer concerned with the crowd of disgruntled faces he left behind as they watched their object of affection slip away yet again. A small part of you wanted to turn back and stick your tongue out at them in petty victory, but you refrained. The sound of their great king pleading for your attention was satisfactory enough.

You barely made it outside before his long arms wrapped around your front, locking you to his chest as he leaned almost his entire weight on you. You could feel his heart thrumming against your head as he panted. Eventually, he huffed, no doubt pouting as he gently swayed you in his arms. “You’re mean.” 

Keeping your gaze forward, you frowned. “And I have the right to be. You said you’d tell some of those ‘fans’ of yours to chill out—it’s getting way out of hand, Tooru. That one girl practically flashed her damn tits at you, and you gawked like a virgin.” 

He chortled, incredulously, “I did not! She caught me off guard..!” 

“And yet, you rewarded her with a photo instead of calling out her inappropriate behavior. Make it make sense.” 

You attempted to shrug him off only for his hold to tighten, spinning you around to gaze at you with chocolate brown eyes resembling that of a puppy out in the rain—One of the unfair tactics of Tooru Oikawa to get back on your good side. You had full intent of ignoring him, standing your ground…but how could you possibly stay mad at that adorable face? 

Easy. By not looking directly at it. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so,” you gently pushed away the setter’s face, earning another whine in protest. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily. I’m really upset with you.” 

“Buh I dinit do anyfing,” he said through smooshed lips. 

“And that’s the problem. You need to set boundaries with them, Tooru. Things’ll only continue to get out of hand the longer you enable it. Next thing you know they’re clawing and biting at your flesh so they can take a piece of you home with them under their nails and in their teeth.”

Oikawa grimaced, leaning back. “Ew. Graphic. They’re fans, baby, not rabid animals. I think you may be exaggerating.”

You cocked a brow. “Am I now? Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

The team had never seen their captain move so fast in their entire season. This was the first time he’d just straight up avoided his entourage and head straight for the showers after practice, scurrying off like his ass was on fire. Questions would spark around the gym about this drastic shift in behavior.

“What’s his deal?” One player voiced. “Usually he sticks around at least another hour to entertain his cult.”

“Not sure. After our last game, he’s been skittish.” Another replied.

A third jumped in after taking a swig of his water. “Think it’s got something to do with that..thing we saw the other night?”

The small group thought back to when all of their phones went off at the same time, social medias in a frenzy about their very own star player. At first glance, they figured it was just highlights of their game, specifically highlighting Oikawa. But, upon further inspection…it was something else entirely.

'Tooru Oikawa. 6’3ft King of the Court, and also our hearts. Being notoriously known as the campus pretty boy, loved by many and envied by the rest, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to consider him the blueprint—The default setting of everyone’s wet dream. He’s a tall, talented, smooth-talker with playful eyes and a panty-dropping smile, a textbook definition of  ‘Prince Charming’. Everybody and they mama, daddy, even bald-headed granny would kill to jump this man’s bones. Many would see him as the romantic type, but there’s something more…unhinged hidden beneath the pretty-boy persona. After much debate, our beloved setter is to be dubbed a whole SWITCH, no nintendo. At first he’ll play the dominant role, but edge him long enough and you’ll bring the Great King to his knees, quivering, drooling, you name it. He’s shameless. 9.5/10 - half a point deducted for his inferiority/superiority complex. Get some therapy, babe. ♡’

They didn’t think much of it at the time, when it came to their attention whore of a captain, it wasn’t completely unexpected, especially if his groupies had anything to do with it. The players looked at one another, then back at the gaggle of hormones waiting for the brunette in question by the doors. It was unanimous.

“Yep.” “Uh-huh.”

The third player snorts. “‘bout time it sucked to be him for once.”

When Oikawa eventually exited the locker room, he did everything in his power to appear small, tip-toeing across the floor with his head down and shoulders hunched in crouching tiger-like fashion. He would’ve gotten away scott-free…if not for his petty teammates.

“See ya tomorrow, captain!”

It bounced off the gym walls, the setter grimacing as his devoted followers instantly looked in his direction, predatory gazes stunning him like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa shot the players a nasty glare over his shoulder, flipping them off and continuing for the exit. He attempted to stiff-arm his way through the hoard, ducking and dodging their grabby hands and shutting down their…bolder advances.

“Tooru-chan!~ Let me show you what I’m capable of, I’ll have you begging in no time, just say the word!~”

“Unhinged men are so my type—Step on me, spit on me, call me names until I cry, I want it all!~”

“I bet it’s bubblegum pink, right? Does it curve to the left or right?”

Oikawa blanched. “Ladies, please, this is ridiculous! You all know I’m in a relationship with-”

“They don’t have to know.”

One had tried reaching out to touch him, but was quickly thwarted when the setter grabbed her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to get the message across—Too far. Everyone came to a hush at the sudden display, cowering slightly at the intensity that pooled in his eyes, dark and cold as he fixed the whole group with a stern expression. You were right (obviously). Things escalated the second they were given an inch, with complete disregard to his boundaries and what you meant to him.

These weren’t fans. Not real ones, at least.

Oikawa deeply exhaled through his nose, calming himself down to keep from saying something he’d regret. Releasing the girl’s wrist, the setter gently moved her out of his personal space, resadjusting his bag and sporting a rather disinterested expression.

“It appears you all have misunderstood your place. I’ll forgive that disgusting comment only once. But, if this obscene, rude, and down right shameful behavior continues, I’ll have no choice but to inform the coach of your harassment and have you banned from future practices and games. Do I make myself clear?”

When you arrived to pick up Oikawa per usual, you were surprised to see that he was already waiting for you, not a single group ie in sight.

Skeptical, you looked around as you approached him, thinking those buzzards were still in listening distance, just waiting to pounce. But, when all you’re welcomed with was a big hug and kiss, you relaxed. Oikawa pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile. He explained everything that had happened, rubbing his the back of his neck in embarrassment. When he finished, he looked down at you with those same puppy eyes he gave you the other day.

“Please don’t say I told you so?”

You cooed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair at his nape. He leaned into your touch, content. Until you said, “I told you so.”

He frowned. “You’re MEAN.”

Once IWAIZUMI learned it involved Oikawa in any way, that’s all he needed to know to have no interest in the list. Sort of like Sakusa, if the topic gets brought up, he finds himself tuning out. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into whatever mess his dumbass best friend got himself involved with. But, unfortunately for him, one doesn’t simply choose to be on the list…the list chooses you.

And one afternoon, the former ace was the unlucky winner.

‘Hajime Iwaizumi. 5’10ft hunk made of pure Husband Material. We’re talking the man who’ll open doors for you, pull out chairs, hold your bags without fuss, give you massages, cook you hearty meals, the whole nine yards. With that information in mind, you can’t tell me he’s not an absolute DOG in the bedroom. I’m talking about a man who’ll bully your insides, manhandle you and call you his “favorite cocksleave” or his “pretty little whore”. He’s the type to say the nastiest shit in your ear and tease you for the cute reactions you’d give him before shoving his tongue down your throat, while his dick kisses your appendix. Definitely a Hard Dom who only rewards good behavior, so if you plan to be a brat to this man—Good luck. But, as soon as he’s fucked that attitude outta you he’s back to being such a sweetheart! So so so attentive, so devoted, and will do anything for you. He’s God’s favorite. 1000000/10.’

“Oh? .. Hey, babe.” You said, curiously. Iwa grunted in response. “You know that list thingy Oikawa-?”

“Nope.” He easily answered, eyes focused ahead and he continued bench pressing the heavy bar.

You slap his chest. “You didn’t even let me finish!” He responded with a playful smirk, making you lightly slap him again.

Straddling his lap while he pumped iron was routine. It consisted of him doing what he does and you keeping him company, soaking up his presence until you inevitably left for your next lecture. Sometimes you kept count for him, other times you’d happily just be a distraction; today you did both.

“Haji,” you whined, wiggling a little. He ignored you on purpose, stubbornly refusing to indulge the topic. But that didn’t deter you from pestering him. “Ha-ji-me!”

“Ba-by-doll,” he echoed, grunting shortly after when he placed the heavy weight back on the rack, finished with the set. Panting, he sat up and readjusted you in his lap, hands resting on your thighs as he finally looked at you, amused at your scowl. “I don’t get why you’re so interested in that shitty list.”

“I’m not…until now.”

“Why?”

Turning your phone screen to show him the updated post, Iwa’s eyes scanned it before his brows furrowed in confusion, then tightened with irritation, jaw clenched and annoyance clear on his face. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to unsee it and merely laying back down on the bench. “Block them.”

You gaped. “What? No way!”

“It’s nothing but perverts with too much time on their hands,” he grunted, lifting up the bar and beginning his set. “It’ll rot your brain. Or what’s left of it, anyways.”

With a dramatic gasp, you retorted with, “Jerk. I’ll retweet and tell them you also love sucking on toes, how ‘bout that?”

Iwa paused mid-push. He eyed you from his laying position, voice dangerously low as he said, “Try it and I’ll bench press you next.”

“Hm.”

Through squinted eyes, MATTSUN briefly scanned the bright screen of Maki’s phone displaying the updated post that started circulating around their group for the past few minutes. Without much reaction, one would think he was too buzzed to be able to even comprehend it.

But he understood all too well.

‘Issei Matsukawa. 6’2ft lazy ass with a third leg. Doesn’t matter if he looks like he uses 5-and-1 body wash, he smells DELECTABLE. And don’t get me started on the gray, low-hanging joggers he usually wears around campus—He needs to be arrested walking around with a concealed weapon in those sweats—sir, put it in me AWAY. The literal embodiment of “If it slaps his thigh when he walk, I’ll listen when he talk.” The ultimate brat-tamer tbh. You can’t get under his skin, he’s so nonchalant and laid back, your attitude would just be foreplay for him (HIS FREAKY ASS). And if you think he’s already big on soft??? Bitch. Gon head and call outta work for tomorrow. 50/10.’

“Uh..congrats?” Kindaichi gave an awkward thumbs up.

Maki snickered, tongue in cheek. “Yeah, man, how’s it feel being ‘dick of the week’? They’re even givin’ it nicknames ‘nd shit.” He scrolled further into the depths of debauchery. Peering from over his shoulder to see for himself, Kunimi‘s face scrunched in mild disgust.

“Someone called it ‘The Door-Knocker’? Fucking cringe.”

“Fucking retweet.” The strawberry blonde hummed in approval. “Oo, I like this one—‘The Punisher’. That’s badass.”

Yahaba snickered only to then start choking on his drink, snatching Kyotani by the front of his shirt for support as he hacked for air. The wing-spiker merely glared, winding his hand back to beat the shit out of his back. “Ack! Kyo—fuc-! BRO STOP.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re killing me!”

“Same thing,” he grunted.

Mattsun snorted, taking another swig of beer. After skimming through the thread, he lowly drawled out, “Cool, I guess. No big deal.”

He didn’t know much about the list, only that if you ended up on it you were pretty much an ace in the game of dick-slanging. But, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet telling him that he fucks. He had you to attest to all that, and your opinion was the only one that truly mattered. Not that either of you would kiss and tell.

His friends, on the other hand, felt otherwise. As far as they were concerned, Mattsun was a single man. And right now, he was shitting on a blessing sent from the gods. Maki halted his sip to eye his best friend, beer can lowering suspiciously. “No big deal?”

Mattsun shrugged. “t’s what I said.”

Yahaba finally caught his breath, chiming in with a winded, “Yeah right…you’re probably itching to check your DMs. Tell me ‘m wrong.”

“Ok. You’re wrong,” he replied, chugging the remainder of his beer can before crushing it. Yahaba went to argue, but Mattsun cut him off by speaking through a burp. “Don’t got the energy…to entertain someone who just wants my dick.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Door-knocker’?” Kunimi teased.

“I thought it was ‘The Punisher’..?” Watari asked, uncertain.

“I saw ‘Horse Cock’ on there.” Kindaichi grimaced.

Mattsun shook his head. “Whatever. Point is, ‘m not interested in racking up my body count anytime soon, so those DMs will just go unanswered. Hell, maybe even deleted.”

“Bullshit,” Maki challenged. He points an accusing finger. “There’s another reason. It’s ‘cause you’re already screwing around with someone, aren’t ya?”

A silence fell upon the group, all eyes instantly honing in on the taller male with metaphorical ears raised high in scandalized curiosity, some (read: Kindaichi and Yahaba) more obvious about it than others. Mattsun merely gave a halfhearted shrug, neither denying nor confirming the information. “Aha! See, see, look at ‘em, dodging the question! He’s so cuffed.”

“No shot,” Yahaba deadpanned, “mister ‘Noncommittal’ himself?”

Mattsun glared. “Oi. I commit to stuff.”

“He’s gettin’ defensive.” Kunimi pointed out with a wry grin.

“Must be true, then.” Kyotani nodded, mischievous glint in his eye.

The others hummed in agreement, theorizing about his type in partners and how there could be a potential special someone in their senior’s life, while the bastard behind it all watched smugly on the couch, sipping his drink like a gossiping old biddy. Mattsun squinted in annoyance at his best friend. “Et tu, dumbass?”

Maki raised his hands, “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You basically told on yourself. No guy in their right mind would ever pass up on that many opportunities unless he’s A) Stupid, B) Aro/Ace, or C) Spoken for. Now, my vote’s between A and C, but feel free to update me on your sexual orientation.”

Mattsun flipped him off, sporting a sarcastic expression.

His phone then began to vibrate on the table. As quickly as they looked at the former middle blocker, everyone’s gaze shot toward the offending device, then back on him; expectantly. Despite his calm exterior the brunette felt his heart-rate spike, brow twitching at the childish looks and jeers he started getting, borderline peer-pressuring him to pick it up.

After a few seconds of continuous ringing, Kunimi huffed in mild annoyance for him to, “Answer it, already.”

Maki added fuel to fire by saying, “Unless you want one of us to answer for you-” Mattsun snatched the phone off the table.

With the grace of a gorilla, he stood from the couch and quickly shuffled to the corner of the room. Answering it, he cleared his throat, face flushing at the chorus of snickers coming from behind him as he greeted you with a simple, but elated, “Hey.”

“Hey, ‘sei!”

“Hey,” he said again, breathing out a small chuckle. “Can’t sleep?”

You responded with your own chuckle. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you’d wanna maybe…ride around with me? I’m thinking McDonald’s. Oo! Or that wing place by campus, y’know, the one with the teriyaki flavor you liked? I think they don’t close until, like, 2am. Or…was it 1am?”

Mattsun snorted at your rambles, leaning against the wall as he let you continue. Unbeknownst to him, the guys were practically stacked on top of each other, stretching their ears to hear your voice. From what they could pick up, you sounded so upbeat, animated as you spoke. They watched in awe as their senior barely spoke but was engaged in whatever you were saying, nodding along and humming to let you know he was still listening. If he wasn’t faced the other way, they were certain they’d see a smitten expression on his face.

“Mhm.. mhm. Yeah, ‘m sure that squirrel really appreciated you sharing your almonds, baby.”

“BABY???” The group exclaimed.

The brunette jumped slightly, completely forgetting where he was for a moment there. He briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back towards the wall with a groan—Every single one of those bastards were either grinning or gaping in shock. Mattsun cursed under his breath. You made a noise of confusion.

“Are you with the guys? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! We can totally chill another night if you-”

“Nah, was just about to leave. Think I’ve entertained these assholes long enough.” He grumbled, walking over to grab his jacket, but not before thumping Maki on the head; the latter hissed through his teeth in pain as he held the throbbing spot. “Rather be with you anyways. I’ll send the address, lemme know when you’re outside.”

“O-Oh, okay then!” You giggled, flattered. “I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

He turned back to look at the group, smug as they still watched him with disbelief painted on their faces as Mr. Non-committal was ditching them to hang with his commitment. Like he tried to tell them before, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet. He had you, and that’s more than enough.

“Love you too, [_____].” Then, he walks out. Leaving the room in even more chaos compared to when he first answered the phone, immediately on his ass as the scrambled after him for answers.

“[______]?????”

Who would’ve guessed their sweet, beloved volleyball manager from high school was the one getting visits from “The Punisher”.

Within his inner circle, MAKI is usually overlooked. He’s not popular like Oikawa, nor jacked like Iwa, and he’s doesn’t have the whole ‘sexy aloof’ vibe like Mattsun. He’s just…tall. And funny—The ‘Pete Davidson’ of the group. At least, that’s what your friends called him. Somehow, once again during your outing with them at the mall the topic of your relationship became the focal point of the conversation, stretching their brains for why you were so enamored with a guy like him.

“He gotta be packin’. Like, I’m talking anaconda.”

“Type shit. Y’know what they say about them tall and skinny ones.”

You rolled your eyes, wry smirk spreading across your face as you busied yourself sifting through a clothes rack. The conspiratorial discussion had been going on for the past ten minutes, throwing anything and everything at the wall until something stuck—Meaning, waiting for you to confirm. “[_____]. Be honest. It’s ‘cause of his dick, right?”

A lady standing on the other side of the rack gasped in shock, face twisting up in revulsion as she clutched her purse before stomping away, scandalized. You snorted, peeking over your shoulder to raise an eyebrow at them while they struggled to suppress their childish merriment at the poor woman’s embarrassment.

“Quit it before they kick us out.” You attempted to sound stern, but there was no hiding your own amusement. One friend playfully nudged you while the other began to snicker. “And no, it’s not because of that. It’s a bonus, though.”

The first gasped, then exclaimed, “So it is big!”

“’m not finna start with you,” you replied looking back at the clothes, pretending not to know them as nearby customers gave the side-eye. Neither one paid any mind as they continued to gossip. “We have this conversation every time we go out. Give it a rest.”

“Not until you tell us what you see in him.”

“I mean, I get it, but then I look at his friends and…” she hissed through her teeth, shaking her head. “I’m just saying. You fumbled.”

“I’m not taking that from someone who slept with a door dasher just because they got the restaurant to put extra sauce in your bag.”

The guilty party gaped, “It wasn’t included in their instructions, they were a real one for that!”

“Still don’t know why you did it,” the other friend sighed. “The food was cold, and I’m certain they took some of my fries.”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about my poor life choices, we’re talking about [_____]’s.”

“Fuck you,” you laughed. “You two need to get off my man. You haven’t even properly met him yet. He’s a sweetheart, he treats me like royalty, and I don’t care what y’all say, that man is fine.”

“Please. You’re just dickmatized.”

“Enough about his dick already!”

Your outburst drew the attention of a nearby employee; the store manager. Even though she wore a professional smile, you could see death in her eyes. With a nervous smile, you gave an apologetic wave before quickly grabbing your friends by their arms and escorting yourselves out before you got banned. Your closet was getting full, anyways.

“Look…I know the guys I’ve dated in the past were…questionable. But, I really like this one. And I swear the pictures I showed you don’t do him justice, his goofy ass just never sits still.”

They looked skeptical, having heard that one before. You huffed.

“Alright. How about I invite him over tonight? That way you have a chance to get to know him better. And if you’re still iffy, then…then you’ll have to get over it because you love me dearly and want me to be happy and just because you don’t think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I don’t, he is very gorgeous to me-!”

“[_____], honey, breathe.”

You stopped to inhale, then concluded with a small, “Please?”

They exchanged another look of skepticism, until the second added one condition. “He better not show up empty-handed.”

—

When the doorbell rang, the mood instantly shifted in the room, your friends going silent and gazes sharp as they looked at your door. Unbeknownst to all of you, on the other side of the door, Maki shivered, confused where that sudden chill came from. You gave them an eager, though strained, smile before scampering over to greet your awaiting guest. Upon opening the door, your smile slowly dropped at the sight of Maki sipping out of a large styrofoam cup with the words 'Big Gulp' written on it, dressed casually in sweats and a beanie, appearing very empty-handed.

After he swallowed, he gave a drawled, "Yo."

Your eye twitched. "Takehiro." He hummed, taking another sip of his drink. "Remember that important thing we discussed over the phone? Literally the only thing I asked you not to be when you got here?"

He thought about it, taking note of the daggers you were shooting at his cup. Maki made a noise of realization. "Oh, right. I bought snacks too, buuut I accidentally ate ‘em all on the way. My bad. But, look," he shook the cup, "technically still not empty-handed."

A small part of you wanted to be mad, frustrated at the least...but there was no hiding the giggle you rewarded him with, of which turned into more giggles. With sigh, you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his middle in a hug. "You’re so dumb."

"Missed you, too." He playfully rolled his eyes, returning the hug and craning his neck to kiss your forehead. The two of you stood there for a moment, just basking in each other's warmth. But, the moment was short-lived when he gave a long, exaggerated exhale through his nose before murmuring, "Ready?"

"...No." You groaned.

"Damn, do they bite or something?"

"No, they’re just...unfiltered. I love them, don't get me wrong, but they can work on your nerves to an olympic degree. You'll see once we get inside...They're gonna ask about your dick, by the way. Just ignore it."

Maki snorted, bewildered. "I'll try my best."

"Also...try not to mention that...other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know," you raised your brows, looking over your shoulder in case they were eavesdropping before softly continuing, "that post."

It took a second, but he eventually caught on to what you meant.

‘Takehiro Hanamaki. 6’0ft shameless manslut (affectionately) who’s taken the campus by storm with his rather...interesting side hobby that pretty much has every student reaching for their wallets and switching to incognito mode on their browsers. Who would’ve guessed that lanky, low-eyed beanpole had the talent to film such erotic content and put a whole industry to shame with just his smartphone and a couple LED lights? After getting past the paywall and binging his videos (for research) it’s safe to say this man is very much a power bottom, maybe even a top depending on his mood, with a fowl mouth that’s not afraid to moan like a porn star. Best $200 I’ve ever spent (FOR RESEARCH). Highly recommend if you’re interested in having the best guided orgasm of your life—Link is in the thread! Get that bag, king. 10/10.’

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face instantly. He bounced his eyebrows, leaning down to teasingly say, "Ohh. That post. What? Don't want 'em to know how I make my living? Or, you scared they'll find out you're my number one supporter, always touching themselves just behind the camera-"

"Hiro!" You hissed, face set ablaze as you looked over your shoulder again, anxious. He found your reaction cute, using the straw in his cup to poke your cheek. You huffed at him. "I don't want them to pry. I doubt they've seen it since they go to a different uni, and I'd like to keep it that way. Okay?"

He easily shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

You exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.” You turned to head back inside, knowing your friends were just itching to bombard Maki, however you were stopped when he grabbed your arm.

“But.”

“…But?”

“I’ll let the dick-related questions slide and keep my side hustle under wraps, but you have to do something for me in exchange for my good behavior.”

You tilted your head, nervous. “Like what?”

His grinned mischievously, eyes half-mast as he used his free hand to hold your jaw, making you gasp softly when he tilted your head back. “Instead of being behind the camera in my next video…my number one supporter has to be the star.”

You rapidly blinked, heat traveling throughout your body once you registered his words. Fumbling over your own, you didn’t have time to protest when the door behind you opens wide, revealing your impatient friends. Maki let go of your jaw and settled for wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he waved at them with the hand that still had the large cup in it.

“‘sup.” He flashed them a sly grin. Maki took in their shocked faces, hoping they were a good sign as he introduced himself. “[_____]’s told me a lot about you guys. Hope you didn’t mind me crashing your get together.”

They absolutely did not mind.

You weren’t lying—Those pictures you showed did him dirty. Nothing could’ve prepared them for the uno reverse that was Takehiro Hanamaki. From his lax posture and cozy demeanor, sleepers build and cute smile, it’s no wonder you were drawn to him. Plus he’s funny with a big dick (allegedly)?????

After you composed yourself, still reeling from your conversation earlier, you eventually mustered up a triumphant smile at your friends as they gaped up at Maki, speechless. “So? You guys still think I fumbled?”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[menyuui]

JUST A LITTLE LONGER

༉‧₊˚. synopsis. you and remus break up because neither of you knows how to be honest about their feelings #flops

༉‧₊˚. tags. remus lupin, remus lupin x reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt to comfort, inaccurate hogwarts layouts, ooc maruaders era characters, lowkey rich!remus lupin, headcanoning him as coming from money i dont give a gaf, plot holes asf

༉‧₊˚. notes. this is my first ever fic and also i wrote it at 3 am and it took me 5 hours i literally have not slept so i apologize for inconsistencies and inaccuracies and also my poor unedited grammar and spelling pls forgive me also the ending and kind of the whole this is so rushed sorry i literally wrote this on my phone while bed rotting pls forgive me

REMUS LUPIN, had asked you out in the winter of sixth year, minutes before you boarded separate trains to go home for the holidays. he'd come running down your platform, coat buttoned to the top, hair a mess, juggling three different suitcases, how could you possibly say no to such a display?

to be entirely honest at that point you had been waiting weeks for remus to gain the courage to ask you out and you said 'yes!' faster than you'd like to admit but you'd live the embarrassment a billion times over if it meant you got to end up with remus in the end.

he had spent months courting you, planning dates and activities and introducing you to his tight knit group of friends, not to mention the years he had already spent pining after you (not that he'd ever confess that truth to you). with all the effort he had put in to getting you to date him you're not sure how you ended up here, like this. seventh year had started off so well, fresh off the train after spending the last week of summer at the lupin estate while remus's parents conducted business overseas. it seemed like you two were more in love than ever before, if that was even possible, so why wouldn't remus just tell you he was a werewolf?

it's nearing the end of november and remus and his friends were off on a 4 day "study group field trip", an excursion that they somehow convinced professor mcgonagall to go along with. you knew what that meant though, it meant that the full moon was coming up and remus would be spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing with only the company of madame pompfrey his aching body. last month it had been an impromptu trip to james's childhood home, the month before the four of them had all conveniently caught the flu and could not see you under any circumstances out of fear of spreading their infection. every month before that since you had begun dating was excuse after excuse, and you weren't sure how much more you could take.

you had become privy to remus's secret two months after your relationship began. you were never stupid, far from it, in fact you were always quite perceptive so it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone when you figured out what your boyfriend was trying to hide. it was easy to figure out the remaining players in the game after you uncovered the secret. obviously james, sirius, and peter had known, but it seems along with the three of his closest friends, lily evans was also let in on the confidential matter.

nothing changed for you after you had found out. you loved remus, you still love remus, nothing would ever change that.

so why won't he just be honest with you?

for as long as you could you staved off thinking about it any further than the surface level. you pushed the thoughts and doubts deep inside your mind, never letting yourself steep on it long enough to actually feel bad about it. until now, the christmas holiday was rapidly approaching, just mere weeks away, which also meant that your one year anniversary was just around the corner. your parents had been begging you to bring him home for the holiday, even if just one day could be spared, they just wanted to meet him. all of sudden, all the thoughts you had been avoiding had been pushed to the forefront of your mind.

despite your best efforts, your endless sleepless nights of attempted rationalization, and your undying love for your boyfriend, you could only come up with one answer as to why your boyfriend wouldn't let you in on his inner-inner circle:

he was going to break up with you.

to practical anyone else who knew the two of you, this would never even be thought possible.

but to you? it was the only possible reason.

it all made sense, obviously the marauders would know, they were his lifelong friends, practically his brothers. and of course lily would know, she was james's soulmate. all these people who knew he had let in on his secret were guaranteed to be in his life forever, which could only mean that you weren't.

so that's where you find yourself, on the last day of your boyfriend's montly disappearing act, worn down from the lack of sleep and the excess of worry, dreading the end of your relationship.

if you could have it your way the relationship would never end. you were completely sure that remus lupin was the only man you were ever going to love, but where you saw a future, remus only saw an opportunity to have one last school romance before he got started on his real life.

meanwhile in the hospital wing . . .

"i simply don't understand why you can't just tell her moony?!" sirius was fed up with his friend, the events of the previous full moon fueling his annoyance.

remus rolled his eyes and turned over in the creaky hospital bed, groaning at the added pressure on his bruised ribbed but grateful to be hidden away from sirius's glare.

sirius could just strangle remus right now.

"ughhhh!!! you're so-" remus wasn't looking at him but he knew that sirius was shaking his fists in anger while james and peter looked on amusedly.

james attempted to ease the situation, "alright come off him padfoot, the poor lad's just been through the wringer." his efforts not in vain as sirius mumbled a quick "whatever." before turning away from the trio of his friends.

"he's right though." james added with a tight lip.

this caused remus to roll his eyes once more, "get out." he groaned, clamping his pillow over his ears in frustration.

james lowly chuckled at his distressed friend, while attempting to soothe sirius who had just let out a scoff. peter looked at the pair as if to say 'let me try', before scooting onto the edge of remus's bed.

"remus...as annoying as sirius is," he started, giving sirius a pointed glare, "i think it would help us understand better, if you just told us why you don't want her to know."

when remus remained unmoving and silent under the protection of the pillow over his face, peter shrugged. james and sirius let out a quiet sigh, nearly giving up on an explanation when remus's mumbling cut them off. from beneath his pillow he spoke a brief and muffled statement, unintelligible to even his best friends.

"what?" sirius demanded with a judgemental eyebrow raised.

remus lifted the pillow off his face, tucking it under his head once more. still with his head turned away from the group he sighed deeply, "if i tell her...she's going to leave me."

a silence overtook the quartet. they all knew this had long been remus's greatest fear. flashbacks to nights post-full moons comforting a sobbing and broken remus as he begged for someone to just end the misery that was his existence. he'd long known he was destined for a life alone, bouncing between the couches of his best friends and their future partners and eventual children. this was the way it had to be. until you said yes, your mere presence made remus feel like he was being pulled out of the pits of hell.

but remus wasn't an idiot, he was on the verge of graduating and he had to be honest with his reality. you weren't meant for this life, this darkness, not when you were so kind, so pure. it was never going to last.

"you don't know that remus." peter stated as-a-matter-a-factly. and he meant it too, peter liked you, he really liked you. you had always been nice to him, and funny, and you made a real effort to get along with them, which he knows can be hard. he had faith in you.

remus cut off his mental praise with a cynical laugh, "yes i do."

peter didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort his friend. james thought that he did.

"then she's not the one for you!" james encouraged. it did little to soothe remus's aching heart. somewhere deep inside him remus knew you were, the one for him. he loved you so dearly and he knew you loved him the same, he just couldn't stand the thought of you looking at him differently.

he knew it had to end. but was it so selfish of him to just want a little bit more time with you. seventh year was nearly half way through, remus would let you go after hogwarts, free to live and love like you deserved. he had come to terms with the fact that 10 years down the line when he was long gone that there would be some lucky fella who got you to fall for him bent over a crib carrying a baby with the eyes of the girl he had once loved, so can't he just have you for a little bit longer?

remus had already begun to see the signs. you were pulling away, being more distant. you were never in your dorm, always tucked away in the potions classroom during your free time or checking out books from the restricted section of the library. he knew the end was near.

all of sudden remus had forgotten about the pain of his injuries and could only focus on the pit forming in his chest. he didn't want to talk about this anymore.

his friends had taken note of his sullen face and ceased their talking. he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and tucked his face into the stiff pillow, they got the message.

as they left the room sirius offered a, "we'll check in on you after dinner moony." his promise was left unacknowledged.

three weeks later . . .

less than a month later your worst nightmare came true. six days before holiday break began, six days before your one year anniversary, remus lupin broke up with you.

he had approached you while you were sitting by the great lake, unassuming and oblivious to your impending doom and shattered your entire world without so much as a hint of despair on his beautiful face.

in all your pain and anguish you didn't know what to say, you offered a meek "okay." scared to say more out of fear of bursting into tears.

remus took your lack of words as a clear sign of your impassiveness about the situation. a indicator of your relief to be rid of the burden that was his existence, and he turned away and left you there, sitting on the stont bench, silent tears streaming down your face.

that was five days ago. remus had departed from the school early, to get home to prepare for the arrival of his friends and his next transformation.

you, on the other hand, had retreated to the safety of your dorm room shortly after the incident at the lake and had solemnly left your room since. with practically the entire school soon to be gone home for christmas and a letter sent to your parents explaining that you'd be spending the holiday season at a "friend's" (hiding away in the safety of your bed in the walls of hogwarts) you were looking forward to getting a moment alone.

but then you heard the voices of lily and alice pass by your door, "aren't you just in such despair that your beloved james is going to be away from you for the entire holiday?" alice teased lily who laughed in embarrassment in response.

you suddenly remembered the anniversary slash christmas present you had been preparing for remus for nearly a year.

pratically flying out of bed you dropped to your knees and began digging through the trunk at the foot of your bed. when your eyes locked in on the small and neatly wrapped box at the bottom of the trunk, you hesitated for a moment. pushing down any feelings of doubt and resentment you made your way to the great hall.

you stood outside the great hall, fingers curled around the neatly wrapped gift, your pulse drumming against your ribcage. it felt heavier than it should—more than just paper and ribbon, it held pieces of what could’ve been.

the moment you stepped through the doors, the familiar laughter of james, sirius, and peter met your ears. they were huddled together at their usual spot, carefree as ever. for a brief second, you wondered if remus was already missing them.

james spotted you first, his grin faltering just slightly before he called out, "fancy seeing you here."

sirius turned, one brow arching in curiosity. "i half expected you to hex one of us on sight."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite muster a comeback. instead, you held the small box out towards them. "i—" your throat tightened. "i was hoping one of you could give this to remus."

sirius exchanged a glance with james, his expression unreadable. peter just looked between you all, silent as ever.

james took the box carefully, turning it in his hands. "is this—"

"a gift," you cut in. "it was supposed to be for him before we—well. before everything."

the silence stretched, lingering in the air between you. "you don't have to say it's from me, in fact you probably shouldn't, just say it's from one of you, it doesn't matter to me anyways. just make sure he gets it before christmas." then sirius sighed, shaking his head. "you can pretend it doesn’t matter," he said, his voice softer than you’d expected. "but it does."

you swallowed hard, looking away. "i just want him to have it."

james studied you for a moment before his grin returned—lighter now, but somehow more genuine. "consider it delivered."

relief, bittersweet as it was, spread through you. you met his gaze, offering a small, grateful smile. "thanks, james."

you turned to go, and before you could take a step, sirius called out, "you know, we’re not just his friends."

you glanced back.

"you can talk to us too," he said, a little gentler now. "if you ever want to."

you hesitated before nodding and walking away.

the next day the trio left on the train along with the rest of the school, save for a frw lonely students like yourself, and so began your holiday isolation.

christmas eve day . . .

the fireplace crackled, casting flickering light over the modest living room. outside, a fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground, muffling the sounds of the world beyond the lupins' home.

remus sat cross-legged on the floor, the warmth from the fire settling into his bones. across from him, james wrestled with a particularly stubborn ribbon on a present, while sirius lounged back against the couch, shaking a small box near his ear as if trying to decipher its contents by sound alone. peter had already unwrapped a tin of biscuits and was halfway through his second one.

remus's parents watched them with quiet amusement. hope lupin, ever the gracious host, had insisted on feeding them first, hot cocoa and freshly baked mince pies, before they even touched the presents. lyall, standing near the doorway, looked content just observing, though remus didn't miss the way his father's eyes lingered on him longer than usual, as if already steeling himself for what was to come.

"this one’s yours, moony." james nudged a parcel toward him, his grin wide and eager.

remus hesitated, then peeled the paper back, revealing a thick woolen jumper, the kind you’d expect from an old but loving grandmother, except this one was navy blue with a golden moon stitched into the chest.

sirius leaned over, inspecting it. "practical. warm. a little on the nose, if you ask me."

remus huffed a laugh, running his fingers over the embroidery. "you all planned this, didn’t you?"

peter shoved another biscuit into his mouth and shrugged. "you need it. full moon’s always brutal in winter."

hope’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly, reaching for another gift to pass to james. remy saw the quiet worry in her eyes, no matter how many times they did this, she’d never truly get used to it.

but tonight, for now, they could pretend.

"open mine next," sirius said, tossing a wrapped box at remus. "and don’t be gentle about it."

remus rolled his eyes but did as he was told, tearing through the paper to find—

"merlin," he breathed. "how did you even—"

sirius smirked. "you really think i’d let you go through another transformation without something decent to listen to after? it’s all the best records, charmed to play however you want. figured music would help, even if you’re too out of it to remember much."

remus swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

james, clearly sensing the shift in mood, clapped a hand on remus's shoulder. "we know tomorrow won’t be easy," he said. "but we’re here now. and we’ll be there then too—same as always."

the fire had burned lower now, flickering embers casting shadows along the walls as the night stretched on. gift wrappings lay in scattered piles, forgotten in the excitement of the evening, but remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. something about nights like these, the quiet and warmth of shared laughter, made the inevitability of tomorrow feel just a little easier to carry.

until james cleared his throat, reaching into the pile of gifts they’d yet to hand out.

"almost forgot," he said, a little too casual, passing a small, carefully wrapped box into remus's hands. "got this for you."

remus blinked down at it, frowning. he hadn’t seen that package among the others earlier, but he tore at the wrapping anyway, uncovering a small glass vial—midnight blue liquid shifting within, thick yet unnervingly smooth.

silence settled over the room.

lyall had gone stiff.

remus stared at the potion, "what is this supposed to—"

"wolfsbane." his father was staring at the potion like it might explode. "where did you get that." lyall muttered, stepping forward, studying the liquid as though willing it to reveal some flaw. "i’ve been trying for years, and every time it’s come with unbearable side effects. this—this isn’t easy to come by, let alone brew properly."

james shifted hesitant for a moment, considering telling the truth, scratching the back of his neck. "oh you know, connections."

remus narrowed his eyes, but sirius kicked at his ankle, distracting him with a smirk. "does it matter? it’s for you. besides what even is it? like some wicked liquor or what?"

lyall shook his head, grabbing the vial and turning it slightly in his palm. "it’s meant to lessen the effects of the transformation. nearly impossible to get right. but this—" he turned the bottle again, watching the way the liquid clung smoothly to the glass. "this is perfect."

sirius opened his mouth, closed it again, then exchanged a glance with james. james stared at the potion, then at remus. then back at the potion.

peter’s eyes widened slightly.

not a single one of them spoke, but the realization settled in like a stone dropped into still water.

but remus didn’t have a clue. neither did his family.

james cleared his throat, easing his grin back into place, as if shaking off the weight of the moment. "well. guess you got lucky, moony. and i totally got jipped, thought i was getting a bargain on some extra concentrated firewhiskey."

remus rolled his eyes, cradling the vial in his palm, looking it over himself now. "yeah. guess so."

hope glanced between them all but didn’t press further.

lyall was still frowning slightly, as if running through the possibilities in his mind.

sirius nudged james sharply. james barely acknowledged it. peter just blinked, staring at the bottle again. the fire crackled, filling the quiet as remus tucked the potion carefully into his pocket, blissfully unaware of the revelation hanging in the air.

outside, the snow continued to fall. inside, the warmth remained, but it carried something heavier now. something unspoken.

the morning after the full moon was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled into the bones of the house. the fire in the hearth had burned low, and upstairs, remus was still resting, recovering.

james, sirius, and peter trudged downstairs, sluggish but grateful for the scent of breakfast wafting through the air. lyall was already at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea, looking like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

sirius was the first to drop into a chair, stretching his arms above his head. "rough night?"

lyall huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "you lot know all too well that every full moon is. hope and i can't tell you how grateful we are for you guys."

james shrugged, remus was their friend, their best friend, taking care of him was a given, no sweat about it. grabbing a piece of toast, chewing absentmindedly he glanced at lyall. "about that potion—the wolfsbane—"

peter, still half-asleep, perked up at the mention of it.

sirius leaned forward. "you said it was nearly impossible to get right. but you've tried?"

lyall exhaled, setting his cup down. "for years," he admitted. "every time i thought i was close, it turned out worse than before. the headaches were unbearable, the nosebleeds frequent. cramps so bad i couldn’t stand some days. seizures." he paused, shaking his head slightly. "it never worked, no matter how many adjustments i made."

peter swallowed hard. "and you had to stop?"

lyall nodded. "for months. sometimes years. the toll it took, for all my love i couldn't continue."

silence fell over the kitchen only the sound of breakfast being cooked could be heard.

james stared at his toast, unmoving. sirius glanced between them all, brows knitting together. peter looked like he wanted to disappear into his seat.

the realization settled in, slow and heavy.

whoever had brewed that potion hadn’t had years to figure it out. they’d done it recently. quickly.

which meant—

sirius sat up straighter, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. james pressed his lips together, tapping his fingers against the table. peter’s expression tightened, eyes flicking toward the staircase, as if looking up toward where remus was still asleep.

you had gone through hell to make that potion.

the three of them sat with the thought, none of them daring to say it aloud.

lyall sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "whatever miracle brewed that vial, i hope it was worth it."

james forced a chuckle. "yeah," he said, voice quieter than usual. "me too." sirius reached for his tea, taking a slow sip, gaze unfocused. peter didn’t say anything at all.

outside, the frost clung to the windows, the world cold and still.

meanwhile at hogwarts . . .

the hospital wing was quiet, save for the soft clinking of vials and the occasional rustle of parchment as madame pomfrey jotted down notes. you sat perched on the edge of a bed, your posture stiff and hands trembling slightly as you clutched the edge of the blanket.

"you should’ve come to me sooner," pomfrey said, her tone stern but not unkind. she set a steaming goblet on the bedside table, the potion within swirling a pale green. "you’ve been pushing yourself far beyond the limits of a witch your age."

you swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. "i needed to finish it."

pomfrey sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. "y/n you’ve been receiving treatment for nearly a year now. headaches, nosebleeds, muscle cramps, they could've seriously harmed you."

you nodded, gaze fixed on the floor. "i—i couldn’t stop. not when i was so close."

pomfrey’s expression softened, though her worry was evident. "but darling the appearance spells? hiding the toll it’s taken on you? on your body?"

you hesitated, thinking about the months of cast appearance spells to hide your frail body littered with signs of wear, then nodded again. "no one could know. it was easier to pretend everything was fine."

pomfrey reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "you’ve done something extraordinary, but at what cost? your body needs time to recover. you can’t keep hiding this."

pomfrey studied your face for a long moment, then sighed again, standing to retrieve another vial from the cabinet. "rest. no more spells, no more pushing yourself. if you don’t take care of yourself now, there won’t be anything left to give."

you nodded, your resolve unwavering despite the exhaustion etched into your features. as pomfrey handed you the next potion, you took it without hesitation, the weight of your choices settling heavily in the quiet room.

you’re halfway through choking down the bitter potion when the door creaks open.

"thought i’d find you here."

the voice is unmistakable: smooth, lazy, edged with something sharp beneath its usual confidence.

sirius.

you freeze, setting the goblet down carefully before looking up. he stands at the entrance, arms crossed, gaze locked on you.

madame pomfrey straightens, clearly unimpressed. "mr. black, if you’re ill, i suggest you come back at a reasonable hour."

he barely acknowledges her, his focus never shifting from you.

"i’m fine," he says, but it’s directed at you, not her.

she lingers, exhaling through her nose. "five minutes. then she needs to rest."

once she disappears into her office, sirius steps forward, hands shoved into his coat pockets.

"so," he says, tilting his head, "you look like shit."

you roll your wyes, leaning back against the pillows. "i’m just...tired."

he scoffs. "right. sure. maybe that'd work on another idiot. try again."

you don’t answer.

sirius exhales sharply, pacing at the foot of your bed. "wolfsbane," he mutters. "you brewed it."

your throat tightens. "you already knew that."

he shakes his head. "we didn’t. not until lyall told us how impossible it is to brew."

the weight of his words settles deep in your chest.

sirius watches you for a long moment before he speaks again. "you’ve been practically killing yourself for nearly a year."

you don’t deny it.

"why did you even do all of that—all of this," he gestures to your ailing body, "if you were just gonna let him dump you in the end?"

you jump on the defensive, "you think i wanted to get dumped?" you quip back, angrily.

"well you didn't try very hard not to." sirius accused with a glare.

"oh fuck off sirius." you scoff.

sirius relents, "why didn't you tell him you knew? why didn't you fight for him?" he asked genuinely.

you hesitate for a moment, why didn't you fight for him? "he didn't want me anymore sirius. i can't fix that."

sirius's face flashed in bewilderment. remus lupin? not wanting you? impossible. before he could oppose you continued, "i wanted to give him the chance to tell me on his own time, like he told you and james and peter and even lily for godsake. i wanted him to come to me when he was ready, i didn't want to confront him with it, like it was some kind of accusation. i wanted him to trust me." your voice broke at the end and sirius immediately felt horrible for even slightly raising his voice at you.

"i thought that if i just gave him time, he would, but where he saw forever with you guys, he just saw for now with me. i figured that's why he never told me, what's the point in going through all the agony for some girl he never planned on keeping around anyways."

sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. how could you be so wrong. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you till you understood, he wanted to scream in your face that it wasn't true, that your mind was playing tricks on you, planting seeds of doubt about a man who loved you so wholeheartedly that it could kill him, but he didn't. because that wasn't his place, it was remus's.

so instead he grabbed your hand, and sat with you in the silence of the castle for as long as he could before he had to make his was back to his friends.

back at lupin manor . . .

the house is quiet when sirius returns, the cold pressing against his back as he steps through the front door. the fire in the living room crackles softly, illuminating the space with a warm glow.

remus is exactly where he left him, curled up on the couch, blanket draped over his shoulders, looking tired but better than he did last night. his head lifts slightly at the sound of the door closing.

"didn’t think you’d be back so soon," remus murmurs, voice rough with lingering exhaustion.

sirius lets out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "yeah, well. didn’t feel like dragging it out."

remus shifts, turning his full attention toward him now. "how was hogsmeade?"

sirius scoffs, pulling off his coat and tossing it onto the armchair. "didn’t go."

remus frowns slightly. "thought you said you had a date."

sirius hesitates for a fraction of a second, then shrugs, like it’s nothing. "went to hogwarts instead."

remus’s brows knit together. "why?"

sirius exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before moving toward the couch, dropping onto the seat opposite remus. "to see y/n."

remus blinks, surprised. "she didn't go home for the holiday?"

sirius shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "nope. found her in the hospital wing."

remus sits up a little straighter, something unreadable flickering in his expression. "what happened?"

sirius studies him for a long moment before speaking. "she’s been getting treated for almost a year."

remus’s lips part slightly, confusion settling in, in the year that they had dated remus never noticed her even looking vaguely ill let alone getting treated for something. "treated for what?"

sirius sighs, his voice quieter now. "the wolfsbane."

realization dawns slowly over remus’s face, his grip tightening on the blanket draped over his shoulders.

sirius continues, pomfrey said she’s been coming in with all kinds of shit. headaches, nosebleeds, muscle cramps. even seizures."

remus’s throat works, eyes darkening. "she knows?"

sirius watches him carefully. “she's known moony, since nearly the beginning. she did it for you.”

remus exhales sharply, looking away, staring into the fire. "that doesn't make any sense, there's no way she knew and she stayed with me."

sirius can't help but roll his eyes at his stubborn friend, "is that actually true or did you just make yourself believe that? i mean did she actually ever say anything indicative of her being this horrible twisted person you've made her out to be?"

remus is silent.

"you don't get it moony. it's not her. it's me. i'm the dark and twisted one, she doesn't want this sirius. she doesn't deserve this." remus cried out.

sirius was in despair over his friend's anguish, he looked around desperately for something, anything to prove that what he was saying was true, his eyes landed on the vial. he grabbed it, harshly shoving it in remus's shaking hands, "she does want it. and that right there is hard evidence. it works doesn't it? we all know it did, you've never been able to stand the day after a full-moon before let alone walk down the stairs by yourself." he rips the blanket of remus's lap, "she did that for you, without being asked, without being rewarded, and the expense of her own health."

remus looks down at his body, he's felt it all morning, the lessened ache of his bones and the surprising lack of deep cuts in his skin.

"you have got to stop this moony, this wallowing this–this hatred. it's going to kill you. she doesn't deserve this? well neither do you."

outside, the wind howls softly against the windows. inside, something unspoken lingers in the spaces between words, settling deep in the quiet.

one week later . . .

the black lake is still, the surface glass-like under the dull winter sky. the cold bites at your skin, but you don’t move, not yet. you just sit there, staring out at the water, letting the silence stretch.

you hear his footsteps before you hear his voice. the scene is all tok familiar.

“you look well.”

you tense, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of your cloak.

“so do you,” you reply, voice even, measured. you don’t turn to face him. instead, you push yourself to stand, brushing off your robes, ready to leave.

“i got it wrong.” his voice is wavering.

you pause mid-step. slowly, you turn your head just enough to glance at him. remus looks tired. not in the way he did after his monthly ritual, not just physically, but something else lingers in his expression. something heavier.

you don’t ask.

you grip the edges of your cloak tighter, keeping your face unreadable. “about what?”

he exhales, shaking his head slightly, like he’s still sorting through the thoughts tangled up inside him. “about you,” he says. “about—about what you were trying to do.”

you shift, drawing your arms closer to yourself, bracing against the cold.

remus steps forward, just barely, his breath visible in the air between you.

“i didn’t see it,” he admits, his voice low. “not until sirius told me.” he looks at you then, steady and unguarded. “i got it wrong,” he repeats, softer this time.

the words settle between you, raw and honest. you don’t move for a long moment, your pulse drumming against your ribs, your breath short against the crisp air.

then, finally, you speak. "i don't know what you want me to say remus."

"just listen?" he offers.

you don't move, you still don't look at him. he takes it as indication to continue, "i’ve loved you for so long. longer than i even knew what love meant, longer than i ever thought i deserved to feel it. and for so much of that time, i did nothing about it. not because i didn’t want to, but because i didn’t know how much time i had." your face flashes in concern at this.

"with everything i am, this condition, this mind that turns against itself more often than not, i didn’t know how long i was going to last. i didn’t let myself imagine a future, because what would be the point? then seventh year came, and suddenly there was a deadline. graduation. the end of everything familiar. and i figured, why not, right? why not make the most of the time i had left with you? i love you so much, and i wanted to tell you. i wanted to tell you my secret so badly, but you are so pure, so kind, so good, and i was afraid. afraid that if i told you, you’d see me differently. you’d see the monster in me, you'd see what i see in myself, and you would leave. and i know that was selfish—i know. but i just wanted more time. i just wanted a little longer with you before you had to go." tears are streaming down his face at this point, down yours too, you can't bear to look at him, you remaining resolve would crumble, you know it.

"then you started to pull away after november, and i couldn’t–i couldn’t watch you leave. i wouldn’t have survived it. so i had to do it first. i had to hurt you before you could hurt me. because if i broke you, at least i’d know the ending was mine." he stopped, you didn't move, you didn't say anything.

"y/n please. i'm sorry." more silence. and then,

"i'm going to be late for class." and with that you walked off, leaving remus standing there under the cover of a wilted tree, next to the stone bench he had abandoned you on just a few weeks ago.

. . .

two days. it had been two days since remus's display at the lake and he had been moping ever since, much to his roommates dismays.

no one had seen or heard from you since then either. you weren't in your room when james had sent lily to check and you weren't in the hospital wing when sirius had gone to check, and it had remus in absolute shambles.

"she hates me. she hates me so much she transferred schools." he's face down in his pillow, his body limp against the mattress as he groans out his words.

peter scrunches his eyebrows, "we graduate in five months?"

still muffled by his pillow remus replies, "yeah so she must really hate me."

"oh come on you ole sap. don't tell me you're giving up so easily." sirius barked from across the room, peaking his head out from his post-shower routine.

"no i am. i'm giving up. the love of my life hates me and now i'm going to die." remus flips over onto his back and states plainly.

sirius frowns, "what did i say about all this self-anguish bull?"

"i'm only joking mom. kind of." remus replies sarcastically.

he's happy to have his friends in his time of despair, their senseless bickering and blind encouragement gives him hope in his dark and stormy time.

that is until a knock at their dormitory door causes them to all freeze. the four of them look between each other, confused. lily was still in class and sirius's various flings know better than to show up here, so who was at the door?

peter makes the first move, towards the door, hand slowly turning the handle. as the heavy wooden door swings open it reveals, you.

sirius let's out a dramatic gasp and remus nearly burns holes into his head, if only his gaze wasn't so locked in on you.

you brush past peter and make a bee line for where remus is now sat up on the edge of his bed. he holds his breath as you approach him, expecting you to slap him clean across the face.

but you don't, instead, you stop just mere inches in front of him with your hand outstretched.

"my name is y/n y/l/n. i'm a seventh year y/h/n and i'm incredibly talented in potion making." you state.

everyone is confused. remus is confused, but mostly remus is grateful you're even speaking to him. he's frozen in place and when you don't see him moving you shake your outstretched hand and raise your eyebrows.

in a moment of rare intellect from the idiotic boy he snaps back into reality, firm grasping your hand for a shake.

"remus. lupin. seventh year, gryffindor." he finishes, still grasping your hand. you raise your eyebrows again, he tilts his head like a lost and confused puppy.

you decide to throw him a bone and prompt him, "and...?"

it all clicks for him, he knows what you want.

"and i'm a werewolf."

you smile, he smiles.

you turn over the hand of his that has a firm grip on you and apparate a pen into your hand. opening his palm you bend over and write down a number on his open hand.

(+** - *** - ******)

and then you turn to leave, but not before throwing a quick "call me." over your shoulder.

as soon as peter closes the door behind you remus jump up out of his bed. he's pumping his fists in the air while sirius and peter cheer him on.

from his bed, james pipes up, "call me? we're wizards? who the bloody hell is using a mobile phone?"

he's promptly hit square in the face by remus's pillow, knocking the glasses frames clean off his face, "shut up prongs." and peter pats him on the back.

he's absolutely elated. as he falls asleep that night he thanks every single higher being out there for allowing him back into your life. he promises to never grimace at his dad's bad jokes, or make fun of sirius's gala outfits ever again, he swears on everything he has that he will never do another remotely unkind thing again for the rest of his life as long as you are in it.

he knows the two of you have a lot to talk about, and he knows he has a lot to work on himself, but for tonight, he's just happy you gave him a second chance.

© menyuui do not copy, repost, or plagiarize the contents of this blog

[ckret2]

please more evil ford please i stare with my puppy eyes for this i am obbsessed

Yeah all right, I've been working on some art. (For context, we're talking about this Evil Ford.)

Evil Ford is Evil as in "cheerfully works with Bill even after learning his full plot" and "is totally ready to conquer and/or destroy the world." But other than the shocking lack of basic ethics and the supervillain objective he's mostly the same guy—which means he still cares about his family. He's hoping to get them to join in on the world conquest plan.

Forty-odd years ago he went off to college promising someday he'd be a big shot scientist who changes the world and he'd make his family a fortune. If taking over reality doesn't qualify he doesn't know what does. The family can join him and his buddy Bill and rule the universe together. Pines Pines Pines Pines!

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the family still has normal moral compasses. And also they've met Bill.

Bill can't currently possess Ford due to Reasons; but even though he can't get in the driver's seat he still has permission to ride shotgun at any time. Ford talks to him pretty regularly. He HAS been caught doing this. Stan thinks he's just gone a little nutty from thirty years of isolation.

Naturally, since he was always on Bill's side, Ford's perception of events during Weirdmageddon is a bit different:

I finally made an official Evil Ford New Costume Character Design, check out his exciting totally different brand new look:

I decided that, since Ford is still basically the same person aside from his terrible life goals, he'd probably have the same fashion sense. And so... nothing changes except two tiny details lmao.

But he DOES have tattoos:

I traced a canon character model and took off its top to get a base to slap tattoos on, and then went dang... they gave him a big head and arms. He looks goofy. Anyway,

His forearms have less incriminating tattoos—just a birch tree and a sunrise. (The sunrise looks like the Journal 3 "The Muse Has Spoken" page.) The red text is the "triangulum entangulum" ritual; if anyone asks he'll go "it's uhh an ancient Sumerian poem about how great science is." It's not until he's topless that it's like "oh so he's a CULTIST cultist." The one exception is an unconcealed Eye of Providence on his right palm—but it's in an ink that's only visible in certain lighting. It's there so at any time he can point his hand at something and go "Bill are you seeing this BS?"

Of course, he still has the "hey now, you're an all star" neck tattoo. I didn't have room to draw it.

As you can see, he's made being Bill's right hand man a core part of his personality. Rather than spending 30 years scrabbling around the multiverse desperately searching for a way to destroy Bill, he spent 30 years chilling in the Quadrangle of Qonfusion as Bill's specialest favoritest Henchmaniac, and only scrabbling around the multiverse occasionally for fun & profit.

Here's a photo Bill & Ford took at a Nightmare Realm house party like fifteen years ago, three minutes before Bill started an argument and set the house on fire.

Most people have their wild party years in college, Ford has his in his 40s.

[taintandviolent]

Nosy Neighbours ; Gambit x Reader

summary: PART ONE TO TACO TUESDAY! PART THREE HERE! Reader wakes up after a night of debauchery.... and continues it. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.2K | smut with very little plot, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, blowjobs, eating out, no use of y/n, a sprinkling of angst at the end because things are developing for reader.

a/n: Listen, listen. I am blown away by the love on my first Remy fic, and the fact that you guys wanted a part two made my day. Thank you so much for all the praise and I hope this one lives up to the hype as well! part 3....? peut être... - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @atomicfoxx!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Sunlight filters in through the crack in your curtains, warming a stripe across your thigh and stomach. You squeeze your lids shut tighter and turn your head away from the window, trying to get away from the glaring brightness. A grogginess lingers heavy in your system, but despite that, your body is giving you all the internal signals that it's time to wake up. You stretch deeply, muscles quivering as you flay your limbs out on the bed.

You hadn't gotten that drunk. At least, you didn't think you had. You don't remember falling asleep, but you definitely remember the dreams you had. They were lusty, lewd and lascivious, and every other adjective to describe naughty; your brain had conjured up the filthiest dreams you'd had since... well, ever. And they were all with the Cajun guy you'd met at Wade's. Remy. You remembered his name because you'd said it at least a dozen times in your dream. 

Still half asleep, you flop over, throwing your arm and leg over onto the mattress. Your sheets are pulled down on one side, oddly, but you assume you just tried kicking them off or burritoing yourself in the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. You sniff and an unexpected sweet, warm fragrance fills your nostrils. Breakfast? You roll over again, and sit bolt upright to look down the hall. You suck in a breath and hold it, listening intently to the sounds coming from your kitchen; the scrape of metal against cast iron and a distinct sizzling sound. 

“What the hell?” You whisper, scooting yourself to the edge of the mattress. 

As you get up off the bed, you pull the sheet with you, wrapping it around your naked body, which honestly, was odd - you never slept nude – always in an oversized shirt. Your muscles seem to shake as you walk, and ache pings somewhere in the area of your hip flexors as you pad down the hall, barefoot. When you get to the kitchen, there’s a visual in front of you that causes you to come to a screeching halt.

Had it really not been a dream? 

You nearly have to pick your jaw up off of the floor. He – Remy – stands in your kitchen, over your stove, in nothing but his purple briefs and your polka dotted apron, which hasn't been tied and hangs from his muscular neck.

As he tends to the bacon sizzling in the pan, he sees you in his peripheral, and turns his head slightly, a bright but relaxed smile on his face — the look of it tickles something in your core. You hum quietly.

"Mornin', cher." 

What you want to say is holy shit but you instead mutter out an inquisitive and unsure: "Uhhh, morning...?" 

Even though you’ve seen him naked before, you’re still flabbergasted by the visual. You swallow, and let your eyes fall down the length of his body; tan skin pulled taut over sculpted muscles. He's just as delicious now as he was in your dreams. Maybe even moreso, with the lingering cuddle of sleep, his hair mussed, and the sunlight beaming in from the small window over the sink, kissing his skin in a yellow haze. 

"Hungry, mon ami?"

"Starved, actually." You blink away from his half-naked form and up to his face. "I'm so sorry, am I still asleep or did we....?" 

Remy chuckles and flips the bacon. "We sho’ did. I ain’t remember the last time I had it like ‘dat." 

You take a breath, and think back. It doesn’t take long to differentiate between dreams and reality as it all comes rushing back, playing out in your mind like a dirty movie. 

The way he held you close to his chest, the way his hands explored your body, fingertips kissing your flesh... the way his thick cock felt as it filled you, pleasure coursing through your body in ways that you’d never experienced before. The way he spoke, the way you said — moaned — his name. The way you nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder after you both had cum, the way he’d stroked your hair as you fell asleep… 

You swallow and blink again, bringing yourself back to reality. Remy is plating the bacon and walks it over to your small kitchen table. He gestures with a nod of his head and you walk over, plopping down into the seat, which squeaks as you do. Tucking the sheets underneath your armpits, you reach forward and pluck a single piece from the plate; it's warm and sticky, and tastes like maple syrup. You hum happily as you chew, and Remy takes a piece for himself as he sits down in the chair across from you. 

"Remy," you coo. It sounds far more wanton than you intend, almost a moan. Judging by his reaction, it sounds familiar — like the way you were whining his name last night as he hammered into you. 

"Hoo, don't start 'dat again or we gon' be havin' a repeat of last night." 

You swallow the mouthful of bacon and reach for another strip. He’s a good cook on top of everything, and made the bacon just the way you liked it. Great. 

“Listen, I… I’m not usually like… that. I don’t hook up with random guys or anything.” 

“Is ‘dat what ‘dat was?” He asks, a taunting tone in his voice. There’s something behind it, something warm and inviting, but you shake the thought off. 

“Wasn’t it? Isn’t that what that’s… classified as? I’m…”

He interjected, pushing the plate towards you. “Well, I dunno’, cher. You fell asleep in my arms… and I’m still here.”

You munch on another slice of bacon as you grapple with the fact that maybe it wasn’t just a one-night stand. Your eyes glaze over, staring at nothing in particular as you consider a couple of things. 

First, was the fact that you’d never been one for one night stands. They were frivolous, and usually ended in embarrassment or heartbreak. Neither of which had happened here. He had a glaring point; he had stayed, and apparently, you were comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms. Another something that you never did. 

Second, was the fact that you’d also never really been one for the whole fate, destiny, or soulmate thing. That was cringy, and not something you’d ever entertained, because why would you? Save for a few meaningless relationships in college, you’d been alone and liked it that way. Less to deal with, less to have to clean up at the end of the day. You weren’t actively looking for a relationship, but Remy had just been there. Wasn’t that how fate worked? You furrowed your brows.

Third, was the undeniable fact that something – and you didn’t know what – but something about Remy had been written deep within the confines of your heart. The magnetic pull that you’d felt towards him last night still lingered heavily, and you wanted nothing more than to push yourself against him and feel his body against yours. 

Lust at first sight. That’s got to be what it is, you decide. You’re in lust with him.

But why not test it again…. Just to be sure. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, having been sent the signals that you plan to pursue him. Again. 

The wanton voice returns as you push yourself up out of your seat, leaning over the kitchen table. “Maybe we should… do it again… for good measure. Remy…”

"Chere, what did Remy say about usin' ‘dat voice...?"

"What if that's what I want?"

Remy's chewing slows and his eyes lift to yours. The legs of the chair scrape against the tile as he stands up, stretching forward to meet your mouth. Your lips barely graze each other, before – 

As if on cue, someone knocks at the door, the sound echoing in your ears. Shit. You hesitate for a moment, eyes darting towards the door. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Begrudgingly, you move away from him, kick the sheet out behind you so you don’t trip on it, and hurry to the door, unlatching it.

"Wade," you breathe as you throw open the door, almost exasperated. 

Wade pauses for a beat, assessing your appearance. "Oooh, good morning, sunshine. Looks like someone celebrated Taco Tuesday with some extra Cajun seasoning."

You heave a sigh; half out of annoyance and half out of embarrassment, because the reality was, you hadn't looked in the mirror this morning, so your appearance was a mystery. You look down at your sheet-clad body, and pull it tighter around you, as if that's giving back any of your modesty.

Wade leans on the doorframe, grinning like an absolute idiot. Lips pursed, he wiggles his eyebrows (or lack thereof) at you and waits for you to say something. Confess something. He's waiting for the juicy details, and you aren't delivering. 

"Speak, Lassie! Tell us what happened!" 

You huff. "What do you want, Wade?" 

"So hostile. Actually, like State Farm, I was just being a good neighbour. Checking on you and the Cajun Sensation since you two never came ba - oh fuck me is he in his underwear? What in the Magic Mike is happening here?" He peeks over your shoulder, spotting the half-naked Gambit behind you. 

"Wade!" You try to lean into his line of sight, preventing him from looking any further. "Look, I hardly know you, I'm not about to divulge my sex life to you-" 

"Woah, TMI, princess. But thanks for the confirmation!"

"What!? No, that's not what I meant! I'm just..." 

"Sure, pumpkin. It's okay, Disney gave it an R-rating for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Nothing." You snap, obviously frustrated. "Look, I'm fine. Everything is fine, we just --" 

Remy's voice comes from behind you, fast approaching. "Cher? Everythin' alright?" 

You cast your glance behind you briefly – he’s ditched the apron, and is now in nothing but those tight fitting briefs that leave little to the imagination. God, he's so attentive. He’s already acting like a boyfriend, a thought that turns your guts to butterflies. 

Wade preens, clearly amused. "Oohh, well fuck me sideways. It was that kind of night, huh? Real x reader type plot. Cute. Have you said I love you yet? Or is that chapter three?" 

You bristle, absolutely appalled at the question. Behind you, Remy opens the door further and  raises one arm over his head, leaning it on the wood of the interior frame. He sees Wade and grins brightly, a twist to his lips, almost like he knows what’s happening.

“Mornin’, mon petit rouge.” (My little red)

“Oooh, I felt a tingle with that one.” 

Remy chuckles, shaking his head lightly. Starting with his bare bicep, which was now on full display, Wade's eyes trail down the length of Remy's body, lingering far too long at his groin before snapping back up to his face. 

"Jesus fuck, someone needs to put Agent Tequila on ice again. I thought it was Texas where everything is bigger–"

You feel your cheeks get hot and your eyes widen. “CHRIST, Wade!" 

“Oh please, drop the Sandra Dee act, pookie. You two fucked nasty and everyone knows it. At least the whole floor.” 

Behind you, Remy laughs low. You can feel his gaze on you, tunneling into you, almost as if he’s waiting for you to confirm or deny. The decision weighs heavy on your shoulders, and finally, you blurt out an answer.

“Okay, so we did. Happy now?” 

Wade’s shoulders drop and he heaves an over dramatic sigh. “Hallelujah. There, doesn’t honesty feel good?” 

Remy leans forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Not as good as what I did to you last night, huh cher?” 

“Heard that.” Wade barks. 

Your entire face feels hot, and the blush is spreading down your neck the longer this goes on. 

Remy’s hand comes forward to take a fistful of your ass, squeezing firmly before giving it a determinate smack and heading back to the table. He’s apparently ascertained that the situation is safe; Wade may be a character but he means no harm. You stiffen at the feeling, fighting against the betrayal of your body. Wade arches a brow, his eyes darting to the very subtle way that your hips pitch forward stiffly. 

“Anyway, this isn’t a threesome — could be, but isn’t — so I’m going back home. I have a big… wet… chimichanga waiting for me. Toodles.”

You’re relieved he ends the conversation before you have to; you aren’t quite sure what might’ve come out of your mouth had he stayed any longer and as an afterthought, you don’t want to create hostility with your next door neighbour. You shut your door, throwing the deadbolt into place. 

You march back to the table with an apparent chip on your shoulder over the interaction with Wade – which all things considered, wasn’t that bad, but you’re still worked up. Your muscles are tense with frustration, which you don't notice until Remy's large hands are sliding up the sides of your arms. He eventually gets to your shoulders, which he pinches and massages between his fingers, forcing them back into a more relaxed state. You let out a sigh, and buck your hips back slightly. His groin is pressed up against the ample curve of your ass, your bodies fitting together like a erotic puzzle piece.

“What’re you all mad  for, cher? C’mon now…” 

“Who does he think he is? Making me confess that… and I’m a grown wo—“

“You was pretty loud last night.” He interjects, that mischievous smirk on his lips. 

You spin around in his grasp and cross your arms, shooting him a disapproving look. “Whose side are you on here?”  

He's unphased by your anger, and instead, brings his hands up to your cheeks, pulling them forward until your head gives way, and your lips smash against his.

At this, you let out a mewl of faux discomfort, and Remy smirks against your lips. He shakes his head softly, and pulls you closer at the waist. After a moment, he breaks the kiss and looks down at your sheet-clad figure. While it is a tantalizing sight -- the way the sheet drapes over your figure, conforming to the curve of your breasts, peaking over your semi-hard nipples -- he wants to see your body again. It's been hours, and he's craving it again.

“Yours.” His voice is so sure, so low and so close. 

Well… his hands are definitely on your sides. They roam between your waist and your hips for a few moments before he makes a fist with one of them, the gray fabric bunching between his fingers. 

“Who you bein’ modest for, huh? You don’t need ‘dis. Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” 

“I… I don’t know…” you whisper, falling into the trap of his eyes again. When he looks at you, really looks at you, you feel like you’re standing at the edge of a building, but going nowhere, because his big, brawny arms are wrapped around you tight. You’ve never felt safer. Uh-oh. That’s not good. 

As he drags his fist down the front of your body, the sheet pulls free of your arms, the fabric grazing your nipples. The sensation has them hardening, and Remy’s hand replaces the sheet, running his thumb over one of them, while cupping the fullness of your breast with the rest of his hand.

He leans forward, kissing from your hairline, over your ear and down the curve of your shoulder, sending convulsive shivers down your spine. The feeling of his lips, pressing into your soft, warm skin… your lids flutter. Your hand reaches down, sliding over his taut muscles, until you find the bulge between his legs. The fabric is warm, heated by the fire of his cock. Your fingers curl around the length of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Unconsciously, his hips pitch forward, forcing more pressure on your palm.

"Remy," you breathe, looking down between your bodies. His briefs are tenting now, his cock straining against the fabric. You swallow back the saliva that's gathering in your mouth, literally on the verge of drooling. 'I wanna'... I have to -- need to taste you."

"In Louisiana, 'dey call 'dat having an envie for somethin'."

"Yeah, well I have an envie for your cock right now, so..." 

The surprise is apparent on his face, his brows lifting on his forehead, but it quickly morphs into something more lusty, something more pleased. His dick jumps at your words and he reaches up to grip your chin firmly, looking hard at your mouth. 

Aroused, his accent thickens. "Hoo, you a naughty girl with 'dat mouth. Why don't you show me what else it can do, huh?" 

You nod and sink to your knees, slowly. Once you're situated in front of his groin, you reach up and hook your fingers around the elastic of his waistband, peeling it away from his skin. You lean forward to trace the tip of your tongue along the lines of muscle, that tantalizing V cut. Remy chokes on his breath, as your tongue flattens against the skin. 

You continue baring him, pulling the fabric down his thighs in one quick motion. He helps you by kicking them off to the side, and now stands, completely bare in front of you. His cock bounces heavy in front of your face and you immediately take him into your hand, wasting no time. You wrap one hand around the thick shaft, towards the base, and slide it slowly up towards the tip.  

The heat coming off his cock radiates into your palm and the contrast of the velvet, soft skin, and the aching, rigid center has your mouth (and cunt) drooling. You can't help it, and the way Remy's muscles flex every time you move your hand eggs you on. You begin stroking his cock, slowly, but tightly and his breath hitches in his throat. Tightening his abdominal muscles as he does, Remy bucks his hips, forcing his dick through the circle of your fingers. The precum is spreading now, making the action easy. His head is down, watching you intently. 

“‘Dat’s it, babygirl, just like ‘dat…”

As you drag the head over your bottom lip, glossing it with precum, it twitches in your grip. Extending your tongue, you slap the heavy, fat tip against it a few times, teasing him. Your lips wrap around the head, tongue massaging the underside with a flattened tongue.

Remy braces his hands on the counter top above you, his breath rushing out. 

“Hoo, you don’t need no help from Remy, you know what you’re doin’.”

You nod and tighten your grip around the base, leaning your mouth forward to press a single kiss against the tip. Your tongue peeks out, licking a long stripe from the base to the head, and you hear Remy make a sound that can only be described as a growl. You moan against his cock, the sound buzzing against his skin. He bucks again, forcing his cock further into your mouth.

Remy’s grip tightens on the counter top. He’s doing his best to keep it together but the way that your warm, wet mouth has enveloped him, the way that you’re gently sucking as your head bobs, the way your fingers wrap around his cock, gripping him firmly and jerking him off at the base has him in pieces. Aside from last night, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this good – certainly not in the Void, and try as he might, no memories are coming forward from before the Void. All he feels – and sees – is you. You. You, in your naked, morning messy glory. His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, his gaze heavy and half-lidded.

You have to open wide to take him all the way in, but you don’t care. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your cunt weeping profusely between your legs, and the head nudges the back of your throat, teasing at your gag reflex. You steady yourself and get back to it. Your nose prods the thatch of coarse hair above his cock as you deep throat him, over and over again. The salty pre-cum glides over your tongue, saturating it with the taste that you’re craving.

“Mon coeur,” He exhales a low, raspy breath, and backs his hips away from your mouth, his dick leaving your lips with a wet shlick. You stare up at him with wide, unknowing eyes, chin covered in saliva. His cock twitches in your grip; the visual is erotic. 

“Believe me when I say ‘dis, cher. I wanna’ make a mess on your face, but Remy ain’t ready for it to be ova’. C’mere.” 

With a gentle tap, he urges you up off your knees, helping you to get to your feet. Just like before, he’s hoisting you up into his arms and you’re ready to be carried off again, but this time your ass comes down atop the counter, and Remy slots himself between your legs.

“Wait-wait…. What are you doing?” 

“Eatin’, mon ami.” He says it so nonchalantly and throws in the ever casual mon ami as though this is something done between friends. His hands cup your kneecaps, urging them apart with careful urgency. He looks at your cunt, and his brows lift slowly, a smirk crawling across his lips. 

“Hoo…” He chuckles, running a single finger along the slit of your cunt. As he pulls back, his finger is coated in your arousal, thick strands of clear stringing from your cunt to the tip of his finger. “You get yourself all worked up while you were down ‘dere? She is glistenin’, cher.”

You’re almost embarrassed. Almost. You hadn’t told him, but giving head was a massive turn-on. Besides that, the mere sight of his massive cock was enough to get your engines running. Something about admitting that to him sounds a little too whorish, so you keep your mouth shut. You whine, leaning your head against the cabinets and buck your hips forward, closer to the edge. 

It’s as though he can tell you’re withholding something from him. 

“Ah-ah, cher…” He brings his face close to yours, licking at your mouth. “Tell Remy what’s on your mind.”

“I… I like giving head… I like giving you head…. I like…”

He nods, encouraging you further. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and you roll your eyes to the ceiling. 

“Ugh, okay. You have an amazing cock, and I like having it in every part of me.” You curse yourself for being so honest. 

Now it’s Remy that’s on his knees, and he dives at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue is strong and warm against your clit, flicking upwards against the bundle of nerves. He’s burying his mouth in your folds, lapping at it. Every time his tongue nears your opening, you let out a long, whining moan. 

Pause. Let’s just recap. Just to make sure we’re on the same god damn page. You met this guy at Wade’s…. Fucked him all night long, he made you breakfast and now he’s giving you the most toe-curling head you’ve ever had. And you think, just maybe, you might be falling in love with him. Cool. Okay. 

Your hand snaps to the crown of his head, fingers lacing amongst his hair to hold him to the spot he’s working. His tongue is drilling into your clit, and that’s when you feel the pressure of two fingers, prodding your slick slit. 

“Sweeter ‘den ‘dat maple syrup up on your counter,” he says, practically into your cunt. You look down; his gaze is lust-blown, and lips are glossy, spit-slick and reddened. He presses a few gentle kisses to your clit before his tongue starts swiping at it again, and plunging his fingers deep within your core. Just like before, he knows just how to curl his fingers up into the sensitive spot inside you. You let out a moan, and bump your head against the cabinets again. 

A shudder rips through your body, overwhelmed at the dual stimulation. His mouth closes around your clit, sucking gently and you can feel the slippery puddle forming on the countertop beneath you. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll just slide off the counter, but really… the only place to go is further into Remy and his mouth. 

Abruptly, you feel the flash of heat between your legs and arch your back, readying yourself for the drop. Your cunt aches, throbs and – Remy suddenly pulls away, his chin shimmering with your arousal. 

“Huh, I didn’t hear anyone say you could be doin’ ‘dat yet, ah?” 

Holy shit. You clench her tight, holding back the wave of an orgasm. Your teeth grind together, legs quivering at the feeling of denial. You were right on the edge, right on the edge of white, hot bliss. 

“Ffffuck,” you whisper. “Fuck. Please….” 

“I said no, cher. Not yet.” There’s a playful lilt in Remy’s voice and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck me then, please…. I need to feel you.”  

He chuckles, and presses a deep kiss to your folds. “You ain’t gonna’ have to ask me twice, ma bichette.” (my little doe)

He slips his fingers out, and inserts them into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off of them. Your jaw drops. It’s such a casual, but erotic action, and your cunt responds feverishly. She’s got a heartbeat of her own at this point, thrumming between your legs. Leaving you leaking on the countertop, Remy gets to his feet and turns around to the kitchen table. He shoves the plates out of the way, somehow not knocking them onto the floor. 

“C’mere…”

You’re in his arms again, and he’s swinging you around, plopping you down on the kitchen table. Your hands go back behind you, pressing down into the wood apprehensively. 

“I don’t know if this table can support me…. ” 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout ‘dat, cher. It might not, but Remy’s gonna’ be holdin’ you tight. This is just givin’ me a betta’ angle, ‘das all.” 

He wasn’t lying; most of your weight was in his grasp. One arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you up. You scoot yourself closer to the edge, closer to him, and inhale a deep breath. Remy shuffles forward, his cock leading the way. The red, leaking tip nudges your entrance and he lifts your head to place a kiss against your lips, nibbling softly on the bottom one. He’s so passionate, even amidst the burden of his fiery, seemingly untameable lust. A lover. Fuck… you think. You’re falling into a deep, dark hole that you don’t think you can climb your way out of. 

Remy reaches between your bodies, pushing his cock down slightly, until he feels the sopping wet opening of your cunt. Groaning deeply, he stuffs himself inside, inch by inch until your bodies are flush. He finds a rhythm quickly, bucking his hips against you. As he splits you open, you can’t help but moan loud, louder than last night, his cock filling you, throbbing veins rubbing against your inner walls.

“God, yeah… yeah, fuck me hard…!” You chant, sounding more and more like a porn star with every passing moment.

“Only if you give it t’ me, cher… the way you takin’ this dick, I ain’t gonna’ last long.”

You nod hurriedly, looking deep into his eyes. He growls and pulls his hips all the way back before slamming them back into you – hard. Your jaw drops again, and you find yourself staring at the cabinets, vision going hazy with lust as your orgasm rushes to the surface, claiming your body wholly. The plates that previously hung on now go clattering to the floor, but the sound does little to interrupt you two. Remy’s got his dick so deep inside of you that you’re seeing stars, and the sounds that are tumbling from your lips are far louder than the sound of porcelain on tile. 

With a smooth, guttural sound, Remy loses it, too. He fills you, deeply, and what leaks out the sides, he hurriedly pumps it back inside of you until his cock starts to soften, his thrusts languid and spent. 

“I could do this with you all day…” You whisper into his neck, rubbing your nose against the warm, sweaty flesh there. 

“Me too, cher, me too.” He nods, blinking slowly. “But I can’t be doin’ ‘dat… not today.” 

You rear back suddenly, looking him in the eyes. They’ve still got that mischievous glimmer that he seems to always possess, but there’s something behind them. A sort of… coldness, that has your arms falling away from him. 

“You have to leave…” you say softly, suddenly understanding. 

Remy nods, and slips out of you, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. He pushes your hair out of your face, and rubs his thumb along the fullness of your cheek. He disappears then, and your shoulders sink slightly. You stay on the table for a few minutes, your legs hanging limply off the table, just listening to the sounds of him getting dressed; the gentle rustle of clothing, the snap of his elastic waistband as it hugs him.

Finally, you hop off the table, and bend down to retrieve the rumpled pile of sheet. You hold it against your body, not worrying about what’s showing. Like he said before, he’s seen everything. You turn, and spot him – standing tall behind your couch. He reaches for his leather jacket.

He’s attractive, so the sight of him dressed is to be appreciated as much as him undressed, but there’s a pang of sadness in your chest. Your lungs feel tight, and you wring the sheets around your fingers as he smoothes a hand through his hair, tousling it lightly. Again, as though he’s in tune to your emotions, he seems to notice that you’re staring sullenly. 

“Remy be needin’ to deal with some things, cher…” he says, adjusting himself in his jacket. You wonder what it is he has to deal with, where he has to go. It’s none of your business, you’re sure. You want to ask him if he’ll be back, but your gut warns that that sounds too desperate, so instead, you nod once. 

“Thanks,” you start, trying to find the strength in your voice. “I had a really good time. My door is uh, always open.” 

“Good t’ know, cher.” He says. He sounds genuine, but he’s still leaving. Every bone in your body is screaming for him to stay. He makes his way over to you, wordlessly, and wraps his arm around your waist. His lips find yours, and he tips you backwards slightly as he kisses you. The way he tastes you feels like he’s trying to stain his own mouth with your essence, to remember it later. When he breaks off and straightens you back up, you let out a pathetic little cry that you know he hears. You bring your fingers to your mouth, stroking your bottom lip softly. 

And with that, he opens your door, slips out and shuts it behind him, but not before casting one last look at you, standing there in a sheet that he fucked your brains out on. 

To the closed door, you whisper: “I… think I love you.” 

He doesn’t hear it and maybe that’s for the best. 

[colorfulrook]

Hi! Could I get number 77, "I waited for you. Every day." with Sung Jinwoo? If you know EPIC The Musical I was thinking Penelope Odysseus vibes.

So Jinwoo goes away to fight something or other, and it's supposed to be a short, few month trip and he leaves reader back in their home. But stuff ends up happening, and it takes him forever to get home. Like, years on end. And reader's constantly being told that they should move on and find someone else, but they're all "No he'll come back." And then BAM! Jinwoo does indeed come back. And there's a tearful reunion then everyone's happy again yay!

Maybe make it a fantasy AU where reader is a princess? And Jinwoo was fighting a rival kingdom?

Not sure how much of this you could fit into a drabble, sorry if it's too long or complicated a plot 😅

Congrats on 100 💖

BLURBFEST 100X100 - #77. "I waited for you. Every day."

I AM OFFICIALLY BACK ON BUSINESS MY DARLINGS!!! Sorry for the long wait (couldn't help myself eheh) here you are my sweet 💖Anon. Happy reading my loves - Rook

The war was meant to last three months.

Three months that would be full of bloodshed on distant borders, of hardened letters sealed with trembling wax, of counting days and hoping every knock at the door wasn’t a messenger in mourning colors, but him — the love of your life.

Three months.

It had been five years.

Your fingers trembled against the embroidery hoop you hadn’t truly worked on in hours. The thread was still tangled near the border of the lake you were stitching — the same lake where you had kissed him goodbye, where his hand had held yours with quiet strength.

“Three months,” he had whispered, brushing his lips over your brow. “Then I’ll be home. To you. Always.”

You believed him.

And even now, five years later, when every lord and lady in the kingdom tried to convince you that Sung Jinwoo — your shadowborn knight, your raven-haired guardian, your love — was nothing more than ash scattered in some faraway valley, you still believed him.

So you waited.

In the same tower chamber he used to visit in secret, before your farther gave you his blessings. In the same gardens where his gloved hand would brush yours beneath the moonlight. You sat alone at feasts and walked alone by the river, where children whispered that the princess had lost her mind to love.

And when suitors came — war heroes with gilded swords, mages with glowing hands, kings with kingdoms to offer — you turned them all away.

“He’s dead,” your advisors pleaded, a hundred times over. “Princess, he’s gone.”

“I know what I saw in his eyes,” you always answered. “He’s coming back.”

But during those long years devoid of him, the only ones who kept coming back were them — spoiled princes with sugar-slick smiles and polished boots, their words sweetened with false promises and treaties laced in greed. They pawed at your kingdom like crows at a battlefield, drawn not by love, but by the glint of a crown and the prospect of having you on their side — not as a partner, but as a pretty conquest, a prize to parade before thrones built on ambition.

And yet, you remained unclaimed. Not untouched by sorrow, but unmoved by them. Because your heart had never been theirs to win.

Sometimes, when you were alone, you let yourself whisper his name just to hear it echo. Just to remember how it felt on your lips.

You were in the garden when the earth shifted.

Not metaphorically — truly. The ground trembled beneath your feet, low and steady like something ancient was waking. Shadows flickered between rose bushes, and the sky seemed to darken even though the sun was high. Then came the shouting.

Soldiers yelling their boots hammering on stone in a panic when black knights came from the main gate of the palace. Silent like stillwater they began to kneel, creating a path from you to the gate.

You rose slowly from the bench, afraid to hope. Too much hope can destroy you.

And then you saw him.

Black armor dusted in blood and soot. A dark cloak fluttering behind him like the wings of something eternal. His eyes — violet, fierce, weary — locked on yours across the courtyard.

Jinwoo. Your Jinwoo, alive

You didn’t think. You didn’t breathe. You just ran.

Down the stone steps. Across the tiled walk. Past the gasps of servants and the cries of stunned guards. You collided with him like a crashing wave, your hands reaching up, his arms catching you with the practiced ease of a man who had dreamt of this very moment a thousand times during his long days away.

“You’re real,” you sobbed, clinging to the chestplate still warm from battle. “You’re — you’re real.” Your fingers slick with the blood on it, but damn it all, you didn't care. Because he was there.

His voice cracked like thunder and silk. “I told you I’d come home.”

Tears blurred your vision as you pulled back, cupping his face, memorizing the new lines around his mouth and the fatigue in his gaze. “I—I thought I was losing my mind. Everyone said you were gone, Jinwoo. I was supposed to move on. Marry someone. But I couldn’t—”

And that was when his hand — still calloused, still gentle — brushed your cheek.

“I waited for you,” you whispered, voice shaking. "I've been waiting and waiting and waiting" tears rolled on your cheeks. “Every day.”

He swallowed hard, and his eyes glistened. “I know. I counted every sunrise without you. I saw your face every time I closed my eyes. I wanted to come back sooner—gods, I tried—but the kingdom we fought, they had magic I’d never seen. I was trapped. Hunted. But I never gave up. Because you were waiting.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “You were my reason.”

The crowd around you had grown, nobles and servants and soldiers standing stunned at the sight of the girl who refused to stop loving a ghost — and the ghost who had come home.

You didn’t care.

In that moment, it was only you and him. Just like it had always been.

“Come home,” you breathed. “Come back to the palace. To me.”

His smile — tired, slow, real — bloomed like the first sun after a long storm. “Lead the way, Princess.”

You took his hand. The same hand that once fit perfectly in yours by the lake.

And as you walked back toward the castle, side by side, the crowd parted like the sea before a miracle.

You were whole again. Because this time, this time he was there to stay.

[starleska]

Here to talk about the little cricket (?) dude you've been talking about, Lux I think his name is? Anyway I haven't seen such a accurate rubber hose character since cuphead and little fella is really cute! (Since he's from Dr Who I assume he's malignant in some way? Idk I don't really plan on watching it, I just wanted to comment.) Anyways, he's super charming and expressive, I like having him all over my dash :]

hahaha YESSSS gosh i am so happy that folks are so excited about Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux Imperator, even if they aren't fans of the show!! i'm biased as a long-time Whovian, but the episode Lux really is the best one we've had in ages, so i'd recommend it wholeheartedly 😉 let me give you a little bit of lore re: our new toony cricket fellow!! massive spoilers for the episode Lux and an ongoing plot in Doctor Who, so only read if you're interested 🥰 i hope this'll be useful for any newcomers who are interested in starting Doctor Who as well!!

HUGE LORE DUMP BELOW:

so!!! the basic premise of Doctor Who is: the Doctor is an alien called a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. he travels the universe through time and space in his 'spaceship', the TARDIS (stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space), and his almost always looks like a battered-up police box. he often travels with 'companions': usually human (though sometimes alien!) sidekicks who help him solve space/historical-related mysteries. when the Doctor dies, he can 'regenerate': his body changes, saving him from death and giving him an entirely new appearance. currently, we are on the Fifteenth Doctor, played by the brilliant Ncuti Gatwa 🥰

now back in 2023, we received three episodes for the show's 60th anniversary, and things changed hugely. as the Doctor regenerated into his Fourteenth version, he somehow came back with a familiar face: that of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor (perhaps one of the best-known iterations of the Doctor). this is because of the return of a character who hadn't been seen since the 60s: the Toymaker, a godlike entity who rules over games 👀

The Toymaker's introduction started a shift for the show, which was almost always strict sci-fi, into a more fantastical, rule-bending realm. the Toymaker turned out to be a member of The Pantheon of Discord: a collective of gods whose powers are beyond the laws of physics and nature. normally, The Doctor faces off against sci-fi monsters and antagonists, but the Pantheon are far more powerful, and not bound to typical rules (though they do have their own). there are a few members we know are in the Pantheon (The Toymaker, his child Maestro, the God of Death Sutekh) and some we speculate are in the Pantheon (the fourth-wall breaking Mrs. Flood), but the episode Lux finally confirmed our newest Pantheon member: Mr. Ring-A-Ding, AKA Lux Imperator, the God of Light 😱 in-universe, Mr. Ring-A-Ding is a character from a 1930s-era cartoon inspired by Fleischer Studios, Disney's then-competitor (and the inspiration for games like Cuphead!). however, Lux Imperator possessed and brought to life Mr. Ring-A-Ding's form by travelling on moonlight into a movie theatre set in 1950s Miami, where he climbed out of the screen and sealed the movie-watchers into celluloid film. when the Doctor and his current companion, Belinda Chandra, end up at the theatre, Mr. Ring-A-Ding (as he is calling himself) shows up as a smaller, physical manifestation of a living cartoon, and pretends to be innocent...but he quickly reveals his true form as Lux Imperator 🙈💖

after some completely crazy fourth-wall-breaking shenanigans wherein Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux animates the Doctor and Belinda, trapping them inside of celluloid film, he reveals his new desire: to use the Doctor's regeneration energy and build himself a body. this is because Lux craves light, but has always been trapped in the dark. having seen it on a film in the movie theatre, Lux wants to use the power of the atom bomb to unleash the most devastating light of all. it's pretty insane 😂

and the end of the episode is...the Doctor exposes Lux to sunlight, which causes him to grow infinitely large and...dissipate, into space? along with light itself? we have no idea. it's utterly mad, but SUCH a great watch!!! so to answer your question: yes, he definitely was malignant at first, but he kind of gets one of the nicest endings i've seen for a Doctor Who baddie in a while? he's just chilling up there in space now, twinkling along with the stars. that's wonderful 🙈💖 tldr; Mr. Ring-a-Ding is both the name of a 1930s Fleischer-esque cartoon-character in-universe, and the name adopted by Lux Imperator, the God of Light. if you're confused, don't worry: that's all part of the Doctor Who experience 😂💖

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery | part two

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: sorry this took a little longer than i expected! it was so fun to make though. i didn't want to say who she's actually with because i feel like it's fun for the readers to have to figure that out too! so please share any guesses you have lol i'm interested to see what people think the outcome will be. hope you enjoy and thank you sm for reading<3

part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

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liked by yourbrother, maxverstappen1, and 101,225 others

yourusername happy birthday to my favorite brother, i love you and am so grateful to know i have someone in my life who looks after me like you do<3 here's my fav pics of us of course they're all racing related lol, our first love

view all 982 comments

yourbrother "my favorite brother"... As far as I know I am your only brother 😐

⤷ yourusername 🥱🥱🥱🥱 technicalities

yourbrother Thank you least favorite sister, miss those days. Have to get back out on the karting track, been too long since I've beaten you

⤷ yourusername been too long since you've been beaten, you mean?

⤷ yourbrother Yeah, yeah we'll let the track times speak for themselves

⤷ user1 ok but we have to admit the brother sister banter is kind of adorable

⤷ user2 no bc she seems so sweet 😭

user3 nah because what is max verstappen doing in this girls likes now????

⤷ user4 and the plot thickens 😯

user5 she saw everyone calling her a fake f1 fan and said take a look at this

user6 yn hater club how you guys feeling right about now

⤷ user7 🤡🤡🤡🤡

user8 honestly kind of hope she's dating one of them

⤷ user9 yall switch up so fast please 😭😭

user10 seriously..... you HAD to only post f1 related photos lmfao so totally pandering to the landoscar fans

user11 f1 school of wags next graduate

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liked by mclaren, yourusername, and 1,891,218 others

landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!! couldn't have asked for a better race, congrats @/oscarpiastri and a huge thanks as always to @/mclaren 🧡

view all 5,871 comments

user1 I SAY THATS MY BABY AND IM SO PROUD 😭

user2 mclaren double podium... oh i used to pray for times like these

user3 oscar piastri you are insane omfg

user4 MY POOKIES LOOK AT THEM !!!!!!!!! 🫂

user5 save me landoscar SAVE ME

yourusername jumping up and down screaming and crying losing my mind

⤷ landonorris you should probably get that checked out....

⤷ user6 THATS IT, ITS YN AND LANDO IM CALLING IT

⤷ user7 nah nah nah this is so giving gf of the bestie banter

⤷ user8 agreed hopping on the oscaryn train 💪🏻

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yourusername added to their story

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oscarpiastri added to their story

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liked by kellypiquet, oscarpiastri, and 789,012 others

yourusername qatar gp smiles <3 practice timeeee

📸 @/kellypiquet

view all 1,281 comments

kellypiquet so beautiful

⤷ yourusername all you

landonorris eye spy a mclaren car down there?

⤷ yourusername ? i just see a tractor

⤷ landonorris not funny. 😐

⤷ yourusername i certainly laughed

⤷ oscarpiastri same actually

⤷ user1 i dont know how much longer i can take this

⤷ user2 GUYSSSS i am telling you its so oscaryn

⤷ user3 WHAT literally look at the Proof its so landoyn 🥱

⤷ user4 i am giggling we're literally in a shipwar

user5 she's so pretty i'm sorry guys i love her 😵‍💫

⤷ user6 well yes!

user7 patiently waiting for one of the mcl boys to main feed post her then we know for sure ‼️

⤷ user8 at this rate it still won't clear anything up

lilymhe miss u beautiful

⤷ yourusername omg i miss u more ms lily

⤷ user9 she has The wag stamp of approval WE MOVE!

user10 theres four e's at the end of 'time'....... landos number is 4 i've got it guys 😃😃

⤷ user11 seek medical attention STAT

⤷ user12 bro thinks this is a taylor swift album release

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liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 789,012 others

yourusername oscar piastri sprint race winner AND mclaren double podium, better start calling me the good luck charm

view all 1,281 comments

user1 nah bc you're onto something.....

user2 she can't be serious 😐

⤷ user3 well no shit it's just an instagram caption

user4 i cannot be the only one who finds the caption extremely weird

⤷ user5 nah i'm with you i've never liked her 🙄

⤷ user6 its just so odd like forcing yourself into the mclaren narrative completely taking away from the boys achievements writing it off as your own doing...

⤷ user7 omfg yall are so dramatic just say you're jealous they're not dating you lmfao

⤷ user8 no fr because it is not that serious it's clearly a joke like she loves them cmon now

mclaren BRB getting your paddock passes for the duration of the season

⤷ yourusername i'm giggling, i love you guys 😙

⤷ user9 see mclaren is fine with it so yall should be too

⤷ user10 now i'm going to need all the haters to sit DOWN and shut the fuck UP

oscarpiastri wait can you send me that picture

⤷ yourusername i literally did already but okay

⤷ oscarpiastri ok could do with less attitude

⤷ yourusername you have not seen real attitude piastri

⤷ oscarpiastri 😧

⤷ user11 i think this just converted me to team oscar

⤷ user12 nah this is literally landoyn confirmation

landonorris 🍀

⤷ user13 i am picking up what he's putting down

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part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

taglist:

@landoscar-f1 , @urfavnoirette , @imsiriuslyreal

[irrelevantwriter]

An Emperor's Devotion

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, necessary floor sex and injury (for the plot)

Word Count: 2734

Summary: Part 3. Emperor Geta feels the need to prove a point.

A/N: Part three finds our favorite deviant emperor doing what he does best...serving cunt. And eating it. As always, there are liberties taken with Ancient Rome. We're all here for the smut anyways. And there might be a part four in the works. Maybe. Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Read Part Two here

*Masterlist

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

The uproarious cheers of Rome eclipsed your husband’s greeting as General Marcus Acacius made his way up the palace steps. 

You stood dutifully behind him, taking in the spectacle. The General and his army defeated another colony, expanding the Roman Empire once again. Another state of slaves for your insatiable lover. 

“General! Welcome home! Rome celebrates in your honor,” Geta announced, taking the General’s hand. Like a good soldier, he kissed the jewels bestowed upon the Emperor’s hand. 

“My greatest thanks, your highness,” Marcus replied, eyes shifting to you. “And the Empress,” he added, moving to take your own hand in his. 

You let him. 

He placed a stubble-laden kiss on your skin, something akin to desire crossing over his rugged features. 

You smiled, accepting his greeting, though you kept your composure. You could feel Geta’s eyes on you. At the slightest indication of disloyalty, the Emperor would have Marcus’ head. 

And perhaps yours. 

“Welcome home, General,” you responded, taking your hand back. 

Geta offered the General wine and a toast, to a new Rome. You remained at your husband’s side, watching the men talk of bloodshed and conquest. It made your stomach sour. 

“A feast will be held tonight. For your victory,” the Emperor announced, jolting you back into the conversation. 

“As you wish, Caesar.”

“And,” Geta started, a mischievous tone taking hold of his words. “Perhaps you might find yourself seeking the pleasures of the flesh? I offer you the best Rome has. Though I am aware you know that already. The whores love to speak of their dalliances with the finest of our Roman army.” 

Marcus stiffened, gaze darting to you. You could see he was embarrassed by the Emperor’s lewd offer though he tried to hide it. 

You were not naive to the thirst for women that most men held. The women of Rome did what they had to, and that often meant making themselves accessible to the men. The higher the status, the better for her. You were no better. You just happened to reach the top before anyone else. 

Your husband was playing a game you were very much aware of. You tried hard to keep your amusement concealed. Seeing a usually stoic man like the General become nervous was an entertaining sight indeed. 

Geta looked proud of himself. As if humiliating the General was his goal. It appeared he had succeeded. 

“I-I thank you, your highness. Your generosity is astounding. Though I do not think I will need…such services,” Marcus clumsily replied, eyes landing on anything but you. 

“Well, as you wish General. The offer stands,” Geta acquiesced, finally done playing with his toy. “My queen and I would love to entertain the masses, but we have business to attend to.” He reached for your hand, signaling your departure. 

“Of course, your highness.”

“We will see you at dinner, General.”

And with that, Geta led you away. You followed silently, finding it strange that he was headed to your chambers and not his own. 

Guards and maidens followed behind, but once you’d reached the doors of your quarters, he dismissed them. As he often did these days. He was not fond of the extra company.

He opened the door for you, letting you through. You breezed past him, making your way to the chaise and table near your balcony. As expected, wine and food awaited. 

“Nearly a years time we have been married,” he started, voice deeper than just moments before. “And you are still so difficult to read.” 

You smiled at that, removing the deep green palla from your shoulders. The material fluttered in the wind as it floated down to the chaise beside you. 

“That amuses you?” Geta questioned, coming forward to pour you both wine. His eyebrow was raised, eyes lined with coal. They pierced you, searching for the answer to his query. 

“No, Augustus. I am simply trying to understand why that bothers you so,” you replied, reaching for a grape dipped in honey. 

Juices exploded in your mouth, the flavor sweet yet bitter. You took another. 

“The General appears quite fond of you.”

You met your husband’s gaze, accepting the wine he offered. He stared down at you, testing you. He was playing a fool’s game.

“Most men are quite fond of me, Imperator. It’s why you chose me, is it not?”

You sipped from your glass, eyeing the man you’d married. He remained emotionless, as if thinking over your words. You, knowing where this tirade was surely headed, took matters into your own hands. 

“It is rather warm.” You placed your wine down, fanning yourself against a nonexistent heatwave. “Will you bathe with me?”

Geta, stunned by your sharp change in subject, scoffed, “My conversation boring you, wife?”

You stood, meeting him where he was rooted to the ground, as if one of many statues. You reached for his mouth, surprised when he let you. You could feel how rigid he was. Something had him wound tight. 

“I would rather have a different kind of conversation, my love,” you whispered, seeing surprise on his features when you rubbed honey into his lips. His tongue darted out to taste the sweetness, catching your fingertips as he did.

His eyes turned molten, his shoulders softened. His hands, as if of their own volition, grasped at you. 

“Distraction is a weapon. One you seem rather fond of.”

You laughed at his words, leaning in so that his breath mixed with yours. “I am only what you want me to be. If you want me to be a distraction, then I shall do what my Emperor desires.”

He kissed you. Long and slow and sticky with honey. Your bodies pressed against each other, heat bubbling to the surface. His rings caught in your hair, yours pulled at the gold embellished tunic he wore. Frankincense and jasmine collided as you indulged in all you both had to offer. 

“Dulcis distraction,” Geta breathed, chest heaving as he took in your kiss swollen lips. 

“You think me sweet, my love?” You teased, making him laugh.

“The only thing sweet about you is your taste. My queen does not have the capacity for sweetness.” 

He spoke with a reverence that made you shiver. And as his hands reached for your stola, you knew he was right. To be at his side, in front of all of Rome, was not for the faint of heart. You understood that. You became what was necessary to survive. You made Rome love you. You made your husband fall in love. You made him fall to his knees in pleasure. 

He was at your mercy. And so was his empire. 

“Come,” you beckoned softly, leading him towards your private bathing quarters. 

He followed, fawning after you out of sight of prying eyes. 

Steam billowed off the pool of milk and water. Flowers of every kind danced across the surface. Canisters of various oils and herbs lined the steps. One of your maidens waited in the corner and you dismissed her. 

You could hear your husband start to undress behind you. You followed suit. 

The water swayed as Geta walked into the warm bath. You heard him hiss, the sting of heat making him react. You laughed, letting your stola fall to your feet. He raised a hand toward you as you moved to the steps. You accepted the gesture, letting him help you into the inviting waters. 

“You keep your bath much too warm for my liking,” Geta gently admonished, taking in your nude form as you submerged yourself, rose petals clinging to your skin.

“You accuse me of being a relative of Pluto. Perhaps it is true,” you teased, letting him pull you towards him.

“I say that in jest.” 

He steadied you against his bare chest. Your nails raked over the muscle, tangling in the hair that rested there. It matched the trail leading down his taut stomach. A path you’d become well acquainted with in the last several weeks. 

“My Emperor jests? A shocking revelation,” you mocked, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed. 

His hands, while gentle at first, became demanding in their touch. He gripped your hips, releasing and then squeezing once again. 

A warning.

“What has you so troubled?” You dared to ask, seeing his jaw clench. A tell.

“You.”

You cocked your head at his reply, not understanding. 

“Many people covet what I have as the Emperor of Rome. I relish that,” he paused, fingers tracing up your sides. He moved in close, lips hovering over yours. “But I do not like to share.”

A shiver, a real one, ran up your spine at his words. It was a well known fact that Geta assassinated his brother Caracalla for the throne. Many agreed that his brother was unfit for such power. He was struck with a disease that affected his behavior. Behavior that had become quite outlandish. Even for the brothers. But there had been rumors. Rumors that Geta had killed him in front of their mother. A ruthless act. And for that reason, their mother had been sent away. Or so the rumors said. No one had laid eyes on her since. 

It appeared, it was all true. 

“Have I frightened you?” He whispered, a lone finger now tracing one of your nipples. The flesh budded at his touch. 

“No, Augustus.”

“You understand my position? Why I must watch men like Marcus Acacius closely?”

You nodded, biting your lip when he moved his ministrations to your other nipple.

“Men like that would kill me and take what’s mine in an instant,” he growled, suddenly taking hold of your chin. “Would you let them?”

“No. I wouldn’t,” you breathed. For the first time since marrying him, you were afraid. But beneath the surface of that lay the quicksand of arousal that always threatened to take you down. It sat heavy in your belly, accompanied by that familiar pump of blood between your thighs. 

Geta laughed at your words, as if not believing you. That didn’t stop him from taking your lips against his. His tongue invaded your mouth, twisting in invitation with your own. You desperately tried to keep up, feeling him harden beneath the water against you. 

“Follow me,” he breathlessly commanded, ushering you to the steps. 

You went, moving to sit at the stones edge when he gestured to do so. A chill made your skin prickle. You looked on in jealously, wishing to be back in the bath’s warmth with him. 

“Do not look so sorrowful, wife. I mean to take care of you. To remind you just how generous of an emperor I can be.”

He moved closer, forcing your legs apart. You resisted at first, unsure of the angle, but he didn’t seem to care. He pressed on, hands roaming up your thighs, catching wayward petals as he did. 

“Relax, my love.”

His mouth closed in, hot breath fanning over your damp curls. You struggled not to move, anticipating his touch. Needing it. 

The moment his lips laid upon your skin, you cried out. The strength in your arms gave way, your hands instead tangling in his hair. His tongue wasted no time in finding your opening, sliding in easily. 

He moved as you’d shown him weeks ago, his nose every so often bumping your bundle of nerves. Your nails scratched at his scalp and in return, his teeth lightly scraped over your sensitive flesh. Your thighs trapped his head, pleading with him to show mercy and praying he never stopped.

“Sweet like the honey she teased me with,” Geta murmured, adding his fingers to his torture. 

You writhed, the chill no longer felt on your skin. Lust now heated your veins from the inside out, making you feel as if you were being burned alive. 

“Geta…” you moaned, feeling him double his efforts at your call. 

Bursts of light began clouding your vision. Your limbs convulsed as if you were possessed, cries of passion echoing off the bath walls. Geta did not stop. 

“I-I cannot,” you whimpered, feeling overcome. You went to push his head away, but he was quicker, snatching your wrist.

“You can, my love. You’ll do as your emperor desires. Remember?”

His mouth and fingers took turns punishing you, pulling pleas of mercy from your lips. Geta’s name became a prayer. A prayer to the gods. 

When you had thoroughly soaked his hands and chin, he relented. You felt boneless, hardly more than a corpse. Geta’s roughened laughter touched your ears, his warmth suddenly enveloping you. 

Your eyes fluttered open, trying hard to focus as he wedged himself between your legs. He was hot and hard, seeking your body for relief. 

His mouth found your neck and suckled, paying no mind to the stone digging into the flesh of your back.

“My name on your lips is what undoes me. It is the sweetest sound to fall from your lips.”

Without warning, he pushed himself into your flooded walls. He grunted, seizing your mouth and making you taste your release. His chin smeared it across yours, giving you no choice in the matter. 

Your nails embedded themselves into his back, piercing the pristine skin. He growled, thrusting his hips that much harder. Your breath caught as he reached your depths. Depths that were once hollow but now remained full of him. 

“Pleasure yourself,” he commanded.

His movements were becoming unsteady. His heart pounded against yours. He was fast approaching his peak. And since you’d shown him what it was to please you, he’d been obsessed with having you join him. He claimed it felt different. Better. Tighter. Sweeter. 

Who were you to deny such a request?

Your fingers fumbled between your bodies, seeking the swollen bud just beyond your opening. Your touch caught his cock as he sheathed himself and you both moaned, the intrusion unfamiliar but welcomed. 

You could sense the tension mounting in your husband. See his brow furrowing and his biceps flexing. He was the sun god above you, red tresses making a halo of light.

Your fingers found the spot you so desperately needed, circling the bud. You met his gaze, opening yourself up to him. He lunged forward, taking a nipple into his mouth. You cried out when he tugged at the appendage. His thrusts quickened, the force causing your back to scrape against the ground. 

“Give yourself to me, Enchantress.”

And you did. 

Geta called you his enchantress, but if anyone had magic on their side, it was him. Time seemed to stop as you both plunged headfirst into the heavens. You clung to each other, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Your skin slid against each other, limbs tangled in an orgasmic mess. Warmth filled you as his spendings made a home in your womb. 

He collapsed atop you, head resting on your breasts. You welcomed the added weight, feeling grounded after you’d soared so high. Your heartbeats began to sync as your breathing slowed. Aches began to make themselves known at your back, but you paid little mind. 

“Did you prove your point?” You teased, your voice raspy with latent lust. 

Geta chuckled against you, shifting when you began to play with his hair. 

“I think I did if your backside is any indication,” he quipped, reaching to grab what he could of said backside.

You let him touch and grope you as he pleased, feeling him go soft inside you. Even then, he didn’t remove himself. He was superstitious about such things. Like every emperor before him, he yearned for an heir. He made sure you were aware of that fact. 

“I would not let them harm you, Augustus,” you finally said. 

He stiffened, understanding the meaning behind your words. He raised himself above you, smears of coal painting his face. 

“Out of fear or love?”

“Both.”

He accepted your answer.

“And you? Would you let them harm me?” You bravely pressed. 

He was silent for a moment, taking in your body beneath him. A small curve of his lips was the only indication of a smile. 

“I spend most days ensuring no harm comes to you, my love.”

You cupped his cheek, feeling wayward drops of his seed begin to leak from your depths. 

“Out of fear or love?” You countered.

“Devotion.”

And looking into his eyes, that’s all you needed. Empires and men alike had fallen for less. 

Part Four

[hllywdwhre]

My Darling Boy

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Irish!fem!reader

Summary: Tommy’s late night leads to you comforting him and a recount of the first time you realized you loved him.

Warnings: Panic attacks, reader faces anti-Irish sentiment from a stranger, Tommy says some questionable things about the Irish but nothing too bad💀, violence, bar fight. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: This was 100% inspired by @red-write-hand ‘s Tommy bot. My god do I love that thing and fluff it gives me. I tried keeping this as reader friendly as possible, but some details had to be added to fit the plot, such as reader being Irish.

Edit: This has not been proofread and YIKES. Sorry for all the errors😭

Flashbacks are italicized!

You stared at the clock on your wall that read 2:07 AM. Tommy was supposed to be in bed three hours ago. It was your agreement. He could work as late as he wanted as long as he ate all three meals with you and came to bed at 11. The resolve had come almost a year ago when you’d finally told him you, his wife, felt like second place to his work.

But here it was. 2AM, your bed felt cold without him there, and this was the third time this week that he hadn’t come to bed on time.

You tried not to argue with him. He had enough stress with work and you didn’t want to be a source of more stress, but you had his same quick temper and you couldn’t deny that you were more than irritated that he was seemingly back to his old ways of ignoring your agreement.

You made your way down the hall and to his office, leaning against the door frame.

Tommy spoke before you could, “I know what you’re about to say.”

The exhaustion in his voice and the way he looked… defeated immediately caused a change of heart in you, though.

“My darling boy,” you said in a soft voice, making sure to use the pet name you had for him to try and avoid him thinking you were there for an argument.

“Don’t ‘my darling boy’ me,” he replied immediately with a bite in his tone, “Not when you’re here to start an argument with me. What time is it?”

You’d known Tommy since he came back from The Great War. You knew more than well enough by now to not take his words to heart when he was like this. He was taking his anger out on you, whether you deserved it or not.

You had blinded men and taken their tongues using the bladed Peaky Blinders cap for speaking to you the way Tommy was speaking to you, but Tommy was your soft spot. Somehow, you always remained calm when it came to Tommy.

You made your way over to his desk and picked up the empty whiskey glass that was next to a stack of papers that littered his desk.

“It’s 2 in the morning, my love,” you replied in a calm voice. You walked over to the fireplace where his bottle of whiskey sat and refilled the glass then placed it on the desk again.

He picked it up as soon as you set it down and took a long drink from it.

“I have work, you know that. The business doesn’t run itself.” He took another swallow of the liquid and you could see the way his breathing had picked up slightly.

It started to make sense in that moment. You knew Tommy as well as he knew you and as well as you knew yourself. You knew the signs of one of his panic attacks beginning and stepped between him and his desk.

“I know that. I’m not mad at you, darling,” you replied after a moment. You made sure to keep your voice the steady and calm tone you knew he needed at the moment as you spoke. “Can you look at me?”

Tommy took a deep breath before looking up at you and you could see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead along with the way his eyes seemed unable to focus on you. You lifted your hand to his cheek and gently ran your thumb across it in a slow motion.

“What’s your full name?” You asked him. The questions you would ask him changed from time-to-time so he wouldn’t get too used to them. They were simple questions, enough to distract him and get him to focus on you, but not enough to send him into a further panic.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, why?” He raised the glass to his lips again, but his breathing only picked up more.

You took the glass from his hand and set it on the desk behind you then placed his hand on your chest, right where you knew he would be able to feel your heartbeat.

“Focus on my breathing and my voice. What’s John’s wife’s name?” You asked him next.

You watched as he closed his eyes and did as you said, trying to match his breathing to yours as you began taking slower and deeper breaths.

“Esme,” he answered after a moment.

“When’s our wedding anniversary?” You asked next.

”The 17th of August.”

You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks at how quickly and easily he answered that question. It was the little things like that which reminded you that you were still his number one priority.

“Can you look at me again?” You asked him once you noticed his breathing had calmed down.

Tommy looked to you, his blue eyes immediately finding your eyes and locking onto them. The corner of his mouth tilted into a small smirk and you returned it with a small smile of your own.

“I love you,” you told him as you crawled into his lap and pulled him into a hug, trying to help ground him more.

He immediately returned your hug and buried his head into your neck. Your hands instinctively rose to the back of his head and gently ran your nails across the shaved part of it.

“I love you, too. Even when I’m a mess,” he replied quietly.

“You’re not a mess,” you argued immediately, “you’re my amazing husband, an amazing business leader, an amazing member of parliament, and the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

A sigh left his lips after a long moment and his head remained buried in your neck. His breathing was no longer panicked and he had relaxed into your hold completely.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered into your neck.

“Funny,” you said with a chuckle, “I think the same thing of me.” You moved your head enough so you could kiss his temple. “Love you with all my heart, Thomas Shelby. You’re my darling boy.”

As soon as the pet name left your lips, he was chuckling into your neck. It was one anyone else would be maimed for calling him, but somehow you saying it had won him over.

“Love you, too,” he murmured in response.

After a couple long minutes of the two of you curled into each other, and once you were sure he wouldn’t panic speaking of it, you asked him,

“What led to it?”

He immediately knew what you were asking and shook his head in your neck,

“Nothing,” he replied in a defeated voice.

You pulled back enough to cause him to raise his head and she the quirked brow you were giving him,

“Thomas Shelby, what do you tell me every time I try to say the same thing?”

Any time you tried to belittle your problems, Tommy was the one who was telling you that if it was causing you troubles, then it wasn’t nothing and it was worth talking about.

He grumbled something under his breath about using his own words against him and then finally answered.

“The bloody Irish,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your lips. You knew Tommy knew better than to think she was laughing at him or her problems; you were simply laughing at the irony of it all.

“What have my people done now?” You asked, purposefully making your accent come out as thick as possible to pick on him.

“Made an illegal shipment without our say so,” Tommy replied and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well… we’ve never liked to obey the English. I think my ancestors are rolling in their graves at how soft I am with you,” you teased, hoping to get at least a chuckle out of him.

It worked and you could feel the way his body shook the slightest bit as the small laugh left him,

“You’re not soft, darling, you’re just civilized,” he teased in return.

You pulled away with a look of mock offense on your face,

“Hey, now! My people are very civilized, we just know how to have fun,” you told him.

You know Tommy held no actual disdain towards you or your Irish blood. He himself was part Irish. He only spoke this way around you to get under your skin and pick on you.

“If you call bar fights being civilized then sure, darling.” The smirk on his face told you he was still only teasing you.

You scrunched up your nose as you looked at him,

“Maybe not your strongest point, love. I’ve come home with a black eye from an English bar fight where, for once, I was genuinely an innocent bystander and I had to keep you from going after half of Small Heath,” you pointed out.

Tommy’s face immediately darkened at the memory of that night and he tried to stutter out some defense of how it was different, but you shook your head no.

“You know that was the night I realized I loved you?” You told him as your own version of the memories flitted through your mind and you tried to distract him from the darker thoughts of his mind.

Your words seemed to catch him off guard and he looked up at you with surprise written on his features.

“Really?” He asked, unsure how else to reply.

You nodded in response and you felt another deep blush creep onto your cheeks. One thing you and Tommy had in common was that vulnerability didn’t come natural to you.

“Would you care to know how I remember that night?” You asked to which he nodded. “It was after a day of shopping with Ada and Esme. You and I had been together for three months at that point, and Ada and Esme were sure we were going to end up getting married, so they wanted to make sure I knew I was part of the family.”

You knew he knew all of this, but you wanted to tell him the whole story of how you had come to the realization and what had happened leading up to the fight.

”After we were done shopping, Esme had John meet us up at The Garrison so we could all have a drink.”

The three of you stumbled through the doors of the pub, giggling over something Ada had said.

John motioned the three of you over to the table he was sitting at, already having ordered a round of drinks for you. It was the first time you had sat outside of the private room the Shelbys had, and the last.

In the middle of the three of you telling John about the new dress Ada had bought, someone who’d had one too many drinks came stumbling over.

“I don’t get you Shelbys. You serve your country in the war then associate with some Irish scum,” he spat out, motioning from John to you.

You had met the other Shelbys while Arthur, Tommy, and John were in France. Polly had needed a bookkeeper for the betting shop and had taken you, even vouching for you when they had returned. After a year of working with them, one incident where you had been used as bait that had gone too far, and you’d been forced to defend yourself, Tommy had decided to make you an official Peaky Blinder. You may not wear your Peaky cap, but the bladed item was also on you. Offers had been made to hide blades in other women’s items of clothing, but you had denied. You had learned how to hide the cap among scarves, shawls, or in your bags and you wanted the official Peaky Blinders symbol.

John had immediately jumped to your defense that night in The Garrison.

“She’s a damn Peaky Blinder and has been for years! She can be trusted as well as any Englishman or woman.” He had defended, standing up to meet the man eye-to-eye as a warning to leave.

“Do you know who you’re talking about?” Ada said next, standing up also, “Irish or not, she’s Tommy’s girl and a Blinder.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s Tommy’s current whore or not. She’s Irish scum and I don’t want to be in a pub with the likes of her,” the man spat back at Ada.

Esme and you both stood up at this and the rest of the pub had silenced as they watched the scene unfold. Seemingly out of thin air, a couple other Blinders that were present came to stand beside John as he told the man to leave the pub while he could still see the door.

Next thing you knew, Esme had pulled you harshly out of the way as a glass shattered against the wall behind you.

Chaos broke out immediately. Despite you trying to fight against them, a couple patrons or other members of the Peaky Blinders (you weren’t sure which) had tried to drag you, Ada, and Esme back to the office. During the mix, a blow landed on your cheek and you quickly swung back.

The fight seemed to halt immediately after. Even if the guy was brave enough to harass you for being Irish, throw a glass at your head, and fight John over everything, everyone else seemed to realize the grave mistake that had been made in that moment.

No one touched Thomas Shelby’s woman, and there she was with a bruise already evident on her cheek.

John grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck like he was nothing more than a rabid dog, called for you to follow him, and called for Esme and Ada to be walked back to the betting shop and for all the members of the Peaky Blinders present to go there, also.

You walked with John to the canal and were told by John that you ‘could do the honors of killing the bastard’ yourself.

After the deed was done, the two of you had walked back to the betting shop and arrived at the same time as Tommy.

You remembered the worry on his face as he looked for you, the anger that took over when he spotted the black eye, him screaming at everyone to give him an answer as to what had happened and who had harmed you, and the way he had pulled you into his arms in a hug that nearly crushed you.

You remembered the feeling of safety that washed over you once you were in his arms, the feeling of home, and the way you were able to ignore the chaos around you as others explained what exactly had happened that night.

You remembered the way he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you until he had personally looked you over for any injuries.

You remembered the look he had when you told him you’d killed the man. The disappointment over not being the one to do it himself, but the pride in you standing up for yourself.

“I remember being absolutely terrified when it finally clicked in my head what I was feeling. I have never feared you, but I was terrified of ever getting my heart broken again. I knew Esme and Ada had said they were sure we would be married, but my own insecurities came into play, and I was terrified you’d realize how much of a mess I could be and you’d leave me,” you told him, leaned in and kissing him softly for a moment before continuing on, “You never left me. Even when we’ve fought, you never let me feel like you were going to leave me. I learned that no matter what happened, you’d move the earth, heavens, and hells to make sure you always came back to me.”

Tommy remained silent as you finished your story. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but it seemed you had actually managed to make the man speechless.

“I love you, Thomas Michael Shelby,” you muttered as you leaned in to kiss him again, “I meant it the first time I said those words, when I accepted your proposal, when we said them at the altar, when I say them now, and every time in between. You’re my darling boy through it all.”

His hand came up to cup your face and he rested his forehead against yours, “I’ve meant them all, too. You’re mine until the end of time.”