#Rem writes stuff

[mogamuncher]

Aight, I have a mild headache, here's some fun stuff I figured out about writing the Re:Zero characters so far:

• Writing Emilia is in fact actually really hard, like I heard that Tappei had difficulty in writing her and I gotta agree with him. For me the real hard parts come from the fact that I'm always doubting if I truly captured her instead of just her speech gimmicks (saying old words, the reaaaaally, using good boy to refer to Subaru and stuff), because that's something that's actually pretty difficult with her. Like, I constantly have to check myself that I'm not just spouting her iconic little quirks without meaning behind them, so that I'm not just mimicking something that vaguely sounds like Emilia instead of actually being her

• Similarly, that's the exact problem I have with Beatrice. Like, intellectually, I know that she doesn't always use the I Suppose and In fact when talking, but picking and choosing the spots when she uses it or drops it is nightmarish

• Rem and Ram aren't too difficult, but reminding myself to not make Rem too woobie-ish and Ram too mean is a constant

• I was scrambling to figure out what the fuck Puck even talks like, only to find out that apparently after Puck was freed from the contract he uses speech patterns really similar to Subaru???? This, I do not know what to do with this information, but I do find the "mama bear" interaction in Wrath IF funny

• Anastasia and Garfiel are difficult for obvious reasons, I keep having to double check if they just have really thick hick accents or if the abundance of ' is fucking with my brain

• Julius, Reinhard and Crusch apparently all talk really similar. I found this out when people kept mistaking the Voice of the Noble for Crusch or Reinhard, the more you know

• Honestly you'd be surprised with how different it feels to write these characters when they aren't bantering with Subaru, especially when you're going through the WN for your dialogue references (I desperately need to read the side stories)

• Echidna changes drastically depending on who she's interacting with, and I think that's hilarious

[suffarustuffaru]

Looking at your past art has me really loving your drag king Natsumi, do you have any more thoughts on them? I'd love to hear them. Also just your genderbend ideas in general. They are very interesting!

for future reference, here is where i drew some drag king natsumi + sapphic ottosuba :) i definitely plan on making more genderbend au content in the future thats for sure! :o i have another older art post on this here also (i am. too lazy to find it rn but its there somewhere!!) but i have some in depth thoughts about fembaru for sure yes :3 ty for finding my genderbend ideas interesting!! :D !! id be happy to talk about them more :o

im gonna start with outward design stuff / gender presentation first!! :D bc in my head, afab subaru probably looks almost exactly the same. in general, canon subaru’s most likely at least a little androgynous (and i think he probably is judging off of how much he passes as the opposite sex!!), and we know hes got his dad’s spiky black hair and his mom’s mean eyes and general facial shape, has a long torso, that sort of thing, so i think afab subaru would look similar :o

plus i like to treat fembaru as basically just the mirror/foil/inverse of canon amab subaru anyway, so yep natsumi schwartz is gonna be her male persona!! canon amab subaru was mistaken as a girl when he was a child, and he also went to high school (iirc it was high school but at the very least he was about the same age he is during arc 1) for three days as natsumi yes and passed for three days. iirc he would put on the girl’s uniform and wig and stuff on the way to school and out of his parents’ view and then put on the male uniform and take off the wig before he got home!! plus you know he’d generally practice makeup most likely and wig styling and all sorts of things in private.

so definitely afab subaru is doing similar stuff but in the opposite direction now—looking more masc and presenting as a boy. while amab subaru can put on and take off a wig, in my head, afab subaru would probably have to have shorter hair. so one day she just got a haircut thats short enough to where she could style it masculinely but longer enough to where it could still be kinda considered feminine enough!!

im not 100% sure how to draw her hair yet but in my earlier post and a few of my sketches it kinda looks like either a long mullet/wolfcut or a messy bob :3 i think you could probably say that her hair looks more like a wacky bob when shes more feminine and a wolfcut when shes styling it more masculinely?

(^^ my take on fem wrathbaru is here also LMAO)

i also base my fembaru design off of canon natsumi!! with the side bang (though i sometimes draw it on the wrong side akdnd)!! meanwhile fembaru’s male natsumi would have canon amab subaru’s hair :) (which you can see in my earlier post as well!!)

(i like this illustration actually <3)

i also like to hc that on top of subaru wanting to look and act more like his dad in canon, he did also kinda want to resemble his mom when hes presenting more femininely :o also for genderbend aus it depends on whether you ONLY want to genderbend subaru or if you wanna genderbend everyone along with subaru too, that sort of thing. i like to play with both possibilities :o

but in general, i like the idea of subaru either way trying to honor both her mom and dad. maybe to subaru her mom is what an ideal woman should be perhaps, and her dad is the ideal man, bc subarus parents are her biggest role models, so she tries to emulate both at different points in her life. she tries to be the perfect soft sweet girl like her mom and it doesnt work. she leans into being a bit of a delinquent and it doesnt work. then she cuts her hair and learns to present more masculinely and tries to copy her dad only to fail again. :((( then she gets isekaied……

i feel like afab subaru might get a bit more shit for getting into trouble too :(( or for being too loud. shes not very traditionally ladylike, i think!! boys will be boys and of course your daughter takes after you, kenichi, but dont you think shes a little too rough around the edges now?

anyway otherwise in general, i also like the idea that over the course of each arc in the fantasy world, subaru grows her hair out!! and once its long enough she can put it into a ponytail like her mom again :,)))

(male rem is here too <3)

also i like to give fembaru the maid dress instead of the butler outfit!!! probably not with the garter and stuff but 😭😭 its a pretty dress and fembaru should get to express herself both masculinely and femininely :3 in my head, i think subaru would be shy bc AGHH THIS DRESS IS SO REVEALING THERES NO WAY ID LOOK GOOD IN THIS IM NOT PRETTY AT ALL and rem and ram (genderbent or not) are probably like nonsense just try the dress. its your uniform to work here. and subaru does and huhhhh. maybe i dont look half bad ? :,) (bc of course subaru’s insecurities either present themselves the same or slightly different when genderbended). and of course when rem and ram warm up to subaru eventually ram can be like “you dont look as bad as i thought youd look” or something and rem can be like “subaru-kun youre very beautiful anyways!!!! <3”

and also i do think subaru would cut her hair a bit again or style it different for natsumi adventures later in arc 7 <3 just to have that symmetry again. the situation probably might go a little different but yep this is how id handle it 👍

and of course you can give subaru the canon natsumi hair bow sometimes when shes feeling fancy :3

OKAY and now im gonna talk about more character stuff!! lets talk about subarus whole thing with isekai and genre savviness and all that.

one of canon subaru’s many many Many parts making him up as a character and making up his story in general is a deconstruction of the isekai genre!! power fantasy and characters being cardboard cutouts for the male mc to triumph without a struggle—that sort of thing. but afab subaru is a female lead now, and female isekai is different.

id have to do way more research into this and watch more female isekai and shoujo and stuff (ive been Really wanting to watch im in love with the villainess…… someday i will…..). buuut from what ive noticed so far it seems like for male lead isekai the fantasy here is the Power and Prestige, but female lead isekai’s fantasy seems to be the Romance!! not that you cant have OP abilities in female lead isekais and not that every isekai is 100% the same of course. but that seems to be the common tropes from what ive seen so far? male isekai protags have girls throwing themselves at him as trophies, female lead isekais have their male romantic interests and the evil evil villainesses are defeated somehow and perfectly out of the way <3 the fantasy is that youll be loved by The One—the perfect boy(s) <3

and i think amab subaru is less likely to check out much female lead isekai but i think itd be fun if afab subaru would probably focus on female lead isekai but also a bit on male lead isekai as well!! she wants that absolute path to glory AND love. (and ahahhahahaha please ignore the gazillion ikemen anime figurines in her room hahahahahhahhahahahah AND DEFINITELY IGNORE THE SILVER HAIRED ONES. ESPECIALLY THE ONLY GIRL FIGURINE SHE HAS THATS BEEN GATHERING DUST UNDER HER BED—)

but also bc i think amab subarus more likely to go nah i wont look at girly media while maybe afab subarus like godddddddd i want instant OP abilitiessssssssssss and godddddddd i want hot girls around m—WHAT. WHAT. WHO SAID THAT WHO SAID THAT—

anyway so subaru gets isekaied and shes like SWEEETTT A NEW BEGINNING AWAY FROM NOT BEING ABLE TO MEET EXPECTATIONS HAHAHAHAHA IM THE ISEKAI PROTAG!!! THIS IS AWESOME!!! (is about to get her shit rocked). and shes like ooooh do i have any abilities (nope) and oooohhhhhh shit do i have a villainess. AM I THE VILLAINESS???? no way right. anyway lol wheres the ikemen who’ll ill marry one day. the ikemen that falls in love….. with a commoner……… like myself teehee… and they get married…… and the villainess is CONQUERED….

anyway so what im saying is. ………….fembaru is a femcel. AND a pick me. AND a disaster bisexual. you could practically imagine a vine boom after each of those.

i think the biggest most important to me with genderbend aus is keeping the humanity of the characters the same the best i can!! and fembaru is STILL subaru, of course shes fucking cringe!! of course shes got a heart of gold but its under layers of cringe!!! of course shes a nerd who doesnt have any friends at first and trips and stumbles through all the shit being thrown her way!!

also if male subaru is bi then so is fem subaru okay. we’re equal opportunity here. and also amab subaru has issues with his masculinity and uhhhh slight things with women (see: his boob comments in season 1…….. subaru i love you but cmon man). so. afab subaru i think has got a terrible case of internalized misogyny / homophobia / PROBABLY SOME COMPHET TOO LMFAO 😭😭

i think general plot beats (whether its only genderbending subaru or genderbending everyone) goes mostly the same but again, slight differences. im gonna go with only subaru being genderbent atm bc thatd have more differences i think :o

yes ok so subaru’s gonna see reinhard and go GASPPP oh my god. pretty ikemen. ohhhhhh oughhhhh hes so pretty. hes clearly main lead material… ohhhh what do i do ive never talked to people in so long and hes so PRETTY FUUUCKKKKK BUT I DONT WANNA BOTHER HIM EITHER AND PUT HIM IN DANGER. um um um um mmumimimm HE CLOSED THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US TOO???? what the hell what the fuck what the fuck shit shit um think THINK SUBARU THINK YOU HAVE CHARM RIGHT?? YOU CAN DO THIS. YOU CAN CHARM A HOT GUY. ARGGHHH— *explodes*

but also subaru sees emilia and gets that “do i wanna be her or be with her” feeling 😭😭 bc emilias so….. cute…. pretty… and NICE TOO?? WITH A FUN PERSONALITY??? SHIT SHES GOT EVERYTHING!! she went out of her way to save me 🥺🥺 and im just dragging her down 😔😔 BUT FUCKKKK I HATEEEE HOW GOOD SHE IS. and then :,)))) theyre both dying in the warehouse… and the first time subaru feels the touch of another girl in a more intimate light is her and emilia holding hands as they die…………….

SO YEAH THEN SUBARU RBDS :,,)))) so like. do you get what im saying. emisuba and remsuba and satella are subaru’s first sapphic heartbreaks and heartaches. muahahaha!!!! insert more evil laughter here!!!! bc since subarus a girl her relationships with emisuba and remsuba are definitely gonna be perceived (both by other people and rem emilia subaru) more so as friendships first and foremost.

so….. subarus getting the codependent homoerotic teenage friendship bright and early HAH. but i cannot blame her!! i too would go insane if i was put in a new unfamiliar world and i met this cute girl i was both jealous of and a little into and then we both died and the last thing i felt was searing pain and her soft fingertips!!! i too would go insane if i thought this maid was my friend but then she tortured me and—and—

but yeah you know how amab subaru has his whole weird complex bromances with reinhard and julius and otto?? now itll be like that but with emilia (the julius and reinhard…) and rem (the otto….). emilias the girl subaru’s having “do i wanna be her or be with her” weird rivalry shit with (subaru’s internalized misogyny probably also adding to this bc Obviously theyre rivals) and rem’s the girl who brutally betrays subaru personally (worlds worst homoerotic teenage friendship breakup of all time 😭😭) but then she later becomes subaru’s loyal best friend???? crazy shit.

and like emilia and rem are totaaally villainesses in subaru’s way (except emilias sweet af and misjudged by the entire world and subaru doesnt have the heart to fight rem and also shes chugging copium and trying not to think about failed loops. or about her gay feelings). toxic yuri is toxic yuri-ing. subaru doesnt wanna be explicit about it….. emilia isnt sure of her feelings other than stuff like caring a lot abt subaru… and rem is. Rem. so theyre all in gay situationship limbo HAH.

also as an afab person too rip subaru for also having periods while the whole world is ending on repeat 😭😭 LMFAOO. im sure theres medieval fantasy remedies though (and rem is 1000% spoiling subaru on her period)

also no one can tell me that echidna and rem WOULDNT still be into subaru as much as they are in canon. subaru regardless of gender fascinates echidna and her greed. subaru regardless of gender is someone rem will grow very very attached to. and if anything, rem would get way more bold with afab subaru.

bc the thing with female relationships is that i feel like theres a higher level of intimacy that you gotta go to for it to be considered more romantic or homoerotic. with guys it could be like holding hands and other people might be like WOAH THATS GAY, but if girls do the same thing its like aww youre such good friends. i think rem would take advantage of her and subaru being the same sex and she’d probably keep trying like “hey um um wanna cuddle together?? in the same bed?? and bathe together teehee?? i can help do your hair and dress you up? and make lots of cute dresses for you ? :) <3 🥰 and i can even massage your bo—I MEAN YOUR BACK. YOUR BACK!!” or it’ll be like. rem gets a little too happy that her and subaru’s periods get synced up or something 😭😭 shes Not Normal (and unfortunately subarus probably a little too into that)

also unfortunately the other time a girl touched subaru intimately was satella squeezing her heart :(((( and hahahah between that and rem and emilia and later echidna…. ohhhh poor subaru and her terrible toxic yuri 😭😭 her sapphic experiences and experiences with women have not been 1000% great.

but also of course subaru is so very not normal. you have the canon typical “lol every memory is a good one <3 even rem torturing me teehee <33” and also i just think itd be funny if you as an audience is lead to believe subarus jealous of emilia and rem’s boob sizes and no. no shes just gay. shes GAY.

and stuff like everything going on with julius and otto gets recharacterized too. bc subarus a girl and the guys are guys its probably gonna get perceived more both in and out of universe in a more. Quite Literally Straightforward light. esp bc subaru’s still gonna be into reinhard and julius lbr HAH.

i want arc 3 to still be an absolute fucking disaster with fembaru. let fembaru be flawed and ugly!!!! so in my au thoughts here itd be like. subaru feels jealous and threatened by lots of people. emilia, though its subsided a bit after becoming friends and after learning a bit more abt emilia as a person. but also i think subaru could feel so so jealous of the royal candidates!! esp crusch priscilla anastasia even though subaru will 1000% think theyre bitches at first during arc 3. bc theyre such strong determined women who seem way more confident than subaru herself is…. and also im sure there’ll be complex thoughts from her on felix too bc crossdressing… gender presentation… is a complex thing for subaru.

and subaru with julius is like. “get away from emilia!!!! shes mine!!! shes MY best friend that im homoerotically codependent on and obsessive of!!!! and also youre just trying to steal reinhard’s ikemen male lead spot huh!!!!! bastard!!!! (i hate that youre so pretty too)” and everything of course blows up in subaru’s face. im sure at some point in the story subaru might get slutshamed for having all these connections to people and romantic threads (especially since shes afab) but also its like. wow shes such a stupid girl lol causing a racket.

and uh being a man beating up a girl looks a little worse due to gender roles and stuff but lot of the knights are still gonna want to go after subaru and julius is still gonna want to save subaru. :,,)))) arc 3 emisuba breakup….. worlds worst sapphic breakup of all time…. and later rem will be the one that got away also :(((((

but yeah i think in general this subaru’s connections would be a little more. subtexty with the girls bc she’d be more hesitant to be explicit. but a bit more explicit with the guys bc itll be easily perceived as romantic in and out of universe. and of course subaru i think will be flustered in different ways between the girls vs guys—with the girls its OHH GOD I CANT BE GAY I CANT BE GAY NOOOOO I HAVE A RIVALRY!!! IM SO JEALOUS OF THEM!! BUT. BUT I LIKE THEM!! OHH GOD. with the guys its OH NO. GOOD LOOKING GUYS???? FML. FML!!!!! WHERES MY MAIN CHARACTER CHARM??? HOW DO I TALK TO GUYS???? JULIUS STOP MAKING FUNNOF ME!!! >:(((

also brief note on otto bc things are probably gonna go different here qkdnd. like i definitely am of course of the opinion that otto fell in love with subaru. in every damn arc in every damn main route otto side content hes getting unhinged over subaru in a way that i think makes a little less sense if you dont view it as otto just Not Being Normal About Subaru in a perhaps vaguely homoerotic way. Possibly? Maybe? Schrodinger's relationship blues.

but subarus afab now!! and ottos still a guy!!! and reinhard and julius are friendly with subaru right, but at around arc 4 things they dont show explicit romantic interest. (i think arc 5-6+ julisuba and juliemisuba would be 👀👀👀 though.) but otto?? in a universe where subaru is a girl??? well now its more acceptable for him to be grow openly head over heels for subaru. but also its probably also more pathetic bc now its probably gonna be more obviously taken by others as otto having a Romantic crush on subaru. regardless of whatever otto's feelings are.

and subarus had her arc 3 development right. but here its like. you wanted a male character who’d fall in love with you and be loyal to you and do Anything for you???? here you go!!! but also given otto is Like That and gets worse by arc 7-8 i think hes gonna seem a bit more sinister. not that canon otto with canon subaru isnt sinister but theres different connotations to male otto paired with female subaru. bc it sort of follows straight dark romance rules, right, with the cunning possessive male love interest and the female protagonist…

i doubt anything explicit would go on between otto and subaru in an au like this bc 1. otto and his avoidant attachment LMFAO and 2. subaru and her issues also and 3. subaru in main route is Not as into otto to the same extent or degree otto is HAH.

and fembarus probably like. i think itd be funny if she was a little disappointed otto wasnt a girl 😭😭😭 but then later hes weird about crossdressing and shes like why dont you wanna do it huh 👁👁👁👁 why are you weird about it 👁👁👁👁 im staring at your glass closet right now—

and also its like. “WHY ARE YOU THE FIRST BOY TO ACTUALLY BE IN LOVE WITH ME WHAT???” which i think is hilarious but i also think it could be fascinating in terms of playing with gender!! bc otto may want to be in control of things, but hes also so subservient to subaru anyway. otto and subaru are both androgynous; otto can pass as a girl and subaru can pass as a boy. if you wanna simplify things further you could also explain this as—otto is a man who looks like a woman who’s pledged his servitude to a woman who looks like a man. very intriguing imo!!

but of course ottosuba power dynamics are Always shifting over and over like a game of tug of war, but the most common thing is that otto will bow his head to subaru but under the surface ottos trying to be in charge. that sort of thing!! and the idea of male otto servicing female subaru is an idea rezero ao3 seems to like also but :,) lets just say its not fully to my taste haha :,,))

and otto is definitely not gonna beat up subaru’s ass so easily this time around bc itd look so bad and he’d know that lmfao 😭😭

but i think theres a lot of potential to play around with gender roles and such with all of these dynamics!! im very passionate about making my genderbend au ideas as wild and layered as possible :o !!

this is all my main ideas atm (and id love to draw stuff like more drag king natsumi or fem reinsuba :) ) but yes i hope this all makes sense :D !! thanks for reading this far and thanks for the ask!!

[hayakawalove]

Going to see middle age gynecologist Toji cause you’re worried you’re broken because all the younger guys you’ve been seeing can’t make you cum, and he shows you just how wrong you are

[cupcakegalaxia]

.

[xbubblgm]

things from my 3 day vacation with my high school friends that scream marauders: 

- me and my bestie lying on a single bed and talking about her homoerotic friendship that ended 2 years ago which i know EVERY detail of. very marylene.

- we accidentally went too far in the sea and two guys came and checked if we were okay and if we knew how to swim. the sirius kinnie took it as a challenge and showed off her swimming skills while the remus kinnie was hanging with her pool noodle, very calm, saying shes 100% capable of swimming. she is not. and the peter kinnie got very scared of them.

- the james kinnie and sirius kinnie screamed every time a jellyfish touched them. peter played with the jellyfish. remus was just saying ew the whole time

- this can also be rosekiller - pandora - reg/dorcas

- the peter kinnie cried on day 3. and remus comforted them

- james kinnie and sirius kinnie argued over when to sleep bc james wanted to sleep early and wake up early while sirius wanted to sleep late. they both slept early tho peter and remus stayed up all night. 

- sometimes they explain stuff to me, or i explain to them how i can or cant do certain stuff (my neurospicy ass) and they all know im the odd friend but they still love me and protect me bc i literally cannot survive on my own so its pretty pandora and the skittles for us. 

- remus applied to a project team at her uni while everybody was waiting to go swimming.

- we also planned each other’s timetables on the road so its pretty lily and rem for us 

- remus was talking about how she and ANOTHER girl she had a homoerotic friendship with had a song together, james said you don’t “have songs” with your totally normal friendships, pete said they do tho, and its true james and pete have a song and its “you’ve got a friend in me” from toy story <3

- the only stuff sirius thought about the whole trip was smoking, drinking energy drinks, makeup, looking pretty, and cute guys 

- james, pete and remus did duolingo everyday

[your-mom-friend]

Imagine, if you will, that you wake up and everything is normal

You sit up, and then you see something flop down on the mattress next to you

It’s an arm

And you ALMOST freak out but then you’re like hah. Nice. Someone is pranking me. And why wouldn’t they. You have some strange friends. One of them might have a fake arm lying around. Who cares that April fools is over. Silliness is forever

So you gingerly pick up the fake arm and wow, this is a good quality prop, and wow that’s got some weight to it, and it’s bigger than you’d assumed.

So you pick it up and put it in your lap and it’s. It’s connected to your shoulder

Except that can’t be right because your left arm is connected to your shoulder

And then the slow realisation turns into a crash of awareness that that IS your left arm and for some reason you can’t feel your left arm at all

Not only can you not feel pins and needles you can’t feel it at all and as much as you’re trying you cant move it it won’t listen to you

You imagine your fingers moving and they stubbornly stay still and you try to lift your arm and it just ignores you

And THATS when you freak out and start massaging the hell out of it to get blood flow back and it doesn’t work for like a full minute and you start planning out your life as a one armed woman

And only after your roommate starts helping you out do your fingers twitch and you slowly regain motor function

And it takes a while got the static feeling to shake itself out but it eventually does go back to normal except now when you tell your friends they react super calm like oh yeah that happens when you sleep on your arm wrong. Like girl no it does not tf???

[remedyturtles]

cmh x dw ficlet

literally just a short lil thing i wrote bc @callmehere-iwillappear and i were smacking our AU's together like dolls talking about if death wish sensei/leo and call me here leo met ... and then i got emotional abt ghost leo being a touch starved baby who doesn't get any hugs LMAO

[]

"What's with the tree?" The dead version of himself asked, kicking the trunk of the tree and looking up to watch the vibrations ripple up and shake the branches.

Sensei thought he looked so young, but he always thought that about his Leo. Though this new one had a quality that was different -- a hungry sort of loneliness, something in his eyes was almost desolate, like someone lost or homeless. He had been immediately willing to jump into the mindscape when they said maybe he could interact with them in there. "I'm the tree." Sensei said, waiting for him. They'd decided on Leon for the ghostly version, if only to save confusion with three Leo's in one brain. Leon's grin was flawless, turning to Sensei and saying, "Hey man, you look great for a tree." "You look great for a ghost." Sensei said. "Are you coming to see if you can get a hug or not?" The grin wavered. He didn't come closer, one arm hugging the other in what was probably a subconscious self-soothing gesture. "It probably won't work." "Where's your scientific method? Donnie would be so disappointed." Sensei goaded. He wondered how many times Leon had tried to get a hug and failed in order to be so pessimistic about it. It was a sore spot in his throat to think about. "Do I look like I know science?" Leon replied, and it was so a front because any Leo in the world would've absorbed at least the basics of the scientific method from their twin by sheer osmosis alone. "Test your theory before you discard it." Sensei didn't want to push him, not getting closer, but opening his arm in offer. Visible conflict on Leon's face. Want and pain. It vanished like smothering a fire with a blanket and he said, "Fine, but only because an old man like you looks like he needs a hug." Sensei snorted. He waited, and Leon approached, reaching out a hand. It shook just a little, and landed on his bicep. "Oh." Leon said, disbelieving. Then threw himself at Sensei. It was such an unexpected burst of energy that it knocked him directly off his feet. Sensei oofed and laughed, squishing the littler Leon to his chest. Leon tried to say something but it only came out as a strangled noise. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Sensei's plastron. Sensei's heart broke for him, rubbing his shell in circles how he knew all Leo's appreciated. "Heads up!" Leo shouted, leaping from the branches and colliding with their hug. It burst a hysterical laugh from Leon's chest, rolling to include the new body in their tangled hug, holding tight like they didn't need to let go.

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

���Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[ssa-dado]

Backshots... Back Pain, Sorry

Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUTTY smut kind of smut. Fluff if you're a freak. Summary: It starts with a back massage, ends with your face in a pillow and Hotch scolding you mid-thrust for arching your back incorrectly. You’d argue, but it’s hard to speak when he’s fixing your posture with his [REDACTED] Warnings: MDNI (established... whatever this is, oral [f!receiving, brief mentions of m!receiving], unprotected p-in-v bc we live on the edge [♫ of glory ♫]), age gap, casual oopsie choking, accidental-but-not-really voyeurism, Hotch is pussy-whipped af but somehow still is a patronizing piece of shit, mentions of Jack (sorry Jack) Word Count: 6.6k Dado's Corner: Phi attempting the “Don’t write Hotch like a pathetic bottom after humiliating him in 30 Seconds” challenge: lasted a strong 30.5 seconds. Proofreading brought to u by Dr. Bin @hotchology PhD

masterlist

The first thought you had when you saw how big Aaron’s hands were was not, (un)surprisingly, that they’d be perfect for back massages.

That was probably your second thought.

Because your first was… well, that those thick fingers looked suspiciously well-suited for another kind of activity involving a lot more curling and a lot more work from his middle and ring finger.

Still.

Now – naked (just the top half, because he insisted. Something about how deep tissue massage works better on bare skin and some other pseudoscientific bullshit you’re trying very hard not to sexualize)- lying face down and completely at his mercy, you have to admit:

He’s freakishly good at the massage thing too.

Also, the noises coming out of your mouth are quite similar anyway.

Same pitch. Same breathlessness. Same “Yes, that’s the spot, sweetheart - like that?” murmured behind you in that pompous gravelly chuckle that does absolutely nothing to help you separate the two scenarios.

At least this time, it’s his thumbs digging into the knot just under your shoulder blades and not… well. Other places.

You don’t know how he does it.

It’s awful. It’s amazing. It makes you want to cry, make out, confess every fear you’ve ever had since the third grade, and tell him about the time you got lost in a supermarket when you were six and never fully recovered.

(Stepping stone of your abandonment issues, actually. Very formative stuff.)

But instead, you just hum.

And before he can tease you (because you know he will, the moment he realizes you’ve melted into a limp, worshipful little puddle over a shoulder rub), you manage to mumble:

“Can you keep doing this forever?”

Also because - small detail, minor point - he’s pinning you to the mattress with his hips. Like, fully. Whole FBI-agent body weight centered right over the curve of your ass.

And every time he shifts - reaching up to get a better angle, dragging his hands (those large, beautiful hands) up the sides of your spine - his hips roll just slightly forward.

And- yeah. He sort of… rocks against you.

Not on purpose.

(Probably?)

(…Definitely.)

Which would be fine. Totally manageable. Not at all a problem - if it weren’t for the fact that he’s wearing the least fuckable pajamas on Earth… which, of course, makes them ten times more fuckable.

Plain, boring navy bottoms. A matching buttoned top. (Aaron Hotchner cannot survive without buttons. He needs order. He needs structure. Even in REM sleep.)

Classic grandpa cut. V-neck just deep enough to show a scandalous sliver of collarbone you might, unironically, faint over.

(Thankfully, your current view is limited to his bedside table: a vintage old-man lamp that costs more than your phone, and a framed photo of him and his son.)

(Hi, Jack. Sorry for having thoughts about your father.)

Back to the pajamas - the most crucial detail is the fabric.

It’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched. High-thread-count sorcery. Probably imported. Definitely overpriced. Breathable, which is just a fancy way of saying stupidly thin.

Thin enough that when he leans in - presses down - you can feel the shape of his-

…Anyway. You’re getting ideas. (Again, sorry, framed Jack.)

“Not to be paternalistic,” he starts. (It is to be paternalistic. Entirely so. But you’ll allow it. You’ll allow anything, frankly, because for some reason it’s insanely hot when he talks like this.)

“-but you shouldn’t have a back like this at your age.”

“Well, thankfully I’ve got your magic hands to fix it, don’t I?” You smile, turning your head to look back at him, because you’re an idiot who still thinks eye contact might save you.

It doesn’t.

What you get instead is one of his signature sighs - the special not-to-be-paternalistic-but-very-much-is variety that sounds like he’s aging ten years just trying to keep you alive - and then a gently condescending lecture about cervical strain and spinal alignment and how you “can’t just twist your neck around if you actually want this to help,” yada yada-

“I know it doesn’t feel like a big deal now, but these things add up,” yada yada-

“I just-can you please take this seriously? I know you joke, but I’d like you to still be able to stand up straight in ten years.” yada yada, (okay, long-term vision, wow, didn’t know we were doing that now) yada yada-

“Sweetheart”.

All of it delivered in that deeply patronizing, annoyingly hot concerned-professional voice he’s perfected.

The one that should be irritating. Would be irritating, If it weren’t currently paired with both his hands kneading down your back, thumbs sinking into that dangerously tender spot just above your hips.

(You would roll your eyes, but you’ve just been told that’s a cervical risk. So you moan into the pillow instead. Respectfully.)

“Breathe through it,” he says. And you do. Immediately. Obediently.

Because he says it so kindly that you have to keep reminding yourself – repeatedly - that he actually cares about your spinal health, and is not, in fact, secretly calculating how many ways you could arch your hips to grind back against his very conveniently located crotch.

(You are. You’re calculating. You’re the problem.)

“Yeah, that’s a good one. Keep doing this,” he says, as his thumbs keep moving - maybe in circles, maybe up and down - you honestly couldn’t say. You’ve lost all grip on spatial awareness.

All you know is there’s a pulsing, needy little bundle of nerves between your legs now demanding attention.

Especially when he comments, right as his fingers glide just above your ass-

“You’re really tight here.” Sir (GN). Be serious. “You should start being a bit more mindful about your posture.”

And with just those few words, your clit - tired, neglected, and frankly done with being emotionally sidelined - decides it’s going to take what it can get.

If a proper orgasm isn’t on the table, a slightly patronizing lecture from Aaron Hotchner about spinal health will have to do.

It politely raises a hand. Submits a request to speak. The brain, overwhelmed and half-fried from continuous exposure to his voice, approves it immediately.

So you ask, way too casually for what it actually means:

“Could you go lower?”

“Lower?” he repeats, taunting, as his hands pause their tantric little routine before gliding under your waist and flipping you over onto his orthopedic mattress.

Now you’re face-to-face with him.

Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. That specific, sharpened brand of exasperation he reserves only for you - his favorite little headache (how romantic of him) - comes today with a bonus layer of disbelief.

Because Best-Profiler-Or-Whatever-Goddamn-Award-He-Just-Won-Again 2012 (the year's not over, but if the Bureau doesn’t give him another brass plaque to add to the terrifying shrine of ego and martyrdom he keeps in his office, he might actually cry) has officially clocked that the look in your – probably very dilated - eyes says one thing and one thing only:

Fuck me. (So Shakespearian.)

Still, since profiling is such a complex job –

(Or so he claims, usually while humblebragging about how he reads murderers for a living, yet somehow still can’t figure out the real reason you keep staring at his hands-)

so many factors, so many nuances, every twitch, every blink, every micro expression a breadcrumb-

So, you, being the considerate, emotionally generous person that you are, decide to spare him the effort. You remove all ambiguity, wrap your legs around his waist, and pull him in.

(Also: your boobs are out. The top of your pajama set’s currently sitting neatly folded on the far bedside table, placed there with care by none other than the Sexy Masseuse Extraordinaire himself.)

(You can’t turn to look at it. If you twist your neck, he’ll scold you. But you know it’s there.)

(So yes. #FreeTheNipple could easily be Exhibit B. Another little clue in the ever-growing case file of She Wants Me. Please, Aaron. Be thorough. File it under Intent.)

And apparently, he does.

Because without you saying a single word, he exhales - through his cutest, slightly uneven nostrils (and probably a deviated septum he refuses to get checked out) - and mutters, incredulous:

“Again?!”

Ah. Yes. Again.

Because to be fair, it is technically true that the second Aaron walked through the door - still suited up, still rumpled from the flight, fresh off a three-day case on the West Coast - the only greeting he got was a breathless “I missed you,” right before you yanked him down by the tie and onto his own couch to physically demonstrate that you (unlike him, [sometimes]) actually mean what you say.

So moved were you by his presence that you completely forgot to do the one basic thing required of anyone with even a shred of shame or social awareness:

Close. The. Curtains.

(You keep forgetting there’s an entire wing of Aaron’s apartment complex that has a front-row seat to his living room. Practically panoramic… oh- hi, Linda from 154.)

But it’s fine. It’s fine.

You fixed it.

You skipped the full nudity part and went for the most logistically respectful option: unzipping just his fly, just enough to free what you needed. Nothing more.

Just the essentials.

Just a fully dressed woman bouncing on a fully dressed man’s lap.

You’re pretty sure that doesn’t count as public indecency. (It’s basically PG-12. Glee’s airing worse on national television every Tuesday at 8/7c and that show’s somehow still going. So really, you’re fine. This is fine. Society has seen worse.)

…You also really, really hope no one saw it in the first place. You tell yourself no one saw it.

You keep telling yourself that, even as your brain starts tallying how many windows overlook this very couch. (Six. There are six. Possibly seven. And that woman on the third floor with the poodle - she definitely saw something. She always does.)

Those people didn’t see that your panties were still on - just pushed to the side, soaked through, clinging to your thigh.

Didn’t see the way your mouth fell open when you sank down onto his cock, gasping from the stretch, from the fuck yes finally of being full again.

Didn’t see his head fall back against the couch, eyes shut, the half-muttered “Jesus Christ” he left when your hips started rolling.

They didn’t see the way your thighs trembled when he grabbed your hips, then your waist, then your thighs again like he couldn’t decide where to hold you hardest, just knew he needed to keep you going.

Didn’t hear the noise he made when you grabbed a fistful of his tie for leverage, just to stay upright while he hit so fucking deep.

And they definitely didn’t hear the way your moan cracked when his mouth brushed your ear and he muttered: “Been thinking about this the whole damn flight.”

Three hours. He sat in a government plane, in slacks, probably surrounded by spreadsheets and murder, and still somewhere over Colorado, he was hard and thinking about you.

“I missed you,” you really mean it. (Yes, you want to fuck him. Obviously. But it’s also starting to feel like the reason you’re so desperate for his body is because being without him hurts a little more than it should.)

“That’s what you said in the shower,” he reminds you. (Oh. Right. The shower. The one that happened immediately after the couch.) “And on the bathroom sink.” Ah. Yes. You’d offered to blowdry his hair, but something else got blown first. (Priorities.) “Don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?”

He basically looks at you like you’re the most beloved disaster he’s ever encountered.

Fond - yes.

Amused - definetely.

Also very much trying not to laugh. He even bites his lip to hold it back.

Veeeery humbling experience.

And still, he leans in over you and locks his lips with yours - sweet enough to excuse how annoyingly chaste it feels. You start to pull him back in but he detours to your cheek instead, lingering there.

“You’re adorable,” he pities you. “Now please could you turn back over?”

Choking yourself with the pillow suddenly sounds like a fantastic plan. You eye it. You consider the logistics. You’re halfway to asphyxiating yourself into emotional amnesia when he leans in and kisses your shoulder.

Then the other. (Symmetry. He’s disgusting.)

You brace for his hands on your back, but it’s his mouth instead.

Starting at the nape of your neck, he works his way down your spine, lips dragging wet and slow. Every kiss sinks into your skin like he’s trying to rewrite your nervous system from the top down, rearranging your fucked-up muscles better than his actual massage ever could.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not even when his fingers hook into the waistband of your pajama pants and start easing them down - his mouth just keeps going, picking up exactly where the fabric leaves off.

You still get butterflies at the stupidly familiar feel of his calloused palms skimming down your thighs, knuckles brushing bare skin as he peels your bottoms away.

Could be excitement. Could be the fact that he’s been edging you for what feels like a fiscal quarter. Could be because you’re head over heels for him and refusing to deal with it. (Unclear. Not investigating.)

Anyways, Aaron - sweet, disciplined Aaron - folds your PJ pants, sets them neatly on top of your already-abandoned top on the bedside table (it was only a matter of time, that poor top’s been waiting for backup all night), and then immediately dives back in mouth-first (correction: teeth-first) sinking a bite right into the peak of your ass.

One side, then the other. (The man really loves symmetry.)

Groaning into your skin as you gasp his name - only for him to shut it down halfway through (fuck him, really) - he slides one arm beneath your hips, the other draping heavy across your thighs, and manhandles you into place in one smooth (hot) motion on all fours.

Ass up, panties still on (and very much soaked through).

It’s… a moment.

You crane your neck, scrambling for words - something clever, something linguistically adult - but what fries every functioning synapse isn’t just the way he’s staring at the soaked spot on your underwear;

It’s the way his pupils visibly dilate when he catches the barest glint of your cunt beneath it.

And still, he manages to outdo himself.

Because Aaron Hotchner’s greatest talent - aside from his intellect, that weirdly specific dry humor only you laugh at, and, of course, the mouthwatering, life-altering, holy-shit-that-thing-has-weight dick he’s somehow just casually lugging around - it’s his uncanny ability to always state the obvious.

“You’re soaked…” he murmurs. “You already fucked me and you’re still soaked.”

(There’s just something in Aaron saying that you fucked him…Call it power-hungry. Call it praise kink. Call it whatever.)

“Shit, say it again.” You just want his voice. More of it. Inside you, around you, anywhere.

You gasp as he hums straight into the damp fabric of your panties “Smug little thing… Let’s see how long it lasts.”

Then he drags his face down, nuzzling his nose along your glistening slit – catching every slick ridge through the soaked cotton, barely giving you any pressure, just enough to make you momentarily twitch.

He doesn’t bother teasing – just goes straight for your clit, flushed and throbbing, and latches on.

Mouth open. Tongue flat.

You start cursing everything.

Cursing the fabric of your panties he still hasn’t moved aside.

Cursing the way the soaked cotton catches every flick of his tongue – turning each pass into friction and making everything worse.

Cursing yourself for the sound you make when he moans into you – mouth hot and hungry – and yanks your hips closer like he can’t fucking help himself.

Grips your ass, fills both palms, pulls you tighter to his face until there’s nowhere for you to go – nowhere for you to run – nothing you can do but take it.

He’s drinking you. He sucks your slick through the fabric, letting it saturate his tongue, then releases your nub with a wet, obscene pop just to do it again.

Then again. And again.

Clicks his tongue just to hear the sound it makes against your cunt.

Right when you think you might actually die from how deliberately he’s taking his sweet time, he finally peels the fabric to the side.

(Thank God.)

“Fuck, Aaron-” you choke, fisting the sheets as he dives into your into your hole.

You were so fucking wrong.

His real talent isn’t stating the obvious.

It’s the way he makes out with your cunt, making you clench against him, and that molten heat already begins to gather low in your stomach.

“You taste better every fucking time. God, I missed you,” he mutters, one hand pressing into the small of your back to hold you down, the other spreading your ass so his tongue has more room to work and can slide deeper.

He fucks you with it.

Pushes in, pulls back, then he drags himself back up to your clit and just… goes feral. A combination you’re 100% sure he makes up on the spot, yet it’s somehow the exact cheat code to your nervous system.

You start grinding against his face, chasing friction like it’s oxygen, needy for whatever the hell that is until your thighs are trembling and your brain has officially vacated the premises.

The only word(s) you manage to hold onto is-

“Aaron- Aaron, please-”

Not your best work. Not ideal.

You should specify - to Mr. Old Man™ - that after please, there was going to be don’t stop.

But instead, it comes out half-strangled, choked off by the groan you let loose as he pulls away too fast, too soon, leaving you gasping face-first into a very wet, very real patch of drool on the mattress.

(It’s cooling against your chin now. Disgusting.)

You writhe, still aching, still pulsing, your body practically begging for his mouth, his nose, his fucking tongue - anything to fill the hot, miserable emptiness between your legs - until his hand wraps around the back of your neck (shit. fuck. shit), lifting you way too easily.

(Maybe because he’s strong. Maybe because you’re fully limp with desperation. Maybe because you don’t resist even a little bit. Hard to say.)

He pulls your spine upright, presses you back against his chest and crashes his mouth to yours.

And as he groans into your mouth, his whole face glistening with your arousal, smearing messily against your cheek, his cock presses between your folds, dragging through the soaked disaster he made of you.

The thick, swollen head - already leaking with precum - bumps against your clit as he grinds forward, dragging through your slick with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, a choked moan catching halfway in your throat…

…Right as his fingers start to curl around it.

Soft. Careful. Too careful. Like his hand landed there on instinct and now he’s realizing it, hesitating, trying not to make it a thing (which, joke’s on him, it already is).

(Also, if he could go ahead and press those thick, possessive, chubby-ass fingers a little deeper into your neck- yeah. That’d be ideal. Five stars.)

So, probably in a noble act of distraction (or self-preservation), Aaron starts to push in.

That first stretch.

That toe-curling burn you never fully prepare for. The one that drags your body open inch by inch like he’s carving a space only he gets to fill. And you adore it. You crave it like a sickness.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, mouth grazing your jaw. “I couldn’t resist.” And another kiss, “I need to fuck you properly so you don’t wake me up begging for it again.”

(If he keeps holding your neck like that while saying shit like that, you’re definitely waking him up again. With your mouth. Or your thighs.)

You decide to clench around him in reply (how generous of you - really, public service) - tight enough that you know he’s furrowing his brows right now, trying so hard not to let out one of those high-pitched, desperate little whimpers that would completely shatter the illusion of his usual Important Serious Man™ composure.

“Mmm, sweetheart,” he groans, dragging in deeper until he’s finally fully seated inside of you, buried to the hilt. “You’re not even trying to hide it, are you? Squeezing me like that…”

He should really be speaking for himself, considering the thing twitching inside you just because it’s lucky enough to be nestled inside you is his cock, not yours.

And sure, he starts rocking into you all slow and deliberate, hips rolling against the swell of your ass like he thinks he can distract you with rhythm alone, but it’s textbook deflection.

(Hotchner: 1 – You: 0. For now.)

“Aaron-” you gasp, barely coherent, because fuck, you’re full. Like - can’t think, can’t breathe, forgot-Aaron’s-home-wifi-password kind of full.

(Which is annoying, because you were just about to remember it. It was something long and unnecessarily specific, like JHotchnerILoveAmerica65 or JackRules2012.)

(AHotchnerNet_3G_guest_home_office?)

(QuanticoSecure_LinkV2?) Nope. That’s the Bureau one. (You may or may not have shamelessly stolen their bandwidth to watch YouTube videos in his office the first time you visited - sitting on that black leather guest chair, legs swinging, waiting for him to come out of some high-stakes consult.)

(Ugh, come on, you almost had it. It’s the one with the weird numbers… Jack’s birthday? No, that was the old one, the one you used to mooch off before he got weird about network security after that article in The Atlantic.)

(Was it Hotchner_Home_8347_SECURE_VPNLOCKED? Or was that the printer? What was it?)

(Wait - is he 7.5 inches? 8? 8.5?! Feels like that but you’re way too biased.)

“Oh fuck-” Your nails bite into the solid curve of his bicep, your back arches on instinct - no thought involved, just muscle memory screaming yes, like that, and your body goes soft over his, melting like heat’s finally overtaken every vertebrae you’ve got.

Boneless. Useless. Yours now comes with a floppy warranty.

He notices, so he wraps his other arm tight around your waist, keeping you upright. “Yes, honey? You like that? Is that what you’re trying to say? Or-.” A sharper thrust. “Do you need me to go harder already?”

Not accepting your whimper as an answer, he goes harder anyway.

White-hot static floods your brain, sparking behind your eyes. You lose track of sound, of sense, of everything but the slap-slap-slap of skin on skin, that becomes even louder than the creaky-ass wooden antique bedframe Aaron refuses to replace.

(Yes, it was expensive. Yes, he insists it’s historical. Yes, it’s probably haunted. No, you do not care. Louis XIV himself could rise from the dead and tell you it’s a collector’s piece, you’re still letting Aaron split you in half on it.)

“Do you feel it?” he asks.

You know what he means. Doesn’t even need to say it.

Especially when his hand tightens just that little bit more around your throat - enough to blur the edges, enough to make your cunt flutter in a grateful little thank you because that was literally what you were about to beg for and this man just read your goddamn mind and saved you the humiliation-

“Well- it’s- fuck yes, right th- it’s kind of impossible not to, isn’t it?”

Wrong answer, apparently.

Because it earns you exactly zero gold stars and a one-way ticket to being shoved face-first into the mattress, his palm flat on your back.

(Or maybe he’s just decided he won’t be satisfied until you’re properly, thoroughly, professionally fucked dumb, until the only thing your brain can process, let alone say, is his name.)

“Lift your hips,” he instructs.

“What-”

“Just do it.”

You do. Of course you do. Because you are weak and unprincipled and you like it when he uses his dad voice.

(Sorry, framed Jack. Not your dad dad. Like- authority figure dad. Weird to explain. Just- sorry Jack.)

He reaches for the pillow from his side of the bed (naughty… part of you hopes he doesn’t bother changing the case afterward, just so he can fall asleep every night wrapped in the scent of your sex… but then again, you’re talking about Aaron, so he'll probably sanitize it twice and iron it back into place) and slides it beneath your stomach.

“There. Better angle for your back,” he mutters.

“Are you fucking kidding me… oh fuck- my back?” You try to mock him, but all you can think is that this stupid orthopedic pillow just shoved him even deeper.

He’s drilling into you so hard, so fucking perfectly, that all you can focus on is how thick he is - how every goddamn ridge, every pulsing vein, every inch of him is dragging against your walls and hitting your spot every single time.

Somehow, you’re still not used to how deep he gets. Still not over the fact that he fits like this, that he fucks like this. That he’s that deep. That much.

You start thinking you should give him a little plaque.

A nice, shiny, brassy “Deepest Stroke Award: Best Dick 2012” kind of thing. Stick it right next to his Bureau commendations so everyone that steps into his office knows he’s that good.

So good that as he angles himself even better (you didn’t even know that was possible), you don’t even hear the bedframe anymore.

(Which is convenient, because next time he wakes you up at 3 a.m. - all apologetic and sleepy and sweet, muttering “sorry, sweetheart, I just need to turn over, please go back to sleep” while trying not to make it creak - you’re gonna tell him to just flip you over and fuck you like this until you both go deaf. Sleep like babies. Problem solved.)

You’re gasping, whimpering, face buried in the mattress, fingers curled so tight in the sheets they might tear, and Aaron has the audacity -the actual fucking balls (which, by the way, are slapping against your clit with every thrust and fuck, they feel incredible… justice for balls, truly) - to tut at you.

“Sweetheart, you’re collapsing your shoulders again, try to pull them back. Keep the neck long.”

You try to lift yourself. You really do. But your arms are jelly, your spine’s gone to hell, and your entire body is preoccupied with coming apart on his cock.

Still, his big, warm hand spreads flat over the center of your back as he straightens you out. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make me correct your posture and fuck you… engage here.”

(Which is ironic. Because right now? He’s doing both flawlessly.)

“Trying,” you pant.

“Oh, I can see you’re trying,” he mutters, and somehow it’s affectionate and condescending and it should make you furious but instead your cunt clenches yet again like it wants to say thank you, sir.

He shifts his hips and pushes in deeper, angling just right and you see white.

Just white. No thoughts. No gods. No laws. Just the smug chuckle he lets out as your mouth drops open and a sound escapes that isn’t even a word anymore.

“Poor thing,” he coos as his pretentious mouth brushes your spine. “Clenching around me like that and still trying to impress me with your form. You can’t even hold yourself up, sweetheart. That’s adorable.”

“Why do you have to be such an asshole? Can’t you just say one of those stupid cheesy things you tell me all the other times?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Because for some reason,” he murmurs, lazy and devastating, “we both know why this turns you on more.”

It’s because you watch too much porn when he’s away. That’s what it is. That’s the problem. You look for the perfect video, scrolling through every possible variation of "older man, authoritative voice, hairy chest, forehead lines, kind of sad but knows how to eat pussy."

Trying to find a man with his exact nose. His exact voice. His exact cock.

But you never find it. You never find him.

And you’re too chickenshit to ask him to just send you a video of himself fucking his fist - because he’s probably doing something more important, like saving Gotham or shooting an active shooter - and you don’t want to be the reason he gets sidetracked while stroking his lenght in a government office. (…Though, the idea is… not bad.)

So instead, you settle. Again.

You open one of those copy-paste porn videos made for men who think women are doormats with vocal fry, and let it play. Same limp dialogue. Same dead-eyed expressions. Same choreographed humiliation kink that somehow makes you feel like the one being punished.

And still, it doesn’t work. Because Aaron Hotchner has fucked up your brain chemistry to such a degree that other men just don’t do it anymore. You slap the laptop shut to end up staring at that blurry pic you took of him coaching Jack’s football game. (Sorry, Jack.)

He’s just in a bland T-shirt. Biceps hulking under cotton. Arms crossed. Whistle hanging from his neck like he’s about to say something inspirational and slightly disappointed.

That’s the reason.

(...Or maybe it’s just that nothing on this godforsaken Earth turns you on more than when he tells you what to do - precisely how to take it, exactly how to behave - even though you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of mental energy convincing yourself that enjoying that somehow makes you less of a feminist, like Simone de Beauvoir’s going to rise from the grave and revoke your womanhood because you like being manhandled by a man in overpriced pajamas.)

(Yeah… it’s definitely because you watch way too much porn.)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand sliding back up to your throat, palm pressing lightly, thumb stroking under your jaw as you try to mumble something broken and vowel-heavy that you’re pretty sure started as his name. “Oh…” Aaron chuckles, putting two and two together. “So this is what you want?”

“Hnngh…” you try, but he slaps your ass. (You swear to God, the next time he walks in front of you on a staircase, you’re smacking him. Right there. Mid-step. He will be humbled. You will have your revenge.) “Yes. Yes. Just- just stay there.”

“Here where?”

“Shut up.”

Another slap.

Another involuntary moan. (Still. Stairs, Hotchner.)

“No, but seriously - your back. You sit like shit. You fuck like a dream, but Jesus, I’m gonna send you to physical therapy myself if you keep collapsing your shoulders like that.”

You whimper into the pillow. Your clit’s caught between the pillow and your cunt clenches hard, slick dripping down your thighs, and you don’t know if you’re closer because of the way he’s choking you or the fact that he just corrected your posture.

“Could you – fuck – could you just talk more?” (There it is. Your final shred of dignity. Cashed. Spent. Gone.)

He hums behind you. “Oh, now you want feedback?” Then he leans down, and suddenly you’re wearing him – coarse salt-and-pepper chest hair scraping your slick back, the full weight of him pushing you down as his cock punches so deep into you, you have to roll your eyes back.

“You want me to tell you how fucking good you feel?” he grits, hips picking up pace, snapping harder now.

You’re not really in the conditions to answer.

Your mouth is open but your brain has blue-screened, locked in a loop of oh my God oh my God oh my fuc-

“God, look at you,” he groans, almost in disbelief, hand splaying across your upper back to keep you down, to stop your writhing. “Making a mess all over my cock. You’re dripping. Absolutely soaking me.”

And oh… you feel it.

The soaked patch you’ve been leaving on the pyjama pants he still hasn’t taken off - just shoved down far enough to fuck you properly - slapping wetly against your skin every time he drives in.

(You’re naked. He’s half-dressed. Fully dressed, actually…)

Oh, you feel it.

The wet, sticky sound of your cunt swallowing him with every thrust. The soaked spot you’ve been leaving on the pyjama pants he didn’t even bother taking of hitting you over and over again while you’re naked.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he huffs, and oh - his voice cracks. He’s close. Good. (That’s so hot.) “Taking me so well. Still gripping me like it’s the first time. Letting me fuck you this- this deep- Jesus Christ-“ (Amen.) “I can feel every goddamn pulse-”

His hand slides from your spine to your throat - tightens just enough to send your body into full siren-mode panic, only to twist it into white-hot bliss a second later.

And then the other sneaks between your thighs, fingers already soaked in you, finding your clit like he’s done it a thousand times (you’re still in the double digits) and starts circling. . Fast. Messy. Precise.

The kind of perfect that short-circuits thought. That makes your jaw go slack. That makes your breath catch on the edge of something that isn’t quite a moan, or a cry, or-

It almost slips out.

That thing.

The three-word, soul-ruining thing people only say when they’re either very brave or very stupid. And right now, with his fingers rubbing you and his cock still buried so deep it feels like belonging, you’re dangerously close to being both.

“F-fuck, Aaron-”

“I’ve got you. Let go, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You break. Your thighs tremble, your back arches involuntarily (and Aaron’s too far gone to lecture you about spinal integrity now), and your moan turns guttural and ugly as your orgasm crashes through you - pulling his name from your throat

You clamp down so hard around him he curses, jaw clenched, hips jerking once, twice, then he’s there too.

Hot, deep, choking on his breath as he thrusts into the tight clutch of your pulsing cunt, burying himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in rough, thick spurts that have your body jolting again from the aftershocks.

He groans into your shoulder, mouth open, teeth grazing skin, hips still twitching through the aftershocks - every helpless pulse of him inside you dragging another ripple of heat down your spine, through your thighs, and eventually, shamefully, down onto the sheets.

He doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move, really, except to press his chest tighter against your back, as if he’s trying to stay in your skin. Like if he lets go, something might slip - out of him, out of you, out of whatever the hell this is.

His breathing is still a bit ragged, hot and damp against your shoulder, and you feel his lips brush there, once, then again - barely a kiss, just contact.

Just reassurance. Just him not knowing how else to say I needed that. Instead it’s just words not meant to be heard - just soft, scattered nothings that don’t quite form sentences, all of them pressed into your skin.

"You're okay,"

"Got you,"

"So good, baby..."

Over and over. Sweet. Ruined. Honest.

Your chest hurts.

Because he means it.

He’s not thinking about it, he’s just being. And it’s the most terrifyingly beautiful thing he’s ever done to you. You need to ruin it.

“FUCK, that was incredible. Where did you keep all of that?!”

He pauses. You can feel him trying not to laugh.

You roll onto your side, gasping. “No, like, WOW. Wow wow wow, Aaron. Wow. Who are you? What was that? Have you been holding out? Were you possessed? Should I call someone? Is there a hotline?”

You watch the faint blush creep across his cheek as he pushes up onto his elbows, runs a hand through his post-sex hair (sexier than pre-sex hair, somehow), and exhales the most exasperatedly fond sound you’ve ever heard.

“Please don’t call anyone.”

These moments - when he completely misses a joke that any normal adult would clock instantly - really do make you want to climb him like a tree all over again.

But what really gets you? What sets your neurons on fire and your soul on its knees?

The phenomenon - still unstudied, tragically overlooked by science - in which post-sex Aaron becomes the most meticulous, terrifyingly competent man alive.

He doesn’t hesitate. Just materializes a warm cloth from nowhere (possibly interdimensional?), cleans you up with it, straightens the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and tucks you in.

You don’t even know when he grabbed his glasses, but suddenly they’re on his face and you’re on his chest, half-sitting, draped over him.

You might feel shame for being so clingy if he ever said anything about it. But he never does. Not even a snide little quip. Just those small, fond huffs that suggest he’s mostly annoyed at himself for enjoying this so much.

Or, like now, he reaches calmly into his go-bag and pulls out what is undeniably the driest, dustiest, most textbook-looking book you've ever seen in your life.

“Sorry,” he says, settling back against the headboard. “I’ve just got a few chapters left… do you want to pretend to be reading with me?”

Wise choice of words, Agent Hotchner.

Because what you really want is to drown yourself in his pheromones and rub your cheek on his chest hair until your responsibilities disintegrate.

“Wearing those,” you sigh dreamily, eyeing the glasses, the page, the stupid peaceful look on his face, “you can do anything you’d like.”

He shakes his head - fond. Touched.

Probably regretting all his life choices, but not enough to stop.

He flips open the tome, rests it against one bent knee, and starts reading. His finger glides up to his lips every time he turns a page, like he’s savoring each one. Every now and then, he adjusts his glasses.

You watch in awe.

Reverence.

…Horniness.

So you just keep kissing him. Aimless, endless little things - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, the back of his ear - any patch of skin within a lazy head-turn radius gets worshipped.

“Wow. Wow wow. Aaron. Wow. Wowowowowow.”

He doesn’t even flinch.

Just keeps reading, completely unbothered.

Occasionally hums.

If you’re lucky, he presses a kiss into your hair or the side of your temple - never rushed, always lingering, like he’s sealing something in.

Or if he just does that because he’s an old fuck and that’s how they taught knights to kiss their trembling maidens back in the 1500s.

He looks so… peaceful. Way too peaceful.

Which is immediately suspicious.

You open your mouth, just about to ask, “Can we do it again?” when, without even glancing up from the page, he slides the hand resting on your waist down.

Dips straight into your PJ pants, then your underwear.

Your mouth falls open. Nothing comes out.

Not even the question. He’s already answered it.

He exhales through his nose - completely unbothered - as his index finger starts stroking your clit in the slowest lazy little patterns.

Like fingering you under a blanket mid-biography is just his evening chore before tea and chapter seven. Like he’s got all night. (He probably does.)

(You can’t even moan yet. You’re too busy trying to process the fact that he’s still reading.)

And then, instead of simply licking a finger to turn the page like a normal person, he brings two of those thick fingers to his mouth.

He sucks on them, eyes still fixed on the text, lips closed around his fingers as he coats them in spit. And without ever lifting his gaze, he sinks them deep into you - curling just enough to make your thighs tense around him.

“You think I don’t know the real reason you’re always staring at my hands?”

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

[brokenmenswhore]

Hi! I see you wrote that you’re going to start writing for Marauders? I was wondering if maybe you could write a fic where the reader is dating one of the boys and they keep doing stuff in front of the others, and the others are all frustrated and horny? You can decline if you want!

don’t look | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader, remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism, language

part 2

────── ☾ ──────

Remus was never shy around his friends, but he wasn’t decent, either. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about fucking you when they were around. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn’t care if James or Sirius heard you, as long as they didn’t look.

He started touching you when they were around, causing you to blush and push him off of you.

“Relax, Y/N, they don’t care,” he said.

“I care,” you retorted, “you aren’t gonna rub me off in front of everyone in this dorm room.”

“Why not?” he pouted, continuing his actions no matter what. It felt too good to stop him, and besides, what did you have to be ashamed of? You always spoke of sex positivity, and it isn’t anything the other boys haven’t heard before.

When Sirius and James started to hear your whimpers, they looked over at you from their beds, and Remus glared at them.

“What the fuck are you two looking at?” he asked, slowly inserting a finger into your hole.

“Fuck do you mean?” James asked, “you’re fucking her in front of us.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to see her like this,” Remus replied, and that was enough to make it clear to the boys that they were not to look at you when they heard Remus work you up.

But there you were, spread eagle on the couch, Remus’s tongue inside of you while his thumb circled and flicked at your bud.

You couldn’t stop the moans that poured out of your lips, your hands pulling at Remus’ hair, causing him to moan into your hole.

“Shit, Rem,” you sighed out, whines and whimpers filling up the room.

Sirius was sat across from you, trying his hardest to keep his attention on the books in his lap.

You let out a particularly filthy moan, and Sirius couldn’t help but sneak a peek. You threw your head back, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He thought you looked so pretty.

Remus had his back turned to Sirius since he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, so Sirius saw no issue in keeping his gaze on you.

Remus ate you like a man starved, gripping your thighs to keep them open as you pushed his head closer to your cunt.

Your moans were growling louder, and you were completely unashamed of it. “Rem!” you squealed as the feeling grew and grew.

You tilted your head down to watch Remus eat you, and your eyes caught Sirius’ on the way down. He was looking straight at you. You thought about maybe signaling to Remus, but you honestly didn’t care. “Don’t look” was Remus’ rule, not yours, and besides, Sirius was hot.

You whined as you stared at Sirius, Remus’s fingers moving faster and faster as you began to clench around his tongue. Your high hit you like a train, and you fought to keep your eyes open and trained on Sirius.

Sirius shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable in his pants, as he watched you come and then come down from your high. Your breathing started to still and Remus looked up at you, noticing you staring forward. He whipped his head around, making direct eye contact with Sirius.

“Sirius!” he screamed.

Sirius shot up and leaped over the couch, running out of the room as Remus chased him.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi love!! Can i get a poly!marauders x fem reader (or just sirius if you do not write poly) where she is a pretty good cook and just keeps making random things at weird times, like she’d bake cookies at 2 in the morning or make different dishes from different cuisines or she’s bake stuff for each boy depending on what they like and the boys just love her so much for it

James notices you’re out of bed through a groggy search for your warm body that rewards him only with cold sheets and a frown.

He stills and then hears a soft snap and is out of bed with heavy feet, not before taking a peak at Remus and Sirius and finding them sound asleep.

James finds you pulling a pan from the oven and sighs, swiping a hand through his moussed up curls.

“Gorgeous it’s got to be like three in the morning.”

You turn to him with a sheepish smile- James isn’t angry, just concerned. You seem to always get your culinary epiphanies when you should really be getting some rest.

“But I had this idea for a maple pear and almond tart that I couldn’t let go.”

James smiles softly despite his tiredness, “I bet it’s delicious, angel girl but you should be asleep.”

You allow James to cross the distance to you now you’ve set down the tart, his arms corded and warm.

“What’s going on down ‘ere?” Sirius rasps, James turns to him slowly and coos at the look of him. Chest all creased from sleep and grey eyes light as silver as he stares blearily at you and James.

“This angel was just finishing up a tart and coming to bed.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, you narrow yours back but crack when he shakes his head. “You’ve got to get your masterful ideas at a more reasonable hour, poppet.”

You nod, eyeing the sink full of dishes when James nudges you to Sirius. “Go on up and I’ll load the dishwasher.”

You want to protest but Sirius is deliciously warm and he smells like tobacco and sleep and you feel your feet ache from all your standing.

“C’mon poppet, I’ll tuck you in right and nice.”

You snort, “Such a pleasant way of saying trap me to the bed.”

Sirius chuckles as James rinses off the dishes and sets them into the dishwasher.

James only hears the last bit of your conversation, “Thank god Rem didn’t wake else I’d have gotten it good.” You joke, James can imagine Sirius’ wicked grin as he shuts the dishwasher door and sets a plate over the tart.

“Oh I’m still telling him when we get up for real poppet. Lest you think this goes unpunished.”

[moonstruckme]

Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)

Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 929 words

“Shh.” Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. “It’s okay. It’s just us, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you echo, croakily. You’re glad you can’t see your boyfriend’s face, for fear you’d die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper. 

You arrived home from a friend’s birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How was it?” 

You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, “Not great.” 

The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. You’d been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t fit with. Your outfit wasn’t right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you weren’t a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable. 

You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. You’re sure she didn’t mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were gone—you don’t think she’d do it to gossip, and she’s never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your face—but by the time you returned one of her friends—a stranger to you, who’s name you can’t even remember—had formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker. 

You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms. 

You’ve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriend’s tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If you’re an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone. 

“Whose friend was it, again?” Remus asks, stroking your arm gently. 

You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Does it matter?” 

“I don’t mean it’s your friend’s fault, sweetheart,” Remus says. He’s all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. “I just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.” 

“She was there.” Your throat tightens at the memory. 

“Oh. Then I don’t suppose you need to say anything; I’m sure she’s already very upset for you.” 

You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. “Rem. You’re biased.” 

“What?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised. “You don’t think she’s angry with that other girl?”

“She’s her friend.” 

“So are you.” His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. “I may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. There’s no excuse for the way she acted.” 

A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You don’t have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “no one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You don’t choose to feel that way.”

You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I do get attention for it, though.” 

“That doesn’t mean you want it.” 

“But I—”

“Do you want it?” You can’t see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. “Did you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?” 

Your voice smalls. “No.” 

“Right.” The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. “I know you didn’t, dovey. So don’t torment yourself, please. She doesn’t know anything about you.” 

You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion. 

“What if…” You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. “What if everyone thinks that?” 

“Mm. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.” He takes a breath, thinking. “You can’t always control what people think. I know you say I’m biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isn’t worth thinking about at all. You’ve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?” He kisses your hair fondly. 

“I guess so,” you admit. 

“Yeah,” Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. “I’d say so.” 

You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriend’s expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted. 

“Let the bullies worry about themselves.” Remus gives you a tender look. “I’ll worry about you.” 

You let a small smile tilt your lips. “And what am I left to worry about?” 

“Nothing,” he says solemnly. “Think you can manage that?” 

“Nope.” 

“Mm. Well, try.” 

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Can you do a Remus Lupin and Reader where she gets hurt during quidditch and he helps her around the castle? Thank you so much and I love your writing

A/n: Thank you so much for the request!! I literally dropped everything to do this, oml. I will always priorities Reqs but this was so cute!!

Also, just realized requests weren't set to allow annon automatically?? That has been fixed on my end

Break a Leg Not My Heart

Can't Help Falling in Love Elvis Presley

Remus Lupin x Reader

Wc- 4960

Cw; Use of Y/N, Cussing, negative thoughts, reader is unhinged, reader is unsirius, (Tell me if i missed anything!)

taglist- @otterlockholmes

Everyone knew Remus Lupin could be a bit of a push over. 

Now, that's not to say he wasn't stern and serious when he needed to be, when he knew what was best, or just when Sirius said much of anything that started with ‘Hear me out.’

He was a Prefect, he was known for being a certain quality of student. Studious, always in the library studying with Lily Evans and {Y/N} {L/N}. Wise beyond his years, helping anyone who needed it. He volunteered to help tutor some of the first years with {Y/N} most Sunday evenings. Punctural, made a point to be on time to everything. Well, if he could help it, you did like to sleep in.

Not many people noticed the common theme in his actions. The traits that made up the Lycan were so tightly woven into his friendships, well, more particularly his friendship with you. He never gave up who he was, he never went that far, but it was clear that in the forethought of his, you were in every equation. Sirius certainly noticed.

Sirius would bemoan about it all the time, how you both insisted you were friends, absolutely clueless. He stood by it, however, friends don't look at eachother like you do. Remus insisted you were friends. Best friends.

The feeling was mutual, of course it was. Who doesn't want to spend every second of the day with their platonic soulmate? You would make a point to drag him around with you everywhere you went. You were never shy about it, your words slowly going from questioning to affirmatives. 

“Remus, I am heading to lunch now, come with me?”

“Remus, we are going to the Black Lake, it's hot.”

“Remus, I have Quidditch practice.”

That was another trait of Remus Lupin. He could care less about Quidditch, but not much less. He would complain about going, as he followed you upstairs to your dorm to help bring your gear down. Would try to decipher the ridiculous rules while finding a seat in the stands with Lily and Mary, both coming to support their respective partners.

That's how you got here now, same routine. You were floating above the stands, even as a backup beater you still had to attend every practice. You would complain to James about it, seeing as you only agreed to it as a favor, but he would tease you about it every time. He was lucky some stuff he said was funny. He so rarely was.

You watched Sirius, who was currently the one you were assigned to tag out. It was a lot of time wasted, just floating near your friends and talking when you were sure James didn't notice. Eventually, you turned to Remus in the stands and smiled to see him furrowing his brow at the strange reps James was making the two beaters do. 

“Rem!” You called over to him and lowered down to his eye level, still a good few yards away from them. He looked up at you and lifted an eyebrow. 

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock!”

He looked at you confused before Lily nudged him. “The muggle joke?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her next before they shot up in realization. “Ah! Who's knocking?” He called over and you threw your head back in a laugh as Lily covered her mouth with a snicker. Mary holding Lily's shoulder as Remus looked at you three incredulously. 

“That's the bloody line, right?”

“Who's there?” Lily laughed out, and you began to dry your tears.

“Tank!”

“Tank who?”

“You're welc-” Before you could even finish the line there was a loud thud and your head jerked forward. You were confused for a moment, smile slowly falling as you looked at the three.

Everything was slowing down, and no matter how hard you squinted, your vision continued to blur. Suddenly, and gradually, hot burning pain rushed threw the back of your head. It was so jarring you teared up, and you could faintly hear a bunch of voices, but you couldn't make out what they said. Slowly, your grip on your broom lessened. 

Warm drops of what you could only assume was your own ichor dropped down your face. Then, your vision started to flash. You were far too loopy to panic, images of you on your broom slipped into a slideshow of you falling, that ended right before you hit the ground.

~~~

“She'll need to rest for the next two days for it to heal, her head is fine but her leg will need some getting used to. Two days in a cast should do her fine.”

Madam Pomfrey’s voice filled the room and you stirred with a whine. Eyes fluttering open and blinded by the lights above. 

“Ugh.. my head…” You groaned, bringing your wrist to your throbbing temple. You fluttered open your eyes and looked around you, seeing James pacing the room and Sirius in front him, while Remus seemed to be shouting at him. Your ears began to ring as your blood rushed, so you couldn't hear him, but you could see the vain in his neck bulging out at his irritation. His tanned face a deep red, and Sirius looked apologetic, just taking the verbal battering.

There was a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see Lily and Mary sitting on the chairs beside you, Peter was behind them smiling softly. “Hey,” You couldn't hear him, but you could see his lips moving. You frowned as the words became more elaborate so you couldn't quite track them.

You looked around at your friends' concerned faces. Lily looked past you and you turned, seeing Remus was kneeling by your bed and saying something you couldn't hear. You huffed and rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. The ringing slowly stopped, but the sounds of the room never returned. You opened your eyes and Remus was looking at you, filled with concern. “Starlight?”

That was a mouth shape you recognized. You reached out to touch his hand and squeeze it, blinking a bit before you spoke. “I can't hear a damned thing. But did you get my joke?” 

You watched as Remus seemed to go through the five stages of grief, before he settled on giving you the most unamused, annoyed, dead inside look you had ever witnessed. That made you smile. Well, smirk, mischievously. “That joke is literal gold, you just don't know talent.”

This time, Remus stood up and walked over to madam Pomfrey and after a small exchange she walked off. You looked around the room idly, trying to pretend you weren't anxious, patting your palms against your blanket covered legs. You could see your friends talking, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your nerves were on end. They looked worried, but you tried your best to keep calm and collected. You knew that if you began to worry, show even a bit of panic or upset, everyone else would too. What was the point anyway? Panicking wouldn't fix your hearing.

At least you don't think so-

Eventually, a hand rested on your shoulder. It was comforting and large, your right hand instinctively crossed your body to rest on it. You turned and smiled up at Remus. He held out a parchment to you and it had large chicken scratch on it. You always found how messy his handwriting was hilarious. He thinks faster than he writes.

‘You broke your leg. Pomfrey says it has to stay in a cast for a day or two, as for your hearing, she says it's a trauma response. Your body will return it when it's ready.’

You scoffed and looked at your hands with an offended bravado. “Who says they get to pick when my hearing goes? No appreciation! I keep you alive, you dumb thing!”

You didn't notice how Remus laughed at how ridiculous you were being. He always admired how easily you could brush stuff so big off. Like when you found out about his condition.

“Oh damn. That's.. so not the bee’s knees.’

Not the bee's knees. He had to have Lily explain that to him. Who in their right mind says that? To their friend in the hospital wing after confessing one of his most hated parts of himself?

He didn't know if he hated or loved you in that moment.

It grew on him, even if he denied it. You were just so damn strange.

“Darn, I guess no classes, hm?” You gave a faux sigh of disappointment. You turned to see Remus say something to Madam before turning back to you, smiling and waving his hand the quill began to write.

‘She says I can monitor you for classes, you should be fine.’

You gave him the dirtiest look you could muster.

“Hey, Rem, so you actually suck a lot.”

~~~

Remus had insisted on walking you back to the Gryffindor commons, carrying your equipment the whole way. You had to use a cane for the time being, so the second you tried to pick up the heavy bag you about gave Remus a heart attack.

Sirius, still pouting even after you accepted his millionth apology, coasted behind you both. You really wish you knew what Remus had said to him. 

When you got to your dorm Remus set your things down and set your bed up with a prop for your leg. You continued to complain about the special treatment as he nagged you for your messy side of the dorm while he was at it. You had to admit, Remus was incredibly sweet. It made your heart clench a bit at how much he seemed to care about your current state. 

You sat on your bed, taking off your robe and letting it fall behind you. Watching Remus rant on, for once, a little sad you couldn't hear his lecture. He seemed so determined to make sure you were comfortable.

Little did you know, to Remus, this was the perfect opportunity to return your kindness. To repay you for all the nights you spent with him in the infirmary, the forgiveness and patience you extended to him during the days up to the full moon, and the doting you gave him after. Not to mention, it felt a bit domestic. He would process his guilt over it later, indulging up such a thought with you unaware. 

Eventually, your roommates got annoyed with his rambling. Marlene threw a pillow at him and she grabbed you from behind making you almost scream in surprise. 

She said something to Remus that made him look away bashfully, and he looked at you, mouthing a goodnight that you returned.

~~~

Remus was at your door early in the morning, which gave you a right scare. He offered you his hand and you looked at it before tilting your head at him curiously he mouthed something and you'd don't quite understand, slowly setting your hand in his extended one.

He gave several different expressions in the matter of a second, before he threw his head back in a laugh. Usually, you'd be embarrassed, but you ended up laughing along with him. He looked happy and you knew Remus would never make fun of you out of malice.

He calmed his breathing and lowered your hand back to your cane, before reaching over this time to take your books and make, your mouth opening and a low, “Ooooohhh,” left you. He laughed at that too.

When you made it to breakfast you were talking animatedly and Remus was listening thoughtfully. He would occasionally make a nod or shake his head at some things you said, not able to face you with how your gaze was locked on him to gather all his micro expressions. He had set himself up for disaster.

Once you sat at the table and greeted everyone, you hardly paid attention to Remus. You focused mostly on your food. 

You loved being around your friends, you did, but not being able to hear them was so isolating. You could see Remus talking to James, and by the look on his face, it was likely about something they had done they most certainly shouldn't have. You could see Lily, also giving James the most incredulous look ever. 

Mary and Marlene were talking and glancing at the Hufflepuff table, but you couldn't gather a thing otherwise. Sirius was debating something with Peter who you could only describe as distressed. Some interesting hand movements later and a slap from Marlene, you could assume it was something vile. Soon, you gave in and just soaked up their presence. You didn't need to hear them to be a part of the group, just.. the conversation. 

Suddenly, you gave a small yelp as your leg was lifted. Remus, without stoping his verbal battle with James, lifted your ankle and rested your hurt foot on his lap. You melted a bit, it was always the smaller things he did that let you know you had a best friend in him. 

Just a best friend.

Even as his thumb trailed circles on your exposed knee, his forefingers resting on your inner thigh. Yup. Totally best friends.

~~~

Your leg ended up falling asleep like that. You playfully reprimanded him and he just gave you a laugh that you couldn't hear but your mind filled in the blanks. You noticed how proud and confident he seemed to be, taking care of you. It was sweet.

As you walked from class to class he carried your things and was there at your desk the second the bell rang. Then there were potions.

You shared potions with all of the boys and Lily, so you usually sat with Peter so Sirius could bum off of Remus’s hard work, leaving James to swoon while his girlfriend did all the work. You looked to the board and grimaced, wiggenweld. You knew it was a practice instead of theory day, but you were hoping for an easier potion.

To your surprise, Peter was sitting with a pouting Sirius, your usual spot cleared up. Before you could make a remark Remus put his things down and sat where Peter usually did. You found yourself smiling bright. “What the heck Remus?” You teased and sat down, once again, he lifted your leg onto his lap to keep it elevated.

Like a best friend would do.

“Can't leave me be for a half hour, Remmy?” You teased him as he took out his parchment and began to pull aside ingredients you couldn't reach with your stationary leg.

You were distracted storing out the ingredients by order and scribbling down notes on the more vague steps. You didn't get a chance to notice Remus smiling at you, his eyes sparking with new found fondness. “No I can not.” He muttered to no one in particular.

Not noticing himself as Sirius gestured aggressively to you two in aspiration. Lily laughed at his display and James covered his mouth to hide his smile. Seems Remus was finally clued in.

You began to work on the potion as Slughorn dismissed the class to their assignments. You prepped the ingredients and fell into an easy and fluid motion with Remus. You didn't have a clue why you hadn't worked together before, you did everything together anyway, and Sirius could suck it.

Your friends watched as you smiled down at the horklump, rubbing a spoon over it threw a strainer, giving a laugh as it splattered on your face. Remus watched you, smiling softly. He seemed distracted the whole practical exam, but there wasn't a moment he wasn't listening to you. 

Your test ended with a passing grade, that's all you really needed. Still, Remus apologized for being distracted. 

Remus Lupin was a perfectionist in everything he did. He felt that even in his best moments he was seconds away from failing. He improved himself until there was nothing to improve upon. He aced assignments, mentored underclassmen, pulled off some of the most outrageous pranks in Hogwarts history, he even turned down the head boy position for James, everything he had done in the last seven years felt unsatisfactory. Apathy wasn't a foreign concept to him.

Neither was pity. Those two things were handed out to him in the eyes of everyone he'd ever met. No matter how far Remus came, disappointment was still holding him by his in a silent reminder that nothing would outshine the worst of him. It swallowed him whole most days, his self doubt. So he stayed distracted, chasing the high of praise and approval. 

He was much like Sirius in that regard, but Sirius acted out and Remus did his best to go unnoticed by anyone other than the people closest to him. Unless it was about his achievements.

He wanted to be remarkable and unnoticed, it was the contradiction that was Remus Lupin.

You made him feel those two things, like he was the most important thing in the world, like you couldn't do anything without him. Then, you made him feel like a normal student. Like he was just someone in the herd. He liked that about you.

But having you depend on him, just today, there was something new brimming in his chest. He grappled with the realization that you being dependent on him for a change was more fulfilling than his collective five years of overshadowed achievements.

You seemed him out; when you found him you needed him. Not that it couldn't be anyone else, you chose him. Well, he volunteered, but when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours he knew you had no qualms with it. He felt strong, he felt needed, and he felt like he wasn't the one hurting. 

{Y/N} {L/N} never needed anyone. You made that clear since first year, you were remarkably strange and friendly, you never filtered yourself out for anyone. You were you, that's all you needed to be. You didn't need to be witnessed to live.

But you wanted Remus to witness you.

He was learning that he loved to. To witness you. 

Yet here you were, none the wiser, while Remus realized how far he had fallen for his best friend. And in all honesty;

He wasn't scared.

~~~

Once dinner came around you were reminded just how out of the loop you were without your hearing. You were poking at your meal with your head down, pushing around a bit of your uneaten food. Today had been long, and every break mostly consisted of you trailing after your group and watching them laugh and indulge in each other's presence. 

You knew it wasn't the end of the world, tomorrow morning you would be cut free of your cast and eventually your hearing would come back.

It drove you mad not knowing when though. You knew it wouldn't stay forever, you were self assured in that fact, but knowing the possibility of it being weeks, months, Merlin, even a year? An entire year of not hearing your friends' voices. Dragging Remus down with you.

You didn't notice your friend's concerned look. Eventually, as you stared down at the fork in your hand, a note slid into your peripheral, it was Lily's handwriting, the only person you know to be able to flow her letters so perfectly.

‘Ready?’

You looked up to see people had started packing up. You nodded and began to stand, Remus slipping his hand behind your lower back making you jolt a bit. He flinched away and you immediately cursed, ‘come baaaccck.’

~~~~

Your thoughts followed you to the common room. Before you could escape your friends, go allow yourself to mope, everyone insisted on drinking and talking. 

You didn't want to. You really didn't. Remus was staying behind, however, and you know how much he hated when you'd leave him to be the only responsible drinker. Not that he had to worry too much, Mary always stayed sober to reel in Marlene.

You let yourself believe he just wanted to spend time with you. 

So here you were, sitting on the couch, leaning you back against the arm rest and staring at the group as they talked. Your legs were resting over Remus’s, his lithe fingers rubbing up and down your exposed knee to the bottom of your skirt. Now, this was something Remus would never do, but you didn't even have time to enjoy the satisfying moment of slight intimacy, still too in the dumps.

Your frown deepened as you watched people get up to dance around you. Lily had put a song on the record, you only knew it to be ‘Love Grow(where my Rosemary goes)’ by Edison Lighthouse, because of the album cover she brandished to James with a little wiggle of her eyebrows. One of your favorites. 

At this point, your arms were crossed in a pout as you watched everyone dance but you and Remus. You blinked away those thoughts and turned to Remus. 

“You can go dance, I won't be offended.” You muttered out with a pout. He turned to look at you from the dancing figures. He seemed to come to some conclusion, and tapped your calf. You moved your legs and went back to watching the group before his hand was in your face. You looked up at him confused to see him offering it to you. You carefully took his hand and he lifted you up, leading you on the dance floor. You were wobbly, but he nudged your hurt foot until you arched it up, he took on most of your weight and you leaned into his chest to balance.

He began to sway, you laughed, and he beamed at how happy you seemed. It was ridiculous, you both looked ridiculous, Sirius gave a wolf whistle you couldn't hear and he couldn't give less of a fuck. 

As you got more comfortable he pulled back and began to spin and slide with you. You were a giggling mess and he wrapped his arms around your waist and faced you away from him, making you tilt your head all the way back to see him. He could have died right there. 

As the song faded out, you guys stopped your completely tone deaf moves, and he looked back with a dazzling smile at Lily who put on another song. He was panting, he could see all his friends watching with what seemed to be far too interested looks.

When his eyes went back to you, you were still staring up at him with a bright rush of affection. Somehow, always, Remus knew just what to do. Just what to say. 

The song kicked up and Remus thinned his lips a bit.

‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley. 

He knew he shouldn't. He should fool himself with something so intimate. But you were looking back at him with so much excitement, so much love, who the hell was he to say no?

… Wise men say

Only fools rush in

He nodded to you and you spun to face him again, leg swaying a bit from where you kept it up. You moved to put some space between you, but instead, he wrapped one hand around your lower back and took your other hand. His movements were identical to Marlene with Mary and James with Lily, Sirius even managed to get a girl from one of the many onlookers to dance with him. His being much more professional.

But I can't help falling in love with you

You were confused at first, but you wouldn't say you hated it. It was intimate, as he pulled your chest to his and gave you his smile now. You pressed your tongue to your cheek and smirked at him. He gave you a playful wink as you rolled your eyes.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

He gave you a slow and careful swirl, and when you returned to him, he pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin to your head.

… Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

He gave you a playful dip and you finally laughed, relaxing fully into the oddly familiar feeling. He's held you before, but never so carefully. Like he could loser you at any point if one thumb was misplaced. 

… Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

He suddenly flattened out his hand against yours. You turned to look from where your face was peacefully nuzzled into his chest. You watched as he spread his fingers, and in turn, yours. Before he interlocked them. You bit your bottom lip and looked up at him. He was mouthing some of the lyrics, and you just managed to watch the last verse.

“For I can't help falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened. Was he.. was he serious? His eyes were staring into yours like he was putting himself on the line with those words. You took a deep breath and held it, as he leaned down towards you as you both slowed to a stop. You stared at his lips, waiting so patiently for his next words.

“I love you, {Y/N}.” 

The words looked so natural on his lips. You didn't know what to say. You knew what he said. You didn't have a doubt in your mind about it. You suddenly moved in and kissed him, eyes closed before you pulled away. It was quick, it was a bit hard. His lips were chapped and his eyes were still on yours when you opened them. 

He looked stunned, and you couldn't hear the loud, “Finally!” From Sirius.

Nor could you hear Lily’s delighted gasp when he moved in and kissed you again. His hands left your side and hand, grabbing your cheeks. His fingers loosen when you meet him halfway, moving down to your neck and resting his thumbs on your cheeks.

You broke the kiss again, forgetting how to breathe. His lips followed yours before his eyes fluttered but stayed closed. You looked at him in pure shock. What do you do now? What do you say? Did it matter?

Suddenly his face scrunched up and you narrowed your eyes a bit.

“Ow ow ow ow..” Remus muttered and you flinched back when you read his lips. You had rested your casted foot against his toes. Wincing and apologizing like crazy, you moved too quickly and the weight shift caused you to fall back. He quickly caught you in a very deep dip. One hand around your neck and the other around your lower back. Your arms wrapped around his neck and everything was slow.

What a lovely cliche. 

It got even better, as he lifted you closer and kissed you again. His hand from your neck sliding down to help keep your casted leg bent to his hip. 

It was perfect.

~~~ Bonus Scene ~~~

You woke up to the sound of Marlene and Lily talking idly in your dorm room. A few days after the dancing and you and Remus had slipped from friends to more in such a simple and seamless mesh. 

A mesh of messy kisses and rushed ‘I love you’s in the hall. Late night rendezvous in the common room grossing out your friends with all the stolen kisses and messy cuddles where limbs weren't easily identifiable in the dark.

You smiled softly, unable to tame how your heart clenched and a goofy smile took your lips. Then it hit you. You could hear.

You shot your head up and began tos scramble for Remus’s jumper he left over last night. Marlene and Lily snapping over to look at you but not getting a word in before you were dashing out of the room in just your pajama pants and his sweater. 

You don't know how quickly you were running until you made it to his dorm. Your healed leg throbbing from lack of use but you couldn't care less. You slammed your way into the prefect dorms, Remus long since given you the password.

You ignored fussy prefects and walked right up to Remus’s dorm. You knocked in a rush, and the door opened to show James. You'd didn't even care to ask him why he wasn't in the Head Boy dorms, just shoving past him to hurry into the room. 

Sirius looked up from a lounge chair in the corner and smirked when he saw you, opening his mouth to make a smart remark before you interrupted him. 

“Remus?”

“Starlight?” Remus called out from the closet, stepping out in pajama pants as well, no short, and a towel in his messy hair. He couldn't help but smile at your rosey cheeked winded gasps, despite his confusion. “What are you-”

“Say it.” You demanded quickly and closed the gap between them. He looked at you confused before it suddenly hit him that you had responded and reacted to his words. You could hear him.

He let the towel fall from his hair to his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close. “Say what?”

“You love me.” You commanded with puffy flustered cheeks. Suddenly so much less confident now that you faced him. He laughed and moved his hands to your cheeks.

“You came running all the way here for that?”

“Remus, I've been waiting years.”

“I love you, {Y/N}.” He whispered and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled and gave a sigh of bliss into it. This time, you were able to hear Sirius wolf whistle behind you.

[your-mom-friend]

One thing I don’t think I’ll ever admit to my friends is that I am kinder when I feel worse about myself. That when i feel myself sliding back into the throes of depression I will do random acts of kindness to see them smile and laugh and I will never tell them that it’s entirely selfish because I do it for the thrill of knowing they still love me and that I am still needed in some small measure. I hope they forgive me when they know I do this for me and not only to see them smile. They can never know I do this because the rush of feeling i get when I know they like me is the only thing keeping me from seeking a rush from more dangerous pursuits. They can never know how truly desperate I am for their affection

[hermesserpent-stuff]

decided to do writing instead of art for today's mer may prompt.

companion!!

Remy twists around in the tide pool, balancing a diving toy on his forehead. He grabs it with his hand and throws it upwards. He clicks his tongue and then dives down after it, pounding his tail against the water to push himself to go faster. Snatching the toy off of the bottom, Remy curves his body and surges right back up to the surface. He lets out an excited chirp at the sight of Lance pulling himself back over the rocks. Remy greatly enjoys Lance's visits, fascinated by anything that the wild mer brings to show him. Remy flicks his tail and swims a circle around his friend, who chitters at him warmly.

"Hey Rems, brought you some kelp. It has fish eggs on it."

Remy grins at the food being presented and is quick to accept it into his own hands. He takes a bite, blinking a little at the flavor. The wild stuff tastes different from how the stuff his papa gives him tastes. Remy presses the kelp against the back of his fangs and hums thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Lance. I have some chocolate for you to try!"

Remy takes another bite before flicking his tail and moving over to where he had left a few things on the rocks. Lance follows and accepts the unwrapped bar of chocolate with a half-scrunched nose.

"It doesn't smell like food."

"Well, it's not made of sea stuff. No fish or anything. It's a land-based food. Papa kept me from having it at first cause he thought I might get really sick. But I love the taste of it."

Remy lets out a sing-songy croon and Lance snorts before taking a bite. The other mer pauses, sniffs the chocolate again, and then takes another bite. Lance makes a trumpet-like noise that has Remy flinching back and pressing into the rocks. What? Lance looks at him and then shifts back slightly.

"That noise means I really like it.”

Lance says, looking at Remy with sad, sad eyes. Remy flushes uncomfortably. Just another reminder that he had been dumped by the wild mers that birthed him. Another language barrier. But! He has so many other things he knows that Lance doesn't. He takes a settling breath.

“Oh. Okay. I'm glad you do. I don't get to have it very often. It's good, non?!”

Lance meets his grin with one of his own. 

“What's that?”

Lance asks, pointing at the diving toy. Remy lights up. 

“It's for playing games! My brother and I sometimes race to see who can swim to it first. And sometimes we take a few and see who can either collect the most or who can do it the fastest. Maybe we race? Or pass it back and forth?”

Lance’s eyes glitter, and a competitive look comes to his face.

“Race! Toss it!”

Remy throws the toy up, and then both dive after it. Lance gets it first, but mostly because Remy is not using all of his usual tricks. He doesn't want to irritate his friend just to win. He throws it again, and they dive. His companion laughs and chitters as the two wrestle for it, and then they dive again, and again. Hours pass, stirring up the water and flicking tails. 

The setting sun shimmers against the surface of the tide pool as the two lay on the rocks. Lance shifts over to Remy and runs his claws against the part of Remy’s tail not covered by his prosthetic’s sleeve. Remy tenses but makes no movements, trusting his companion.

“I'm cleaning your scales. We do this in the pod for… well, to clean up but also to show that we care.”

Lance says, and Remy can admit that it feels nice. He yawns and hears the bell. He groans, not wanting to leave his friend. But he needs his medicine, especially with all the hard swimming he has done today. Lance looks at him, concerned.

“I gotta go. Bell means medicine and food time.”

Remy says, and Lance glances back to the facility with a heavy frown. 

“I- You feel safe there?”

“It's my pod, Lance. They keep me safe.”

Remy states softly. Lance chitters a little and swings his tail.

“I know. I- It's just that Logan and Creed… well, all the adults really… they always warn us about humans. A lot of us have lost people and gotten hurt because of them. But if you're alright… Alright. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Lance asks, and Remy pats his arm.

“Oui. Yes. Tomorrow. Unless it's storming.”

“Unless it's storming.”

Lance easily agrees, bumping Remy’s head with his own. 

“I'll find some more stuff to show you.”

“Or just bring me stories. I love stories.”

Remy says hopefully, and Lance grins brightly.

“Oh yeah. I'll tell you about a fight I got into with a whale shark. I'll see you tomorrow, Remy!”

Lance clambers over the rocks and dives into the waves. Remy watches him vanish beneath the frothing waves. He breathes deep and turns, heading back to his tank.

[thatloveislikea-star]

At @brighteststarz request, here are some starcest recs!!

These are just a few of my favorite complete fics, I ran out of steam because I read so much so I might do another list later 😂 a lot of these authors have WIPs that are really amazing, so check those out if you like to follow along

An absolute classic, Want, by Saras_Girl

So good, really interesting family dynamics in Rapture on the Lonely Shore by @tenrousei-kuroi, check out their other starcest too! Another one I love of theirs is Capacious as the Sea

The Mind of Madness by phantasmaraneae is so good I’ve read it so many times

Really really hot, includes James, Little Lion by @tracingpatternswrites

I thought family planning by heated_mausoleum was funny

Heat wave by heartshapedbathtub is one of the hottest things I’ve ever read, definitely read it if you like bunny stuff, they’ve written a few more fics too

Constellations series by Evandar, has two fics, both so good, also Toujours Pur is really sweet

Winner Takes All by @the-invisibility-bloke, it’s hot, it’s funny, it’s charming, it’s perfect

Pretty much everything by @faeries-withspirits , but some favorites are Cherry Waves, Morning Glory, Starbursts (bring me back to life), Down the black hole of my lust I descend, Secret Shows in Shower Stalls. Definitely check their other fics out if you like celestial quad (reg/siri/rem/james) also their WIPs are so good

@thepsychiatristgirl exclusively writes bangers, like And All Was Well, my pussy tastes like pepsi cola (my eyes are wide like cherry pies), and speak in tongues (til you listen). That last one is celestial quad, it’s just too good to omit

Baby, it’s cold outside by @andwaitforthespark is so so so good, their WIPs are amazing, and the house always wins only has one chapter left!

@melissamwrites is one of my favorites, especially Black Holes, please check out their other works, especially their WIPs, especially Wormhole (though it is celestial quad and not just starcest) ALSO they make podfics!!! Check those out for sure!

Underneath the mistletoe by Sirci is one of the sweetest starcest fics ever, they have some other really good fics you should check out!

I love JBlackMalfoyRosier’s smutty little Blackcest series, if you like infidelity, it’s for you!

constellations, collisions, and other ways to say love by @matthewfairhoe is a brilliant two-parter

The Arrangement by rattlesnake_black, technically its wolfstarcest, but the dynamic between Regulus and Sirius is gold, and Remus is a hot bonus

@cassetteinability has some amazing fics, like All night long, need, sweet stars, Friends and brothers and lovers (take care of me) that last one does have James involved

Make Your Dreams Come True by @goldenbi is so hottttt