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holdupjack · 6 months

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You're An Idiot…My Idiot

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Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Reader is a Ravenclaw

WARNING: Injury and awkward fluff

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Third Person P.O.V:

7th Year

Hermione sat in the bleachers with Luna as they watched the final Quidditch game of the season before the Championships. People cheered and booed all around them as they watched the Gryffindor VS Ravenclaw game.

Ron and Harry sped over the stands they kept their heads in the game, Harry soon took off towards another area as Ron stayed near the goal.

A flash of blue almost smacked Hermione in the face as it went by, but the familiar scent of a certain Ravenclaw made her eyes roll.

Y/n Y/l/n.

What was there to say about such a girl?

They weren't the best of friends, but they weren't enemies either. It's more like an artful dance of flirting and annoyance that they both have mastered around each other.

Hermione despised her arrogant and cocky attitude, with a fiery passion. The way she walked around like her shit didn't stink, always sent the Gryffindor up a wall.

Yet Y/n seemed to make it her life's mission is spin around the drain of Hermione's inner circle, almost like she wanted to be sucked into her presence even more.

The brunette wouldn't let that happen, just because Y/n was attractive, didn't mean Hermione had to give her a seat in her lifestyle.

"Y/n is very much showboating this game," Luna says as she watches her team zigzag around the field.

Hermione watched as the y/h/c girl seemed to be making a show as she chased after the golden snitch. She dodged wooden beams and pillars as she followed it closely, Harry was on her tail but seemed to be lagging behind.

"When doesn't she showboat?" Hermione grumbled as the blonde beside her gave a dreamy laugh.

"I've never understood your dislike for Y/n, I understand she can be a bit much, but she seems to genuinely enjoy your company," Luna says as people cheer around them because of a Gryffindor Chaser scoring a goal.

"She is so sleazy! Why would I entertain that type of person with my time?" Hermione says, to which Luna just shrugged. Her eyes looked at the brunettes for a moment but then flicked back to the game.

The tense grit in her jaw, how straight her back was, and the fiddling of her fingers gave Hermione away quite easily.

Luna had begun to spot Hermione at every Ravenclaw game since the beginning of the fifth year. It didn't matter if Gryffindor was playing or not, she never missed a game.

There had been a rumor going around that Y/n and Hermione were seen talking in an empty hallway, and it looked more like flirting than actual conversation.

Those rumors were quickly thwarted when everyone saw them back in their bickering behavior in the coming days.

"You fancy her" she states.

Hermione's eyes widened at the statement. That was outlandish! She had never felt any romantic feelings for Y/n!

Well...

Ugh, she couldn't believe she had been figured out by one of her friends, and that she had actually fallen for the Ravenclaw's charms!

It was humiliating, honestly.

Y/n had caught her alone in an empty hallway sometime at the early start of the fifth year. It had been normal, for the most part. Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed at every pickup line she tried, but then she said something that caught her off guard.

"I need your help"

Y/n had never been one to ask for help, EVER.

So, to hear it come from her mouth was almost like hearing the devil say 'please'. It even made her slack-jawed in awe from hearing it as they stood in that empty hallway.

The Ravenclaw soon pulled out her grades from last year and showed Hermione that she had completely failed Alchemy the entire year.

She was being forced to retake it.

Hermione had shifted from foot to foot in the debate about whether she should help her greatest annoyance.

"Please Hermione, you're the smartest girl I know...and I truly need your help"

Something changed in the Gryffindor's heart, maybe because of the overzealous ego that Y/n seemed to be missing at this moment, or how she started to notice how beautiful her eyes were in the sunlight.

"Alright, alright. Meet me in the dungeons after dark, I'll help you."

Hermione then smiled at her. Another historic moment for the two, Y/n almost wanted to take a picture. If only she had a camera on her...

That was years ago now, and both had been meeting up in the old Potions classroom every night to study or just talk.

Y/n acted completely different when they were alone, so soft and caring. Her smile wasn't cocky, and her laugh was light and airy.

So, you could imagine when Hermione started to be pulled in by her charms.

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione replied with a face as scarlet as a letter, Luna just chuckled and looked back onto the field.

Harry and Y/n flew side by side as they chased after the snitch, both had grins on their faces as they tried to outmaneuver one another.

They were good friends, both having practiced together many times during their time at Hogwarts. They were the best of the best when it came to school level, and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Y/n went on to be a professional.

Y/n flew to the other side of Harry as they slipped past the high-rise stands. Hermione was sure that one of them was going to kick someone in the head.

People began to murmur as they saw the Beaters looking around frantically. They seemed to have lost sight of the Bludger. Never a good sign.

"Bouncing Bludger!" People called out as a warning.

Harry suddenly ducked down as he heard a loud zipping noise headed his way. He obviously had flashbacks to the second year when he broke his arm because of one.

Sadly, Y/n didn't take in the noise before it was too late. A collective gasp took over the crowd when the ball smacked into Y/n's side at high speed, knocking her off her broom and slamming her into the walkway between the bleachers and railing.

She skidded for a few moments her body rolling and slamming onto the ground as friends and teammates ran/flew to her aid immediately. Harry watched in anguish as he saw his friend lay on the floor of the bleachers, unmoving.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispers as she pushes her way down to the main floor with Luna on her heels. People murmured around them as Madam Hooch ran to Y/n's side and checked her over.

"We need to get her to Hospital Wing, any able-body boys, I need you to carry her!" she yells as Ron lands beside them and drops his broom.

Hermione shoved her way through the crowd, whispering quiet apologies as she basically elbowed everyone in front of her. Luna held the back of her shirt as she followed in her wake.

When they finally broke through the barrier of people, Ron slowly picked her up into his arms. Y/n looked so fragile as her arm dangled.

Hermione stood there, staring as Ron walked away with Madam Hooch in quick steps. People's whispers seemed to get louder when she began to follow close behind them.

Harry flew down near the railing and called out to his female best friend as he followed beside her. Yet, she completely ignored him and everyone else as she stared at Y/n's head, which was lobed over the edge of Ron's forearm.

Luna stayed back and watched Hermione's actions with a knowing look. The way her body was loose and nervous, yet she just gazed at the unconscious Ravenclaw in her friend's arms like she was witnessing a car accident.

Hermione didn't know how to feel, or think.

Her body went into autopilot.

——————

She sat on the bench outside the hospital wing as friends, teammates, and some teachers went and checked on her. Y/n had woken up once, but Madam Promfrey quickly put her back to sleep due to the broken ribs and her groans of pain,

It was now almost one in the morning, everyone had gone to bed for the night. The only people in that part of the castle were the biggest rivals in the school.

Hermione's foot shook as she gathered the courage to get off this bench and finally walk in.

She was nervous to see Y/n in a state that wasn't what she was used to. To see her broken and bruised...was going to be foreign.

Quietly she stood up and walked towards the big doors, she slowly opened them, and they squeaked loudly.

Hermione cursed to herself as she decided to leave it open. Her eyes scanned the moonlit room to find only one occupant of the beds.

Y/n laid on her back as her chest rose and fell slowly. Her white school shirt showed that her sides were bandaged and tightly wrapped around her skin.

The Gryffindor carefully stepped closer as she watched for any sudden movements or to hear any discomfort leave Y/n's lips.

When she finally sat down on the chair beside the hospital bed and looked upon the Ravenclaw's face. She was peaceful, oblivious to the amount of pain her body was in.

Hermione didn't know what to do, or why she was even still up this late at night for someone she only knew in the dark.

Maybe that's why? Nighttime was the only place where they saw each other's true colors. Spoke without any malice or anger.

Her hand slowly laid itself beside Y/n's, her finger caressing the girl's knuckles. Silent affection, something only she would know about when day broke again.

"You've done it Y/l/n. You've got me under your spell...I hope you're proud" Hermione whispers as she stares her their hands, feeling how cold Y/n's hand is compared to hers.

"You're freezing" she whispers as she stands up and walks over to a cabinet full of blankets and other equipment.

"I don't know why Madam Promfrey insists on keeping the wing so cold!" Hermione grumbled as she grabbed a blanket and shut the cabinet closed with a small 'huff'.

When she walked back over, she unraveled the folded polyester and draped it across the injured girl. Her hands glided carefully around Y/n's sides to make sure the heat of her body helped her broken ribs heal a little faster.

Hermione leaned over her unconscious form as she carefully tucked the blanket around her, as she moved up towards her shoulders, their faces were almost nose to nose.

She leaned away slightly but stared for another moment as she noticed the bruises along her jaw and cheek.

"That fall did a number on you too" Hermione whispered as she reached up and took a hold of Y/n's chin, gently moving her head so she could get a better look at the purple marks.

She sighed softly and sat back in the chair, her legs crossing as she debated on what to do next. A big part of her wanted to stay, but another didn't want to put any more suspicion on their 'unlabeled relationship'.

Was it friendly or turning into more?

It was obvious that Hermione had grown quite fond of the Y/n under the cover of the dark, but was that truly who she was?

Or was the arrogant and cocky asshole during the day her true personality?

This question made Hermione want to rip her hair out. It was the only part that she couldn't get a clear answer on.

"You are so infuriating" Hermione mumbled quietly as she looked away and out threw the window. She could see owls flying out of the Owlry, their silhouettes dancing across the moon.

She heard a big intake of breath before a pained grunt came from Y/n. Hermione's eyes quickly fell back on her as she brought the chair closer to the bed.

"I know" she whispers as her hand reaches up and pushes away some hair that was stuck to Y/n's forehead.

It was quiet as Hermione calmed down Y/n by running her fingers through her hair. Watching as the Ravenclaw seemed to be craving her touch.

"You're such an idiot sometimes. Why don't you listen to your teammates?" She asks in an annoyed tone as she thinks back on the incident from many hours ago. Y/n silently groaned in pain as she nudged her head against Hermione's palm.

"You can't guilt me out of giving you a lecture once you wake up" she hums as her hand caressed Y/n's forehead, she could feel the heat radiating from it.

It's silent as Hermione does more than any rival should do, but she feels guilty that the Ravenclaw didn't have anyone who wanted to stay and watch over her during this.

"You need to find a girlfriend. I can't be the one to take care of you during times like this" she hummed quietly as she moved her hand away. Y/n groans again, whether, from the pain or the now sudden lack of contact, Hermione isn't sure.

"Then again...I'd more than likely come sit by you if this happens again" she sighed as she started to use unconscious Y/n as a therapist. It made her chuckle slightly about it.

"This is ridiculous! Why are you so charming to me now?" Hermione huffs in annoyance as she crosses her arms. A small hue of scarlet red flooded onto her face.

"Fine. You're cute, I'll give you that." She admits with an annoyed sigh as she looks everywhere but Y/n.

"How can I fancy you? I've despised your very presence since we've met!" The Gryffindor mumbles as her eyes follow the detail of the stone walls.

She was silent for a while, listening to the soft breathing of the Ravenclaw beside her as her mind stumbled over itself with different thoughts.

"I'll admit it. Alright?" She sighs with another annoyed tone. Hermione hated admitting she had been wrong, especially about how she truly felt about things.

"I've fallen for the sound of your voice, and the kindness you show me when it's just the two of us. Or how you seem to look at me like...I can't explain it, it's like-" she's cut off.

"Like you're the only person in the room that matters"

Hermione turned in shock to hear a dry and raspy voice coming from the bed beside her. Y/n eyes were open, but tired still. She had a weak smile, yet it seemed very genuine.

They stared at one another, Hermione's breathing was audible but soft. Her hands gripped her jeans, trying to convince herself that she wasn't hallucinating. Y/n's hand slipped out from under the blanket and waited patiently to be taken.

Hermione sat nervously as she hesitated, her eyes flickering between Y/n's hand and eyes. The Ravenclaw waited patiently, continuing to look at her with a soft smile.

"How can I trust you?" Hermione asked as she looked back at her, their gaze tense and unbreaking.

"I've loved you since our first Potions class together" Y/n whispered, surprising the Gryffindor once again. All the way back to first-year?

"Then why..." Hermione drifts off as she thinks of every time they've gotten into an argument or pushed each other's buttons on purpose.

"It's the only way you'd talk to me! Thank Merlin I failed Alchemy, or else this might of never happened" Y/n chuckles softly as Hermione slips her hand into hers. It was warm now.

Y/n's thumb subconsciously ran over Hermione's knuckles as they continued to stare at one another.

"Go out with me Granger, tomorrow," Y/n asked with a grin, which Hermione chuckled at.

"You're still on bed rest for your broken ribs" she states, to which the Ravenclaw groans about.

"I'll sneak out, meet me in Irondale" Y/n says and Hermione rolls her eyes with a playful smile as she places her other hand between the space below her chest and above her stomach.

"I'll bring you some Ice Cream tomorrow as compensation, please stay in bed," Hermione asks nicely and Y/n grumbles like an upset first-year.

"Alright, but as soon as I'm released then?" Y/n asks with a smile as she squeezes the Gryffindor's hand.

"Maybe" Hermione teased as they began to quietly laugh together, their chuckles echoing around them in the empty Hospital Wing.

Y/n hissed and touched her sides.

"Don't make me laugh" she whispers with a pained smile, to which Hermione quickly apologized and moved her chair closer. Looking at the potions on the nightstand beside the bed.

"When did you take these?" she asks as her hand leaves Y/ns and starts to pick up bottles, reading the labels carefully.

"You tell me," Y/n says with a grin as she tries to lay at her side, but Hermione quickly scolds her.

"Don't you dare! You have broken ribs!" she says with a sigh as she watches Y/n roll her eyes and lay back down.

"Here, this is for pain relief. It says take every four hours, and you've been knocked out long past that" Hermione hums as she pours the liquid into a small cup, Y/n makes a face as the smell of it hits her nose.

"Please don't make me pour it down your throat" Hermione states as she holds the cup for her. They looked at each other with playful glares.

"It smells like horse piss 'Mione" Y/n says as she slowly sat u. Her ribs felt as though they were on fire, causing her to curse and hold back some tears.

Hermione took her hand and held it against her back to alleviate some of the pain. It seemed to help slightly.

"I know, but it's good for you" she replied as she placed the cup in the Ravenclaw's hands.

"Maybe so, but I need a little convincing" Y/n says through pained breaths as she smiles. Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"How so?" She asks as Y/n places her hand on the side of her neck and pulls the brown-haired girl towards her.

Hermione smiled when she stood out of her chair and kissed the Ravenclaw. Their lips moved simultaneously, their hands grasping each other's faces with passion.

Each kiss felt more irresistible than the last, to the point that Y/n desperately whispered 'no' when Hermione began to pull away.

"Drink, then we'll see about another one " she whispered back as she sat back in the chair, her face pink and her lips smudged with Y/n's peppermint chapstick.

Y/n was quick to down the potion like a shot of Fire Whiskey. To which she soon regretted when her face contorted and she started to cough from the taste.

As she gagged and hacked from the horrendous flavor, she grasped her sides in pain.

"Sweet Merlin, knock me out" she said through wheezes as Hermione rubbed her back comfortingly.

Eventually Y/n was able to calm herself and lay back down on the bed. Hermione covered her back with the blanket and sighed softly.

"You're an idiot" she said with a sigh as Y/n grasped her hand and smiled.

"Your idiot"

"I haven't claimed you"

"Yet! I'm putting it into the universe now" Y/n hums as she shuts her tired eyes and lets the potion start to relax her body.

"Oh god," Hermione whispers as she stands up and dusts off her jeans. Owls booted as they passed by the window.

"Get some sleep-"

Y/n quickly grabbed her wrist and gave a soft, but pleading look. This shocked the Gryffindor. Y/n was never this openly touchy.

"Don't go"

Hermione looked at her as a small smile crept into her lips, she looked away to hide her charmed facial expression.

"If you wish" she says as she sits back in the chair and takes Y/n's hand into hers. Their palms fit perfectly against one another.

Y/n relaxed as she began to fall asleep again, her eyes fluttering shut to the comfort of Hermione's watchful gaze.

The room felt safe.

——————

Hermione soon woke up to the sun shining in her eyes, she groaned as she sat up and cursed the chair for putting a knot in her back

When her eyes focused, she found Y/n reading the Daily Prophet with an annoyed look on her face. Hermione yawned and caught her attention.

"Look at this! I look like roadkill!" Y/n huffed as she showed the front page of the article, it was a moving picture of Y/n passed out on the bleacher floor.

"Quidditch Player Bludgeoned!" Hermione read out the headline and snickered slightly as Y/n just huffed in anger again.

"That's a stupid play on words" she grumbled as Madam Promfrey walked back with a snicker of her own.

"I liked it" she said with a smile as she took care of a sick third-year a few beds away.

"Hey!" Y/n groaned as Hermione placed the paper down and chuckled, the air between them was light and fun.

Y/n looked back at her and sighed, the sun shining on her back as it cast her shadow on the bed.

"So...do you want to talk about last night?" Y/n asks and Hermione feels her cheeks heat up at the remembrance of it.

"Yes, we should" she replied as she scooted closer, hoping to keep the conversation as private as possible.

Y/n gently gazed upon her, her eyes seemed to glow as the backlight of the sunshine shimmered around her.

They both were nervous to hear what the other would say, which led them to just look at one another to start the conversation.

"Would you still like to go out to Irondale with me? After I get released, of course." Y/n whispers as her eyes fall to the palms of her hands. A nervous silence grew between them as Madam Promfrey pretended she wasn't listening in.

"I would like that, a lot" Hermione whispers as a shared smile breaks out on their faces. The room felt warmer as their cheeks turned a cotton candy color (or candy floss if you really want to get British).

——————

They spoke quietly together as the day turned to night once again, Y/n eventually convincing Hermione to go back to her dorm and get a good night's rest.

But as soon as Hermione's head hit that pillow, she began to toss and turn. To the point that Ginny threw a pillow at her to make her stop moving.

"I can't help it!" Hermione whispered as she sat up and threw the bundle of feathers back at her. Ginny just sighed as she caught it and laid back with it covering her face in annoyance.

"Just go see her then! Everyone has been talking about you two today" Ginny muffled through the cloth as a few other girls hummed in agreement as they pretended to be asleep.

"Of course, this school spreads gossip quicker than the flu" Hermione grumbles as she throws the covers off and slips on her shoes. A few of the girls chuckled as they sat up as well and turned on the light.

"I find it cute," Lavender says with a smile as she yawns softly. Ginny snickered and moved the pillow off her face, watching as Hermione seemed to be burning with embarrassment.

"I hate you all" the leather-haired beauty grumbled as she walked towards the door.

"But we love you!" The girls yelled back in a fit of giggles as the door slammed shut. Hermione could hear them cackling as she quickly made her way down to the common room.

It was empty and dark, it looked as though someone had put off the fireplace for the night. Her feet made the steps creak as she walked down to the main floor, her arms crossed against her chest as the chilly air hit the skin of her forearms.

She huffed softly as she shimmied her way through the tunnel and out to the hall on the other side.

The paintings snored softly as she made her way to the Hospital Wing. Only a few were up to ask the young Gryffindor where she was off to, to which she replied 'Better sleeping arrangements'. It was a strange response, but they didn't push any further.

When Hermione made it to the wing, it was dark and cold, just like the night before. Except, Y/n was up.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" She asks when she hears steps enter the room. Hermione just grumbled something incoherent and got into the empty bed next to Y/n's.

Y/n chuckled and watched the Gryffindor get under the covers and turn her back towards her.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up."

Y/n began to laugh, now that her ribs were almost fully healed it didn't hurt as much to do so anymore.

"Just admit it, Granger, you're in love with me already" Y/n says to which Hermione flips her off and covers her head with the pillow.

Hermione felt her face burn so hot that she was sure the pillowcase could catch ablaze. Y/n's continuous chuckles didn't help either. Soon enough, it got quiet, and the sound of the wind rattled the windows near them.

Hermione rolled over and rested the pillow back under her head as she caught eyes with Y/n across from her.

"This doesn't mean anything" she whispers as the Ravenclaw grinned.

"It means everything" Y/n replied.

"You're overthinking things"

"I'm your overthinker"

"Still trying to get me to claim you?"

"Slowly but surely!"

Hermione chuckled softly as she looked at her with a soft gaze, her heart thumping inside her chest.

"Fine. You're an idiot...my idiot"

They both began to laugh as they lay on either bed and started to talk the night away quietly, soon falling asleep with their hands dangling over the sides. Fingers brushing the others whenever a breath was taken.

Futures started to form in their dreams.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

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livingemkayde · 9 months

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ch iii. diced

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter three of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. phone sex?? yeah…phone sex. graphic depictions of male and female masturbation. dom!joel makes a reappearance. too much tension for one story. love triangle forming formed. mild allusions to physical fighting but only verbal fighting with the brothers LOL. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake). reader in her girl boss era (not sexually tho lol).

a/n: ooooooooo i love you guys and im glad youre liking the story. im really happy with the way this chapter came out. WIG. please enjoy!!

summary: tensions run high at a family dinner at the miller's house. tommy drops you off at home, but its joel who ends up being the one talking to you until you fall asleep.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fighting at the table. Thought you were a gentleman,” you chuckle, nervously. That right? Your breath hitches. “Yeah.” Not anymore? “Not too sure anymore.” ‘M sure I can convince you. “You can try.”

You like cooking.

You like the meticulous steps involved in following a recipe.

You like how when it’s done, you can share it with the people you love.

You stand at the kitchen counter, dicing an onion. Joel’s silent words ring in your mind as you stare down at the small little squares.

You find your cheeks reddening more with each tick of the minute hand. The boys will be home later from their long day with the electrician. You asked one of Sarah’s teammates to drop her off at the house since your car was out of commission.

The hours pass by, the chicken gets golden brown in the heat of the oven, salad gets tossed, potatoes get mashed.

The Millers file in, Sarah first — she slumps down on the couch as you try to get her to wash up and put on a fresh set of clothes before setting up camp in front of the TV.

She grumbles, but ultimately gives in, too tired to complain. You send her back to the couch after she’s done with a bowl of grapes and a cookie.

Tommy is next, surprisingly sans his brother at his side.

“Hey…” you greet him with confusion laced in your tone.

“Hey,” he gives you a hug, like always, and shuffles into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything about Joel which seems weird.

“Smells fuckin’ amazing ‘n here,” Tommy grumbles to himself, giving you a teasing squeeze on your hip while you pass to check on the chicken.

He sits down at the table, his hand rubbing over his forehead.

“Where’s Joel?” you inquire. Trying to keep your tone from sounding too interested.

“Dunno, dropped me off and said he needed to check on something,” he grovels.

You nod your head.

Strange.

“How was your day?” he asks, you just shrug.

“Tire’s fuck. ‘S alright though.”

He nods, his head comes back to his hands.

“Long day?” you ask, looking at him sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he groans, standing to sneak a taste at the potatoes with a small spoon in hand.

“Hey! Wait—” you attempt to stop his tricks, but he just laughs when you try to bat his hand away.

“Electrican was a fuckin’ dick ‘n the drywall shipment is late so…” he huffs out, leaning back against the kitchen counter. You settle against the other counter, across the kitchen — the two of you facing each other.

“‘M sorry,” you say and try to smile. These things happen with the brothers. The day's work seeping into dinner. You usually try to cheer up Tommy before he sits down with Sarah, but Joel is a different story. “Can you do anything about the guy?”

“Not really, he’s supposed to be the best,” he shrugs. You stalk over near him, moving to stir the potatoes again, but he plays with the tail ends of your apron, and surprisingly, pulls you into a hug.

You know it’s what he needs right now. A hug from a friend, and when the front door opens, you

hope everyone in the room understands it's nothing more than that.

Joel stands in the entryway. You can see him out of the corner of your eye. You can also see him hesitate in shrugging off his boots and flannel, taking in the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Tommy Miller slumped against the counter with you in his arms.

You pull away quickly.

“Hey Joel,” you say, your hand coming to rub the back of your neck.

“You makin’ dinner?” He asks, nodding his head at your greeting. You figure he’s pissed off about the day too, and seeing you with Tommy first thing when he opens the door certainly can’t help.

“Yeah, just some chicken,” you say to him as he moves to kiss Sarah’s head and makes his way towards you and Tommy.

“It’ll be ready soon,” you follow up with, he gives you a grunt in response, opening the fridge to get a beer.

Joel passes you, and just when you think he’s too pissed to save it, he gives you a look. The one that leaves you breathless, the same look he always does — but only for a fleeting second with Tommy still close to your side.

He leans down to your ear in passing, putting a steady hand on your low back that sends chills up your spine and whispers in a husky voice —

“Thanks for cookin’ darlin’.”

Jesus.

You try to hide your flush but a smile falls on your face — Tommy notices. You know he notices, he’s not stupid. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged breath.

You can’t think of anything besides, get the attention off you.

“Sarah?” you call from the kitchen, you see her eyes peek out from over the couch.

“Help me set the table, will you, doll?”

“Sure,” she calls back.

You move to grab the napkins and cutlery, but Tommy’s hands stop your movements. You look up to him at your side, he smiles at you.

“Let me help,” he says, taking the cloth out of your hand.

“Oh — okay. Thanks,” you say, brushing your hands off, setting up Sarah’s utensils instead.

You shrug off your apron. Joel watches you the whole time while leaning against the sink. When you meet his eye, he just raises his eyebrows at you, taking another sip of his beer.

You pull the chicken out of the oven, setting everything on the table.

“Come get it, guys,” you say, pulling out Sarah’s chair. She sits by Tommy, he ruffles her hair — her giggling echoing through the kitchen like always.

You sit across from them, Joel at the head of the small table. It's funny. Most days you have dinner at the house, it doesn’t feel as formal as this. Tommy and Joel sit on the couch sometimes, watching whatever is on the TV, you help Sarah with her food at the table.

But most days you have takeout or leftovers — not a meal you cooked.

“How was soccer today?” you ask Sarah as she spoons mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“It was so fun, Katie even got us matching bracelets,” she says, holding out her wrist, a clunky beaded bracelet hangs off it.

“Very cool,” you admire the colorful charms, the brothers pretend to be interested.

“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up, my tire popped,” you say to her. She gives you a confused look.

“How does that even happen?”

“You’re telling me, kid,” you smile at her, shaking your head. She laughs back.

“Speakin’ of that,” Joel cuts in, “Went by the shop to get a tire but they were closed. I'll take you tomorrow.”

“Oh — thanks, Joel,” you say, sipping on some water to hide your blush.

Tommy grumbles from across the table.

“What was that?” you ask, he looks at you, then Joel, a certain uneasiness falls over the table.

Some silence. He keeps looking at Joel with an emotion you can’t place.

“Told Joel I would take you,” he says after some time.

Fuck.

You sneak a glance at Joel. He looks at Tommy with a stiff stare. The room feels tense, other than Sarah picking at her salad.

“Oh — it’s,” you nervously chuckle. “It’s okay. Actually I can probably —”

“I gave her the tow,” Joel cuts you off. But he’s not talking to you, he’s talking to Tommy.

You watch the wordless scene unfolding in front of you in awe. Your brows push together in a silent plea to stop. But the boys don’t look at you. They don’t break from looking at each other.

“She called me,” Tommy says, the dinner in front of them abandoned.

“You didn't go.”

Fuck.

“It's really not a problem, I can—”

“I’ll help you change it,” Tommy cuts you off, glancing in your direction, then back to Joel.

“I can change a tire,” Joel snaps, his voice raising slightly.

You give them both a look, hoping to shut them up, but they don’t even glance your way.

“Once your car is fixed can you take me to the library again after soccer?” Sarah says over the silence.

You look back at her and try to make it seem like everything is okay.

“Of course!” you say, cringing at your nervous intonation, but she giggles and thanks you nonetheless.

“I know how to change a tire, but thanks for the offer,” you say, a nervous laugh breezing through your words. “Tommy, it’s okay that you couldn’t come —”

You’re cut off again. It seems like you’re not really in this conversation. And they’re not really arguing about the tire.

“I couldn’t go because you fucked it with the electrician,” Tommy bites back.

“Tommy,” you say in a stern voice, looking at Sarah, and back to Tommy, a scowl across your face. But he doesn’t look back.

It looks like Sarah is almost done with dinner anyways, her eyes trained towards the TV in the living room.

“You done kiddo?” you whisper to her. She snaps out of it and nods, you tell her to put her plates in the sink and slip her another cookie.

“Go pick out a book to read before bed.”

She leaves. The tension doesn’t.

“‘N why was the electrician mad?” Joel bites back when you join the table again.

“Jesus,” Tommy says, he pulls back from their staring first, running a rough hand through his hair.

“No, why was he mad?” Joel scowls. “Was it because you forgot to confirm for the drywall?”

“Joel,” you say, confused why he’s still letting this go on. Of course, he doesn’t look at you.

Tommy just scoffs, avoiding everyone’s gaze while staring down at the floor. You see his shoulders puffing.

A few more moments of unbearably tense silence. You don’t want to step in, this is obviously some stupid argument and you have no idea what you could possibly say to make it better. You’re partially scared, and halfway pissed because they’re fighting and cursing in front of Sarah — ruining the meal you spent the afternoon making.

“‘S what I thought,” Joel announces to the table.

Your eyes widen more if that’s possible.

Oh, fuck.

Tommy slams his fist on the table, standing, Joel gets to his feet too. You stand, moving around the table before any blows are actually thrown, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” you say, your voice is a little hushed because of Sarah.

“I dunno,” Joel whispers, still looking at Tommy. “What are we doin’.” It's a question, but it doesn’t sound like one.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You guys will figure it out with the electrician,” you say, hesitant, you’re not sure if that will make the situation any better, but you’re trying your best.

“And I can take care of my own tire,” you let out a breathless laugh, trying to diffuse the tension.

Joel looks over to you at that, and his brows slightly unfurrow.

You look at Tommy, but he looks furious.

“Guys,” you say, looking between them, pleading with your voice.

The clock continues counting — seemingly without the three of you — suspended, or maybe frozen in time. It feels like hours, you all stand there. You can see Joel’s hand ball into a first. Even when the chicken goes cold, and the drinks get lukewarm, they stand. You’re beginning to worry nothing you can say will fix this. Their competitive nature has always been apparent, but this is something different. Like they’re talking to each other without words, and you won’t ever be able to understand their unspoken language.

“I’m gonna head out,” Tommy finally says, breaking first. You let out a sign, stepping back, holding a hand to your forehead.

“Thanks for cooking. I — do you need a ride?” Tommy says, grabbing his coat.

Fuck. It never stops, does it?

You look over at Joel for a split second when Tommy looks down to get his shoes.

Go.

He says with his eyes.

You wonder how many infinite laters can be braced on his silent eyes before it all spills out and buries you alive.

But he says it.

Later.

You nod, still a bit shaken up by the stalemate.

“Okay. Let me just clean up,” you say, grabbing at some dishes.

“I got it,” Joel cuts in, taking the dishes from your hands, nodding his head towards Tommy.

You mumble a quiet thanks and follow Tommy out the door.

It's silent when you get in the car, and when you pull out onto the street. You pick at the skin on your fingernails, a nervous sweat breaks out in your palms. Tommy is tense beside you. His knuckles on the steering wheel show white.

“I —” he huffs out a breath, already nearing your house. “‘M sorry.”

He sounds actually genuine. And you know he’s had a shit day.

“What was all that, Tommy?” you ask in a quiet voice.

“I don't know.” He shakes his head, rearing your house, and pulling up, putting the car in park.

“Work and then I —” he laughs a bit. “I fuckin’ told Joel I would take you so, I don't even know what he was —” he drops his head.

“I don't know. I'm sorry.”

You feel a bit bad.

“I appreciate the offers but I can do things on my own, T. You know that,” you say, bracing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I know. I — I just wanted to help,” he grovels.

“I know,” you echo, giving him a smile.

He smiles back.

“Haven't seen Joel that worked up in a while,” he says, shaking his head.

“Work’s getting to him, maybe. Just like it's getting to you,” you tease, poking his shoulder. You're a bit breathless from his brainless comment about Joel.

“Maybe. I dunno —” he huffs. “Anyways. Let me make it up to you.”

You raise your brows at his words.

“We'll take you out on friday? Bar?”

Your eyes widen.

As in — you and Joel in a bar again. Together.

And Tommy.

“Oh, um —” your phone buzzes in your hand, Joel’s name pops up and you try to hide it quickly. “Okay. Sure.”

“Drinks on me,” he winks, you pull off your seatbelt, giving him a fake appreciative look.

“$1 beers, wow thank you so much, Tommy,” you say, putting a hand to your chest.

“Shut up, you're lucky I offered,” he teases as you hop out of the truck.

“See you,” you wave.

“Get some sleep, babe.”

You roll your eyes.

“Goodnight,” you say back, closing the car door and walking inside.

Your heart picks up at the thought of going back to the bar you and Joel first met. You know the brothers frequent the place. To say you were nervous was an understatement. And Joel definitely doesn’t know about Tommy’s plans yet.

You haul yourself upstairs to your bedroom, you’re slipping on a big t-shirt from your dresser, and washing up when you hear your phone buzzing from your bed.

Your phone buzzes again, you pull it out from under your pillow, it's Joel.

But he's calling you.

You freeze with the phone in your hand.

Fuck.

Joel has never called you. Even when he gave you his number at the bar it was him asking for you to call him. His name flashing on your screen makes you squirm.

Joel M.

It’s the same from all those weeks ago. You never bothered to change it to his full last name — you remember when he put it in your phone and all his touches prior. You remember everything about that night.

You don't want it to go to voicemail so you take a deep breath, and answer the call. You put the phone up to your ear hesitantly, your breath a bit shaky.

“Hello?”

Where are you?

No preamble. No greeting.

“I’m home. I just got home,” you say, breathless.

‘Preciate you cookin’.

“Sure,” you breathe out, you’re a bit confused why he’s calling you just to say thanks.

He stays silent for a while.

‘M sorry. ‘Bout dinner.

Your long sigh crosses the line.

“Fighting at the table. Thought you were a gentleman,” you chuckle, nervously.

That right?

Your breath hitches.

“Yeah.”

Not anymore?

“Not too sure anymore.”

‘M sure I can convince you.

“You can try.”

You can hear his silken breath echo through the call. The static pierces through the ringing in your ears. You settle on your bed, laying on your back as you desperately try to imagine what he’s doing right now. The white ceiling above you maps out his face.

He clears his throat like he’s scared of continuing down that road.

Get home okay?

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you.

“Yes, Tommy is capable of things, you know.”

He doesn’t respond. You try to lighten the mood.

“Said you guys are gonna take me out on Friday,” he grunts. “Make it up to me or something.”

Is that what you want?

“Could be fun.”

Could be.

“I haven’t been out in a while.”

Yeah?

“Mhm. You guys are a full time job.”

When was the last time you went out?

You freeze. He knows the last time. You both know the last time you went out to the bar downtown. You’re sure of that fact, and that he hears your breath get heavy through the phone.

You think about being indirect. Beating around the bush. Teasing. Say something snarky like you know the last time but it’s getting a bit old, and there’s no hiding things now.

“When I met you,” you settle for. You hear his own breath through the line.

He stays silent, obviously a bit shocked by your sudden bluntness. You try to keep it lighthearted, even though the notion is anything but.

“Might have to go shopping if we’re goin’ out,” you laugh.

Nah, could just wear the skirt from last time.

Jesus.

“You remember?” you gulp.

‘Course I do.

You try to laugh, but it comes out strangled.

“Didn’t know you thought about me so much, Miller.”

I always think about you.

Jesus, fuck.

So much for being light hearted.

Maybe this is the later he kept telling you, but it doesn’t feel like it. To you, later, meant hey, let's talk about whatever this is, later and not, let's flirt with each other over the phone, later. You keep trying to picture him. There’s no way he’s sitting in the living room or in the kitchen with you on the phone like this. Right?

Your fingers find the soft cotton hidden under your too-big shirt. You play with the hem of your underwear absentmindedly.

You hear him shuffling a bit.

“Where are you?”

My bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

Sittin’ down.

“Where?”

Jesus.

“What?”

What are you tryin’ to get at?

“I just wanna know what you’re doing.”

I’m —

He hesitates for the first time all night.

I’m on my bed. What are you doin’?

“I’m laying in bed.”

He sucks in a breath.

“That all you’re doin’?”

There it is. The point of no return, the final tipping point, the flood gates opening, and never, ever shutting again — at least for tonight. For now, at this moment — whatever happens after this is up in the air. But you don’t think about that right now. All you can think about is how the drawl in his voice somehow compels you to sneak past the hem of your underwear.

“Maybe. Why’d you call me?”

Wanted to apologize.

“That’s it?”

Maybe.

He echoes your previous statement. You smile. The rising heat between your legs comes to a breaking point. So you bite the bullet.

“Joel,” you say, his breaths are a bit husky. You know he can hear the small whimper in your voice.

What do you need, angel?

“Can I? Please?”

Yes, fuck — yes. Askin’ so nicely f’me.

You let out a puff of air through stiff lips. Your fingers find your swollen clit, sinking down towards your entrance to collect the growing wetness there. You strangle out moans and something sounding like Joel’s name.

You’re about to push two fingers inside yourself, when his voice cuts through the phone.

Only one.

It’s like he can read your mind.

“Joel —” you whisper, a plea, but he cuts you off.

C’mon be good for me, baby.

You grovel, and your cheeks heat at how easily you comply, not really putting up any fight. You can’t. Not when he sounds like that, close to your ear, his words of praise pushing you closer to the edge as you sink your middle finger inside and gasp at the intrusion.

Feel good?

You can hear him shuffling, a small groan sounds from the other side of the line. You know what he’s doing, and it pushes you even further, maybe even becoming more bold.

“Joel — need more,” you whine. You can hear him working himself. Your finger does nothing to stretch yourself out. Not when you think about the night at the bar, and how the sweet sting of his cock made you see stars.

One more — slow.

You groan as you slip another finger inside. The wetness from your entrance ruins your underwear, and threatens to spill out onto your bedding as well.

You whine nonsense to him. You’re worked up, have been too distracted the last few weeks to touch yourself or seek anyone out. You didn’t even want to knowing you would see Joel the next day. He was enough to keep you going. But you’re just a woman. And you have needs.

Feel good, baby? Tell me how it feels.

You pump your wrist faster, your orgasm nearing. You desperately rut against the palm of your hand, your shirt riding up. His words from the other side of the line spur you on further.

“‘S good, Joel. Feels so — good.”

Fuck, say my name again.

Your eyes open slightly at that, the plea mirroring when he had you up against the wall in the bar. His name. He always wants you to say his name.

“Joel —” you whine. “Wish it was you.”

I know, baby, I know.

“Please.”

You know we can’t.

“God — fuck,” you whimper to him. The mixture of your own fingers crooking just right inside you threatens to push you into a white hot orgasm. You don’t know where the next thing you say comes from. Or if you’d ever let another guy do this with you. But it feels right in the moment. And the sound of him working himself faster tells you he’s close too.

“Can I cum? Please?” you whisper.

You swear you can hear his hand stutter. The groan he lets out at your words is closer to a growl.

Jesus, fuck — such an angel. You know that right?

“Joel,” you continue, too blissed out to acknowledge his praise. It shoots right down to the spot you keep working on instead.

Not yet — know you’ll be a good girl and wait f’me.

You do, wait for him. Your fingers slow down a fraction, staving you off your fast approaching orgasm. You can hear him work himself, the thought of him finishing into his palm makes it that much harder for you to hold off.

Fuck baby — goddamn —

“Joel, please?” you whine when he starts to calm down his breathing. You’re teetering right on the edge. The only thing keeping you from falling is the thought of his praise.

Alright — fuck — let me hear you, baby.

You come hard around your fingers, biting into your lip hard in favor of screaming. Your back arches off the bed, the phone threatens to slip from your hand, you can barely hear Joel’s praise in the back of your head. It’s almost like he’s really here, whispering into your neck while you climax.

You expect your post orgasmic haze to send you into a spiral about a certain brother and the fact that technically you just got off on the phone with your boss. But it doesn’t, you fall back into the mattress, spent. Joel’s words ring through your ears, whispering praises.

He tells you to get some rest.

You do.

chapter iv. tacit

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @jasminedragoon @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565

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hiskillingjar · 5 months

Note

What if? Fox was infatuated to unhealthy levels with MC, from the beginning (even before the kidnapping).

me when i flirt with an older man (he runs a human trafficking ring and has an anxious attachment style)

2000+ words, sfw, ren hana is a chubby chaser and no you will not change my mind

"Hey, what can I get for you?"

It was a cold day in December and he had been called to the office on a weekend due to a technical mishap from one of his staff the previous day. It was a day that he would have been annoyed, angry even, a day where he would have taken one step into the building and tore the head off the first person who dared speak to him.

But, for whatever reason, he always found his anger dissipated when he saw them.

The barista smiled, their soft, freckled cheeks dimpling with an expression that insinuated sincerity and sweetness, an innately trusting nature, traits so rare in Fox's profession, in the city that surrounded him, rare enough that he cherished and obsessed over them whenever he found them in someone.

He had been coming to this cafe every morning for weeks, not only because it was on the corner of his office in the financial district, a place close by where he could escape his moronic employees when he needed to, but because he found that he had to see their face to even feel slightly at ease on the more stressful days of work.

Just one look of their smile and hearing their voice was enough to settle him in an instant.

"Just a cup of coffee, please," Fox replied with a slight smile, jolted out of his train of thought, one of his ears twitching when they chuckled kindly.

"Well, yeah, I assumed," They said with another little chuckle, crooked teeth (so familiar, so sweet, wouldn't they look nice on the ground, scattered like pearls?) biting their lip to stop the chuckle from growing into a laugh. It was a quiet Saturday in the financial quarter, so they must have had time to banter with customers. "What kind?"

Fox smirked just a touch, one of his fangs hooking over his bottom lip.

He couldn't deny that he was a little curious about the young barista and what they were doing working in this part of the city (since, for one, they looked like they had a modicum of personality compared to everyone else who worked there).

They were a far cry from the kind of people he usually saw and interacted with on a day-to-day basis, soft when all he saw was hard, kind when all he saw was cruelty, and there was a certain, naive charm to them that Fox found almost magnetic.

He was always the obsessive type, falling in love with every pretty face who was nice to him, and years of therapy and unpacking his trauma never really stopped that obsession from blooming.

But what was the harm, really? What was so bad about a little crush and a few intrusive thoughts?

"Hmm…" He hummed thoughtfully, his tail idly wagging behind him. "Surprise me?"

"Adventurous. I like it." They chuckled again as they set to work on his drink. When they turned, it gave Fox a good opportunity to…assess their assets, his gaze scrutinous as he leaned against the counter, elbows up on the glass pastry display.

All things considered, their figure wasn't exactly remarkable, certainly not compared to the call girls and 'staff members' he was accustomed to working with. Average height (taller than him, but that wasn't hard), a heft to their hips and backside, a small (possibly bound) chest, and a constellation of acne scarring on their freckled cheeks…but he found himself drawn to them, regardless of all of that.

It had indeed been a cold day…but there was a certain warmth that he felt coming from the young barista that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Indeed, despite his violent intrusive thoughts, there was a part of him (buried beneath his hardened surface) that yearned for them.

He almost wanted to reach out and touch them, right then and there, the urge to simply embrace them, touch their skin, run his fingers along their cheek, dig his claws into them, pull their hair, break their jaw, make them bleed, make them cry, growing with every passing second.

But something stopped him, a sensible part of him that kept pulling him back from the brink of his obsession, his face remaining impassive as he continued to stare.

He probably looked like any normal, lecherous, older man, making advances on someone years younger than him. He could deal with that.

"You work around here?" They asked, making idle conversation as they steamed a jug of milk, a gust of steam fogging up their glasses.

"That I do," Fox replied with a nod, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he took in their form once again (they were cleaning their glasses with their shirt, making it ride up and expose the soft skin of their belly) and stood back from the counter, putting his hands in his pockets (adjusting his growing bulge). "Right around the corner, in fact. And you?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a student," They smiled, turning back towards him and putting their glasses back on. "Obviously. I mean, I'm a barista, that comes with the territory, right?" They laughed and Fox smiled, nodding again curtly. "I work the weekend shift when I can though, when it's nice and quiet."

"A student, huh?" Fox asked curiously, casually, raising a brow and running his tongue over one of his fangs, his ears tilting forward. His attention was torn between the barista's face as they spoke and the still-exposed flash of skin above the waistband of their jeans, a little fold of soft fat spilling over them. His eyes shone brightly as he continued to stare downwards. "What are you studying?" He asked, eyes quickly returning to their face so as not to look too obvious in his ogling.

"Criminal psychology," They replied, finishing up the coffee with a dusting of cinnamon and setting it on the counter in a to-go cup. They had him clocked as a businessman, then. "Postgrad."

"Criminal psychology?" Fox repeated, accepting the offered drink as he took the cup and raised it to his nose, inhaling the aroma as he spoke. "I'm curious, what sort of career are you hoping to move into with that?" He asked, tilting his head, his tail still wagging idly. "Not just after university, but after all of it?"

"I wanna work in rehabilitation," They said, tilting their own head and giving him a considered look, their dark eyes flitting from his well-groomed fox ears (beast-kin in the wild were still relatively rare, after all) and down his handsome face and his suit, admiring him casually, as any person did (and they often did). "And help people get back on their feet after prison."

"Rehabilitation, eh? Helping people get back on their feet…" Fox repeated their words again with a thoughtful look on his face, his wrinkles looking a little more pronounced as he thought over what they said. He took a sip of his coffee, meeting their gaze for a minute (noting when they smiled eagerly at him as if waiting for his approval). "Well, I think that's just wonderful….and a hard job, too. You must be pretty driven to want to do that."

"Yeah," They laughed, scraping back dyed hair behind their ears. "Tell me about it. It's really tough sometimes. But…" They bit their lip again, but despite their bashful expression (those crooked teeth digging into their soft skin, like he wanted to do), their eyes never left his. "I believe people deserve a second chance…everybody, even the worst people. We should do everything we can to make sure of that, and I want to be part of that. I want to help people."

Something about those words, their eyes on his, speaking to him as if those words were for him and him alone, made something tight catch in Fox's chest, and he almost spluttered a mouthful of hot coffee around the rim of the cup.

"Everyone…even the worst people," Fox said softly to himself, wiping his mouth clean as he glanced down at his shoes, hoping his expression made him look thoughtful instead of…well, complacent. "How very noble of you."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head back while the barista typed his order into their register.

"Even people like me?" He then asked, his voice low in the back of his throat, golden eyes flitting upwards, half-lidded, as his brows knitted together with an ominous kind of consideration.

"What was that?" They looked up from the register, not catching what he said.

"Ah, it's nothing, nothing at all." He then said quickly with a subdued laugh and a casual smile. "This is lovely, by the way. What am I drinking?"

"Oh, it's just an oat milk latte," They chuckled with a shrug. "But…" They then continued in a quiet whisper, leaning into him over the counter, like they were telling a secret. "I infused the milk with fresh lavender and thyme this morning. This is the first time I'm trying it out in the shop."

When they were this close to him, their scent was overwhelmingly intoxicating and attractive, so much so that it made his guts twist in ravenous hunger and his growing bulge throb even more.

"Ah…how unique." He grinned, taking another sip of the coffee, doing his best to look deliberate. "The lavender adds a really nice touch, as does the thyme. Very subtle, but distinct. It's wonderful, really." He said, forcing a slightly impressed look on his face as he looked up at them, his golden eyes sparkling at their own grinning face, ecstatic at the praise.

"I'm so glad you think so," They grinned, before turning the register around for him to see and pay. "That'll be four-fifty today. No charge for the extras, of course."

"How very kind of you," He said softly (and mostly to himself), taking his phone from his pocket and tapping it against the register's contactless sensor in a quick and fluid gesture.

So fluid that he was almost certain that they didn't notice him taking their picture.

The register let out a high BEEP in recognition of his payment, and a receipt was quickly spat out on the barista's side.

"Great, that's all gone through. Well," The barista's grin faded into a polite smile, as the interaction wound to a close, tearing off the paper receipt and stuffing it in the cash drawer of their register. "It was great speaking with you today, Mr…"

"Fox." He said, taking another sip of coffee with a light smirk. Their picture must have been scanned into the database by now, from the way his phone was buzzing in his pocket. "Just Fox. No titles."

"Fox." The barista said back to him with a nod. "See you around?" They added hopefully.

"Certainly," Fox replied with as close to a genuine smile as he could still manage. "It was lovely speaking with you too, darling. Take care of yourself."

Once Fox left the cafe, a tinkle of a bell above the door marking his exit and leaving the young barista to attend to their other tasks while it was still quiet, he took out an old flip-phone and dialed a familiar number, still thoughtfully sipping his coffee as the cold chill of the morning ran down his spine.

"Hey…yeah, I have a special request for you."

His voice was low and quiet once the person on the other end of the phone silently picked up, waiting for his instructions.

"I want a pick-up from a specific spot, today if you can. I'll send you the location." He took another sip of coffee as he idly paced the front of the cafe, hearing a few words from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've just uploaded them to the database. Local university, no housemates, family not around, it looks like…mm, and cute as a button, I know, I know."

Fox smiled widely, his tail wagging a little more frantically as his mind raced with gruesome thoughts.

"As soon as you can. No damage in transit or no bonus, got it? Great."

He hung up with a snap of the phone and drained the last of the coffee from its cup, running his tongue over his lips in silent consideration.

He could get used to lavender and thyme.

#fox tpof #fox x mc #fox x reader #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #drabbles #bro you cannot fix him. hit him with your car #qs

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onehundredflamingos · 7 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic

24 / capture / 1478 words / NSFW / explicit sexual content

“I don’t think you’re fast enough, James,” Regulus taunted, holding the fluttering snitch high in the air. “Chasers are slow.” He had a wide grin on his face and the wind was mussing his dark hair around his face, and James could have stared at him forever in this light.

James licked his lips, forcing his eyes steady on Regulus’, knowing exactly what Regulus was doing — what he wanted from James.

“Reggie,” James said, using the nickname intentionally. “I’m going to capture that snitch first, and once I do I’m gonna shut you up with it and make you come all over this broom, do you hear me?”

James heard Regulus’ sharp intake of breath even with the stretch of sky between them, and he was tempted to just wrench the snitch out of his hand right then and there and make good on his promise.

“Yes, sir.”

James ignored the twitch in his cock at the name, and demanded Regulus release the snitch now.

The second it was let loose, James and Regulus both took off in earnest, flying as hard and as fast as they could, zipping back and forth trying to follow the path of the snitch.

Regulus was even more of a dream to watch fly — his twists and turns were so well executed and flawless, a part of James wanted to simply sit back and watch, even more than when Regulus was sitting still, beautiful and ethereal.

“I told you you couldn’t keep up!” Regulus said, turning his head back to James, the teasing grin still bright on his face.

“You’re being a brat, Reggie,” James replied. “Don’t forget my promise to quiet that mouth.”

Regulus’ eyes flashed with something carnal and hungry before he turned back around and took off in search of the snitch once more.

James dove, scouring a lower elevation for the glint that would tell him he was close to victory, but to no avail. Suddenly, James saw Regulus dive down, gunning for the victory himself, but James knew instinctively that it was a feint.

“Trying to trick me?” James tutted over the wind, all at once spotting the telltale gleam in the sky. Regulus was just sweeping back up from the ground, so James had a significant advantage. He leaned close to the broom handle and shot up into the sky, outstretching his arm as soon as he got within reach.

“James!” Regulus called from several yards behind him. He knew James would catch it and he was trying to distract him, but nothing could steal James’ attention from catching the snitch — not when Regulus’ was the exact prize of catching it.

James wasn’t as lithe and quick in the air as Regulus, but he was a fast flier in his own regard and he knew how to catch a ball in the air. He stretched his palm out, closing his fingers around the golden ball the second he felt contact.

Regulus immediately turned tail, flying past James and weaving through the air, a mischievous look replacing the teasing one.

“You’re only going to tire yourself out, baby, and it’ll be even easier to take you on this broom!”

Regulus continued to fly, but James noticed the shift in him, the incremental slowing of his pace, and knew he was only itching for James to chase him, to snatch him up and punish him.

It took only seconds for James to reach him, to yank on the spindly ends of the broom and slow him to a stop — to a hover.

“You like being bad today, do you?” James asked, grip firmly around the broom handle now.

“No, sir,” Regulus replied, suddenly perfectly compliant. His eyes were bright, carefree and pleased with himself, and James had to bite his lip to stop the fond smile from creeping onto his face.

“Climb onto my broom,” James commanded, “facing me.”

Regulus did, throwing one leg over James’ broom before kicking his own away, leaving him inches from James face and his own broom hovering, empty.

James felt Regulus’ soft puffs of breath against his face, relishing in them for a split second before returning to his role — to the way he felt the blood rush straight to his cock when he caught the snitch, knowing what he would get from this man because of it.

“Now put this in your mouth so I don’t have to listen to any more of your taunting or your lying, Reggie.”

Regulus whimpered, James giving him no room for argument as he shoved the snitch into Regulus’ mouth, watching as the shimmering wings curved along each side of his face, stiffening and securing themselves to be sure Regulus didn’t choke on it.

“That’s a good boy,” James encouraged. “Now pull your cock out for me. I want to see how hard you are after working so hard to piss me off. I know you like making me mad.”

Regulus obliged, undoing his quidditch leathers and pulling his cock free, hard and leaking at the tip already. He moaned softly around the snitch at his own touch.

“You like being bad, don’t you?” James asked, and Regulus immediately shook his head.

“I told you,” James tutted. “I didn’t want any more lying from you.” He pressed his index finger into the snitch, pushing it further into Regulus’ mouth, watching him swallow hard around the pressure against his tongue.

“Now undo my pants.”

Regulus obliged, baring James to the cold wind as his cock sprung free from his pants.

Regulus whimpered again, soft and reverent and fuck if James didn’t love that sound — would eat it up if not for the fact that it was submitting to James that made Regulus so meek, that made him whimper like that in the first place.

“Go on,” James encouraged, dipping his head down to gesture at their cocks, the two of them just narrowly not brushing together. James grabbed ahold of Regulus’ hips, squeezing them tight as he slid him along the broom, closing the small gap between them.

The second the tips of their cocks touched, James sucked in a breath, the warmth of Regulus’ body such a stark contrast to the air around them. Regulus pressed their lengths together fully before wrapping a hand around them both and stroking slowly, teasingly, the broom steady beneath them.

“I also told you no taunting, Reggie,” James said sternly, pressing his fingertips further into Regulus’ hips, leaving little crescent moons along his skin where his nails were digging in. “Now make yourself come before I decide you need to be punished more instead.”

Regulus picked up his speed and James had to force the moans down, had to keep himself from letting go too soon. He loved having Regulus right under his thumb like this, and he would be damned if he lost the upper hand by coming first.

“You’re such a good boy when you can’t talk,” James purred, and Regulus gave a little hum of agreement, leaning forward to press his face into James’ neck. He continued to stroke them both at a steady pace and James felt a small shudder ripple through Regulus, a signal to James that he was getting close.

“Look at me, Reggie, I want to see that pretty face when you make yourself come for me.” Regulus looked up and into James’ eyes, so much lust clouding his gaze. He could barely keep his eyes open. “That’s a good boy.”

The praise itself was just enough to push Regulus over the edge, deep moans pushing up from the back of his throat, stifled by the snitch as he came over his hand, all over James’ broomstick.

James reached up and flicked the wings of the snitch, popping the ball out of his mouth and shoving it into his pocket, relishing in the panting breaths Regulus was letting out, the soft Daddy he let slip past his lips.

Just as fast as Regulus fell over the edge, James went flying too, his come spilling over and mixing with Regulus’. Regulus released their spent cocks and leaned forward, pressing his forehead into James’ as their breathing slowed and steadied.

“I can’t believe we didn’t fall off this thing,” Regulus laughed, the sound penetrating into James, right into his parted lips and through his entire body. He pressed a kiss to Regulus’ mouth before pulling away and inspecting his face.

“Are you okay? Did those wings hurt your face?” James asked softly, running a finger along one of Regulus’ cheeks first, and then the other.

“No James, I’m so good,” Regulus replied.

James nodded. “You are — so good.”

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Regulus asked.

James agreed and flew them to the ground, accio-ing Regulus’ broom on the way.

#misuse of a golden snitch #quidditch sex #jegulus #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #marauders era #starchaser #marauders fanfiction #soft jegulus #jegulus smut

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