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ivymarquis · 6 months

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A Little Death

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.

On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal.

The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”

Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.

Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her.

His neighbor is a popular woman.

It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.

Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them.

And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.

“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.

“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”

Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.

He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm.

It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.

It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her.

She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave.

Simon would gladly let her.

She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark.

The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern.

It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people.

Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it.

But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.

“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying.

He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two.

“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”

He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early.

“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together.

“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”

He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her.

His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found.

He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him.

Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.

Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her.

Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere.

If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room.

“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons.

There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid.

Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.

Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?

Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves.

Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.

Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.

Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye.

They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.

His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone.

His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.

Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career.

He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat.

Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news.

Until, at least, he meets her.

The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased.

The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either.

There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.

Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.

There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.

He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal.

Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.

Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard.

I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.

Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.

“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side.

“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”

There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns.

But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually.

“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call.

He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room.

She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-

He just feels hollow.

A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it.

Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.

The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days.

He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission.

Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever.

His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about.

He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person.

Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him.

Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off.

Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind.

It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.

There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor.

He feels nothing.

The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner.

And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-

An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips.

For the first time in days, Simon feels something.

It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope.

But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building.

It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance.

She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.

They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen.

Just let him have this one thing.

It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall.

There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.

As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water.

As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees.

She’s alive.

Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.

Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her.

He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.

So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend.

The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.

Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”

“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”

Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.

Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”

“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now.

He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass.

Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do.

He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.

It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless.

Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her.

But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo.

Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear.

Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.

The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.

The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about.

A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo.

For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.

It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest.

It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs.

For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.

Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.

It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs.

He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.

He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.

The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.

His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.

It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says

“★★★★★ -

Would poop here again”

He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.

Normal people have bathroom decor.

Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.

There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.

Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.

He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.

“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”

The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better.

Start fresh.

For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.

He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.

They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.

It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.

Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.

There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).

Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs.

Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.

He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.

Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.

Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.

As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.

It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.

They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.

At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear.

Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.

“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.

He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.

One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.

It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.

But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.

“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?

His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.

His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.

His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.

The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.

“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.

Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.

Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.

It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.

“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.

She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.

“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.

He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.

“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.

“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.

Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.

He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her.

“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.

“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.

“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.

“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.

He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.

“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.

“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.

Mission accomplished.

Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.

She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”

He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.

It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.

It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.

She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.

Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.

She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.

For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.

No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her.

“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”

She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.

His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.

“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.

“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.

Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.

“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”

All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.

“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.

Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy.

“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss.

He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.

“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.

And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.

Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.

He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now.

And it is. Until about two hours later.

One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.

Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-

“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.

“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.

“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”

He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.

But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.

#my writing #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #x chubby reader #cw sa implied

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jamespotterismydaddy · 3 months

Text

Five Long Years (Chapter 2)

aemond x niece!reader

WARNINGS: kinda suggestive but thats is

WORDCOUNT: 1,290 words

last chapter series masterlist

You feel embarrassed by the whole interaction. Storming off yesterday surely didn’t make him think of you any less like a child but that embarrassment quickly turns to anger. He’s the one who acted rudely and you fancy him no longer. There’s hardly any way you could’ve loved him anyhow. You can’t love someone you don’t even know. You’ve changed in five years but so has he; a letter once a month isn’t enough to understand someone.

You change into your dress for the day, hoping you won’t have to interact with your uncle. If he doesn’t think you’re a woman now, then he’ll surely understand when he sees your gown. It’s respectable enough but clearly shows your curves as well. You look like a true lady in it, a true desirable lady. Not that you want to be desired by him… you perhaps just want to be seen by him…

You walk down the halls with your handmaidens and right past him. You wait… wait for him to call your name… and nothing. Nothing? He doesn’t call out for you, he doesn’t want to speak to you. Did he even look at you?

But he did. You never saw as his gaze followed when you walked past. He thought you looked ravishing but he also wanted to give you your space.

Perhaps I just made myself look even more childish. You shouldn’t care what he thinks. If he believes you’re a child then that’s that. Changing how you are to appeal to him is pathetic. A woman like you can get any man she wants. You don’t need your pretentious uncle.

“Ser, Brandon.” You greet the young knight, a handsome man who’s worthy of your attention. “How do you fare today?”

“Much better now that I am in such company, princess.” He replies with a pleasing smile. “Perhaps I could take you for a turn about the gardens?”

He doesn’t waste any time. You think to yourself. Ser Brandon may be a knight but he is also a second son. Even the possibility of a betrothal to a princess is much more than a second son could ever ask for. Just your conversation is a prize to him. Though, he doesn’t act like it.

“I would like that very much. I haven’t yet had a chance to be in the sun today.” You say politely.

“Yes, I think the weather must be far too cold for the liking of a dragon-rider.” You take his arm as he speaks to you. When you walk past Aemond this time, you don’t even check to see if he’s watching.

But he is most definitely watching, and thinking about why his rūs mandianna is spending her time with a wretched rake like the Tyrell boy. The cunt is barely out of his teens and he’s probably fucked enough women for his cock to fall off. He is no company for a princess, especially not you.

You have fun with Brandon anyways. He is flirtatious and charming and you make plans to have luncheon with him the next day. You think about your time spent with him as you make your way down to the library that evening. It may be late, but it’s most definitely not unheard of for you to be selecting a book at such a time. The guards have become accustomed to your presence; you just can’t find anything more relaxing than having the massive library of the Red Keep all to yourself.

Though tonight, you do not have it all to yourself. Aemond is there, looking like the epitome of Valyrian beauty standing at one of the bookshelves. You’ve always thought that he must have been pulled from the gods’ design and been placed in this world just to be desired. No man should be so tempting as he is.

“I would advise you to be more careful with your company.” He murmurs without looking away from the shelf.

“I don’t recall requesting your advice.” You snap before composing yourself. You didn’t even realize that he saw you.

“You ought to watch your tongue, mandianna. You are, of course, a woman grown but I am still your elder. Myself and my advice should be respected by you, and I know about the ways of men.” He looks at you now.

“I apologize.” You say unseriously, frustrated that you immediately understand that he is speaking of Ser Brandon and does not hold him in high esteem. “I do find that I have difficulty accepting counsel when it is unsolicited, kepus.” You bite back with a restrained level of snark and the corner of his lip quirks up. “Do you find my irritation amusing?” You ask, annoyed by his smile.

“No, I appreciate your boldness. You aren’t as reserved as you once were.” He says genuinely.

“I thought a man as pious as you would believe women should be meek.”

“Do you wish that I wanted you to be subservient?” He is completely facing you now, any books on the shelves long forgotten.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Hmm…” His smirk must be from amusement now. “I do not want that from you.”

“That is interesting when you were just commanding my respect only moments ago.”

“I wish for you to honour me and my wisdom, not to submit.” He steps a little closer to you and you step to the side. You watch how his body follows to face you.

“Your age does not mean you hold so much wisdom over me.” You say defiantly.

“Doesn’t it?… naughty rūs.” He tuts under his breath and your cheeks burn at the teasing words.

“Don’t call me that.” He steps forward.

“Why? Just because you are grown now doesn’t mean you don’t have things to learn.” He gets closer and your back hits the bookshelf as you try to move away.

“Do you wish to teach me things or do you enjoy the idea of caging a free bird?” He’s so close to you now that you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eye.

“I would never desire to cage a woman like you.” His hands come up beside each side of your head, caging you in in a different way.

“Well, I currently feel very confined.” You murmur quietly. There’s no need for anything above a whisper when he can practically taste your words.

“Not confined… enveloped.” He breathes back.

“I won’t fall fancy to your flowery words.”

“I’m not trying to trick you.” His mouth moves close so he can whisper in your ear before his lips brush gently against it.

“Aemond…” You breathe out in surprise.

“You have changed so much these past years.” And it means something entirely different when he says it now.

“You have as well.” Is all you can say to reply.

“You have become so…” He tilts his head to the side so his lips are a centimetre away from yours. “Alluring.”

You think he may kiss you. You think you may also want him to kiss you. It would be so so easy; it could be so quick… if it weren’t for the sound of the library door opening. Aemond is quick to move away so it doesn’t even look like he was seconds away from ravishing you. You, on the other hand, are flushed and breathing heavily. Luckily, the old lord that enters doesn’t even look your way as he goes right to find his intended scroll.

Aemond looks back at you. “You might meet me here again tomorrow evening?” He seems to ask but cuts off any possible answer from you by speaking again. “It would please me greatly, mandianna.”

And with that, he’s gone.

taglists(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Five long years: @ewanmitchellconnoisseur @moonlightfoxx @toodlesxcuddles @dixie-elocin @cloudroomblog @scarletbedlam @qyburnsghost @urbanleftovers @lothiriel9 @katzarantos @leia-isabell @thestarlithideout

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd #five long years

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otaku553 · 5 months

Note

Other than ASL, which characters do you like in One Piece? Whether it’s design, story role, personality etc.

I have SO many favorites in one piece it’s kind of difficult to choose lmao

Storytelling wise, outside of ASL and the main crew, I’ve really enjoyed Bonney and Law! Bonney especially with the recent arc in the manga :’) she’s so loved…….

(We don’t talk about Bonney’s canonical design. Or, at least, I won’t. Also whoops I forgot law’s other knuckle tats,,,, ignore that)

Otherwise I also really enjoy Robin (but I’ve drawn her already for another ask hehe) and Koala? But completely for story reasons. I would say there’s probably not a single female character in one piece whose design I fully enjoy just because at times I am convinced that Oda has never actually seen a woman before. But their stories are so incredibly compelling,,,,,,

Visual design wise I kind of enjoy Koby and Helmeppo and how they’ve changed over time! And I absolutely adore Jinbei and Brook and Chopper! Design wise I actually probably most enjoy brook and jinbei, and maybe post time skip zoro? I just think they’re really neat,,,

OH. AMD GEAR 5TH LUFFY. I CANNOT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT GEAR 5TH LUFFY. that is just. Chefs kiss. EXCELLENT DESIGN

I think probably part of the reason I enjoy sabo so much is that he’s the only character design that just like. Fully appeals to me. Like I love his character design soooo much it is unreal. But also because he’s such a unique design among the characters (being about the only character with as much screentime as he has that dresses up as a noble) it’s difficult for me to find other characters that I enjoy so much visually. As reprehensible as nobles are in the story of one piece, I tend to especially enjoy characters that are more formally dressed,,,, honestly if they extended that sort of aesthetic to the entirety of the revolutionary army I would probably have a lot more favorite characters lmao

#one piece #jewelry bonney #trafalgar law #oh boy I have so many thoughts about the character design in one piece.#oda is such an excellent storyteller. and yet. AND YET.#so many times I have been told by people that they don’t want to get into one piece because of the female character designs and honestly!!#yeah!! that was really off putting to me as well!! I honestly have no clue how Oda is able to write such amazing characters and then #give them the worst designs known to mankind in some scenarios #I still at some point really want to go through and redraw a bunch of the female characters in one piece #but also I feel like that’s rather iffy territory to step into and if I get even a single negative message I will absolutely crumble

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ghostofskywalker · 8 months

Text

After The Mission

Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 20 of 31

Words: 1,041

Summary: You didn't know how much longer you could deal with your growing attraction to Bucky Barnes, and it certainly doesn't help that the two of you had been assigned a mission that included black tie attire.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

For once, everything seemed to go to plan. The plans were successful, the bad guy was caught, and no one else could do you any harm. There was just one little problem, and that was the rising tension between you and your mission partner.

You knew Bucky Barnes was handsome, most people did at this point. But you had also only seem him in tactical gear and the casual clothes he wore around the compound, so to walk into the living room and see him in a full suit was truly something else. You would like to think that you saw his breath hitch slightly when he first laid eyes on you (and the very expensive designer dress you were wearing), but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself.

This was a rare assignment, mainly because you didn’t actually have to do any fighting. Your entire job was to keep an eye on one specific patron at this fancy restaurant, and alert the rest of the team when he started to move, and that’s what you did. It almost felt like you were actually just out for a nice dinner with Bucky, and you were certainly not complaining.

But now, as you were setting foot back in the compound, something felt different between you. Before tonight you might have suggested that you meet back in the living room and have a pajama and ice cream movie marathon, but right now that seemed completely impossible. Not because you had argued or anything of that nature, but because things just felt different between you and him after this dinner.

Just as you decided that it was probably time to take this dress off and get ready for bed, you heard a knock at your door. You immediately walked over and opened it, thinking it was probably Natasha on the other side, stopping by to let you know how the rest of the team did when they apprehended the target and if there was anything else that needed to be done in the coming days.

You certainly weren’t expecting Bucky to be standing on the other side. “Hey,” he said. “I just wanted to check in with you.” He had also not yet shed his fancy evening attire, and the fact that his tie was currently undone around his neck was only making him more attractive. Seriously, why did he have to be so attractive? Was he trying to kill you?

“Oh,” was your response, not quite sure what to make of the interaction at this point. “Did Steve send something out to the team that I missed?”

“Not in an official sense,” he said, and your expression changed to one of confusion. “You seemed like something was bothering you on the way home, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Thank you for checking on me,” you said. “I don’t think anything was wrong, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” That wasn’t the whole truth and you knew it, but the reality was that you were acting differing because of the ridiculously crazy thoughts running through your head at that moment, all of which involved you and Bucky in much less clothing and several rather compromising positions.

“Are you sure?” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you,” you said, a small smile crossing your face. “That is absolutely not the reason I was acting like that on the way home.”

You had really hoped that he would just let the conversation go after that and allow you to get ready for bed (and pine for him in peace), but of course that was not what happened. “So there is something,” he said, closing the door behind him as he stepped further into your room. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to think of an excuse to get out of this conversation. “Don’t worry.”

“But I am worried,” was his response, and it was accompanied by a look that almost made your heart melt right then and there. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because it’s about you,” you said, and immediately regretted it.

“What? I thought you just-”

Since you would rather he be disgusted by your attraction to him than angry at himself for doing something wrong (which he absolutely hadn’t done), you decided to just tell him the truth. “Because I like you,” you said softly. “And I know that it’s probably a stupid little crush and I’ll get over it, but I saw you in that suit tonight and I’m pretty sure my brain forgot how thoughts work.” You watched as your words sank in, waiting for the inevitable rejection that would break your heart for a few weeks before you would be able to recover.

But much to your surprise, that rejection never came.

Instead, Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist, and he gently pulled you closer to him. Your lips met immediately, and it didn’t really matter who kissed who, because both of you were pouring so much passion into the kiss that you genuinely wondered if you would faint when you pulled apart.

Thankfully, your legs continued to work (even if they did wobble a little), and unfortunately you did have to break for air. “I really hope that it isn’t a little crush,” he said, his eyes searching yours with an expression of pure happiness. “Because seeing you walk out in that dress made me feel pretty much the same way.”

“Really?” This had to be some kind of dream, it was simply too good to be true.

“Really.” He leaned in and placed another soft kiss on your lips. “And I really don’t want this night to end.”

Your breath hitched. “Me neither,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

His lips began to travel down to your neck, and you had to fight hard not to make any embarrassing noises. You could hear the sound of someone’s phone ringing beyond your lovesick haze, and you knew that he had probably heard it too, but neither of you were going to pay attention to it.

Right now, you were just enjoying this perfect moment.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x reader

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deathbecomesthem · 5 months

Text

Three's Company +18 ONLY minors DNI

Part 2 - Ready, Steddie, Go

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it sounds familiar, it's because it probably is.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s.

Summary: You and Steve share a live in boyfriend, but you're ready to consider a different dynamic. | 3.8K

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral, anal, vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.

A/N: I came into the fandom through the Steddie pipeline, but this is the first time I've tried to write a Steddie x reader. Take it or leave it, this is what I have to offer. I wrote this today, so it's a quick and dirty writing.

---

Months have passed together. You and Eddie. The move into his place was seamless. The room at the end of the hall has been vacant since they first moved in, a three bedroom apartment without a third. It wasn’t Eddie’s idea to add you to the lease, but he was overjoyed when the proposal was made. How could he not be? The love he had for you was something he thought was impossible, and yet - here you are. At the end of the hall.

Family dinner twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. It was designed to bring the three of you together, and it worked. Those nights are filled with heartfelt discussions and deep laughter that bubbles up from the true places inside of the three of you. On those nights, the hesitation is gone, and Eddie sees his lovers reach across the table and connect in ways he had been dreaming about. A real friendship, a foundation that will last.

Eddie has too much love. With each touch, it folds over and over inside him, growing exponentially. It’s too much for just one person, too much for two. It’s something that Eddie has heard his entire life - he’s too much. Everything about him is too big. But you’ve never made him feel that way, and neither has he. You both take his love, and give what you have in return. Too much love? There’s no such thing. When it overflows, you step aside and let him take the excess. He does the same. The simplicity of it all sent your head reeling those first few weeks, but not now. No, you see it clearly. Each one made for the other, a perfect balance of love and connection.

“I know how it sounds. I get it, I’m not your type,” you smile at the man across the booth slyly, “but I just want you to think about it. I promise, I won’t talk to Eddie unless you and I have an understanding.”

A deep sigh is exhaled from the chiseled jaw of your man’s lover. He shakes his head and widens his hazel eyes before he brings them to meet yours, “Oh, my type? I don’t even know what that is. Eddie’s my type. And so are you.” He offers you a crooked smile, eyes twinkling with the charm that so many people had fallen victim to over the years of his reign as King, “I get it. I see it in you, why he loves you so much.”

And that’s how it goes, toes dipping into the lukewarm waters of possibility that afternoon in the coffee shop down the street from your shared apartment. Open and frank conversation, guilt free about excluding your mutual interest - Eddie. Let him save the heartbreak if the feelings fall too short of something that would work. That’s something you share - you could never hurt him, never be responsible for any of his pain if it can be avoided.

The two of you continue the conversation over the following weeks. Likes. Dislikes. Hard boundaries. Soft boundaries and how to maneuver them. You search your heart and mind, meditating on the idea of the thing. How it will change things, if the things that change will make your lives fuller, or if it will lead to the slow march of relationship death.

You push away the negative thoughts, they’re fueled by insecurity and the unknown. You won’t be ruled by that. This life is the one you have, and you share it with Eddie, the love of your life. Steve though, can he be more than a third roommate? You’ve been letting yourself look at the lines of his face and neck. You’ve let yourself imagine what your fingers would feel like when they slip through his sweat soaked hair. The smell of him lingers in every corner of this home, his smile is safe and kind.

—

It took longer to convince you than it did Steve, even though the idea had sprung up from inside your own mind. You took a month to let the trepidation and nervousness reign before allowing the warmth of possibilities to gain the advantage. Once they won out, you were ready to give the go ahead and talk to Eddie. Let him see the offer, openly given with no hesitation, a gift for him - the love at the center of yours and Steve’s worlds.

“Eddie, my love,” you whisper to him in the darkness of your bedroom. You can feel the brush of his eyelashes against the bare skin of your chest, fluttering at the sound of his name. He hums, the vibrations are an acknowledgement that he’s listening to what you have to say. It’s stupid to want to talk about this now, but Steve has left the ball in your court - he sees the way you’ve wrestled with your own mind over the idea, and it’s in your own bed with the reassuring warmth of Eddie where you feel the safest. Cared for, protected, and less insecure about where you fit into this unlikely familial unit.

You waited until your lover crooked his neck to make eye contact with you in the thick darkness of the midnight hour that softens the overwhelming thoughts that you need to share with him. You push away the shadow of a curl that hides the fullness of his visage before saying the words that have been sitting at the back of your throat for weeks. “Do you remember that conversation we had a few months back, about me, you, and Steve?”

Eddie remembers, it was a night a lot like this one. In the dark he had whispered his secret to you, a precious and fragile thing that you’ve held in your heart, careful not to crush it. He’d wiped the tears from your eyes when you told him you weren’t ready for something like that, fearing he might lose his love for you. That night had reinforced things for Eddie, he knew he could tell you things, he knew you could be honest with him. The love never faded, instead it grew roots that threaded the love he felt for Steve also. A forest canopy where the three of you find shelter.

“I remember,” Eddie’s calloused fingers run down your cheek and under your eyes, a wordless question answered when they leave dry, “but we don’t have to talk about that, Baby. We’re so good.” He kisses at the skin of your chest, warm and soft breathing out the rest, “I love you.”

“I love you, Ed. But I want you to know, Steve and I have talked about it -” Eddie sits up straight in the bed, wide eyes shining by the sliver of moonlight sneaking between the drawn shades of the room.

“You and Steve have been talking?” Eddie repeats. You wait to see if he says more before you give him the rest. “You two talked about the three of us being together?”

“Yes.” You reach your fingers out to gently play with the curls at the side of his face to calm the sudden anxiety that’s building between you. “I didn’t want to talk to you until I knew that Steve and I were on the same page. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You surprise yourself when the last sentence is choked out on a quiet sob. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying about this.”

Eddie pushes aside the anxiety and wipes away the tear that has escaped from the corner of your eye, “what did Steve say? I haven’t talked to him about adding a third since I met you. I know how he felt about it after he met you, but you two have your own friendship and stuff now.”

You breathe out a relieved sigh. Steve had told you that he had initially hoped the three of you could have something shared, but a part of you hadn’t fully believed it. Hearing Eddie confirm it rouses the butterflies deep in your gut. “Steve’s on board. I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about everything, and I want it too. I trust you both so much.”

“It’s ok if you need more time, or if you change your mind -” you cut Eddie off with a kiss. Lips brushing lips. You finally tell him the thing you’ve barely been able to admit to yourself.

“I want it. My two beautiful boys.”

—

Saturday mornings are for coffee and cigarettes on the balcony with Steve and Eddie. This morning is much the same, but with sidelong glances between you and two sets of eyes watching as you lazily blow smoke from between your lips. You heard the boys whisper to each other in the kitchen before they came out to join you. The sexual tension is so ridiculous, it makes you bark a laugh when you see Steve lick his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re drooling. See something you like?” You wiggle your shoulders under your oversized pajama shirt that leaves everything to the imagination. He’s seen you in it a million times before, only this time it’s different. He’s thinking about what’s underneath knowing he’ll get to see the curves and angles of you soon. It’s been a long time since he’s been with a woman, and he can’t stop thinking about how soft your skin will feel under his hands.

“Sorry.” He’s sheepish, the tips of his exposed ear immediately turning red at your teasing. It sends a rush of desire through you to see him flush under your gaze. He clears his throat, “I’m sorry, ok. I can’t help it.”

Eddie’s giggle fit is the catalyst for your own. The tension releases in a flurry of gasping laughs and an indelicate snort from your lips. You feel like a teenager with a crush. A first date with the cute boy for which you’ve been harboring a secret crush for months. But it’s just Steve. He buys your Tampax and cleans the bathroom when you and Eddie forget. He’s smiling shyly behind his acrylic frames, and you wonder how you’ve missed it for so long. You push back the regret, because this is how it’s happening. Better now than never.

“Don’t be sorry, Stevie. I like it when you look at me like that.” You drop your voice. You let yourself feel sexy despite the coffee breath and last night’s makeup smeared beneath your eyes.

“Jesus Christ, you two are fucking killing me.” Eddie shakes his head and drains the last dregs from his mug before he kisses your cheek to head inside for a shower. “You guys need this more than I do.”

Steve follows Eddie into the apartment a couple seconds later, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek as he passes. A thing he does often, but he feels warmer today. You notice the honey highlights of his hair under the early morning sun and sigh. It feels right, seeing him like this. It feels good having him look at you.

It’s the farmers market first where you get fresh bread, cheese, and loads of veggies. Eddie’s making dinner for the three of you, roasted vegetables with tempeh and rice. The bread and cheese is for a quick snack lunch down by the river, sitting between the two warm bodied men, their hands meeting behind you in an embrace. The river hypnotizes you, the quiet rush of the water insistent. You leave them on the river bank and shed your sandals. With your jeans rolled up, you step into the shallow water, smooth pebbles under your toes. You can feel eyes on you, and let them watch you watch the water move downstream. Steve and Eddie watch you wet your toes, never saying a word.

The whole day is quiet. Even Eddie finds words unnecessary, a rarity. The shy flirtation between you and Steve has an effect on him. It’s killing him, every moment of the day the tension builds more and more. He’s been half hard since he saw you teasing Steve under the early morning sun. He wishes he could have hauled you both into the bedroom at that moment, hands and mouths mapping undiscovered territory - but this is what you all want. A day together, a reminder of what’s real before you all get lost in the fog of lust. But, it’s killing him.

By the time you all finally make it back to the apartment, the sun is low in the sky, light fading. Three heartbeats in a steady rhythm, nervous giggles escaping lips while shoes are thrown in the corner of the living room. Steve doesn’t even care that not a single one made it to its assigned spot, he can only see you and Eddie. You hold out your hands to him and to Eddie, both happily oblige. The wine from dinner gives you a pleasant buzz, the anxiety is gone completely with your fingers tangled in theirs while you lead them to Eddie’s room.

The door between yours and Steve’s is your shared boyfriend’s. A bed rarely slept in, his time split between his lovers’, but tonight it will be full. The symbolism is not lost on any of you, neutral ground for the newest chapter in your story. All day you’ve wondered if you’d be able to follow the steps. There’s been a prickling anxiety that it might feel unnatural, but it doesn’t. All you feel now is heat in your belly when you see that Eddie and Steve are hard in their jeans. A pulse begins to pound where you want to be touched, and he’s on you as if he can feel it himself.

Eddie’s kissing you hard, his hands immediately find the curve of your ass and you wonder how you could have ever doubted this. Steve is still gripping your left hand, his large thumb runs across your knuckles as Eddie’s tongue breaches your lips to taste you. You squeeze back, the sweat of your palm mixing with Steve’s while Eddie moans deep.

“Can I watch you two?” Steve’s voice is hoarse and full of want. “You’re both so pretty.”

You break away from Eddie, mouth opening, closing, opening again. No sound coming out, too lost already. Eddie helps, his head resting on your forehead and turns to see Steve before answering, “Stevie wants to watch, Baby. He can join in when he wants, though, right?” You nod, keeping your eyes on Eddie, already overwhelmed.

It’s enough for both of them, and clothes are sloughed off onto the carpeted floor until you’re bared completely for Eddie. For Steve. You know this dance, even with an audience of one. Eddie and Steve both sink to their knees. Eddie pulls your legs apart wide while Steve rests his head on the mattress next to you. A perfect viewpoint to watch Eddie’s tongue and fingers work.

“This is the best part, Steve. She makes the prettiest sounds when you do this.” Eddie spreads your legs apart, wider than normal so the view is completely unobscured before he flattens his tongue and runs it hard along your slit. Once, twice, three times. With laser focused precision, he zeroes in on your clit and begins to rub it between his upper lip and tongue while two fingers breach your hole to move inside of you.

It’s all faster than usual, urgent and desperate, but your body reacts in kind. It meets Eddie’s need, and you can hear yourself crying out without any conscious decision to do so. A hand finds yours, threading between your fingers with digits longer and thinner than Eddie’s. Steve’s hand in yours while you climb the mountain of pleasure. He’s keeping you firmly on the ground.

It’s Steve that talks you through the white hot lighting that spreads across your vision. “Oh wow. You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect, taking what you need from Eddie. God, I can smell you from here, you smell amazing Baby.” It’s Steve’s firm hand that rests on your hip when you start to pull away. He holds you there to ride through your high while Eddie drinks you up.

When you open your eyes you see them kissing, tongues sloppily dancing. Steve whining at the taste of you on Eddie’s lips. The hand that held you down now threading through the curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, drawing him closer and closer. You’re still pulsing, and the sight makes you ache for them both.

“Fuuuuucccckkkk. Oh my god.” Your panting voice breaks their kiss, and you regret it immediately. Pink cheeks and hooded eyes take in your naked form in front of them, and pupils dilate. “Please. Please. I need you.”

I need you. You don’t know if you’re talking to Eddie or Steve or both of them. It doesn’t matter, because they answer by smiling at each other, Steve’s fingers undoing Eddie’s belt, and then Eddie’s hands pulling Steve’s shirt over his head. On and on and until they’re both on display in front of you. Works of art for you to admire. You burn it into your mind’s eye, hard cocks lazily held in hands while they eat you up with their eyes.

You know what comes next because it’s something you’ve all agreed you want to try. Eddie’s cock stretches you open in a familiar way that feels like home. A whimper leaves his lips when he sinks all the way into you. His eyebrows knit together, concentrating on the feeling of you surrounding him, swallowing him up. Your eyes seek out Steve and see him holding his heavy cock firmly in his grip. He’s matching Eddie’s rhythm, he’s trying to feel what Eddie feels.

Your second orgasm crashing down on you under Steve’s weighty gaze, it’s impossible to hold back. Eddie never falters, if anything he picks up his pace trying to reach you while you soar high above the bed. He’s so deep, Your hands are tugging at your nipples, desperate for anything to latch onto. You realize that Steve isn’t by your side anymore, he’s behind Eddie now.

With Eddie still deep inside, the head of Steve’s cock begins to play at Eddie’s hole. Eddie stills at the feeling. He keens, a sound you’ve never heard him make before, and you pulse around him. You can feel Steve push into Eddie, his cock reaches deeper inside of you. And again. Eddie’s hips are moving only through the force of Steve’s. It’s so beautiful to see this sight in front of you. Eddie’s gone at the feeling of Steve’s cock buried deep inside of him. Steve’s hand is in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head back to give you a full view of your boyfriend’s lovely neck. Every thrust of Steve’s hips is met with a small cry from Eddie. The cock inside of you slips out, and you decide it’s time to make a quick change.

You reach up to cup Eddie’s cheek in your hand and say, “turn around, Baby. Let me hold you.” Eddie’s too gone already, you and Steve turn him around. You pull Eddie back against your chest to hold him, and Steve spreads his legs open wide. From this vantage point Steve is so beautiful it makes you ache. His pretty cock leaking arousal. And then it disappears again, deep inside Eddie.

Steve’s eyes are fixated on your face, and you're fixated on his. One of your hands is in Eddie’s sweaty hair, soothing him while Steve sets a bruising pace. You reach down and grip your fist around Eddie’s leaking length. It’s bouncing against his stomach, so hard and desperate to be touched. You push the hair away from Eddie’s ear and begin to speak. Your eyes never leave Steve’s.

“You’re doing so well, Eddie, taking that fat cock in your tight little ass.” Steve falters for a second, his jaw is clenching at your words. He’s trying to hold on until Eddie cums at least. “Your boyfriend is so pretty, Ed. How’d I get so lucky, hm? The two prettiest dicks I’ve ever seen, all for me.” Steve's hips move faster, he’s close now. So is Eddie. Wordless whines at the back of his throat and reverberates through your chest.

There’s a sort of power you had not expected in this position. Both men under your spell. And you decide - mercy. You know exactly how to push them both over the edge, break this fever. They both sit painfully on the edge of oblivion, Steve’s eyes still on yours, lost in chasing the rhythm of his hips.

“He’s good, isn’t he, Steve?” His eyes widen, it’s the first time you’ve directly addressed him in this bedroom. You can feel Eddie begin to pulse in your hand, stomach muscles tensing, and you shoot to kill - “I’m good too. Do you want to feel how my asshole feels while Eddie fucks my pussy, Stevie?”

Eddie lets out a strangled cry, cum shoots up his stomach and over your fingers, while Steve slumps down on top of Eddie. Shallow and deep thrusts accompanying his moans. You reach out, finally able to touch Steve, and run your fingers through his sweaty mane. You run a finger along the line of his jaw while he and Eddie find their breath.

“Your girlfriend is evil.” Steve huffs out the words into the skin of Eddie’s chest while you all still lay in a pile of sweat and cum.

“Mmm, I know she is. But I think maybe she’s your girlfriend too, Stevie. She doesn’t invite just anyone into her ass.” Eddie can’t even fully deliver the line before he’s laughing. A joyful sound that feels like relief. “God, we’re a fucking mess.”

“Everyone needs to get off of me right now, I can’t breathe.” You feel weak under the weight of both men, pushing on Eddie’s shoulders with little effect. Steve rolls off Eddie, pulling him off of you at the same time.

You look at the clock. 9:30. You laugh, and groan. “I’m taking a shower and getting the butter pecan from the freezer. You two do what you want.”

You leave the room, not bothering with your clothes, and hear the boys groaning. You know they can’t resist ice cream. You think that it might be a good idea to do some bed shopping tomorrow. The queen won’t do it, not for the three of you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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illusoriess · 26 days

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lestappen fic recs: an (ongoing) masterlist

here it finally is! because i promised!! a hopefully ongoing collection of my favorite lestappen fics, all on ao3.

LONG FICS (over 35k words)

Long Live (The Walls We Crashed Through) by Fabby | Explicit | 80.7k words

“What are you doing?” Charles asked, his voice cracking. Max blinked at him once before he smirked and said, “Well... I was going to kiss you.” “Why?” “Because I want to.” “Why?” Charles repeated, feeling like his legs were going to give out. “Is that not a good enough reason?” Max asked. OR: The childhood best friends to lovers fairy-tale-soulmates fic that nobody asked for. Charles has been in love with Max since he was seven years old.

I'm sure this one can go without saying since you all have probably read it, but it's a classic, and I'm including it on pure principle. This fic has it all.

2. Yours by loquarocoeur | Explicit | 53.9k words

Charles looks much too satisfied as Max leans back against the door, one eyebrow tugging up as he asks, “Do you want to fight?” “Of course I want to fight.” Charles only looks slightly amused. “Then fight.” "Stop fucking telling me what to do!" Max yells. Charles cocks his head. "What, because it turns you on?" Alternatively: Max doesn't want to like Charles, but Charles makes that really fucking difficult sometimes

To Bottom Max enjoyers, this will become your Bible if you haven't read it already. To tentative Max Bottom explorers, you will love this fic even if you never read Bottom Max again. But it might change your brain chemistry, so be careful.

3. half of a heaven by weiwuxian | Explicit | 38.9k words

“Good evening. I’m Charles,” he offers his hand, which Max takes and for a second, Charles thinks he’s going to kiss the back of it. Some muscle spasms in the tight grip, rough velvet against soft skin. When Charles gets his hand back, it feels like he lost a finger or two in the fight. “What’s your poison, Charles?” Max asks, settling on the barstool like it’s not designed to be the most uncomfortable chair in the world. “Cyanide, usually. I’ll settle for a gin tonic for now.” or: Charles is a supermodel that has learned everything he needs to make his world turn. Now, he has no idea what Max Verstappen wants from him.

charles' black cat energy is strong in this fic. and man's laden with issues. he's an eccentric supermodel and max is an f1 driver and big ol' simp. once again they're dumb, but they're lestappen, come on. fork found in kitchen.

4. give me that fire by Lady_Something | Explicit | 39.8k words

“Can you work with him?” Max has to take two drags of his cigarette before he can answer, and even then all he says is, “He knew I was the head chef, didn’t he.” Charles has to have known. Even if the news hadn’t reached him that Max had taken over as the head chef of Taureau Rouge, he would not have travelled all the way from Paris to London for an interview at a restaurant without knowing who he’d be working under. Still, Charles was the one who broke up with him. Max has to know, for sure. “He knows,” Christian confirms softly. “He outright laughed at me when I called and asked him to come work at one of my restaurants. It was only after I said it was Taureau Rouge, working with you, that he agreed to come.” Fuck. Fuck. Max could’ve gone his whole life without knowing that. He probably fucking should have, because how is he supposed to be normal about it? // Max and Charles have history, but it doesn't stop Charles from coming to work as Max's new sous chef. It does mean that everything changes for them both in the space of a single week.

Chef aus seem to be a trend in the f1 ficdom and I eat that shit up every time. This fic is no exception. Anyways they're so messy and flawed, it's beautiful

5. unwritten by NovaCloud | Teen and Up | 37.6k words

Reach for your dreams. Charles is trying, but it’s fucking hard. Falling in love with Max wasn’t part of his plans. Running away is easier, at least that way he won’t get hurt. Right? - Letting out a breathy laugh Charles shakes his head. He puts down the little shot glass and turns to Max, staring at him. “You spent my yearly pay check on me?" “I spent it on charity,” Max corrects him with a slight smirk as he casually leans against the bar. Charles wants to kiss it off his face. “I’m very concerned with wildlife conservation.” Charles snorts. “It’s for biodiversity.” “And that too, of course.” "You're insane, you know that?"

As someone in journalism I had to suspend my disbelief at some parts but that's honestly part of the charm tbh. Just silly, dramatic, fun, and cute. Plus billionaire Max is... yeah.

MEDIUM FICS (15k - 35k words)

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | Explicit | 16.3k words

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

The tag "meet-cute but it's a meet-disaster" is used, which is accurate. A good mix of comedy but also heart-wrenching... sweetness? romance? they're both extremely stupid and extremely lestappen and it's just amazing. and great smut ofc.

2. home (is wherever I'm with you) by actparci | Not Rated | 17.9k

On the drive back to the hotel Max had turned to him, blue eyes fierce and piercing. “Promise me you won’t stop being angry. You’re angry because you know what you can do. Use it, control it, let it fuel you. Other people won’t understand but that doesn’t matter, you know what you’re capable of.” You and me, he’d seemed to say, we’re the same. Charles wonders now how he ever thought Max wouldn’t understand. Or: Charles leaves Ferrari, tries to win a championship, and learns some things about belonging. All the while, Max is there.

Another one you've all probably read. If I were to describe this fic in one word, it's "cathartic". Who needs therapy when you have Charles Fix It Fics???

3. kitty conundrum by linearity | Explicit | 18k words

Charles shows up to Monaco with kitty ears and a tail. Max is totally normal about it.

spoiler alert: he's not normal about it. thanks to some magical realism you get this almost-omegaverse-but-not-quite fic, and lestappen are just two horny idiots.

4. friday night; i'm in love by autumnapricot | General Audiences | 21k words

Charles hates Max. Well, not really—hate is probably far too big of a word for it. Max annoys Charles. Well, not really either, because Max doesn’t, like, do anything purposely to annoy Charles or goes out of his way or acts with ill intention, or whatever. At least he pretends like he doesn’t, so. Charles is annoyed by Max. Yes, that’s more like it. [Or—Max and Charles work together in an office, eight hours a day, five times a week. Strangely enough, it’s friday nights that bring them closer.]

They're so silly and sweet in this fic and I was endlessly endeared reading it. I'm a bitch for an office au, especially when it involves a ridiculous one-sided rivals to lovers.

5. even the sun sets in paradise by PrincessElectra | Teen and Up | 27.7k words

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates. But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name. The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there. Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions. “I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed. “We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

This fic is... everything <3 The hurt/comfort is just done so well; it gives meaning to the phrase "in sickness and in health." Their love is just written so beautifully.

SHORT FICS (under 15k words)

Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions by WanderingBlindly | General Audiences | 12.4k words

"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine. “Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.” “So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows. Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” Or: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss

Short and sweet, just pure fluff and Christmas joy. If you just want to read something nice and also pretend like it's Christmas in July, then this is the fic for you.

2. Clothes by Anonymous | Mature | 2.6k words

5 times Charles steals Max's clothes and the 1 time Max rips his clothes off of him.

cute domestic lestappen. they're adorable. that's all <3

3. Saturdays by NerdHerder12 | Teen and Up | 3.1k words

On Saturdays, Max visits Charles.

Proceed with caution. I feel physically ill after reading this fic and I really only read it when I want to hurt my own feelings. But it's so good.

4. And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by PrincessElectra | Teen and Up | 6.5k words

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy. (Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

Another hit by PrincessElectra. The beauty of this fic is how hilarious but also fluffy it manages to be. Sassy needs to narrate all future lestappen fics, I don't make the rules

#lestappen #lestappen fanfic #illusories fic recs

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zeninsama-moved · 1 year

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pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash.

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!"

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?"

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?"

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up."

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading.

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–"

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi.

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there.

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last?

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open.

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him.

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?"

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?"

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip.

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you.

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you.

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?”

Is he… really talking to your pussy?

Scratch that, you hate him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet.

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy.

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around."

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~"

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes.

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?”

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?”

#mercury writes

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angsthology · 7 months

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“so much for identity keeping” — or an alt title: roo’s nighttime job

the grid caught roo in a different light, holding a different kind of instrument

a/n the title’s a bit ambiguous but bare with it 😭😭 (bare?? bear?? which one is it i genuinely dk)

thinking back, this is pretty bad so im sorry for that. still trying to get my mojo back.

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS THE WORLD

“you think she actually hates us?”

the group of men were currently out and about exploring the night life. though, this time they decided to switch things up a little. instead of their usual glamorous clubs, they decided to go somewhere that offered live music. seb described it as ‘a change of pace’ and in return, lando said that his ‘age is getting to him’ (behind his back, that is).

the entire grid was there as they were all invited — except one.

“what? c’mon, why not?” lando made an expression of offense.

“not tonight. any other night is fine, but i already have plans. sorry, lan.” she shrugged before walking away towards where her car was parked.

that didn’t stop him from following her, though. the curly-haired brit fell in step right behind the shorter girl to—well, truthfully, beg.

“it’ll be fun!” he reasoned.

shaking her head, she stopped mid-step and faced the brunette, making him stop abruptly too.

“i’m sure it will. but i’ve had this plan since way before you probably planned yours.”

he pouted. she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his attempt.

“next time, lan. i promise.”

remembering the conversation had lando still coated with bitterness. “not surprised if she does.”

max couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s bitterness. he tapped his back (to which surprised lando), “no she don’t. i’m sure she has her reasons.”

as if on cue, suddenly they hear a familiar voice booming through the speakers.

the men’s heads never turned so quick before.

“oh mY GO—”

max was quick to snap his hand over lando’s mouth. and, on cue, not a moment too soon—

“EW!”

the dutch man immediately removed his hand off of lando’s mouth and wiped it on the british driver’s clothes, all the while holding an (overdramatic) expression of disgust.

he glared at the man and continued to talk (grumble), “if she didn’t tell you — or any of us, for that matter. she probably has her reasons.”

lando blinked. “okay? so?”

“so…” daniel walked up behind his teammate and rested his hands on both sides of his shoulders, “we should sit back, quietly, and watch.” he paused, lando still thinking with furrowed brows, “she doesn’t have to know.”

lando’s face brighten up as he finally catched up. “ah, i see.”

“but don’t you guys think—”

immediately, the older german man stopped his miniature, “don’t even try, mick. you know it won’t work.”

mick was about to say something else when he was suddenly cut off by lando shushing everyone. eventually he gave up trying to reason with anyone and sat down (in the dark, might i add) with everyone else as the stage lightings start to turn on.

there on the stage stood roo on the (audience’s) right holding a sticker-drowned plain white bass guitar. on center-stage stood roo’s friend they knew as daisy-mae holding her own red and white guitar along with an unfamiliar face sitting behind the drums.

everyone was surprised to see the stage lights turn on to a bright neon pink-haired roo rather than her usual hair color.

she wore a sleeveless white top with a big star design in the middle of her chest and a leather skirt paired with a pair of black thigh-high boots.

“interesting…” muttered lando with his chin resting on his interlaced hands. all the while the younger german driver across him tilted his head in an unreadable expression.

next thing they knew a tune starts to play and to their surprise, the once alfa romeo driver turned band geek leaned in the microphone, “angel… with a gun in your hand…”

their jaws dropped at the sound of her voice.

“she can sing…?”

“…she has a life outside of driving?!”

everyone’s heads immediately to the young aston martin driver, all with the same judging expression.

at that, the canadian immediately jumped ahead to defend himself. “what? she’s new! that’s how i thought of all of you when we all first met!” he said defensively with his hands (and voice) going up.

but, in truth was, no one really knew who she was. the closest thing they’ve figured out about her personal life was daisy-mae. and she was way more quiet about it than roo.

compared to the rest of the grid, she was probably the most private person yet. they seem to know so much about her yet also none at all. whether it was because she was new and still hadn’t warmed up to them like that yet or that’s just the way she is and they just haven’t gotten used to it yet. they—the media—would often compare her to kimi but that would just be wrong considering they’re nothing alike besides being tight-lipped.

watching her in another element was a new and interesting experience for them. very interesting. some might even be confident enough to bet it against her racing career.

with furrowed brows, carlos whispers to his teammate, “you think she would ever leave racing for this?”

“we’re not that lucky, mate.” charles mumbled, then shrugging, “plus you’d actually think she would leave mick?”

their moment of entertainment and amazement was cut short when she followed along the lyrics that escaped her lips.

“go on, replace me… when you’re cravin’ something sweeter than the words i left in your mouth… go on and spit me out.”

she. was. shameless.

it was almost as if the girl on that stage was not the same girl they drove on the track with, the same girl they do press conferences with, the same girl that was their co-worker and on-track rival.

that theory only furthermored when she switched instruments with daisy-mae and took over the entire stage with her presence, rocking her own solo riff.

they were seriously doubting this was the same girl as the kangaroo’s grid.

when the last notes were strung and the music died down, the girl walked over to the mic stand that once was occupied by her friend.

she started, “hi, everyone.” she was slightly out of breath — not surprise there — “we are: talking excessively. i’m your bassist slash occasional guitarist: autumn rolfe,”

the men collectively furrowed their brows in confusion, sharing glances with each other with words unspoken.

sure they doubted the rockstar was their co-worker and friend but they knew for sure it was roo. and that was not her name.

“joined by my beloveds—camellia gray,”— she pointed at daisy-mae —“on the guitar holding my bass, and finally our drummer rocky dilltogas.” she pointed at the unfamiliar new character — probably not his real name either after seeing a certain pattern.

strumming a few strings, the girl then continue speaking, “for this next song… i’ve begged and begged dai– cami for so long for us to perform this song. lucky yous, this was the night she finally agreed.” she smiles as she exchange instruments with daisy-mae—or ‘camellia gray’ as she said—once more.

then, an all-familiar tune starts playing. one that completely confirmed her identity.

“stacy, can i come over after school?”

a couple of more songs later (all the while the group of men continue to question their judgement) and the band bid their farewell after finishing their last song.

it was the three past rookies to show themselves — under the light that the girl would definitely notice them.

they saw as the blood draining from her face when she noticed their giggling faces. oh how she hated those three.

roo immediately said an awkward ‘thank you’ hurriedly and basically sprinted off to the backstage, leaving her two bandmates in confusion.

that is, until her best friend spotted the three giggling men. they waved at her happily, feigning innocence as her face dropped knowing exactly that they were the reason.

behind the stage, roo was still in shock, standing like she’s seen a ghost until her bandmates walked over to her.

daisy-mae was the first to walk over to her, a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “it’s fine.”

“i’m going to kill them.” she replied, her expression unmoved.

“i mean that’s one way to do it—”

“what happened?” asked the drummer.

before any of them could explain to him, they were interrupted by said explanation as they all approached them.

her face was almost in a permanent expression, hardening when she saw the three demons that held complete malice in their eyes when instead she was surprised with showers of compliments by her older co-workers.

but still, that didn’t stop the rest from existing and taking the big chance of absolutely mess with her. they would never give up the opportunity to pull a reaction from roo.

“so, autumn rolfe, was it?” george smiled happily with his arms crossed.

“shut up.”

“i think i’m co-workers with your sister: spring.” snickered alex.

“funny. anythin’ else?” she deadpanned.

“yeah—”

but before the mclaren driver could say anything, roo had already had her fingers clasped on his ear—cutting off his shits and giggles.

“what the hell! i haven’t said anything, why didn’t you do it when these guys were talkin’!” he complained.

“you’re the nearest one.”

“you and i are exactly the same distance as you and alex!”

“yeah, but he’s a whole electric pole, you’re a gremlin.”

“just say you hate me the most.”

“i hate you the most.”

he rolls his eyes, grumbling, “you’re not my favorite either.”

“lying? really? you know that’s my thing, right?”

their bantering was interrupted when roo heard her name being called. she turned around to see her bandmates standing behind her with another new presence with them.

her eyes widen and quickly let go of lando’s ear, running off to her friends.

“everyone! since i no longer have any form of privacy, i’d like to introduce you to my friends.” the drivers all crowded the group of four. “you guys know daisy-mae,” said girl waved and a string of familiar ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s greeted her, “this here is atticus,” the boy they recognized as the drummer smiled politely at them. roo then looked at the new girl standing beside daisy-mae, “and uh, this is nika, don’t know when or how she got here.”

“but she’s happy i’m here.” said girl stated happily with a giddy smile.

“sure.”

at her monotonous voice, nika’s smile dropped, rolling her eyes.

everyone then slowly dropped the topic and went on their own as another band take over the stage with their more upbeat dance worthy music.

she was left was now only left with alex, george, and lando. she sighed.

“anything else?”

george shrugged, “but seriously, i think it was pretty cool.”

the girl couldn’t help but feel the heat rushing to her face, she never expected a compliment coming out of his mouth.

“oh. uh, thanks?”

“i mean, by the looks of you i had a feeling you have some sort of hannah montana-esque secret somewhere.” alex mentioned, only making roo’s eyes furrow. “that was a compliment.” he clarified after seeing the look on her face.

then, lando leaned over to her and whispered in her ear, “don’t tell her this but i always thought she was really cool, this was just an upgrade.”

confused, again, roo turned to a goofy-grinning lando with her right brow raised. alex caught her attention when started again, “he’s had a few drinks.”

“well. we’ll see you on the dance floor, i’m assuming?” george asked, sipping from the drink in his hand.

she nodded as the three went on, lando lingered behind with her.

“guess you did ended up goin’ out with us after all!” he said before leaving her with a smile mumbling a ‘yeah’.

roo was about to follow behind him when a certain spanish driver approached her, putting his arm around her frame. he took a sip from his drink before speaking as they walked together towards the bar.

“ever think of performing at birthday parties?”

“whose?”

“mine.”

“your birthday’s passed, nando.”

“incase you didn’t know, they’re a yearly thing.”

she chuckled, “sure thing, pop.”

“oh, and nice hair, by the way.”

“thanks.”

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra lemme know what ya think 🥰 & tell me if u want to be added

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x oc #tine’s roo vs the world

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thebestofoneshots · 9 months

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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.1 K Warnings: none Prompt: The day after the race has you feeling sore, and after taking a potion to mitigate the pain, you ened up blabering a lot of your thoughts out in the world. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

ANOUNCMENT:

In a couple of weeks I'll make a Q&A to cellebrate Gilded Constellations reaching 100,000 words. And I'd love for all of you to be a part of it. So send in your questions, they can be anything you want, things like: How did you get the idea? Where does inspo come from? writing tips (I mean I don’t know much but anyway), character design, fancast, fav characters, things about me, about my plot notebook, literally anything you want, ask away (just state: For Q&A event or something) <3

Chapter 12: You really got me.

October 4th, 1976 - Monday

On Monday you woke up early but you were sore. The fall from the broom had finally taken its toll on your body, and you pretty much dragged yourself to the bathroom to get changed for flying, or maybe to go to the infirmary first, you weren’t sure which one was going to be more relevant by the time you managed to walk down the stairs.

You somehow changed your clothes and quietly walked downstairs. James and Sirius hadn’t come down yet, so you let yourself fall on the couch awkwardly. Looking at the faint stars you had placed on the ceiling a couple of weeks ago.

“Morning (Y/N),” Said James from the stairs when he spotted you “Didn’t expect you to be here today.”

You frowned at his words “What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looked at you with raised eyebrows “Your broom?”

You gasped at that. He was right, you didn’t have a broom. “It… It went completely past me, shit.”

He smiled and sat on the sofa next to yours “Sirius said he’s gonna skip today, I thought I’d be flying alone.”

“Is he feeling sore?”

“He was complaining so much this morning I didn’t expect you to even come to class.”

You laughed “I mean, I do feel like I’ve been hit by a truck but, flying always makes me feel better.”

“Why don’t you borrow his broom? I’m sure he’ll say yes.” James said, it was an excellent idea.

“Do you think the rest’ll mind if I…” you stated, motioning upstairs with your finger.

James shook his head “Nah, go ahead. Peter sleeps like a log, you won’t wake him even if you bang on the door, and Sirius and Remus are already awake.”

You nodded, and walked upstairs, towards the boys’ room. Once in front of the thick wooden door you knocked on it softly “Come in,” you heard Sirius’ muffled voice, probably by a pillow. And so you carefully opened the door.

“Morning,” you said when you saw Sirius laying on his bed, head still buried on his pillow.

He turned his head around casually “Oh, morning love.” He said once he noticed it was you “What are you doing here? you should be in bed. Aren’t you in pain too?”

Sirius Black was really chatty in the mornings. You nodded in response, “I wanted to fly still.”

He arched an eyebrow “Can’t miss one day of practice?”

You shook your head “The wind always makes me feel good.”

He nodded “Why are you here then? Couldn’t bear to go without me?” He teased.

“You wish,” you replied with a smile “I came to borrow your–“

You started, but then their bathroom door opened wide and Remus stepped out. With his pants loosely hanging over his waist, and both of his arms holding the towel he was using to dry his hair, shirtless. And holy mother of Jesus, Remus Lupin was hiding real muscles under all those sweaters. You could see the gush he’d gotten the day you’d found him on the hospital, and he hadn’t been lying, he really did heal fast. He turned his back, you stared for a second as his muscles flexed. Minho wished he had that back, the girls have no clue or they’d be lusting over the sexy pirate here instead, you thought. But after the initial shock you realised he had many more scars there than over his face, you wondered how the hell he’d gotten so many cuts and made a mental note to ask him one day, when you were closer.

When he turned again and saw you’d been there he looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. “Ugh– sorry.” You said and turned around quickly, facing the door “didn’t mean to– I was just here to borrow Sirius’ broom.”

“It’s ok,” you heard Remus’ calm voice from behind you. He was in fact not ok, but he figured I’d be weird if a boy panicked over someone seeing his chest, so he played it cool. “I’m not naked or anything.”

“Right!” You said turning back around, he was already buttoning his own shirt, “I’m ugh– happy you’re better,” you said, passing your hand over your chest so he knew what you were talking about, “I thought I’d take longer to heal.”

“Moony heals fast,” said Sirius, finding a quick excuse for his friend.

“And madam Pomfrey’s an amazing mediwitch,” Remus added.

You nodded, “I’m actually going to see her before flying,” you told them “Hope she can get me some pain killer potion or something.”

“You’re sore too?” Remus asked with concern.

You nodded “Like I was thrown off my broom at incredibly high speeds and rolled on the ground several times, yeah…” You said ironically.

“I think you meant: saved by an incredibly handsome wizard from being hit by a tree.” Sirius corrected, you chuckled “Moony’s got some though, right?”

“Do you?” You asked, looking at the taller boy, who was now fumbling with his tie. He nodded absentmindedly as he struggled to get the knot right, he was still nervous about his scars. You smiled and pulled your wand out, pointing at his neck “Ligatura Cravatia,” you mumbled, his tie suddenly escaped from his fingers and tied itself neatly.

He looked at you surprised, “Thanks!”

You nodded “I could not tie a tie for the life of me,” you mentioned casually “had to learn an easier way.”

Remus nodded and leaned in to open a drawer from his side table, it was filled with potions and infusions, and he took out a small vial, of which there seemed to be many, and handed it over to you. “Take half of that now and half of it when you feel sore again,” he explained.

You nodded, thanking him as you took it from his hands, Sirius spoke “You made me take the whole thing. It tastes awful!”

“Yeah Sirius, you’re almost as big as me, (Y/N) is tiny. I’d be too much for her.” You frowned at that.

Tiny?, you thought, It wasn’t your fault Remus was so freakishly tall. Average, at least.

“Hm…” Sirius responded unconvinced and then looked at you “It’s under the bed.”

“What is?” You asked confused.

“My broom?” He said with a frown “maybe you really just came to see me,” he said with a charming smile.

You laughed at his teasing “Wouldn’t you like that?” You told him before leaning down to grab his broom from under the bed. You spotted some cassette tapes on a small box there too and smiled. Of course Sirius would keep his music like that. When you finally stood up you smiled at him “Thanks Puppy, you’re the best!” You said as you stepped out of their room.

“You owe me one!” He shouted as you closed the door, to anyone it may seem he meant for the favour, but you knew what he actually meant with that, which only made you smile to yourself. Once you were back downstairs you were already in a better mood than that of which you had woken up with.

James had fallen asleep on the couch, so you nudged him awake and the two of you walked towards the courtyard. As you walked through the halls you pulled out the little vial and drank half of the liquid, as Remus had advised. You winced, Sirius wasn’t being overly dramatic, it truly tasted awful, bitter and it lingered, almost like earwax.

“Oh, is that Moony’s get-better-soon potion?” James asked casually, taking it from your hands.

You nodded “He gave it to me, to help with the soreness.”

James nodded and gave it back “Be careful where you put it, one time it broke over his clothes and he had to throw them away, no spell would remove the foul smell from it.” You nodded, placing it where you thought it’d be better off “What are you going to do about your broom?”

“I actually sent a letter home last night, I asked them to send me my old Viper, and I sent the Dark Nimbus bits to the factory, asking them if there was a way to fix it.”

“That was actually a great solution, I was gonna offer you my Phoenix Blaze but your Viper probably has more stability, and you’ll need it, especially since you’re our star keeper.”

You laughed “We haven’t even played an actual match and yet you call me that.”

“I know talent when I see it.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow and the two of you laughed. James was just so likeable, even if he was a little arrogant, he was noble and kind, and you were so happy you’d made him your friend. The two of you reached the courtyard soon after and then you were in the air. James didn’t want to push you too much so instead of having you do standard exercises he decided to let you pretty much do whatever you wanted.

And you just flew, doing some twirls and circles in the air, but nothing too crazy. You loved the feeling of the air hitting your face, and the wind blowing all around you. Today was particularly windy, so you decided to fly even higher than you had before and allowed yourself to bask on the sun above the clouds. Once James realised how far up you were, he quickly caught up with you. “You alright?” He asked.

You opened your eyes and turned to him, nodding “Just enjoying the day.” You told him “It’s a beautiful day…”

You looked so at peace, almost too at peace. And then he remembered the effect the potion had once had on Remus, the time he took it on an empty stomach, it dumbed him out until he fell asleep in the middle of his favourite class, you didn’t look far from that, so he urged you to come down “I think we should probably go back down,” he said.

You shook your head “But it’s so nice here, James.”

“We’re definitely coming back down,” he said then, and flew closer to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you behind him towards the floor. Once close to the courtyard he let you land by yourself, and you checked your wrist watch.

“It’s still early.”

“Yeah, we need to get you some food,” he told you, and the two of you walked towards the Great Hall. Only a couple of people were there so early. You sat down on the spot closest to the door and placed both of your elbows on the table, leaning your chin against your hands, and stared absentmindedly to the food. James grabbed some oatmeal and served it on a plate, dropping strawberries and other blueberries on them. Then he placed the plate in front of you. “Eat up,” he said.

You looked at the food he’d placed and nodded, grabbing a spoonful and slowly bringing it all the way to your mouth “Thanks James,” you mumbled once you swallowed “you even added the fruit I like.”

James nodded, as he served himself some eggs “Remus was telling me the other day that you almost always exclusively grab strawberries and blueberries.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. “Remus is very observant, and strong.”

James frowned “He’s what?”

“Like really strong, under all those layers he wears, I didn’t know, but today I found out…” you said casually, only later realizing what you’d said “What the fuck did I just say?”

James just laughed and decided to tease you for it “Merlin (Y/N)! Don’t thirst over my friends when I’m around.”

“I… I wasn’t– I didn’t… What the flipping hell did he make me drink?” You asked, placing your hands over your dizzy head and leaning in on the table.

“It’s because you haven’t eaten.” He told you “You’d be surprised what he said that one time,” James said, recalling how a couple of years ago Remus had gone on and on about the colour of Sirius’ eyes.

You looked at him, took a deep breath and started to gobble up your food, which just caused your friend to laugh even further as he casually plopped some bacon into his mouth.

Remus and Peter arrived a couple of minutes later, and you buried your head in your second serving of oatmeal when you spotted the taller boy. Remus sat in front of you and Peter by his side.

“You didn’t warn her to eat it before taking it,” James told Remus reproachfully.

“Fuck,” he whispered in response.

“You’re fucking lucky she was flying with me and not by herself.” He said again, James was surprisingly stern about it, and it wasn’t because you were his star keeper or his cyrano, but he’d genuinely grown fond of you, and he already considered you a friend, as much as he considered Mary or Marlene friends, maybe more, since you were a lot closer, and if James Potter was something, it was fiercely protective of his friends.

Remus swallowed, James was right, he’d put you in danger. And all because he was so nervous about being shirtless and the fact that you’d seen all his scars “I’m sorry,” he said and placed a hand over your arm “You feeling alright?”

You looked at him for a second, gaze lingering on his hands before nodding and going back to your meal as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. James couldn’t help the diverted smile that slowly appeared on his face.

Remus noticed, of course he noticed, “Oh… she started talking…” He acknowledged, finally taking his hand from your arm.

James just laughed, remembering the confidence that you’d used to call his friend strong and took another bite of his bacon “at least she didn’t talk about Sirius.”

Remus looked at him mortified, but you didn’t notice, you were too busy looking at Lily and Beth who had just walked in “They have such stunning hair,” you said casually as you saw the different shades of red the girls had, but straightened up after, and sighing with a little frown, gobbling your food again “How much longer?” You complained.

“I mean you’re not wrong,” James agreed, looking at Lily with heart-eyes “Remus was like that for a couple of hours…”

“Hours?!”

“I can take her to the common room,” Peter offered “We’ll tell Flitwick she’s still feeling bad about the fall, like Sirius, and he absolutely loves her anyway, pretty sure it won’t affect her grades.”

“But class!” You said looking up from your food.

“Sirius can take care of her,” Remus added, “it was his idea to give her the draught anyway.”

“Sirius? No way! The things I’d say to Sirius in this state!” You complained, already thinking of how his hair was so bouncy and soft when it brushed over your face. “He’d have material to tease me for the rest of my life, and my afterlife.”

James snorted at your words, coughing it out and cleaning his face with a handkerchief he had on his robe’s pockets. Perhaps it would actually be good to take you to the common room with Sirius, maybe you’d finally be able to admit your feelings for each other, he thought. Little did he know you’d done it the previous day “It’s a good idea.”

You shook your head distressed, but he was already helping you stand up. Peter had already run to the other side of the table.

“Can you deal with her?” Remus asked him, “I can take her if not.”

You looked at Remus and remembered all the things you could’ve said and stood straighter “I can deal with myself,” you said and motioned for Peter to come beside you.

Minutes later, you were walking through the halls alongside Peter “What did you say before we arrived?” He asked you casually.

You sighed “Something along the lines of Remus is fucking ripped under all those sweaters.”

He laughed at your answer, you didn’t even mention Remus’ scars, which made him smile, since he knew how self-conscious his friend was about them.

“Do we have to go to the common room?” You asked him “Or maybe you can leave me there but not tell Sirius about it.”

Peter shook his head as an answer “What bothers you so much about being left with Sirius? Thought you guys were friendlier after he saved you.”

“I’ve got nothing against Sirius. On the contrary, I actually really like him. That’s the problem, who knows what I might say when he’s in front of my face.”

Peter laughed again “I’m sure he won’t put it against you, after all, you already talked about Remus’ abs and Lily’s hair, It’s just the medicine.”

“Peter, you know Sirius.”

He sighed at that and then shrugged “We’ll obliviate him if he gets too annoying.”

You looked at Peter with shock and laughed when you saw the little smile playing on his face. He was joking, who knew he had such a dark humour hidden in all his soft boy persona? To be fair, Peter had always been extremely nice to you and everyone you knew, he also had many friends from all around the school, perhaps more than James and Sirius, since they really liked hanging out with one another. “You’re still planning a prank?” You asked.

“We’ve got something on the back burner,” he told you “but we’re not gonna do it yet, since James got detention after the race.”

You nodded at that, by then you were just outside of the common room, he whispered the password to the portrait and the two of you walked inside. You let yourself fall on the couch as he went to get Sirius.You buried your head under a pillow, maybe if you were asleep, you wouldn’t be able to run your mouth and say embarrassing things about Sirius’ soft lips or his strong jawline.

A couple of minutes later they both came walking down the stairs, Sirius was the first one to speak “Peter says no one told you to eat before drinking the draught.” He said as he approached you. You made a muffled sound from underneath the pillow in response.

“Well then, take care of her, yeah?” Peter said before waving goodbye to his friend, “See you later (Y/N)!”

“Bye Peter, thanks for bringing me here!” You said, voice still muffled by the pillow you refused to remove from your face. If you did not see Sirius maybe you wouldn’t remember how pretty he was.

As Peter left, Sirius walked closer to you, raising an eyebrow when he spotted you still hiding under the pillow still “The light bothering you love?” He asked politely, “We could go up to my room, it’s darker when we close the blinds.”

“Mm-mm,” you denied, refusing to even open your mouth in case you let something slip.

Sirius, being oblivious to why you were being so hell bent in hiding your pretty face under a pillow, sat down on the floor to level his head to yours as much as possible, a soft groan left his lips as he hit the floor. You winced when you figured how close he was. He leaned his arm on the couch, next to where yours was and started to absentmindedly play with the hem of your sweater, “Are you upset about something? Did something bad happen?” He asked gently.

You finally removed the pillow from your face with a frown and shook your head fervently.

He raised his eyebrows at your reaction. You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again shortly after, frowning at your lack of conviction. That made him narrow his gaze, and a teasing smile drew from his face, “Oh you were saying stuff, weren’t you?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, he was quick to catch on.

“Did you talk about my pretty eyes like Moony did?” You shook your head in response, “Oh, then… Did you talk about someone else instead? Should I be jealous about it?” You gave him a reproachful look and he laughed, such a melodious laugh, you thought, almost slapping yourself when you were about to open your big mouth and go running all your thoughts to Sirius.

“So what? You won’t open your mouth in case you say something silly?” You nodded. He laughed again, had his laugh always been so pretty? “But I’ll get bored if you say nothing!” He pouted “How was your morning flight? Made you feel better?” You nodded with a smile, finally sitting back on the couch, grabbing his arm and pulling him up to sit beside you, he complied, and the two of you sat on the couch together, shoulders brushing against the other. Sirius let his head fall, and slid down a little “You’re really not gonna talk?” He asked, turning his head towards you.

You took a deep breath “Whatever I say may be used against me, so no.” you replied.

“What if I promise I won’t use it against you? Even if you start talking about something silly like how pretty you think Moony’s left hand is.”

You laughed at that, Sirius wasn’t wrong there either, Moony’s hands were very strong and dextrous, you recalled a particular day, in potions, when he’d gotten bored as you carefully measured some of the ingredients on the only balance that the table had, and he’d started twirling his wand around with remarkable ease.

“Oh no, you’re thinking about Moony’s hands now, aren’t you?”He asked when he saw your thoughtful expression.

“I wasn’t!” You said, a little too fast.

Sirius shook his head, diverted and placed his left hand over yours, “Think of mine instead,” he said casually, as if he didn’t realise he was making your heart beat faster.

Now you smiled “Jealous, are we?” You asked as you started to play with his hand, brushing your fingers over the soft skin of his palm. Sirius’ hands felt much softer than you imagined Remus’ would. He had long, slender fingers, and he didn’t even have the callouses that you get for quidditch, he probably used expensive potions when he lived back at the Blacks. His rings were cold in comparison to his warm skin, it was nice, awfully nice.

“Of Moony?! He isn’t your type.” He responded confidently.

“How would you even know my type?”

Sirius smiled at the question as If he was just waiting for you to ask it, he leaned in, so close his beautiful hair brushed against your shoulders, and then he whispered “That’s easy love, it’s because I AM your type.” Then, he placed a soft kiss on the side of your cheek.

You pushed him back playfully and smiled when you saw his shit-eating grin “You keep believing that, all right Puppy?” You said as you pinched one of his cheeks, not that there was much to pinch, the boy had the facial structure of a woodland elf.

“Hm…” he said as he pushed your hand off his face and intertwined his fingers on yours “That makes it two.”

You laughed “You’ll keep count?”

“Obviously, gotta make sure my girl pays her debts.”

My girl, you thought, you were indeed Sirius’ girl now.

“We’ve got time now, perhaps we can reset the debt?” You asked with a suggestive smile, but Sirius simply shook his head.

“You’re high on painkillers.”

You pouted, “I’d want to kiss you even if I wasn’t?” you said reproachfully.

Sirius, saw that as an opening, and leaned closer to you “Would you? Tell me about it.”

“I wanted to kiss you when we didn’t see each other for years, and then when I was back and saw you, all grown up, I wanted to kiss you again, and then yesterday when we actually kissed, I wished we could’ve continued on forever.” Sirius smiled brightly, at least it wasn’t only he who felt that way. But when you saw his reaction you clasped your hand over your mouth “What the fuck did I just say?!”

Sirius shrugged “The truth.”

You shook your head “No-no! That was the potion,” you argued.

Sirius shook his head with a smile “I don’t think so.”

“Sirius!”

“You’re madly in love with me, just accept it,” he said cockily.

You grabbed the pillow from earlier and groaned into it in frustration as you leaned over your lap. All you had to do was keep your big mouth shut, but you didn’t, and now Sirius would be able to tease you for the rest of your life.

Sirius smiled and placed a hand over your shoulder, leaning in a little before he spoke “If it makes you feel better, I feel the exact same way.”

You stood straight in an instant, disbelief all over your face as you searched for Sirius’ eyes, trying to find an ounce of doubt, of a joke, but… there wasn’t any “But the potion didn’t–“

“No, I had an apple before Moony threw it down my throat,” he said, and shrugged “I just wanted you to know, you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

You smiled and leaned in towards him, hiding your blush over his shoulder, so many emotions piled up inside you didn’t even know what to do with them. All you knew was that you liked Sirius so much it bothered you. Why was he so damn adorable? How could he be so pretty and manly at the same time? Fucking Sirius Black, he had you, and he had you bad.

As you leaned into Sirius, savouring his scent, which you could only describe as a mix of leather, firewood and musk, you suddenly started feeling very sleepy. A yawn escaped from your lips, and Sirius looked at you knowingly “Are we already at the point in which you fall asleep? But we were having such a pleasant conversation.”

“Shut up Puppy!” you said softly.

Sirius smiled, leaning back so you could both get more comfortable “That’s three.”

Mary, who had gotten out of charms earlier after Tom accidentally burned the sleeve of her robe, was the first person to enter the common room, finding you and Sirius cuddling into each other, both asleep. She smiled, and after casting a silencing charm around the two, so you wouldn’t be awoken, ran upstairs to grab Marlene’s Polaroid. Once she was back down she took a couple of pictures of the two, and a selfie, with her in the middle. After she stood back, snickering at the pictures as she went back upstairs to finally change her burned robes. Priorities, she thought as she left the camera over Marlene’s bed and went to change. She then wrote a note, kindly asking the laundry elves to repair her robe for her, and placed it over her now neatly bent robe.

She walked downstairs a little later, and after considering whether to wake you or not for a minute, she decided against it. After all, you both looked quite comfortable, and the nasty fall the two of you had the previous day wasn’t something you could just shrug off easily. Sometimes sleep really was the best medicine.

A few hours later, when it was finally meal time, and you and Sirius had still not shown up in any class, Remus decided he’d go get you some food at the kitchens. The elves were as kind as ever with him, and once he had enough food for the three wrapped up, he walked up towards the common room. On the way there he bumped into Nina, who smiled at him brightly and waved before approaching him “You’re not going to the Great Hall?” She asked.

Remus shook his head in response “I’m taking some food up for Sirius and (Y/N), they were feeling a little tattered after the fall.”

Nina’s expression turned into one of concern “Is she all right?”

Remus nodded, “She took some painkillers in the morning, she should be feeling a lot better by now. She may even make it to her next class,” he said, “Although, she may not actually want to, since we have Herbology…”

Nina laughed, after spending so much time with you on the rest of the study club, she was more than aware of your quarrel with Herbology, not because you didn’t like plants, but in your own words, because they didn’t like you. “Here, give her this for me, will you?” She asked, pulling a chocolate frog from her pocket and handing it over to Remus. “I told her about them a couple of weeks ago, and she said they seemed interesting, I was going to give it to her after the race.”

Remus raised one of his eyebrows, he wasn’t sure when you and Nina had gotten so chummy with each other “Sure thing,” he replied and took the Chocolate Frog from her hand and placed it in his robe pocket.

Nina waved goodbye to him but stopped him by grabbing his arm just before he managed to get too far. “I was forgetting, tell her we will have a book club reunion in the Ravenclaw tower by the end of the month. We’re talking about the romance novel I lent to her recently.”

“Which romance novel?” Remus asked.

Nina raised her eyebrows as she heard the question, and then seemed to think about it for a second before responding “It’s not apt for boy’s eyes,” she said with a little smile before waving goodbye to Remus rapidly “Anyway, thanks Remus, see you around.”

Remus looked at Nina leave with a puzzled expression, he shrugged and continued on his way to meet you and Sirius. Once he was in front of the portrait, he whispered the password and she let him inside. When he walked in he spotted both you and Sirius, still asleep, basically cuddling each other. He stared at the two for a minute, he found the scene endearing, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy float over his heart. He wasn’t sure if he wanted what the two of you had, if he wanted one of you, or if he’d rather be part of it, but he decided to push those thoughts to the back of his head, after all, it was probably Moony the one that was causing all those weird mood swings.

“Morning sleepy heads,” he said as he got close enough for the two of you to hear him. Sirius was the first one to wake up, lazily opening one of his eyes and smiling when he saw his friend.

“Hey Moony, lovely to see your ugly face first thing,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Haha,” Remus said as he sat on the armchair on the left side. “Good thing I don’t measure my worth on your opinion Pads.”

“What are you talking about? Moony’s got a pretty face,” you mumbled still half asleep.

Sirius’s eyes widened at your words and Remus laughed in return, “Maybe you just need to improve your taste,” Remus said as he leaned forward and placed the food on the table in front of you, “Brought you two some food.”

That finally woke you up, your stomach already rumbling at the lack of sustenance. You stood up, feeling a lot better than earlier, head clearer, you no longer felt the urge to tell Sirius how pretty he was, which was fantastic. When you saw the food you smiled “Gosh, thank you Rem, you’re such a sweetheart!”

“See? That’s how you should greet your friends,” Remus said motioning towards you “You should ask her to teach you some manners.”

Sirius sighed, and then smiled “Thank you, oh beautiful lord Moony for bringing food over to us!”

Both you and Remus laughed at his silliness. You slid off the sofa and onto the rug and pulled out some of the food Remus had brought, he’d somehow gotten the elves to make him roast beef sandwiches. “Roast beef? That’s brilliant!” You said as you gave your first bite, moaning as the flavour sipped in through your tastebuds.

Remus also slid from the armchair and grabbed for one of the sandwiches. Sirius was the last one to follow suit. Once he gave a bite, he leaned back, “Didn’t even realise how hungry I was,” he said. “Thanks Moony.”

Remus hummed in response and then remembered the errand Nina had asked for him, so he pulled out the chocolate frog and handed it over to you.

“What? No chocolate frog for me?” Sirius complained playfully.

“No because you’re a twat,” Remus said calmly, Sirius looked at him taken aback. “Besides the chocolate frog’s not from me, it’s from Nina.”

“Who’s Nina?” Sirius asked as he took another bite from his sandwich.

“Member of (Y/N)’s fan club.”

“Nina isn’t a member of my fan club!” You said after you swallowed the bite you were chewing “I mean… I don’t have a fan club!”

Sirius was the one to laugh now “Yeah sure, tell that to all the people wearing pins with your head on it and holding banners yesterday.”

Remus nodded “At some point, I even considered the fact that you somehow became more popular than James.”

You shook your head “You boys, it’s all in your head. I’m not popular, just the shiny new thing everyone’s talking about because I transferred recently.”

Sirius took a bite from some dried jerky before pointing at you with it “It’s like you don’t want to admit you’re popular.”

“‘Cause I’m not.”

“But you tick all the boxes,” Sirius retorted “Attentive, nice, talented at something most people are passionate about at school.”

“Not to mention you’re helping younger students at the study club. And you’re pretty,” Remus said casually. Sirius nodded, in agreement.

“Well… I–“ you started.

“Just accept it, darling,” Sirius said, placing an arm over your shoulder. “We’ll be the school’s celebrity couple once word gets out.”

“Word?” Remus asked with a frown.

“We’re dating.” Sirius stated “Right love?”

“I mean… we snogged yesterday, I didn’t know you were so eager to make it official.”

Remus laughed at that, Merlin, was it fun to see Sirius put in his place by you. “Congratulations?”

“Well thank you Moony!” Sirius said with a smile. The three of you continued to hang out until you finished your meal. When you were done you decided you were not going to skip more classes and walked alongside the two boys to the Herbology greenhouses.

On your way, you stopped to take a look at the forest, “The night I came with Lily, to harvest the stuff for potions, I swear I heard howls coming from the forbidden forest.” Sirius and Remus gave a look at each other as if only now realising what Moony was so hell-bent on achieving that night. You didn’t notice, since you were leaning on one of the nearby arches, your back facing them. You breathed in the fresh air “Sometimes I miss being able to walk through the forest, I wish it wasn’t forbidden.”

Sirius walked in closer to you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back on the way, “It’s forbidden for a reason, monsters roam there.” He said.

You laughed “As if you ever cared about dangerous.”

“Pads is right,” Remus continued “The forest… It’s not something you should mess with.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve NEVER EVER gone into the forest?” You asked in disbelief.

“We have,” Remus acknowledged, “That’s why we know it’s no place for you.”

“Because I’m a girl?!” You asked, clenching your jaw as you did.

“Because you’re a human.” Sirius punctuated.

You frowned at that, you were so used to being looked down on by boys that you assumed Sirius and Remus were doing the same thing. But they were not, in fact, they had never even tried to. They both thought you were as capable as any man, heck, maybe even more capable than most men. They would never look down on you like some boys back in your old school, the same boys that hadn’t let you in the quidditch team for years because you were a girl, it had taken a teacher’s intervention for you to finally be allowed to join in. James, on the other hand, hadn’t even thought twice before asking you to the tryouts. Hogwarts was different. Your friends were different.

You sighed “If only I was something else,” you said, a knowing smile growing on your face as you did. Neither of the boys quite understood what you meant, but that was fine. They did not need to know every single detail about you, at least not yet. Especially Sirius, he did not need more material to tease you.

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