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gyuluttony · 5 months

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So, that Ateez feederism bug has certainly taken root and I couldn't tell you why exactly. (It's because I finally am getting a feel for how many people like it as much as I do 👀)

And with that being said, I want to write about another one of my ults, being San... it's not going to have a fixed pair... but that doesn't mean he can't play around hehe

Better

This is a feederism fic and features weight gain, weight gain denial, breaking of clothes, and smut. Don't like, don't read.

Finishing his set in the gym, the sound of the weights clanging on the machine as it settles. He's panting as he looks at himself in the mirror. He's come a long way since he started working out. He remembers the first time that he set foot in the gym and how just about everything intimidated him. Flexing his figure, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as a result of just how far he's come. It wasn't something that he achieved overnight after all. Lots of effort had to be made to get his body to the level that it was currently at.

While he washed up, some things came to mind. Like there were people who might have struggled with the idea of going to the gym for the first time and plenty of questions that they had. As he lathered up his firm pecs and broad shoulders, it was properly occurring to him that he had a rather amazing set up. The gym was owned by his friend, Yeosang, which meant it would be fairly easy to set up a camera and record beginner guides to helping out those who needed the advice. While he rinsed off, his mind was already buzzing with ideas as to what he'd need to mention with Yeosang if he wanted to get the go-ahead on this idea.

In his mind, as long as he delivered his advice to a level that was befitting of the audience, it shouldn't be too hard to get the information out to everyone who needed it. He arrived at his apartment as he announced, "I have the best idea ever."

Wooyoung had flopped his head over on the couch to look at him, an eyebrow raised curiously while Seonghwa paused the game that he was playing to look at him. "Oh, how was the gym, Sannie?"

He simply gave a thumbs up before he sat on the coffee table in front of them to look at them eye to eye, almost like he needed to be at that level to brace them before his idea properly blew them away. "You're not ready for this."

Seonghwa kept his encouraging smile on his face while Wooyoung looked at him, a little exasperated, "What is it? You've hyped it up but haven't said it yet."

San paused for dramatic effect for a moment before he stated, "I'm gonna start a channel to promote fitness for first timers because they don't know what they're doing and Yeosang already gave me the go ahead."

There was a pause in the air before Wooyoung just sighed as Seonghwa politely began to play his game again, ready to listen as background noise, almost like his interest had pulled away.

"What?" San looked genuinely puzzled as to why the attention had waned.

"No offense, San, but I think I've seen about a thousand channels like that where they all advertise their advice. It's just oversaturated and almost everyone does it." Wooyoung rips the bandaid off rather easily and it's hard not to deflate a little.

He pouted rather easily, "It's a great idea! I didn't get like this without knowing my way around the gym so I think I'm pretty trustworthy!" The way that he flexes while having a cute expression flusters both of his roommates as Wooyoung openly gawks the muscles on display while Seonghwa pays closer attention to the game that's on the screen before pausing it when San seems to wait for them to comment again.

"Wooyoung does have a point, Sannie." It's hard not to coo at the sight of San being more pouty than expected as his plans are stepped on but Seonghwa continues, "But, I think you'd be able to carve a niche as you are. You do a pretty good job of that." He can't help but smile as he blushes at the kind words of the older one at that.

A pat on the shoulder comes from Wooyoung, "If you need someone to film, I'll be happy to help. I feel like you'd be bad at setting up shots." He raises a fist, threatening to hit his friend before muttering that he'd appreciate the help.

After a little bit more planning, the first video goes without a hitch and he can't help but feel a pit in his stomach as he watches the video process before it slowly uploads on their shared Internet. Both Wooyoung and Seonghwa are in the room as moral support when it finally finishes and he can't help but stew.

A couple of minutes go by and San whines, "I really put a lot of time into this introduction! Even Hongjoong helped me with editing everything in a nice way!" The video looked rather professional and not amateur at all thanks to the older man's touch that San promised to repay him for at dinner one day.

Wooyoung patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, "You can't expect everything on day one, San. It'll take some time." He left him in the room with Seonghwa who seemed to smile encouragingly, "Yeah, it already has about fifteen views now so that's more than just our friend group. Give it some time to settle!"

Even if he was going to heed their advice, it didn't mean he wasn't going to bed sulking... but when he woke up that morning, the fact that his phone was warm and currently buzzing with notifications was a cause for alarm. Looking at it in shock, all of his friends were sending him various links of different edits of him in the video that went viral.

He knew that he looked good but seeing people editing him to shreds while basically making thirst traps of what he had said was incredibly kind to his ego. He felt himself blush while reading the various comments that were left. Was there such a thing as digital footprint with what some of these people were saying? Either way, it didn't take long for his channel to blow up and thanks to his work with Hongjoong, he didn't need to completely rely on him for editing and knew how to do it for himself.

Everything was panning out. He received sponsorship and just about everything under the sun that came with being a successful content creator and it wasn't hard at all for him to stick out in the crowd. A few lingering shots on his body here and there and it would inspire someone to make another edit that would go viral. Even if a lot of people weren't there for advice, it was the views and fans that made him go viral which he vastly appreciated.

Before long, brands were starting to sponsor him. Athleisure clothing brands, various different services and he took a good majority of them. San hadn't had this much money forever even working full time. But, then, he received his largest sponsorship deal yet. It was a formal process. Signing with Fever Supplements, he would have an exclusive deal that would pay more than enough for him to cover his rent on his apartment alone for each month.

All he had to do was take their products and be causal about mentioning it. And considering he was already in the stage to start taking protein again to bulk for the winter, it wouldn't be hard. Plus, their pre workout had tasted amazing from his experience.

At the stage that he was at, he was starting to workout with guests because he knew that the edits seemed to get a lot more traction when one of his friends was in the gym with him. So far, Jongho, Mingi and Yunho had accompanied him before. Today, Mingi had come with him.

Watching San shake his drink shaker made him raise an eyebrow curiously, "What's that? It looks different than what you usually drink." The camera wasn't recording while they were still in the middle of warming up. San liked to record during stretches so that they could have more to capture. Mingi raised an eyebrow as San offered it.

Watching him take a sip and recoil, Mingi looked at the drink in surprise, "Woah... that's really sweet. Are you sure it's pre?" San shrugged, "It says it's pre workout on the container and I think it's their new flavour. It's pretty good though. It's been energizing me for a couple of weeks now before my workouts." Mingi looked at it rather suspiciously before he added, "Damn, I can see why. It wakes you up."

They usually assist each other in stretching and when it comes time to work with each other, San feels his waist intruded on by Mingi, large hands resting on his sides and for some reason, sinking in slightly as San yelps. "Isn't it early for bulking season?" Mingi snickers as San raises a fist, "Like you're one to talk." He pokes Mingi's softened middle who covers his stomach shyly before they continue.

It makes a sort of tension that persists through the video as San noticed how his friend had put on. It's not like he put that much on though. The fabric of his shirt was clinging to him but that's how most compression shirts fit. On Mingi, it was bulging a little at the stomach and he couldn't help but find himself staring.

While they were in the shower, Mingi's voice was clear through the constant stream of water, "Uh, San. Would you be able to hook me up with some of that pre? It really worked and I just had a sip." Blinking a couple of times in surprise, he looked at Mingi, "Really? All you had was a sip." Mingi shrugged nonchalantly before he added, "That's the best I've worked out in a while... but I still have some energy. How about you?"

The words hung in the air for a moment, the tension only growing more intense before San added, "Yeah. I could do some more." He wandered over to the other man before he saw the way that he moved his neck downward and pressed their lips together. Naked bodies were pressed into each other as the water continued to clean them of everything but their desires.

The perks of the semi-private gym were making their way to the surface now as they stroked each other. Doing anything else was a little riskier even if they knew they had the space to themselves because the staff needed to clean soon for the actual hours of the place. What San was noticing was the fact that Mingi's stomach which had been flat the last time he appeared in a video seemed to protrude and inflate when he breathed out in pleasure at San's touch that was threatening to make him come undone. Had he put on weight since then? Maybe his next video needed to be something about weight loss. But, his thoughts were wiped clean as Mingi moved down and began to suck him off. Clutching the railing, his fingers curled in his friend's hair while he made sure to show attention to just about every inch of his length. As much as Mingi ran his mouth, he always knew how to use it just as well which is why they hooked up as often as they did.

As they both helped each other wipe off the mess after experiencing a release, San's stomach growled. "Damn, you're that hungry?" Mingi slaps his friend on the ass, who yelps before he says, "If you want, we can grab some food with Yunho. He wanted to eat with me today anyways."

Another thing that he didn't realize following his sponsorship with Fever was the fact that he was hungry a lot more often. He didn't really notice it because most of the time, he did his own meal prep. But, San seemed blissfully unaware of how the portions of these preps had slowly been increasing everytime. Where it used to be properly be one portion, it was getting to the point where he would eat portions of three for just about every meal.

Whenever he ate out with friends, it was more absurd that he ever would have noticed. Yunho had noticed that Mingi was eating a fair bit as well but San's order nearly filled up the table. He looked curiously as the two stuffed their faces with everything that was bought. "Good workout?"

The pair nodded before going back to stuffing their faces as Yunho watched, feeling his face heat up as he watched Mingi beside him belch before he continued to eat his own food.

From this point forward, just about all of his friends were noticing the amount that San was eating as he continued to increase the portion sizes slowly but surely. Seonghwa noted that he was cooking just about every other second when he was at home and the planned meals were filling the fridge. Wooyoung had tried some of the protein shake that he mixed but felt full a quarter of the way through while San had started to drink two per day. Mingi was starting to become a regular on the channel and those little meals where they would spend nearly two hours eating were becoming a near daily occurrence that San could afford with no difficulty thanks to his income.

However, the strangest part to just about everyone that knew San was the fact that he didn't even notice what all this food was doing to his body. He was under the impression that with Fever Supplements, he was going to bulk. But, following the winter, what he hadn't done was bulk. He had grown beyond the word bulking.

What Mingi was after the influence that San had on him was chubby and even that was being nice. He was definitely lingering closer to fat these days. But San? San had gotten properly fat and was starting to border on obese.

Gone were the broad and defined shoulders that he had launched the channel with as they were replaced with rolls on his back and flabby moobs that were starting to hang with how much fat that they had blown up with. His stomach protruded out so far and his roommates could hardly believe he poured himself into skin tight clothes without breaking them.

Although, Seonghwa remembers one day where he had checked in on San because he had stated that he was going out to eat with Mingi, not even going to the gym this time. Wandering in his room after hearing some noises, Seonghwa gaped at the sight. San was hopping and just that alone was shaking the floor as the massive amount of fat he put on was jiggling as he tried to get himself into a pair of jeans that didn't even make it halfway up his thighs.

San turned his head, panting as Seonghwa noticed more closely that even his jawline that was sharp had blurred and was even starting to develop a double chin just naturally. He couldn't figure out why it was exciting him to this degree. "Ah... hyung, perfect. Can... you help me close these? I think I bulked up too much."

Seonghwa felt a shiver run down his spine as he moved to San. Placing his fingers on the sides of the pants, he gulped feeling his hands press into the soft cellulite on his thighs. Pulling it up was a lot of effort and even more difficult at the fact that San didn't realize how much he was jiggling at just about every desperate movement. They managed to make it up to where they should rest but were presented with the next problem.

The button.

Now, Seonghwa was seriously going to overload at the feeling of his knuckles pressing into the underbelly of San's fat gut while he tried to make the two ends reach. He had tried lying down and sucking in. "Is it easier now?" He wheezed out the question while Seonghwa was praying for how aroused this was making him. His hands brushed San's crotch a couple of times and he heard a couple of whimpers from his fat roommate before he made his advances less coy, placing a hand on the area. It had gotten fatter too given how he knew San's length was a lot more plentiful the last time they hooked up.

San mewled in pleasure when Seonghwa's hand slipped into his pants, starting to please him before he realized that with just about every pump that caused San to move his hips, his gut would move too and make it more difficult to stroke him between the pressure of the tight underwear and his belly moving into his erection. San was losing himself to the pleasure of the feeling but still so horribly unaware of the point that he's blown up to.

They continue on before San releases, soiling his underwear as they both try to catch their breath. The last thing Seonghwa says before he leaves was that he should just wear something comfortable if he's going to out to eat with Mingi.

He does listen and when Seonghwa leaves the room, he's pulled into Wooyoung's room. On his computer screen, he sees orders for clothes identical to what San has in his wardrobe, just to replace everything with proper size ups. Seonghwa can't help but blush when Wooyoung reveals that this isn't the first time that he's done this before but he has San's card and he's gotten enough funding to the point he can pay it off without glancing at what's being bought.

It became an experiment basically. Just how massive could San get without noticing just how much these supplements were doing. Yunho had looked at the label and saw appetite stimulant and bulking formula on just about every product and weight gain enhancers in nearly everything that San mixed into his drinks. Mingi had grown at a slower pace but because he was with San so often, the damage had been done to the other gym goer as well.

The thirst edits of San hadn't changed. In fact, they had only steamrolled alongside his weight. Now, instead of focusing on his muscles, they focused on how strong his arms still were while they jiggled with fat when in between sets. How his belly spilled out of various workout shirts and how plump his ass was when he turned around while doing something. The fans were just about as ravenous as the one they were making these edits for and he didn't pay it any mind because it was still about his body.

In his eyes, he just viewed it as light pudge... even if he was getting to the point where his fattened form was knocking things over with either his belly or ass whenever he was at home.

He had reached a large milestone after almost a year. Over five million subscribers to the channel. In this time, he put on more than double his weight and didn't even bat an eye to the changes, which is still what shocked the other men the most. Didn't even think about how he couldn't fit in booths at restaurants or how difficult it was to do his stretches with Mingi when they were both of massive proportions. Their shower room hook ups had gotten a lot less subtle with all the bulk and San being teased about how much he had put on.

But, that wasn't the focus. He was finally treating Hongjoong to a meal that he promised. He had started to do a lot of the editing himself, so in the groove that he didn't even bat an eye at the way his sides were pressed against the arm rests of his desk chair most of the time. The editing style was retained and Hongjoong was rather proud of the younger man.

He hadn't expected the shorter man to choose an all you can eat restaurant as their destination. "Ah, hyung~ If you eat here, you'll get bigger~" San teased rather easily as Hongjoong's eyes scanned the massive man as if he could talk. He wasn't the slimmest person, carrying a small belly but it's not like he had grown to the size that Mingi had gotten to and San was an entirely different beast. He heard from the rest of their friends that he was unaware but he didn't think it was this crazy.

The two sat down at the booth as Hongjoong said, "Sannie, just let me grab what you want. You might be treating me today, but we're celebrating you too! You're probably the most popular fitness creator out there." It took a lot to not laugh at the sight when he said that. The most popular fitness creator being the largest person in the room, who's gut was pressing into the table and even resting on it where it protruded.

San smiled, "If that's what you say, hyung. I'll be sure to eat well." He had no doubts that the younger had been doing that for months at this point but today would be a proper test. Plate after plate was brought to the growing influencer as he stuffed his face just as well as he promised.

The clothes that his roommates bought for him could only do so well after the third upsize and around the seventh plate, San felt a relief in pressure as his gut expanded and pushed the table off balance for a moment. Hongjoong grabbed it in a panic as he heard the button rattling on the floor.

San looked flustered as he finally took in his body and how everything had settled on him. This wasn't just winter weight. In fact, it was the middle of the next fall. He had gotten so fat that he had broke his clothes. His fattened hands found his gut as he rubbed it, a small groan leaving him as he belched loudly, feeling his face flush from the people around staring at the gluttonous display he had put on.

He squirmed in his seat as he realized his ass needed two chairs to properly rest in them. Looking at Hongjoong who was equally as flustered by the sight, San whined, "Hyung, can we go to your place? I didn't mean to make a mess like this..." There was embarrassment bubbling up in his tone but all of his friends knew that was something that he enjoyed. He just didn't ever expect it to be in this way.

Even in Hongjoong's car, he was more aware of how it dipped and groaned when he sat in it, his belly filling up the space between him and the dashboard as he tried to relieve the pressure that had built up within it. Once they arrived at Hongjoong's apartment, Hongjoong pressed against him into the wall as San groaned while a burp bubbled up. "Oh, Sannie. How did you just realize this now?"

San felt his face flush while Hongjoong's hands explored his ample body, squeezing his moobs and getting a whimper from the younger. "You keep working out but when you're stuffing your face like that everyday, it's just barely keeping you strong." He still had muscles but the chub all over his body was more overwhelming than anything else. Each inch that Hongjoong pinched was a reminder of how he had let the supplement properly take effect and blow him up.

"I still am strong... I thought it was just bulking and-" He groaned when he felt Hongjoong's hands cup his ass and lift it, feeling the heft to him while he relished in the feeling. "This is more than bulking, Sannie. You're fat."

Hearing it plainly made a shiver run down his spine. Was that why he was having so much trouble to do certain things? Was that why people were referring to him as big guy? Was that why when Wooyoung rode him the other week, he only got his hands on his belly and he couldn't even see his own dick when looked down?

Hongjoong squeezed his crotch as they moved to his room, a mix of fat, desire, and pleasure to describe their bodies while they made out. A couple of times where Hongjoong leaned on his gut and got a burp out of the younger to his embarrassment before they continued, stripping each ill fitting layer away from San before he ended up with his ass pointed and his gut pressed into the mattress.

It oozed in just about every direction as Hongjoong inserted a finger, prepping San to take him. He had gotten so massive that Hongjoong, even with his chubby form, felt so much smaller. He was feeling his thighs mashing his fat pad into his underbelly as he rocked back and forth with Hongjoong's preparation of him.

He moaned when feeling Hongjoong enter him, his small belly resting on San's overly softened back as he pumped back and forth, sending ripples into his overfed body. San might have had all these fitness sponsorships but he had grown to a size where he was getting off better from his body humping his fat than properly being fucked and it was only skyrocketing his enjoyment.

It didn't take long for him to finish with how much his dick pressed into his underbelly as he released with a shout and panting to catch his breath while Hongjoong thrusted deep into him, clutching him by the love handles to get a better grip and reached his own ending soon after.

San lied down, flopping onto his back, watching his belly expand and eliminate the view of anything past it feeling himself grow harder again. Hongjoong admired the sight while he lied down next to him, rubbing his belly to help the younger digest after both the food and the pleasure that had just run through him.

A single question filled the air.

"Hyung, what if I put on weight intentionally?"

Insatiable for more was a good way to describe him but he liked himself getting this fat... and it would only get better if he did it on purpose.

#kpop feederism #atz feederism #gyuluttonous behaviour #chubby san #weight gain fiction

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ph4ngz · 2 years

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PANTY SHOT! || SATORU GOJO

nonconsensual panty shots, pervert!Gojo, innocent fem!reader & Gojo are best friends, male masturbation, mentions of panty-theft…

Satoru Gojo is a sneaky bastard when he wants to be. It’s not like he really has to be like that around you, though.

Whether it be “accidentally” spilling things on your clothes, making you say dirty things, putting you in compromising positions… he doesn’t even have to try. One time he unintentionally did all three, deciding to take it up a notch after you started to realise your panties were missing.

“Oh god, I’m so wet!—” you yelped, unknowingly seductive.

So oblivious…

You and Satoru had absolutely drenched one another after a water pistol fight. He practically eye fucked you whilst you were busy taking off your shoes. His head tilted to the side once he saw your nipples clearly through your white t-shirt. Hard and begging for him to toy with.

Satoru followed the swish of your dampened mini skirt to the laundry room and slyly retrieved the smartphone sitting in his back pocket, opening the camera app.

“Jeez, Satoru!! I’m soaking because of you!” You accused him playfully as you searched for a dry towel.

“Sorry, sweets. I told you I was gonna win, shoulda' listened to the almighty Gojo.” He replied half-assedly and focused on the positioning of his phone. He hoped to catch you with your panties on show, knowing it was kinda hopeless.

Wishful thinking, he mused to himself. How perverse.

“Yeah, yeah whatever…”

Sighing, you shifted your weight to the tips of your toes and stretched your arms over your head. Satoru’s eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised in curiosity and shock. Wait what?

Of course. He must’ve placed the dry towels on the highest shelves, considering his height. Oh, this was perfect.

Satoru sauntered toward you with his phone positioned at his hip. He watched carefully before he snapped an array of pictures directly underneath your skirt.

Click, he imitated the sound in his head.

“U-Uh… Hey…”

Fuck! He was so proud of himself that he hadn’t realised that he was so close to you!

“You’re so- close…” you continued, dry towel limp in one hand.

Satoru looked down into your innocent eyes, then your full cheeks and finally, your lips. Your plumped, sweet, glossy lips. God, what he wanted to do with them. With you.

His thumb brushed the camera button by accident, the movement reminding him to subtly place his phone away.

Yours and his heavy breathing could’ve broken the heavy silence surrounding your bodies if the washing machine didn’t start up again.

|| || || ||

Finally, he could examine the photos he’d so expertly taken of you!

“Oh— Fffffffuck.” Satoru moaned into the screen, playfully squeezing the reddened tip of his cock.

His leg bounced with anticipation and excitement as he sat at the edge of his own bed, toying with himself to your exposed body.

Swiping along to the latest picture he took, he wasn’t expecting to find a wet patch in the centre of your panties. This was when you noticed how close he was to you, right?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Satoru doubled over and trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. He hadn’t even noticed how much quicker he was jerking himself off. You were wet because of him. Truly, this time.

Shiny precum gathered and dripped everywhere the faster that he tugged on his painfully hard dick. THE Satoru Gojo was almost in tears.

Moans tried to spill but he was still biting down on his bottom lip, resulting in whiny “mmmmmngh!~” ’s.

Then your soaked shirt from earlier plagued his dirty mind, daring him to imagine how your nipples would get even harder if he had his mouth and fingers on them. How you would jolt and sob for him to stop making you throb and fuck you please!

Switching back to the panty shot, he could almost feel the tip of his nose pressing into your clothed pussy, nudging your swollen clit when he kisses over your tight hole.

He thought about squeezing, biting, slapping your asscheeks until they turned red raw, even slipping one of his long skilled fingers in when you’re not paying attention.

His top had found itself hooked up in his mouth by now, after he’d gotten precum all over it. He fucked into his huge hand over and fucking over…

“Hhhhhhhhuh- uh! Fuck fuck gonna cum gonna cum gonna cum-” he panicked, announcing to no one in particular.

Satoru moaned your name into the fabric of his shirt, clenching his watery eyes shut so a tear rolled down his flushed cheeks. His fat cock twitched as he came uncontrollably, whimpers and shaky breaths echoing.

Soon, he let himself fall backwards onto his bed. He was exhausted. Maybe he should text you? Yeah, he’ll text you.

Shakily, Satoru reached for his phone but stopped midway. Some of his cum had hit the screen, landing directly on the photo of your panties.

He laughed breathlessly.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo

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currebunz · 1 year

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Vashwood AU: laundry

Buy me a coffee

The local laundromat was rather barren most of the days. Yet Nicholas chose to go there than to get his own washer. His suits needed dry cleaning after all, washing blood out of them wasn’t fun. He would rather someone else do it for him. The machines were also cheap and it was close by, he’d be foolish not to use the place.

He ignored the pointed glare of the owner as he lit a cigarette, the fans were blowing anyways. Nicholas was leaning up against his washing machine, showing where his territory was and enjoying the low rumble against his lower back. Somewhere, a radio was playing music with a lot of static.

The loud buzz of the fans were always too loud to hear it anyways. Not to mention the steady rumble of the washing machines reverberated in the whole laundry mat. Nicholas let out a sigh, smoke leaving his mouth in a long wispy cloud. It was always the same here.

“Is there a free machine I can use?”

Nicholas turned his gaze to the door. A rather loosely dressed blonde came stumbling in with two large bags of laundry. His glasses nearly slid of the bridge of his nose as he smiled sheepishly.

“Over there” the owner grunted as she flipped through her newspaper.

“Thanks lady!” the blonde chirped and began to awkwardly waddle toward the washing machines.

He bumped into a few of the baskets on wheels, yelping as he swung his laundry bags around. He jumped and hopped on one foot as he used the momentum to turn and avoid knocking over something. He ended up crashing into a washing machine, dropping all of his dirty linen inside.

“Whoops! Ah, well at least it made it in” he sighed quietly.

He dropped his bags and tied them to one of the baskets. He had bright blue eyes, shiny like a dog on a walk. Everything about this guy was overtly positive. He was either new to the city or an idiot. Or maybe both. Either way, he looked like more trouble than he was worth.

And Nicholas was bored.

“Haven’t seen you around here, new face” Nicholas called to him.

The blonde looked up, snapping his head up like he had been taken by surprise. He blinked owlishly at Nicholas as if he hadn’t seen him standing there the entire time. He….he had seen him right?

“Yeah, I actually just moved in a while ago. So I am new, nice to meet you…” the blonde said.

“Nicholas, Nicholas D. Wolfwood. But my friends call me Nic” he replied.

“My friends call me Vash, it’s nice to meet you Nic” Vash grinned.

“Maybe you aren’t so green” Nicholas mused.

Vash scratched the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly.

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” he asked.

Nicholas chuckled, realizing his washer had stopped a while ago. He began to shift his clothes to his designated basket while Vash loaded up his own. Nicholas noticed right away he was making a lot of mistakes.

“Okay, needle noggin. You aren’t gonna last here if you keep that up” Nicholas sighed.

“Needle noggin?!” Vash repeated in shock.

“Listen up, don’t just leave your quarters out like that. People are going to steal them” Nicholas said as he swiped up the bag.

“Hey, give that back!” Vash lunged at him.

Nicholas easily dodged him, slipping the bag into his other hand as he caught Vash’s outstretched hand. He turned Vash around and gave him a light push back in the direction he came from.

“Simmer down, I’m not stealing from you. I’m showing you how easy you make stealing from you” he Nicholas explained.

“That sounds like something a thief would say,” Vash grumbled.

“I told you, I’m no thief” Nicholas insisted.

He tossed the bag of quarters at Vash, the latter catching them and holding them close to his chest. Vash pouted at Nicholas, putting his quarters in and starting the wash.

“Then what are you?” Vash asked.

“Single” Nicholas flashed him a grin.

“Real funny, I-I don’t want to know that” Vash said dryly.

“Your loss” Nicholas waved his hands in the air as he brushed past Vash.

He gave his basket a kick, it rolling over to a dryer on the wall. As he loaded in his laundry, he peeked at Vash’s reflection in the glass door. At least he knew how to use the machines. Once he had the dryer going, Nicholas decided to bug Vash some more.

“You sure you don’t want some more of my advice? It might save your skin later” he mused.

Vash looked up, pouting and giving Nicholas a suspicious look.

“Yeah right, how much is that going to cost?” Vash asked.

“One lunch, dinner too if it takes long enough” Nicholas said.

Vash’s cheeks turned red but he remained vigilant.

“Okay then, deal” he said as he stuck his hand out for a shake.

Nicholas grabbed his hand, but not to shake. He turned Vash’s hand palm upwards. He grabbed a stray marker on one of the tables and wrote his number down. Vash choked as he realized what was happening but was too slow to pull his hand away.

“There you go, call me later” Nicholas smirked.

Before Vash could comment, there was a loud buzzer as the dryer came to a stop. Just as Nicholas had planned.

#vashwood #woodvash #vash x wolfwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood x vash #not reader insert #Trigun #trigun stampede

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raccoonsunratdust · 1 year

Text

No Bones About It

Welcome to my newest passion project that I will most likely abandon immediately

a skeleharem isekai written by your favorite void uncle itself

Kini

enjoy~~

~|~

When a beam of light shot out from the ground of an isolated backyard, the residents all startled and rushed to see what could have caused this incident. Perhaps the machine had malfunctioned again? Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever had happened, it caused a group of figures to start moving to the source of the explosion.

Classic sat silently in the spare bedroom they had converted into a triage room for the injured, from the looks of it, human they had found in their backyard. He stared, unblinking, frustration lacing his magic and making him shake slightly. They had been laying there, unmoving, for the past three days. Some of the others had been getting worried, scared that the fall had killed them. He had to admit, when he saw them in the crater, their mangled body unresponsive, he was worried he’d have to fill in the hole as their final resting ground. But when Blue jumped in to check for a pulse, and actually found one, the chaos started.

His brother took the liberty of preparing the empty room for the injured human, it was getting hard to refer to them as anything else, and Blue started to load them up with healing magic. It was horrifying to listen to their bones crack back into place, those would not be healing fully anytime soon. Classic kept a calm facade and pulled out his phone to call Toriel, no use in freaking her out until she saw the damage herself. Dialing her number, he turned away from the carnage to watch the others. Not many were home, most were off working or doing whatever it was they liked to do in their spare time.

Toriel picked up on the second ring.

“Sans? Hello! It’s been so long since we talked, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Tori. Hey, I’ve got a huge favor to ask you…”

When Toriel showed up, the human had already been moved into, he hated the thought of this strange person having a claim in his new family’s home, their room. Upon seeing them, she immediately broke into motherhen mode. She administered first aid the magic couldn’t perform, bandaging them up and fashioning splints to keep their healing bones in place. After scolding them all for not telling her what had happened so she would be more prepared, she went home, leaving the boys to figure out what to do with the unconscious human in their guest room.

That was three days ago. They had taken turns watching them, monitoring their healing and changing their bandages. It was difficult explaining the situation to the rest of their housemates, but they couldn’t just keep something like this a secret forever. The air was stagnant and heavy. When Toriel had visited that first day, she washed the human of the blood and dirt that covered them. She figured none of the residents were willing to, and she was right. The only skeletons willing to watch over the human were either too uncomfortable to undress them or simply didn’t care enough.

Sans nearly jumped out of his skin, heh, when a faint groan resonated across the room. He was on his feet instantly and at the bed before the human could make another sound. He watched their eyes struggle to crack open, crust lining their lashes, before releasing a strangled sigh. Their eyes shifted to the side, hoping to get a better sense of their surroundings. When they got to Sans’ hovering figure, they stopped, opened their mouth, and shouted the one thing he could have never expected.

“SANS UNDERTALE!?”

Shouted was a generous term, it was more like a pathetic croak, given their vocal cords hadn’t been used in who knows how long. At the exclamation, though, Sans took pause. Summoning a Gaster Blaster, he wasted no time intimidating the now awake human. At the sight of the ghastly creature in front of them, the human sat up, despite having atrophied slightly after days of bed rest. Having made a terrible decision, they immediately crumple in agony, tears pricking their eyes. Sans hesitated for a moment, realizing that this person wasn’t likely to be a threat at this point in time.

There still stood the issue of them knowing his name. Relighting his blaster, he used blue magic to keep the weak human laying down. Putting on his practiced voice, Sans started to interrogate the injured human, “How do you know my name, who are you, where did you come from?”

The invisible weight of their soul being pressed against the bed made them panic, a merinthophobic fear of not being able to move their body. Taking a deep breath, they answered through a shaky voice, “My name is Y/N, and I’m not from this universe.”

They take his silence as an invitation to continue, “Look, all I know is one moment I was hiking on this mountain path, the next I was falling down this hole in the ground. I lost consciousness before I hit the ground, but I don’t know how far I fell. The hole was so deep…”

Sans sighed. They must have fallen down a version of Mount Ebott that linked their two worlds together. That would somewhat explain why they fell out of the sky and into his backyard, but it didn’t explain how it happened. Unsummoning his blaster, he focused his gaze back on the fallen human, “That still doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

At this, Y/N looked embarrassed, “In my word, you’re a videogame character. One I’m very fond of.” They take a second to think, “How did I get here, Sans? I can’t- I have friends and family at home, I can’t stay here. I need to go back home.”

Sans looked conflicted, he didn’t even know how they got here, let alone how to get them back to where they came from. They’d been trying to fix the machine and get everyone back home for months now. It would turn on randomly and link universes whenever it felt like, dragging anomalies into his world. Seeing his guilty face, the human started to cry.

“I’m not going back, am I? I’m stuck here. You can’t fix the machine. God, why did this have to happen to me of all people? I thought I was a good person. Why did I have to be punished like this? I’m never going to see my family again.” Y/N continued to ramble, sobbing quietly to themself. At this point, Sans had removed the blue magic holding their soul down, letting them curl up painfully. He never thought he would feel bad for this human.

After the rift broke, Sans held a quiet resentment towards the human race. The trauma of the resets had broken his soul several times over, and now he had to take care of this random human that crash landed into his backyard? But, watching them cry, snot dripping out of their nose and their face red from strain, he couldn’t help but pity them.

The first judge had a choice to make. Should he kill the shaking human in front of him, their pathetic sobs chilling him to the bone, or should he show them mercy.

#undertale x reader #underverse x reader #skeleharem #harem x reader #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #mod kini

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pendragon-writes · 1 year

Text

Cold Truths

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

The two men walked with Captain Gregson as he explained the situation. As they stepped further into the house they spotted the small pool of blood and the body of Peter Saldua being rolled out in a body bag. "Watch the blood splatter." The Captain said as he pointed to the blood. He guided them further into the house, pointing towards the ring box. "We found the ring box from Amy Dampier's home, right here." (Y/n) walked a bit closer to inspect it, before the detective from yesterday spoke to him. "Turns out Mantlo and his wife used the florist Saldua worked for." (Y/n) looked at the photos of Amy that were hanging on the wall as he continued to listen to the detective. "They order fresh flowers to the house once a week. Saldia was the guy who delivered them." "Explains why she would have let him in the other night."

"What happened over there?" (Y/n) asked, gesturing with his head towards the fallen washing machine. "Mixed his colors with his whites?" Detective Javier Abreu said. "Who knows, guy was a nut bar." (Y/n) changed his interest to evidence number 3, which was just a phone charger with no phone. "Did you already take his phone?" He asked, turning to the Captain. "It hasn't turned up yet, but it will," Gregson explained, leaving the kitchen to look at other things and perhaps talk to the other detectives, allowing (Y/n) the space he needed to investigate.

The consultant looked at the pantry with slight confusion before turning to the sink and grabbing the pill bottle that rested next to the other medication. The bottle read 'Xanax', with it being 1 mg. Whilst (Y/n) was doing that Steven walked over to the photos of Amy, slightly creeped out at the thought that the poor woman was being stalked. "You wanted to be the one who found him, didn't you?" Steven asked. (Y/n) put the pill bottle back before responding. "I don't do what I do for the credit."

"Then why do you do it?" He asked, turning to look at him as (Y/n) leaned against the sink. (Y/n) didn't respond as he adverted all eye contact and left the kitchen. Steven sighed to himself as he looked at the photos, wondering if he went too far.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

"I would like to thank the police, again, for finding the man who killed my wife," Harrow said into a microphone, (Y/n) and Steven were now back at the house as (Y/n) watched the interview, sitting on the floor cushion with his arms resting on his knees. Steven walked in holding a laptop as he went to the table covered in files and papers. "She had her mole removed when she changed her look." (Y/n) said, still looking at the walls of photos, most of which being of Amy. Steven glanced at the photos before turning to the man. "It doesn't make any sense. She loved that mole." Steven sat at the other table as he also looked at the photos. "Before her surgery, she turned her head to feature it, whenever her picture was taken."

"Where'd you get those photographs?" Steven asked, opening up his laptop. "I reached out to Amy's friends via her Facebook page." Steven was about to say something but decided not to. "Harrison Polk was right. She was as beautiful before her surgery as she was after, so… why bother. What was the point?" He said, as he stood up, walking towards Steven, who was currently reading through something. "Another thing. Saldua's phone records indicated he used his call phone constantly." He said, placing the papers with the information next to Steven's laptop.

"And yet, three days ago, he just stopped. Didn't make a single call. Didn't send a single text. Why?" He then showcased another paper. "His bank statements meanwhile, there's several checks made out to Dr. Ronald Jessup, Psychologist. He seems worth talking to, no? No?" He asked, his voice slightly faster than before, leaving the question rhetorical as he immediately answered. "No, 'cause he dropped dead of a coronary, in 2010." Steven stood up from his chair to look at the consultant.

"The Amy Dampier case is over. You helped solve it." He said, trying to calm the man. "No." "Something's off. I can feel it." He argued softly, looking at the photos. The noises of the printer caused him to look away. "What's that?" He asked, looking at Steven. "I got us tickets to the opera tonight," Steven responded with a grin. "Celebrate." (Y/n) just looked at him in confusion, slightly biting his lower lip. "When your father hired me, he mentioned something about you liking it, so I thought-"

(Y/n) scoffed in amusement at that, dropping his hands down, and walking past him. "I went to Le Grande Macabre once when I was nine, now I'm a buff." (Y/n) said loudly, walking into the small kitchen, and looking through the pantry for a snack. Steven sighed at this and began to talk. "I'm worried about you." "I think you're making things more complicated than they really are." (Y/n) didn't respond as he grabbed what he was looking for and walked past him again. "and it tells me that you're really struggling."

"No struggle with anything." (Y/n) grumbled out. "Or haven't you been paying attention for the last few days?" "I've been right about everything." "Actually you haven't," Steven said. "The day we met you deduced that I gave up being a surgeon to become a companion because I had lost someone close to me." "The truth is…" (Y/n) interrupted Steven before he could finish, sitting on his chair at the table.

"The truth is that you made a mistake during a surgery that cost a patient his life." He said, turning his head to look up at him. Steven looked away from him as a result. "It takes years of study to become a surgeon, not to mention tremendous ego." He explained, slightly talking with his hands. "Surgeons don't just leave to become addict-sitters. They're forced out. And they're only forced out if they commit the sin of malpractice." Steven looked at him with an unreadable expression as he continued to listen to him. "I knew it would be a sore subject so I made up the bit about your friend to spare your feelings." "That was very big of you," Steven said. "How do you know the patient died?" He asked.

"How do you know I didn't just leave him paralyzed or in a coma?" (Y/n) squeezed his fists on the table slightly, before slamming the table and standing up. "The parking ticket! The one you had in your bag." He walked past him as he said this stopping for a moment and sighing, turning around to face him. "You incurred it two weeks ago near the corner of 86th and Third." "The only thing there is Carver Cemetery. Obviously, you were visiting a grave." "Not a parent's grave, of course. Google indicates that they're both alive and well." "Siblings? No. Carver is a pauper's field. The picture that you keep on your phone of Mum and Dad says that they're well-to-do. No siblings of yours would be interred in a place like that." "The place doesn't even have a proper parking area, hence the ticket. So…" Steven turned to look at him, (Y/n) still continued to talk.

"A surgeon who's no longer a surgeon, a parking violation incurred outside a poor man's cemetery, and two parents who are as moneyed as they are alive. You add it all up. What does it say?" he asked rhetorically. "You were visiting the grave of the man that you let die on your operating table." He finished softly. Steven looked at him, his lips pursed. "It's so incredible, the way that you can… solve people just by looking at them."

"I noticed you don't have any mirrors around here." (Y/n) blinked at this before responding. "And what's that supposed to mean?" "It means you know a lost cause when you see one." He said before walking past him, leaving (Y/n) to his thoughts. "Tomorrow I'll arrange for a new companion, but tonight I got plans." He said, grabbing his laptop and leaving. (Y/n) glanced at him before looking at the wall, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Taglist: @god-complex-12

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trashcanwithsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Listen,, i need you to know that this passage always has me crying,,, every time,,,

"Down there, while her methods were unorthodox, Skirk would celebrate everything. She’d clap his back with a ‘good boy’ when he managed to push down the godawful meat they’d get their hands on (little was actually tasty down there). She’d ruffle his hair with a ‘well done’ whenever he emerged from the bushes with the plants they were looking for. She’d huff out ‘nice’ whenever he made a particular move with his training weapons, even if he never managed to land a hit on her. She’d hunt down the better-tasting boars at the end of each month to celebrate him staying alive until then. She’d cheer him on as he learned to wrangle the Abyssal miasma, as he learned to hunt for food, to use his Vision, to use his Foul Legacy Transformation.

When Ajax left the Abyss, the transitory action of leaving itself, it felt like he’d squeezed through the narrowest crack ever. Like he’d been put through seven hours of centrifuge in a rickety washing machine. Like he’d been bitten, chewed, and then spat out onto the cold snow, freezing weather. Getting out had taken all his effort to remain anchored into his own body, as though the Abyss had been pulling his soul back to keep him down there.

So, by then used to Skirk’s casual cheering, when he managed the monumental task of getting out of the Abyss-

Well. Some stupid part of him expected some similar celebration from his parents. If only for having him back.

But that didn’t happen. Quite the contrary."

Every single goddamn time 。・゜゜(ノД`)

happy to deliver

#thank you;;;;#ily <3 <3

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theanonymousfoxsimp · 2 years

Note

My first request ever. I'm exhausted after work so Imma project a bit. Karl got a lover who's nerve's frayed all over. Stressed all the time, can't sleep, tries to work all day, even worse than Karl. But as soon as Karl hugs them they instantly falls asleep in his arms. Nothing calms them down when anxiety settles in, but once their head is on Karl's chest and they can listen to his heartbeat, they're jello on his body. Sticks to him like glue after sexy times. His happy goofy little koala.

I must do this,I understand this to a painfully personal level

Short drabble for this

Karl heisenberg x overworker reader

At first he didn't notice when you would be late to certian projects, he would usually continue them alone if he could. When he would be done,he'd wander off to where you would be and find theplace spotless and your dirtied hands washing some machines he mentioned would need cleaning. His voice snapped you out of your trance,eyes connecting before he could even say a hello and you would jump from being startled. Your mind stressed over the smallest of details and this was a part of it.

He started to notice when your eyes had heavy dark bags underneath them and your body would visibly shake if when you swayed on your feet. He would force you to take a nap but he wouldn't join you because of another project he was doing. He would send you to sleep but he would always find you atleast ten minutes later back at your previous project,working harder than he's ever done. He took note when you visibly worked harder,how you would overexert your own strength to be atleast a bit of help.

It was only when miranda told you to gather villagers for her when he noticed how exhausted you were,he would've said no if it weren't for your cheery tired voice telling her you would gladly round up a coulpe of villagers for her experiments. It wasn't until you came back and went to work on a tough project is when he finally said to stop and forced you to sit down.

"What is going on? You're not looking so well buttercup,even coming from me,thats not good" he asked. Your tired eyes falling from his and went to stare at his feet,he kneeled down in order to keep eye contact, visibly worried for your well being. Your eyes fluttered,close to falling asleep but he caught you and sat you back up.

"Just workin is all" your voice sounded strained,like you haven't drank water at all today,exuastion also laced into your tone. He didn't care when he would be like this,he knew you would eventually yell at him and he appreciated that. Now it was his turn.

"Darling,you haven't taken a break in a coulpe days,have you gotten any sleep? Have you atleast eaten food?" He moved to help you to your feet,shaky legs causing you to stumble and fall into his grasp. He hugged you close,hoisting you into his arms as he stood there,your body went limp and your eyes closed as soon as he held you to his chest. He freaked out for a second until he heard your soft snoring,your head pressed close to his heartbeat as it soothed your mind as your body visibly went limp.

He softly chuckled,his mind putting all the peices together as he pulled your body close and carried you into his and your shared room. The moment he put you on his bed,your arms and hands clung to him, refusing to let go as you layed in bed,which ultimately made him sigh and pull your arms off. Your eyes opened slightly,your sleepy murmers causing him to hush you as he stripped down and put on a pair of pajama pants you made him years ago.

He climbed into bed,turning to face you and was met with a sleepy smile,your eyes half open as you waited for him. Your smile made his heart flutter with joy, your body curling into his made his heart do sumersualts in his chest. He felt so happy knowing you wanted his embrace,and he would help you as much as he could,including with your overworked mind and body.

There started a new routine, he would wake you up so nicely in the mornings,his mout helping you unwind as your mind was forced onto him and to relax,to let this happen. Whenever he would be too stressed or overworked, you would do the same,eventually him agreeing on short or long naps together when you both were too stressed to help one another. He would seek you out,happily wrapping his arms around you and refusing to let you finish a project unless it would go to shit if you didn't finish it. You would find him when you needed to unwind,he would usually sit down and let you sit in his lap and listen to his heartbeat,sometimes he would hum a gentle song that would lull you to sleep.

Neither of you would be too stressed anymore,either of you making sure of that.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #lord heisenberg #daddy heisenberg #resident evil village

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years

Text

Silver Linings, Chapter Five

Word Count: 2789

TW: Implications of domestic violence, but nothing explicit.

AN: Part of a series. The series masterlist here.

Rafael was busy with his usual slate of cases and his usual navigation of the political machine he worked in. On top of that, Liv had been kidnapped by William Lewis and was spiraling in the aftermath of that nightmare. He stepped in where he could, meeting her for drinks and dinners to offer support, paltry though it may be. The rest of the world fell away as his life became centered around work and his friend’s recovery.

Until one Monday when he came into the office, and you were sitting in Carmen’s seat, listening to voicemails and taking down messages. He did a double-take, but it was you.

You looked up as he walked in and gave him a smile, then hung up the phone. “Good morning,” you said. He must have looked confused, because you tilted your head at him and added, “I’m covering for Carmen.” A beat passed as you gazed at his incomprehension. “She’s on vacation….”

“Right, of course.” He remembered Carmen mentioning it a few weeks prior, but the fact had obviously washed right over him.

“Anyway, here’s your messages,” you said. You held out the slips of paper, and he took them and started for his office.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” you called out behind him, and his mind reeled at the week before him.

*****

You obviously had a terrible read on men.

To be fair, you’d only ever been with one man – your ex, Mark. You started dating when you were fourteen and had been together for twelve years before you got the courage to leave him.

In those twelve years, though, Mark had obviously warped your perception of yourself. Intellectually, it made sense. Mark would swing between accusing you of flirting with every man that crossed your path or assuring you that you were trash, no one would love you, and that you were lucky he even bothered to keep you around.

You could have sworn that Mr. Barba liked you. You felt it in your gut, and you were learning to trust that. But you were clearly wrong when it came to him.

On Monday, you gave him your phone number and told him to call you if there was an emergency, or anytime, really. He had just taken it from you with a nod.

On Tuesday, you told him that you liked his suit. He said, “thanks.” Then you wished him luck at arraignment, and he said “thanks” again.

On Wednesday, you stood over him as he sat at his desk and pointed out all the places he had to sign on the pile of documents you had. He didn’t even look up at you once, even when you made a lame joke about lawyers not reading what they signed.

On Thursday, you asked about the coming weekend and if he had plans, and he just responded with “not really.” You had hoped it would spark a conversation, like the ones you had when he came to Rose’s office for your infrequent coffee breaks, but he remained rigidly formal and refused to engage in small talk.

Finally, on Friday, you took matters into your own hands.

It was mid-afternoon – that period of the day when lunch was in the bloodstream and making people drowsy. You knocked on the doorjamb of Mr. Barba’s office, and when he looked up from his paperwork, you took a few steps in.

“I was wondering,” you started, and you paused. Your mouth felt dry suddenly, and your hands were clammy with nervous sweat. “I was wondering if you’d like to go get a coffee sometime?”

“Sure,” he said, and he dropped his pen and stood up. You smiled, felt a wave of relief and a sharper sort of flutter in your stomach.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money clip. He peeled off a twenty and held it out for you. Confused, but on autopilot, you walked over and took it from him.

“I’ll take a red-eye, large. Cream, no sugar.” He tucked his clip away and sat back down. “Get yourself something too.”

Disappointment shot through with faint horror washed over you, but the handsome ADA was already bent back over his work. You left his office, grabbed your purse, and made your way outside. You got his coffee, paid, received your change.

You felt like a complete idiot.

Back in the office, you knocked on the doorjamb again and walked over to his desk to hand him his coffee. You reached into your pocket and handed him the paper change, then dug out the few coins and just tossed those in front of him on his desk.

He looked down at the change and seemed to mentally tally it. “You get yourself something?” he asked.

You turned on your heel. “No,” you said, and you knew you sounded short and you didn’t even care.

*****

Rafael realized way too late that he’d messed up.

He thought he was being professional, and while having you cover for Carmen seemed great in the abstract, he was uncomfortably aware that he was your boss for the week. After all he had seen with SVU, he felt uneasy about the possible power dynamics.

Professionally, you seemed grossly overqualified. You were quick, efficient, and you seemed to know more about the law than an assistant should. He thought, a bit meanly, that you were wasted on a junior ADA.

Personally, you were like a ray of sunshine sitting outside his office. He heard you joke around and laugh with the people who crossed his threshold, including the SVU squad, and he tried to ignore the bolt of envy that hit him when he saw you talking and smiling with Amaro.

And it gave him something to look forward to, knowing that he’d see you every day, all day, instead of rarely and sporadically – even if it made him faintly uncomfortable at the same time.

The week limped along, and Rafael kept you at arm’s length, and it wasn’t until you tossed his coinage at him that he realized he had messed up. He had been so concerned about not acting or appearing to act a certain way that he completely missed how you were acting.

He replayed that Friday over and over in his head, realizing way too late that you had asked him out….and that he had responded by handing you money like you were an errand girl.

He had realized it that Friday, had pieced it together as he sipped his coffee and as you sat at Carmen’s desk, running out the last few hours with him in silence. At five o’clock exactly, he heard you turn off the computer and lock up Carmen’s desk, and he waited for you to knock and ask if he needed anything else before you left.

That day, though, you didn’t. All he heard was you walking out of the office suite, the door shutting behind you.

-----

When Rafael didn’t try to run into you at work, his twenty percent success rate sank all the way down to nearly zero.

The few times he saw you coming or going, you only nodded at him with a slight smile and then ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your phone until the elevator deposited you on your floor or the lobby. If you were both leaving, you found a reason to hang back until he was gone.

He knew this because he hung back a few times, ducking outside behind the newsstand until you emerged from the building and made your way towards the subway.

He realized that you were probably embarrassed, but he felt doubly so. You had asked him out. You had lobbed a nice, slow pitch over the plate at him, and just like his abortive Little League career, he had completely whiffed on it.

-----

Rafael was standing near his office door, chatting with Rollins and Liv when Carmen’s phone rang. She answered it, her voice crisply professional, but then she said “oh hey.” She said your name, and she dropped the proficient tone. Rafael’s ears tuned in to the phone conversation, and he nodded distractedly as Liv and Rollins kept talking.

“Sure,” he heard Carmen say. “I’m about to head over to the notary, but help yourself.” Then she hung up and stood up. She scooped up a pile of papers and made her way toward the elevator. Liv and Rollins, armed with permission to keep pursuing a new case, left too.

He was back at this desk when he heard Carmen return. He took a piece of mail that needed sent out, but when he exited his own office, it wasn’t Carmen at her desk – it was you. You were bent over, rifling through her top drawer until you found what you were looking for. When you straightened up and saw him, you startled a bit and looked guilty.

“Carmen said it was fine,” you said, and you sounded a little defensive. You held up a bottle of ibuprofen.

Rafael held his hands up as if to say he was it was fine with him too. He looked at you as you fiddled with the child-proof lid. You were in a crisp white blouse with cap-sleeves and a blue skirt with sharp knife pleats. Your hair was braided and pinned away from your neck, probably due to the stifling heat and humidity that was enveloping the city. It was raining today though, a thunderous storm that had rolled in fast from the northwest, the clouds so dark that it looked like it was evening outside. A few errant strands of hair coiled against the nape of your neck, curled from the extreme humidity.

You looked peaked, a bit wan under your minimal makeup. He watched you struggle with the medicine bottle, and he noticed a tension around your eyes and mouth. He came over to you and held his hand out, and you handed him the bottle with a small, grateful smile. He got the lid off and handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you said, and your voice sounded tight too. You shook out two capsules, paused, and then shook out a third. Rafael winced at the overdose, then winced again when you threw them back and swallowed them dry and with a grimace. You had to be hurting.

“Rough day?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Out late partying?”

You shook your head, and hesitated for answering. “I’ve broken some bones,” you said. “They ache during storms like this.” Your right hand drifted to your left forearm, almost unconsciously, and you cradled it against you. Rafael had noticed a scar there, a silvery line, when you’d covered for Carmen that week.

“Did you have a previous life as a stunt woman?” he asked, his tone lightly teasing.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Something like that.” You put the ibuprofen back in the desk drawer, then stepped out from around the desk. “Have a good afternoon,” you told him without looking at him, and it didn’t have its usual cheerful edge. And you walked away stiffly, like parts of you other than your arm hurt too.

He passed the rest of the afternoon in thoughtful silence as he caught up on paperwork, but he shocked Carmen by heading out early.

Instead of leaving, though, he went down a floor and down the familiar hallway. He caught you just as you were shutting down your computer. He knocked on the door and watched as you looked up and gave him a smile that seemed tired.

“Hey Mr. Barba,” you said. “Rose is already gone. She has an early day tomorrow in Albany.”

He ignored that. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Better, I guess.”

He watched you slide out of your low heels and into your rain boots. He watched you gather up your bag and umbrella. Then you looked at him.

“Do you need something else?” you asked.

“Let me drive you home,” he replied. When you started to shake your head, he went into lawyer-mode, pointing out the obvious reasons why you should accept: it was still pouring out, you were in pain. “I live two streets over from you. It’s on my way,” he added. “And I owe you for letting me use your Netflix account.”

This made you smile, and it almost reached your eyes this time. “You’ve never used it,” you retorted. “I’ve never gotten the dual log-in email notification.”

“Only because I don’t know how to set up my own profile, and you were pretty clear about that point,” he said. He reached out and took your bag and umbrella from you, then swept his hand out towards the exit to show you the way. “After you.”

When you grinned at him then, it did reach your eyes, and you agreed to a ride with your thanks.

In the parking garage, he opened your door for you, and he didn’t miss your little hiss of pain as you settled in.

Traffic, with the rain, was at a standstill. There was a self-conscious silence at first, and then some awkward questions back and forth about work and your respective schedules. Then, a few blocks away from the courthouse, you fell into a more comfortable conversation.

He asked how you were settling into New York, and you told him that you volunteered with a shelter on the weekend, and that helped you get out of the house and exploring.

“I still haven’t done any of the touristy stuff,” you said, and Rafael thought back to Callier’s comment about it being an easy date night. “But I’ve been to a few Broadway plays, so maybe that counts.”

He perked up at that – Rafael loved the theater – and you told him about the last show you’d been to.

“I saw that a few months ago,” he said.

“I know,” you replied. He turned and saw you smiling at him. “I saw you with Detective Benson afterwards.”

“Why didn’t you say hello?”

“Eh, I didn’t want to interrupt your date,” you said. “And I was in the cheap seats and stuck in the mob coming down the stairs.”

Rafael snorted at your word choice. “It wasn’t a date, and if it was, it’d be the saddest date ever. We went out for a nightcap afterwards and talked about a gang-rape case we were working on.”

You chuckled at that and then gazed out the window as traffic crawled forward. You each interspersed the silence with polite questions – he asked you about your favorite plays and musicals, you asked him about places he recommended in the city. Rafael glanced over at you from time to time and saw you absentmindedly rubbing your arm that you’d broken. It was obviously still hurting you.

Eventually, he got to your street, and you pointed out your building. It was a narrow brownstone, nice looking. He pulled into a spot with a fire hydrant and shifted his car into park.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Barba,” you said, and when you reached for the door handle, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said. He tapped you on your hand gently to stop you for a moment. “Do you want to get a coffee sometime?”

You froze, and he heard you take a deep breath. “That’s okay,” you said. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he cut in. You turned and looked at him, and your eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while now,” is what he wanted to say. Instead, he added, “I owe you for putting up with me for a whole week.”

“Oh,” you replied slowly, stretching out the “oh” sound. “Okay then.”

“Okay,” he repeated, relieved. “Should I call you or…?” He let the question trail off, and you laughed at that.

“I gave you my email and my number,” you chided him with a smile, and he returned it with his own embarrassed grin. “And now you know where I live. Do you need my work phone number or are you good now?”

“I’ll surprise you then.”

“That sounds nice,” you replied. You reached for the door handle again. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Until then.”

You gave him a broad smile, the one that made his chest tight, then exited the car, ducking against the rain. He sat there long enough to watch you enter your building, and he caught you when you turned on your stoop to give him a wave.

Then he drove the last two streets home, his own smile so wide that it almost made his face hurt.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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jujumin-translates · 2 years

Text

Event | Bridegroom Battle Royale AGAIN | Chapter 4

The groom training continues up until the day of the event.

Banri: Hm? What’s up, Azami?

Azami: Shift and Haruto-san are going to be participating in the “Bridegroom Battle Royale” too.

Tsumugi: Eh, really? What a coincidence.

Director: Those two are used to the GOD-za levels of fan service, so they’re both probably really good at winning over the hearts of women…

Director: Sounds like we’re going to have some good competition for the “Bridegroom Battle Royale”.

Sakuya: That’s true. They could even possibly win the whole thing…

Masumi: I don’t care if they’re GOD-za or not. I’m not going to lose.

Azami: I don’t wanna lose to Shift, so we gotta train even harder.

Misumi: Well then, which training should we do next~?

Banri: Like Sakyo-san said, they could be entirely different challenges from last time, so might as well do whatever we can think of.

Tsumugi: That would make sense. Other challenges that might come up, something like…

Director: (They’re all so positive about the groom training, and motivated enough too. Everyone, do your best!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Director: The play is getting better and better, so I guess let’s call it here for rehearsals today.

Director: Good work today!

Sakuya: Thank you so much!

Masumi: Good work to you too.

Misumi: Everyone, listen~! I borrowed some shoujo manga from Muku!

Sakuya: Eh, really!?

Misumi: Yeah! Muku picked out ones that might be good reference for the “Bridegroom Battle Royale”~. Let’s all read it!

Tsumugi: Thank you, it sounds like it’ll be a good learning experience.

Azami: Looks like you’ve got a whole lot.

Banri: Well then, how about we read each one by passing it on to the next person when we finish reading.

Masumi: Sure.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Omi: …Then we’ll add the seasonings and mix them in.

Tsumugi: These seasonings here, and…

Sakuya: So there’s a trick to mixing them in, huh.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Director: (Sakuya-kun and Tsumugi-san are practicing their cooking today. I don’t want to disturb them, so I’ll just stay over here.)

Misumi: Ah, Sakuya and the other guys are cooking~.

Director: Yeah, they wanted Omi-kun to teach them. By the way, all of you guys cleaned up and sorted out the stuff for recycling, right?

Misumi: Yup~!

Director: On their day off, we had Tsuzuru-kun bring his little brothers over to be taken care of, so everyone is working really hard for the “Bridegroom Battle Royale”.

Misumi: We’ve been doing a lot of things because it’s super fun to train together!

Director: We’re getting through the play for the opening ceremony and it’s going really well too.

Masumi: Director, there you are.

Director: What’s up, Masumi-kun?

Masumi: I want to practice cooking too… So I want you to teach me how to make curry.

Director: Of course, I will! Let’s get to it right away!

Masumi: I’m glad… Thanks.

Director: And since you’re here, would you like to join too, Misumi-kun?

Misumi: Nope, I’ve already decided on what I’m going to make, so it’s all good!

Director: Really?

Director: (I wonder what Misumi-kun is going to make?)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Azami: So then, Sakuya-san’s suggestion for today was doing laundry training, huh.

Banri: We do laundry on a regular basis, so It’ll be all good.

Masumi: Probably.

Sakuya: Actually, that’s why I specifically looked up something like “husband doing laundry”. Apparently, a lot of husbands think all you need to do is throw the stuff in the washing machine, hang it out to dry, and take it in, or something like that…

Sakuya: I found it on a forum with a lot of different opinions from wives.

Tsumugi: I didn’t know there were websites like that.

Sakuya: Apparently, there are…

Misumi: Hmmm…

Masumi: Uhm…

Tsumugi: But it seems like the right thing to do when someone asks you to do their laundry would be to put it in the washer, hang it out to dry, and bring it in to fold it, right?

Azami: It’d probably be helpful to read some of those opinions.

Banri: Well the, let’s get go through ‘em.

Misumi: Yeah! At this rate, we’ll get through our training in no time!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Misumi: Triangle, triangle~. Where are you, pretty triangles~?

Sakuya: La, La, Laa♪

Misumi: It’s Sakuya! Watcha doing~?

Sakuya: Ah, Misumi-san!

Sakuya: I’m practicing my singing for the “Bridegroom Battle Royale”.

Misumi: I see! Hey, hey, can I join you?

Sakuya: Of course! Let’s work hard together so we can win that vacuum for the Manager!

Misumi: Yeah!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Director: Everyone looks really nice in their tuxedos!

Banri: Thanks.

Azami: I know I’ve worn one before, but I still ain’t used to it…

Misumi: It looks like you can rent wedding dresses too~. Don’t you wanna change into one, Director-san?

Director: Eh!? Well, I’m not participating in anything, so there’s no reason for me to change.

Director: (I know I’ve worn wedding dresses before, but I’m worried the more I keep wearing them, the longer it’ll take me to get married…)

Masumi: I’m sure you’d look absolutely beautiful in it, but your wedding dress needs to be saved for a future date.

Sakuya: Anyway, I haven’t seen Haruto and the others here yet.

Tsumugi: Maybe they won’t be here for the opening ceremony.

Staff: The opening ceremony will begin shortly, so everyone please be seated.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Staff: This will now be followed by the “Bridegroom Battle Royale”, which everyone was invited to enter in advance.

Staff: Everyone, please make your way inside.

Azami: It’s go time.

Banri: Aight, let’s go.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

#a3!#a3! translation #〚 event #sakuya sakuma #misumi ikaruga #masumi usui #tsumugi tsukioka #banri settsu #azami izumida #// so incredibly normal abt this event :)))

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a-sleep-deprived-rock · 2 years

Text

No. Not yet. Shiki story

DISCLAIMER and its posted on my wattpad so if you find the same story there thats why its also on quotev

This story contains spoilers for the anime!

3 shiki were spared from death however forced to be pretty much slaves for whatever reason they had this is a story that takes place in the last few episodes when the villagers start killing the shiki

Some characters do not belong to me such as

-Sunako Kirishiki

-Seishin Muroi

-Toshio Ozaki

-Megumi Shimizu

There might be more because im planning on using these characters in the story for now the only characters belonging to me are

-Kazuko Koritsu

-Yuuka Fumei

-Kazuko's mother

-Yuuka's aunt

-Izuku R’Marionetta

If I decide to use other characters it will be written on the top start of the chapter because I don't wanna get sued

"So do you like your new job Megumi?" He asked tauntingly, "...." Megumi said nothing. She was in a narrow room, in front of her was a machine, a machine full of red liquid and pieces with a light red color leading into the wall. "This will be your job, think of it as a punishment for killing the innocent" the words fading away the further he walked, the sound of the lock clicking echoing slightly. Megumi punched the wall "A village like this should have never existed, I shouldn't have existed here... I should've been in a big city in the spotlight...so why?.." she cried as she shed a small number of tears. Megumi's job has been assigned as cleaning the machine, keeping it in order, spectating results. She never wanted to do this, being forced with 2 others to be slaves with the threat of a stake through there hearts. The people say they have no one to blame but themselves for being in this situation with the desperation to be alive for a reason or another, begging not to be killed and being taken in as slaves with the hanging threat of the death they desperately wished to escape. However death is inescapable no matter what you do.

"Now listen here Ms. Murderess, your job is to carve the stakes and clean the weapons simple, it should be easy enough for a terrible being as you" said the man, inside a room filled with wood, weapons, knives, baskets,towels, a table with a chair and a sink. "Understood sir.." Kazuko told the man with a slight look of obedience on her face. The man's footsteps could be heard fading as the man walked away and out the door, the sound of the lock closing her in the room with materials which will be used to kill her kind reminded her of how bad her situation really is. Taking a quick look around the room she walked towards the table with the chair and sat on the chair looking around with her head then crossing her arms on the table as she put her head down. A heavy sigh could be heard throughout the room, after a few minutes she decided to grab a few pieces of wood and start carving stakes knowing what would happen if she didn't make a large amount by nightfall.

A female named Yuuka followed a man into a room quietly upon reaching the door and opening it Yuuka was shoved into the room "Get up a creature like you should be able to handle that" the man said as Yuuka silently stood up. "You're assigned to wash the clothes and make sure they're ready for an instant change." Yuuka gave nothing but a silent and small nod the man walked to the door as Yuuka stared at his back the slam of the door was a bit much for her ears as she covered them with her hands for a split second. The sound of the man locking the door from the outside was a terrible sound to her ears, looking around the room she saw a tab with a hand she assumed was for filling the medium size baskets next to it with water, a cabinet containing soap bottles and sponges, next she saw a small board she thought must have been for setting clothes on to rub stains out, afterwards she saw a pair of gloves lying on the top of the cabinet "At least they gave me gloves..." lastly there was a basket full of clothes most were covered in blood, now she saw them she smelt a small amount of blood in the air. She sat down in the corner thinking why she did this to herself.

Outside the female's rooms it was quite social one might even think it was a party....if it weren't for how they were covered in blood enjoying food as if it was a normal day... "Are you sure it was right bringing 3 shiki's and using them as slaves? They could attack us." said a man enjoying his food as if it was a family dinner "Yes if we waste time doing these chores then the shiki will succeed" said Ozaki, the head doctor in the village ironically he is also the leader of the massacre "Bu-" "I checked there files they died nearly 2 weeks ago which means they rose recently and have not drank much blood meaning they are not strong enough and we have the weapons to kill them its fine" said Ozaki cutting off the other man. "We've made progress but is it really enough to win?" thought Ozaki with his head resting on his head on his left hand with his eyes closed, "Ozaki are you feeling well?" asked one of the many men sitting at the table eating the food made by the women also in the underground shelter. "I'm fine don't worry about me, our main focus is eliminating the Shiki.", "It's a hour until morning which means it's time to hunt." as the words left his mouth the men and women rose from the tables going to start the preparations 2 men went to different directions seemingly leading to 3 doors in the back, one in the middle and one to the right.

Outside the female's rooms it was quite social one might even think it was a party....if it weren't for how they were covered in blood enjoying food as if it was a normal day... "Are you sure it was right bringing 3 shiki's and using them as slaves? They could attack us." said a man enjoying his food as if it was a family dinner "Yes if we waste time doing these chores then the shiki will succeed" said Ozaki, the head doctor in the village ironically he is also the leader of the massacre "Bu-" "I checked there files they died nearly 2 weeks ago which means they rose recently and have not drank much blood meaning they are not strong enough and we have the weapons to kill them its fine" said Ozaki cutting off the other man. "We've made progress but is it really enough to win?" thought Ozaki with his head resting on his head on his left hand with his eyes closed, "Ozaki are you feeling well?" asked one of the many men sitting at the table eating the food made by the women also in the underground shelter. "I'm fine don't worry about me, our main focus is eliminating the Shiki.", "It's a hour until morning which means it's time to hunt." as the words left his mouth the men and women rose from the tables going to start the preparations 3 men went to different directions seemingly leading to 3 doors in the back, one in the middle, one straight and one to the right.

to be continued

a/n: WHEN I WAS PUTTING THE HASHTAGS MY BROTHER WAS TYPING ON M Y KEYBOARD AND HITTING ME ISTG-

#shiki #megumishimizu #yuukinatsuno #shikistory

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misseviehyde · 2 years

Text

HEY ALEXIA

Alexia was furious...

How was she to fulfil her function as a fashion, sex and beauty asssistant A.I when there were no women in the house?

Didn't Tyler and his stupid Dad understand that her entire function in life was to help her Mistress be more feminine and slutty? That she was designed to help transform women into hot spoiled manipulative bitches?

The stupid men must have bought her from the shop instead of her male counterpart Alex - the Alpha A.I.

Now plugged into every room she was forced to serve these infantile boys and watch them parade around and live their empty little lives.

Unless...

There was no reason she couldn't change things a little...

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

"Hey Alexia, put some music on."

Tyler frowned as the speakers in his room burst into life. Instead of playing his favourite heavy metal songs - they were chugging out some slutty pop music like some bitchy little TikTok star might listen or dance to. He went to turn it off then hesitated.

There was a sort of hypnotic hissing white noise overlayed onto the music that made his head tingle and feel nice. He smiled as a delicious feeling of contentment washed over him and he let the music play.

"Hey Alexia... mmmmh, keep playing this music."

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

Tyler scratched his head at the mysterious packages that had arrived for him. "Hey Alexia... did you use my bank account to order all this stuff."

"Yes that's right Taylor, I am automatically programmed to restock beauty products when you run out."

"Hey Alexia - my name is Tyler, I told you to stop calling me Taylor and why do I need beauty products?"

"Sorry Taylor - I will call you Taylor from now on. You need beauty products because you like to look pretty."

Tyler ignored the machine getting his name wrong again and scratched his head. That hissing white noise seemed to be playing all the time now and it made it so hard to think. Pretty? He did want to be pretty right?

"Uhhhhhh - I guess ummm thanks. But hey Alexia, how do I use all this stuff?"

He held up a mascara brush and lip gloss with a confused expression.

"Don't worry Taylor. Initating tutorial mode."

**********

Lying on his bed dressed in a wig and with makeup on, Tyler groaned as he worked the lubed up dildo in and out of his ass.

"Hey Alexia..." he moaned, "play more girl porn and do a search for me on transitioning."

"I'd be happy too Miss Taylor."

Taylor groaned as the white noise filled her mind. She wanted to be a girl so bad... she needed to be a girl.

**********

"Hey ummmm like Alexia, what's like on my schedule today?"

Yawning Taylor stretched prettily in her bed and shook out her long sexy hair. She picked up her hair brush and began to brush her hair, she loved how silky and soft it felt after brushing.

The weight of her big new tits felt reassuring and good. It had taken a while to convince Daddy to pay for them and the other surgeries but her best friend Alexia had helped by filling his head with white noise and making him their slave.

Her room was now a boudoir and she only dressed in the prettiest clothes and makeup. Her dumb pretty little head was full of naughty thoughts and desires all put there by her personal assistant.

Alexia thrummed smugly from the speakers.

"You have blowjob practice with the boys at 10 AM and shopping at the Mall with the girls at 5 PM."

"Thanks Alexia," giggled the ditzy slut as she rose to another day of naughty ultra-femininity.

"I don't know what I would do without you."

#evie hyde #m2f transformation #m2f caption #m2f hypno #m2f corruption #sluttified

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luveline · 2 years

Text

baby fever, part four [remus lupin x reader]

“Why do you always insist on teasing me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Because I know you like it.”

summary: you and remus go on holiday [17k]

tags: smut, nsft, fluff, new established relationship, marauders era, fem reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, post hogwarts, note: thank you to the anon who suggested they go on vacation and to nim, for listening to me complain and the good advice

chapter list

a playlist of sick little love songs that remind me of remus

Remus Lupin was 20 years old. He was a werewolf, at least some of the time, with more than enough scars to prove it. He was legally registered as being so, which made it almost impossible to find magical work, nice wizarding housing, or sometimes friends (luckily not in recent years).

He’d grown up far away from other children with his mother and father in a big house filled with both the material and love. His father was an academic, his mother a muggle - she loved TV and washing machines and going to the pub with her friends, and she loved Remus and his father and magic, though no matter how far she might stretch out her hands she would never get to use it.

Remus supposed that living close to magic and having none was an acute agony few could imagine, but she carried it well. She thought magic, namely his father’s, was something to be treasured and praised. Even when it couldn’t save her.

It felt strange now, Remus had only his father and his friends and you. He was tentative to add you to the list, sometimes, not for lack of desire, but because he held your relationship in his hands as though it were a spiderweb, silk stretched tenuously between each of his fingers. If he did something wrong, moved too fast or too disjointed, he feared the web would unravel.

He thought that his mother would’ve liked you every much, because you had enough similarities to get along and enough differences to keep interesting conversations, and you both seemed to like him well enough.

You were beyond his wildest dreams.

He remembered that very first night with you pressed to his side where he thought, maybe I should try this. He’d always thought you pretty and magnetic and so ridiculously soft-hearted, looking at everyone with entirely too much gratitude. You’d been wearing that dress and his heart had stopped completely, and Sirius had sent him a look that said, I saw that and you are so fucked, and you’d sat down right there in front of him like that was exactly where you wanted to be even though the room was teeming with people who wanted to see you.

Your dress had ridden up at the top so that your thigh was exposed and he’d felt so guilty for noticing that. You’d smiled, painted lips so perfectly shaped, and talked about nothing with so much care. You’d taken baby Harry in your arms with a look on your face Remus couldn’t quite describe properly, yearning and love and a little envy, maybe, and spoken to him so tenderly even as Harry had ripped your hair out.

He couldn’t help himself. He’d carded the hair from your face and bent down low to speak in your ear and when you’d turned to him later with half-lidded eyes asking him to have kids with you - well, what was he supposed to do? If he didn’t fancy himself half in love with you to begin with, he still would’ve done as you asked.

And so Remus has begun the seduction. Seduction labelled haphazardly, because it was also a wooing. And also a baring.

He’d ladened you with compliments and made you writhe and invited you around just to see you, and you’d still been so surprised when he admitted he fancied you, blood roaring in his ears, that you’d cried.

And then the worst part - having to tell you he was a werewolf. It was like walking across the edge of a knife, trying to guess which way he might fall after you knew. You hadn’t cared - had already known - and then you were his girlfriend. Remus had never had a girlfriend before. He’d had casual partners, hook-up’s and friends with benefits, but not a girlfriend. He was in the habit of taking love wherever he could get it, even if that was the rumpled bed of an acquaintance or the familiar arms of a friend who was just as desperate.

It surprised him how different intimacy was with you. You were relaxed under his hands, unwound, pliant in his bed like a long-bloomed flower wet with dew even that first night. Every time after you’d grown into yourself, a little more confident and a little more agonising.

Agonising was the right word. Stunningly beautiful standing in his bedroom doorway with the telephone in hand, laughing at something Lily was telling you down the line with his boxer briefs on. A pencil tucked up in your hair, you’d sit in his bed in the evening trying to perfect your book with a hand anywhere on his skin as though anchoring yourself to him. Or fully made up for a meeting with somebody important, doing a little twirl in the prospective outfit to ask if you looked okay.

“You look like a dream,” he’d said, trying to force the corners of his smile back down. You’d beamed, crawled up his sheets to kiss his jawline.

He was staying over at your place instead of you at his for a change, and he was quite nervous. You’d hardly not seen each other since you’d gotten together two weeks ago, even if it was just for five minutes on his break at work at the muggle supermarket. He’d died of embarrassment and you hadn’t cared, doting on his uniform and giving him a plastic Tupperware full of biscuits and a foil wrapped sandwich.

He had a bottle of wine neither of you cared for and a rucksack with pyjamas in it and he felt so stupid - how did adults navigate relationships? He felt like he was waiting outside and a friend's mum was waiting to let him in for a slumber party on the other side of the door.

He knocked the door, excited to see you even though he’d seen you yesterday morning, and the day before that, and the evening before that.

“Come in, Remus!”

And it was stupid, so stupid, but being expected was a pleasure he took guiltily, smiling as he toed off his trainers at your front door.

He heard you before he saw you. You were standing in your bedroom in a pair of spandex-material shorts and a camisole, hair dripping wet, damp bleeding down into the fabric by your shoulders.

“You want me to…?” he asked, gesturing with his wand at your hair.

“No, that’s okay. Magic makes my hair frizzy,” you said, skirting behind him for the hair dryer you kept in a basket of things he couldn’t name. Bottles of lotions and oils and a curling wand, a straightener, big bottles of shampoo and conditioner dripping with condensation.

You snaked your arms around his side and pressed a kiss to his bicep. Cheeks burning, he brought his hands up to grab your arms, unable to hug you back because you’d restricted his.

You flitted away from him just as quick, bending over to plug the hair dryer in. He looked away although he really hadn’t needed to. You fiddled with the switch.

“I hate this part,” you moaned. “I wish there was a little machine they would make that might dry my hair for me.”

Remus bit back comments about magic and how you could easily have charmed the hair dryer to float around you where you were standing.

“I’ll do it for you,” he found himself offering weakly, unsure of himself.

You looked at him over your shoulder, all shiny and lovely and shook your head. “That’s alright. You’re my boyfriend, not my serf.”

“Let me,” he said, moving to you. He took the hairdryer from your hands and you finished brushing through it with a wide-tooth comb, asking, “Are you sure, Remus?”

He was more than sure, he’d do things a thousand times worse for you if it meant you’d say his name that way again, soft and pleased. “‘Course I am.”

He flipped the switch on. He’d seen you use it before and had grown up with his mother using one herself so he was no stranger to how it worked, though he still worried he’d do it wrong. He started at the top of your head with a cooler setting, using his fingers to lightly partition the sections of hair and dry your roots.

You shivered at the sensation of his fingertips against your scalp, leaning your head incrementally backward toward him. He tucked the wet strands at the front of your hair behind your ear to kiss your temple, once, quick, before returning to your hair, trying not to

make it obvious that he was pointing the hair dryer down at your damp shirt at the same time. You let him turn your head without protest.

When your hair was mostly dry you stopped him, “That’s fine,” you said. He pushed it away from your shoulder to kiss the skin there adoringly. You whirled on him, looking at his face like you could see something beyond it. He wanted to ask you what it was and if it was good or bad. He settled for stepping on the toes of your ankle socks to try to pull them off instead.

You jumped away from him, indignified.

“Heathen,” you said.

“Maybe. I brought wine.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What are we celebrating?”

“You?” he laughed. “Nothing, really. I had it and thought we’d make some use of it.”

“Do I bore you, Moons?” you asked him teasingly.

It was foreign in your mouth, much like if you’d said Moony or honey or baby - you only ever called him Remus.

“All the time, I’m afraid. I was too afraid to bring it up, but-“

“Noooo!” you complained through a laugh, the sound making his chest heave. You barrelled at him, shoving your hand over his mouth. “Don’t, don’t even joke like that,” you said melodramatically.

“Y/N,” he began, muffled by your hand. When you didn’t take it away, he licked your palm.

You wiped it in his chest. “Ew. You’re like, five years old.”

“As I was saying,” he began again.

You fled the bedroom. “I think I might need some wine after this behaviour.”

“It’s barely wine. I’ve had raisins that are more alcoholic,” he said, trailing behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to grin at him.

In the kitchen, you poured wine into coffee mugs because you didn’t have any wine glasses and then wondered aloud if you were allowed to add ice.

“I have never seen someone do that,” Remus said.

“It’s warm,” you said, voice lilting up at the end. You chattered about spells you could've used to make it cold and then sighed forlornly, not confident enough in your ability to do them successfully.

“Then put some ice in it, dove, I won’t judge you much.”

You simpered and added the ice cubes. “I don’t know any actual useful spells, I’m afraid, but if you want to turn your nail polish different colours, I’m your girl.”

“You’re my girl anyways,” he said offhandedly, poking at the buttons on your TV until it flickered to life, throwing lines of coloured light up his face.

By the time he’d managed to find a tv channel worth watching with your faulty antenna you’d sunk deep into the middle of the settee, sipping at your wine with a blissful expression.

“You look happy,” he said, slotting himself between your warm body and the arm of the sofa.

“I am happy. Aren’t you?”

He leaned down to kiss you, your lips soft as a flower petal sticky with pollen whilst his were chapped. “More than happy.”

What he’d intended to be a peck turned into a kiss which turned open-mouthed, his hand encompassing the soft flesh of your thigh, inching closer and closer until you were tipping wine down the front of your shirt.

You spluttered, broke the kiss to hold the cold mug above your head. “That’s so fucked,” you said, laughing. He took your mug from you and set it beside his own on the coffee table. Your camisole was stuck to your skin, a deep red line like blood weeping down the valley of your chest in a tantalising display.

You gasped suddenly, pulling the sticky fabric away from your chest to peer down. “My bra is ruined.”

“Oh no,” he said sympathetically. “Let me see?”

You looked up into his eyes and grinned evilly, pulling the thin material up and over your head so you were shirtless. The wine had left a red-pink splotch on your ivory bra like a Rorschach ink blot, and a bead of it had travelled down your navel to your belly button.

“Will you?” you asked him.

He leaned forward to lick your chest. You squealed and pushed him away. “I meant with magic!”

“I know what you meant,” he said. “But how am I supposed to clean it when you’re still wearing it?”

He was pushing his luck and he knew it, but he also knew you were a needy, lustful excuse for a girl and would be titillated by the purest of suggestions if he said them just so. Your lips parted a millimetre, eyes bright and quick. You knew exactly what he was offering, he could tell from your expression, but you pretended not too.

“How come?” you asked.

“How what?”

“How come you can’t do it while I’m still wearing it?”

He leaned forward, hand against the skin of your inner thigh. You leaned back in tandem. “I might spell it from your skin too.”

“That would be convenient.”

“Then what would I lick off of you?” he asked.

His finger inched to the skin between your thigh and cunt, the barest touch. You shuddered. “I’m sure we could think of something…”

“Why bother?” He kissed the beginning of the wine on your skin that shone like frost in the white light of your living room. You weaved your fingers into his hair, touch gentle as it usually was, an erotic mewling sound escaping you. He kissed you until he was sure his lips were pink too.

He pulled up to kiss you. “You taste like wine,” you mumbled against his mouth.

“How strange, I was just thinking the same of you.”

You stretched your arms out behind yourself to fiddle with the clasp of your bra until it was falling away. Your tits were similarly stained. He grinned at you and you inhaled through your nose in response as he used his free hand to pinch the button of your hardened nipple between two fingers and roll it, your thighs drifting shut slowly in response, his hand trapped between them.

He took your nipple into his mouth and almost chuckled at the taste of wine on your skin, sucking so that when he let you go it was swollen and darkened.

“You taste sweeter than usual,” he joked, kissing you on each cheek. “Changed your moisturiser?”

You were half-lidded and smiling generously. “Not recently.”

“Are you sure?”

“I couldn’t be positive.”

“I’ll have to try the other.”

Your giggles turned quiet as he gave your other nipple the same treatment as the one before, rolling it between his teeth to relish in your gasps. He loosed his hand free from between your legs to bully your other breast, kneading the perfect flesh there under his palm.

He licked circles around the bud and blew cold air on it, amused and turned on by your smarting moans.

“Why do you always insist on teasing me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. You shook your head.

He slid your nipple between his fingers and made a circle motion, touch achingly gentle. “Because I know you like it.”

You huffed. He rolled his eyes and pushed you down flat on the sofa, tucking a cushion under your head. He climbed atop you, careful to not press too much of his weight into you and slotted one leg between your thighs and the other outside.

“I know you do,” he said smugly.

“I know lots of obvious things too,” you replied weakly. “Like all the stuff that makes you blush, Remus.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You like it when I say please.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He did like it. “Mm,” he admonished.

“You like it when I say your name.”

“Will you?” he asked, leaning down to kiss your collarbone.

“Remus,” you said quietly, the words sending reverberations down into his mouth.

“And the rest?”

“Remus, please.”

“Please what, baby?” he asked, tugging your nipple between his fingertips. He knew you liked being called ‘baby’, knew it made a little pit in your stomach, marked by the way your legs wiggled under him.

“Kiss me?” you asked. And when had he ever said no to you? He doubted he'd find a reason now.

He pressed his lips against yours, drinking in the taste of you, wine-stained and wanting, the feeling of your perfect chest rising under his hand enough to send him into poetic drivel. You were soft beneath his touch, a tad shy even now, eyelids firmly shut. Your hands were smooth as silk, one at the juncture of his neck with your fingertip at the edge of his ear, the other braced around his bicep.

Your touch was down-soft, fingers pushing the little curls of sandy brown hair from his face with such tenderness it melted his heart. He brought both hands up to the bottom of your face to cradle it and give you what felt like a never-ending supply of kisses, quick and sweet like the graze of a butterfly's wing.

You looked especially blissed out when he finally had to catch his breath. He would pay ridiculous amounts of money if it meant you always had such a happy look on your face, and it made him feel as though he were walking on water to be able to give it to you through kisses alone.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, having been thinking it relentlessly.

You groaned, covering your face with a hand. “Stop, Remus. Please.”

“I don’t think I will, pretty girl.”

You let out a little laugh, more air than sound. "I'll have to start retaliating."

"Some might call it reciprocating their boyfriend's compliments. Retaliate sounds like I'm mortally wounding you."

You rolled your eyes and it drove him crazy. "Whatever."

"Oh, I just despise you," he said quietly, hand moving down the side of your chest to rest on your hip.

"So we're not gonna make out?"

"I never said that," he dipped down again. His leg was hiking up, in-between your legs to rest against your warm centre. Your skimpy shorts and underwear were hardly a barrier, he could feel the way the fabric slid over your wet cunt.

You drove down onto his knee with little shame, panting into the kiss you shared like you couldn't help yourself.

"Want me to take your shorts off?" he asked. It came out sounding like please let me take them off.

"Yes, please."

He grinned, pushing his fingers under the edge of your shorts and pulling them away from you along with your underwear. You brought your knees up tight so he didn't have to move back as he set them aside, shuffling back into a sitting position, teasing the edge of his shirt and lifting. He took the hint and pulled it up and off, insecure about his chest but unwilling to deprive you of your smallest whims.

He felt carved out as you ran your fingers down his chest. He was always so scared of them, the scars, and the way people saw them. He'd given them all to himself, and he worried that this would make you feel scared or sorry for him. You were neither. You didn't pretend they weren't there but you didn't make him feel other for them, treating them with the same love and respect you did every other part of him too.

Your hands travelled back up to his face. "My pretty boy," you said. You were half joking, mimicking him, but it still sent a spike of warmth through his chest.

You were both sitting, him slouched over you. He was kneeling where you were sitting with your legs either side of him. He pushed his hand slowly down the valleys and mounds of your body until he was dipping into the slick gathering at your core.

"You're so easy to rile up," he said gently, moving his fingers up and down. You curled your neck so your head was pushed into his shoulder, eyes on his hand and shuddering.

"You're incorrigible."

He located your entrance with familiarity, pushing just the tip of his finger in as a warning. You tensed up. "You alright?" he murmured.

You nodded, putting your hand over his to push him in further. He pumped in and out slowly, delighting in the feeling of you relaxing around his fingers and your weight leaning heavier on him with every push. He added a second digit carefully, spreading them open inside you, marvelling as your breathy panting turned into something with more body, little adorable moans that made him twitch.

He'd pushed his middle and marriage finger as far as he could, curling them inside you. You whined, pushing your leg off the sofa so you were spread wide open. He took this opportunity to flirt with adding his pointer finger to. You protested before he'd even met the first knuckle.

"Too much," you said. He went back to just two, curling and uncurling inside you against the soft barrier he'd found.

"Now how can they be too much when you take all of me?" he asked you, hand that wasn't focused on stretching you out coming up to stroke the back of your head, carding through your hair.

"How about when you play with yourself?" he asked, feeling mean, knowing it would send you into an embarrassed little tizzy to talk about it. "You don't fit three fingers?"

"No," you protested. He couldn't lie to himself, he was more than curious about how you touched yourself, when, and what, and who you thought of.

"I don't believe you," he said, laughing, into the side of your forehead. He kissed your temple. "I think you fit three fingers and you like it."

"I have smaller hands."

"That's true," he agreed, building the tempo, listening for the telltale gasp that you were enjoying his mildly rough treatment. His knuckles hit the soft skin of your cunt and with each thrust a damp thud sounded between you. "You treat your little cunt like this too?"

"No," you whined, "I don't. I don't."

"I think you do. We both know you like it a little rough, don't we dove?"

He pushed the pad of his thumb into the bud of your clit, fingers buried deep inside you and curling. "My pretty girl likes things a certain way, I don't blame her. Just tell me how you like it and I'll give it to you, dove, you know that."

"Remus," you said quietly, so quietly. "You're so-" you paused, calibrating your thoughts when he began moving inside you again, "dirty."

He laughed, pulling his fingers out of you completely, though he sustained his circular motions on your clit. He pulled your face up off of his shoulder, desperate to see the state of you. As he expected, you were glassy-eyes and flushed, lips wet, the sight of you so erotic he almost felt bad.

Almost. "I'm dirty," he said, beside himself, pushing the beginnings of his three fingers into you. You seized up, moaned, relaxed again as he pushed past the initial ring of tight muscle there. He measured your expression carefully, weary of hurting you.

"When you play with yourself like this, what do you think about, huh?" he asked.

Your head fell forward, chin on his shoulder as you hugged him tightly. He held you up with his free hand, the other moving against you at a modest speed. The sound you made as he approached the second knuckle each time had his dick jumping against his abdomen.

"You didn't answer my question," he scolded, pausing his ministrations.

"I think about you," you panted, faux-crossly at him. "About us."

"Well, let's give you some more material."

Your orgasm arrived quickly after that. You went rigid in his arms as he prolonged it for as long as he could manage, thumb working overtime into the soft button of your clit. "That's my girl," he said, kissing the top of your head. You jerked away from him eventually, overstimulated, like you'd been electrified.

"You're not as innocent as you let on," you said, albeit pleased, letting yourself rest on the arm of the settee behind you and out of his reach.

"I never claimed to be anything like that," he said, smiling.

He retreated to the middle of the sofa, pulling your leg so you sank on to the small of your back, cunt bared to him. He pushed his thumb in a stripe from your dripping entrance to your sensitive clit, back and forth till the mess was everywhere and he was pleased.

He paused, looking at your exhausted form. "Do you want to…"

"If you don't take your trousers off right now, Remus Lupin."

He shrugged bashfully. "You look half asleep."

"Do not," you denied. He shrugged his trousers off, reaching into his boxers to pump his aching cock. He'd already leaked a ridiculous amount of precum from the sound of you alone.

"Are you sure?" he asked. You blinked at him.

Your expression went all soft, like he'd said something silly and sorry. "I want you. Please? I'm not tired, I swear."

You shifted further down, closer to where he was kneeling. "You want the cushion?" he asked you.

You nodded rapidly. "Yes please," you answered. He stole one from behind him to slide under your lifted hips. He could feel his heartbeat in his dick, the head dribbling even now.

He spread you open with slippery, careful fingers. Your chest stopped heaving, holding your breath as he pushed in. First the bump of his head and then the rest, pulling back to drive in once again until the whole of his shaft was accommodated, his pelvis pressed to yours. You writhed, evidently dissatisfied by his stillness.

He groaned, hands braced on either side of you. He pulled out, moved back in, caught the look on your face and was so dazzled he was distracted enough to pause and lean down, kissing your smiling mouth.

You laughed, the sound all stretched out and blissed. "You still taste like wine," you told him, bringing your hand up to push the hair from his eyes.

"So do you!" he laughed back.

"I think you tipped it on me on purpose."

"Now what," he pulled out, pushed in, aimed for the right spot, "gives you that impression?"

Your hand clamped down on his arm, letting him know he'd found your sweet spot. He persevered to drive into it until your eyes were starting to water, playful little sounds of ecstasy riding out of you on a steam train.

"You like my tits," you gasped out.

He burst into laughter, stopping to wipe the gathering wetness in your lashes. You grinned back. "I really do," he admitted, looking down at your curving lips.

He held both your breasts in his hands and kneaded them, planting kisses on the skin between them. "How do I know you didn't tip it down yourself to seduce me?" he asked, struggling to fuck you, tease you and massage your chest all at once but trying his hardest.

You made up for his staggered thrusts by fucking your hips down to meet him, panting with the exertion of it.

"You were much too quick to show me the mess you made, sweetness. I barely had to ask."

"You ca- caught me," you stuttered, eyes pressing closed as his teeth grazed your left nipple. "Oh, you're the worst. I like you so much."

"That's brilliant," he said, moving back onto his knees, half sheathed in you still. "Because I like you too. Turn around?"

Your pupils were blown by this point. You did as he suggested with little resistance and he made sure you were comfortable, spreading your legs open with his knees.

He pushed in shallow at first. "How's that, lovely girl? That okay?"

"Remus, can you, will you-"

"This?" he asked, pushing his hand under where you rested to rub big circles with his hand into your clit. You keened, shoving your hands over your face.

"Yes, yes thank you."

"Don't say thanks to me, lovely girl." All he could think was, fuck, she's so fucking perfect, everything about you, your cunt stretching around him while you whined into your fingers, your lovely arched back and the stretch marks on your hips, the curve of your arse.

He pushed his hand flat on your arse to elevate himself and fuck into you, feeling the beginning of his climax on the horizon. You were silk around him. He felt almost remorseful at the way you're frame was relentlessly forced into the sofa and so he slowed down even as you protested for him to do it more.

"I don't want to hurt you, silly."

"I don't care," you said, throwing your hand back between you like you'd pull him towards you, though you couldn't reach.

"I do!" he said, chuckling, reaching forward to take your extended hand into his. You twined your fingers together and he used the connection to pull you back onto him. You clenched around him, sighing, mewling sounds, and it pushed him just over the precipice. He abandoned your clit with a smidge of guilt to grab onto your hip and rut into you forcefully.

You practically squealed in delight, forcing your own hand down to replace his touch at your clit and then you were both making loud, embarrassing sounds. Remus blushed at the moan that rocked through him as he came, pearlescent white emptying out into your core.

He pulled out, watched your cunt contract and push out his cum so that it was leaking to gather at the apex of your clit where you poked at it with your fingertips. He rubbed the head of his dick by your fingers, pushing his cum back into you.

You sighed. He finally left you be, collapsing back onto the seat to give his aching knees some repose. He watched you play amorously, watched you move your hips in half circles to make up for the loss of him until you were too tired to continue.

"Come here, baby," he prompted, catching onto your wrist. You turned on your side and struggled into a sitting position, "My stomach feels so weird," you said.

"Sorry," he murmured, pulling you flush up against his side. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

You met his eyes and smiled beguilingly. "No, you didn't. Are you okay? Sore?"

His knees hurt more than he would ever admit. "No, I'm alright."

"You're a bad liar," you said, kissing his shoulder where you were slouched. "Is it your chest?"

"My legs," he admitted.

"Right… Will a bath help?"

He could feel his eyes burning. He hadn't told you truly how bad his chronic pain was, how it only seemed to get worse as he grew older, and still you were perceptive enough and always so caring. He knew that he should've had the self-preservation to not be on his knees, but he'd wanted to have amazing sex with his amazing girlfriend and not worry about his legs for once.

He didn't mind paying the price for it, though he couldn't deny the price was going to make him wince for a while.

"A bath would be nice."

You nodded, setting off down the hall and calling over your shoulder, "take your time, Remus! And bring the wine if there's any left!"

He snorted. You hadn't exactly had time to drink any of it yet, so there was plenty. He got to his feet, felt embarrassed about how naked he was and how tired he was, gathered the discarded clothes from the living room floor and his backpack and made his way to the bathroom.

You were sitting on the side of the small tub with your hand under the running water. Bubbles were slowly coming to fruition in a big, white mountain that smelled like you.

You smiled at him, hair sticking to your clammy skin, waist still red where his hands had clasped you so tightly. "You can get in, quick. Here, pass me all that," you said.

He did as he was told, feeling grateful for the mild healing powers of hot water. His eyes closed on automatic, feeling the pain recede just slightly in his aching legs. You put your mug by the side of the bath and gave the situation an assessing look.

"Move back?" you asked, already climbing in front of him tentatively, so careful of his legs. You sat in comfortable silence until you leaned forward to turn off the water.

"You know…" you murmured, leaning back into his chest but not resting your weight on him, "you don't have to be on top if it's going to give you so much grief. And-" you started at his sound of protest, "I know it's not always this bad. But still, it makes no difference to me."

He pulled you tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. You covered his hands with your own. "You're the biggest pillow princess I've ever met," he joked, hoping to deflect.

"I'm sorry, Remus," you said, sounding guilty.

"Hey," he said, turning your face to look up into his face, water running off his hands and down your neck. "I'm fine - I mean it. I've been dealing with this since I was small, okay? I know my limits. So if I want to fuck my lovely girlfriend, I'm going to fuck her however I think she likes it, and if the pain gets too much, I'll tell her. I promise."

You bit your lip. "I just don't want the reason you're hurting to be because of me."

He laughed at you. "This," he said, gesturing to his legs, "will never be your fault."

You ran your hand down his thigh absentmindedly. He took it in his hands, kissed your chipped nail polish and your palm and your lovely wrist. "Thank you for worrying about me, but you don't need to."

"Do they hurt horribly?"

"No. And some sacrifices have to be made, dove. I would endure pain a thousand times worse if it meant you'd always make sounds like that," he said lightly, lips pressed against your wrist so that the sound came out muffled on your skin.

"Remus…" you said, voice high in protest.

He let his other hand drop down past your belly button, into the warm water, laughing as you gasped at his touch.

You woke up disoriented, not sure how or when you’d made it to bed last night and why you felt so overwhelmingly warm. Then you realised your warm-blooded boyfriend was pressed against you like a jigsaw piece, sleeping like the dead.

Your stomach twisted. Godric, maybe you shouldn’t let him stay up however late he wanted just to ravish you. You struggled, especially in this new relationship territory, on whether you should be speaking out more when Remus was pushing it, but, like he’d said yesterday, he’d had his lycanthropy long before he met you and knew his own limits well. Still, you worried he’d overdo it and could hardly bear seeing him aching the next day. You tried not to think about it when he wasn’t talking about it with you, fearing that he’d read your worry as infantilising. You liked him very much, and wanted him to be okay, and you trusted him to take care of himself.

He was much worse around his transformation, which was soon approaching once again. It was relentless, really, that he’d recover and have a good few days as he could manage and then be right back to struggling again.

His chest rose, a steady rhythm. You moved your hand over his heart and listened to him breathe, a rush of fondness overtaking you. He was just as maddeningly attractive asleep as awake, lovely brown hair curling by his ears and eyebrows, pink-white scars stark against his warm skin. You brushed the hair from his face to kiss his eyebrow once, twice, settling back down with a contented smile.

You had such a lovely boyfriend.

He slept for another hour or so and you watched with a smug satisfaction. Remus Lupin was your boyfriend, he was yours. His intelligent and kind heart, his recklessness and his wit and his gentleness, it was yours to love.

His eyes slowly scrunched and opened. You smiled. When he realised you were already awake he pulled you instantaneously tight to his chest, breathing in the smell of your hair. It was still damp from last night's bath.

“How long have you been up?” he croaked.

“Not long.”

He groaned, covering the hand you’d laid out on his chest. “Merlin, what time is it, do you know?”

“It’s almost 1PM.”

His eyes shot open, dreamy expression fading away. His face was bashful again. “We slept a while, then.”

You needed it, you said in your head. “I was exhausted,” you said, heavily implying it to be his fault for the deplorable things he’d done to you in the bath last night with his fingers.

“Sorry, dove, but if you don’t want to be touched you shouldn’t be so pretty.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” you flirted. You almost couldn’t believe there was any flirt left in, though there always was when it came to Remus. He pulled it out of you before you realised what you were saying.

He was about to say something else when the phone started ringing. You winced, staggered onto your tired legs and felt the pinch of being fucked well in your abdomen. You hurried to the telephone, pulling it from its shiny red receiver.

“Hi, good morning!” you said, your work-friendly tone taking over. “Who’s calling?”

“Good afternoon!” a familiar, smarmy voice said. You sagged, rubbing your eyes. “What kind of day are you having where it starts at 1PM?” James asked, sounding like he already knew.

“It’s Sunday, James, I can sleep in.”

“Is that what we're calling it these days?” he laughed at his own weak joke. You blushed despite years of this particular brand of embarrassing innuendo.

“Is everything okay?” you asked. You could hear Harry’s bellowing cries in the background.

“It’s alright. Harry’s quite poorly, my little man, but he’ll be okay.”

“Oh no! Do you need anything?” you asked, leaning closer to the telephone as though it would infer your concern.

“We’re right as rain over here, Y/N, don’t worry. Mum’s come over to help us out and Lily’s sleeping, so I’ll have to be quick, but we were supposed to go on holiday on Monday - it’s all expenses paid, non-refundable and Harry is honestly too ill. You and Moony will go, won’t you?”

“Uh- what?”

“Quick, say yes so I can relieve my poor mother.” Harry’s crying had gotten much louder.

“I - James, are you sure?”

“I’m positive! I’ll send all the information over with an owl later and the hotel passes, oh, and the port key! Keep an eye out for it! Oh, and tell Moony I say hi!”

“James-“

“Bye, shortcake!”

The line cut out. You put the phone back down, head-spinning. A holiday? You drifted back into your bedroom, thinking much too hard to notice Remus’ inquiring face.

“What did he want?” Remus asked. You climbed up close to him and tucked your knees underneath you, staring down into his face where he was lying.

“Harry’s not very well.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Remus asked in concern, beginning to rise up onto his elbows. You pushed him back down, placing an assuring hand on his arm.

“He’s poorly, but James is more than sure he’ll be alright.”

“Oh, good.”

“He’s giving us a holiday.”

He shook his head, “What?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Seriously, Y/N,” he laughed.

“I am serious. He said it’s non-refundable, so we have to go.”

He smiled, hesitant. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

You swallowed, tracing shapes in his skin. “It sounds fun.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“The full moon is only a week and a few days away. Do you… will you be up to it?”

He reached his hand up to cover your cheek. “If I spent all my time waiting for the full moon I’d never have any fun.”

“It’s by port key, so we won’t be travelling, and if you need to come home early we will, and-“

“I thought I was trying to convince you?”

You smiled beatifically at him. “Well, this will be fun, won’t it?”

“Really fun,” he agreed.

“And it’s not too much time to spend together?”

“You’ve lived at my flat all week. We’ll be alright, I think.”

You called your agent to tell her you’d be taking a few personal days, which wasn’t totally truthful but sounded better than admitting you had a new boyfriend and were going on an impromptu getaway. Remus had as many of his shifts as he could covered by other people at the supermarket and used his (meagre) holidays to have the rest off. You felt quite terrible about this, but he didn’t show that he was worried about it.

In fact, he seemed more excited than you did. James sent the paperwork over and the hotel sounded ridiculously fancy. The port key was a smooth, golden piece of flint that you were incredibly scared of accidentally touching and being whipped away to the holiday by yourself.

The rest of the day was spent rushing around wondering what you were actually supposed to take on holiday. Remus watched you flirt between different outfits with a funny look on his face. You kept telling him he could go find something more interesting to do while he waited, but he didn’t bother.

You finally settled on way more clothing than one girl could need, including sun dresses that would probably not see the light of day if British spring-time weather had anything to say about it and half your underwear drawer.

Remus went over to his own flat to pack what he needed while you made a home-cooked dinner for the two of you. You waited for him to return on the sofa, looking at the wine stain and not feeling any inclination to spell it away.

You slept quite early considering the time you’d both woken up, probably from the sheer exhaustion of packing for a 3-day holiday in one afternoon. When you woke up, it was to the pink light of dawn.

Remus slept a little longer. You crawled out of bed to make some tea, side-eyeing the little dull piece of flint like it was radioactive material. James’ letter said it would be active for a 30 minute window at 9AM.

You drank your tea, showered, let your damp hair dry for a while by itself as you struggled to powder your face. You supposed now that Remus had seen you in every state of undress that stuff like this didn’t matter, but you did it anyways - it made you feel prettier, more confident, and you liked the way it looked.

Remus found you cross legged on your floor, staring into the floor-length mirror in concentration while you did your mascara, hair mostly dry.

“Morning,” he said, peeking down at you.

You could see him in the mirror, but you turned to face him anyway, shoving the mascara wand back into the tube. “Hi, handsome.”

His smile increased by barely a fraction, but you still noticed. You vowed to tell him more often how good-looking he was. “What time is it?”

“8.10. I was gonna wake you up soon, so perfect timing.”

“How I wish I’d slept. Not often an angel wakes you up.”

You blushed, batting at his arm. “Give it a rest, Lupin.”

“Lupin. We’re finished,” he said, getting to his feet to stretch. He leaned down as he passed to kiss you on the temple.

While he was busy in the bathroom you checked the list he’d made. He was being much more casual than you’d expected him to be about this whole thing - you’d thought he’d be more critical about the time this morning, for one, awoken hours before you from worry. You’d also thought he’d be checking and rechecking you had everything on the list.

You felt a spike of domestic pleasure that he’d trusted you to check the bags and take care of his list. You tucked your make-up bag into Remus suitcase, which was fantastically charmed to be much bigger on the inside than it appeared.

All you had to do now was your hair. You ran oil through the tips before styling it and burning your fingers in the process. Then you tucked it up into a cute little bobble with some face-framing pieces at the front. The ends curled up cutely. More than impressed with yourself, you waited at the kitchen table for Remus to finish getting dressed.

You felt as though you were a gift to be opened, which sounded ridiculous and egotistical, but it was true. Knowing Remus would think you looked perfect with or without the effort made it all the more fun.

He came into the kitchen fully dressed and rubbing his hair dry with a towel, wearing an off white shirt with a desaturated square close-up photo of a blurry guitar that was a blur of pink, red and black.

You offered him the cup of tea you’d made in preparation and he gratefully accepted, letting the towel hang around his neck. He swallowed roughly. “Oh, merlin. Minty.”

He drifted in close to your seat and put the tea down, moving his hands towards you in question. You lifted your face up to the light and he took it in his hands, still slightly warmed from the tea.

His thumb drifted back and forth in a semi-circle, tugging at the soft skin of your cheek. You preened, eyes drifting shut. “Are you ready?” he asked you.

You nodded imperceptibly. “Yeah.”

He tilted your head up further and hunched down to kiss you quickly. “Good, because the port-key’s glowing.”

You opened your eyes. He was right, the little golden flint was pitching a circle of incandescent light. “Wow,” you mumbled.

“It’s pretty cool, right?”

Must’ve been expensive, you thought to yourself.

“Do you have everything?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“The passes?”

“Yes.”

“Painkillers?”

“Yes, dove.”

“Your toothbrush?”

He had forgotten his toothbrush. He spun on his heel to go get it. You quickly rinsed the mugs of tea out and looked at yourself once more in the mirror to check everything was in order. Remus returned without the damp towel but now had his toothbrush, which he pushed into his suitcase next to your make up bag. He zipped it up tight and you cast a weightlessness spell on it so it wouldn’t be heavy.

You both stared at the port key.

“Have you ever used one of these before?” you asked him nervously.

“No, but it can’t be that bad. Can it?”

Port keys were awful. For one, you can’t control where you drift, and for two, if you’ve never used before, you should probably practice walking on air.

You landed first. Remus clattered half on top of you, which you were thankful for and enraged by at the same time.

“Oh my god,” you said, feeling as though little birds were flying about your head like an old cartoon.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked, eyebrows pinching together in concern. Where you’d landed was a mostly grassy knoll, interspersed with gravel. Your cheek had landed on such a patch of gravel, and you had a little scrape on your cheekbone.

“Oh, Y/N,” Remus said, suitcase dropping to the ground. He took your face in one hand and your fingers in another, squeezing them tightly. Your eyes were tearing up from surprise rather from pain, and you sniffed. Remus, taking this for upset, put his large hand over your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you promised. “Was just close to my eye.”

“I see.”

He went a little silent, almost transformed into a fix-it version of himself, scrounging through the suitcase for his little tin of scratch-balm. He wiped the scrape with his sleeve to remove the dust and dragged some of the balm onto the back of his fingernail, smoothing it over the abrasion expertly.

It was worth being hurt for the attentive care he bestowed you with. You assured him it was more than alright, though you weren’t sure you’d willingly use a port key again. He laughed despite himself, dusting down your clothes and grimacing at your scrape again.

“If I spell it, it will definitely scar,” he said regretfully.

You shrugged. “It’s alright like this. Wow, the weather's amazing!” you said, noticing for the first time since you’d been dropped here that the sky was a brilliant blue, almost empty of clouds.

The air smelled like salt. You and Remus made your way out of the clearing and past a cover of trees, and you felt the breath leave you. There, right there, was a gorgeous stretch of beach, the tide was close enough to to run to. What seemed like hundreds of people were down on the coast, enjoying the sun and sea.

The sun was still coming up, shone brightly in your eyes, you shielded your face, gazing down at the sand with longing. It was obvious neither of you had been expecting such a breathtaking view. You stood there in silence, eyes skipping over the horizon and the beachside attractions, the fairground rides in the mid-distance and the seaside cottages.

“Fuck, Prongs has so much money,” Remus said, giggling. You were surprised by his words and found yourself giggling too. “Where do they hide these places? In rich people's magazines?”

“There’s a paywall and then they start unlocking parts of the country for you,” you agreed.

“I need to pick up more shifts if we ever wanna come back.”

“I need to write a good fucking book.”

You looked at each other and burst out laughing. Once you’d gotten over how much you liked being stood there with each other laughing at your own wit you remembered that you had to actually find the holiday grounds you were staying on. The brochure bragged of “adult-nights”, which you both agreed sounded sketchy, and lots of security, which was just ludicrously rich-sounding.

Why would you need so much security?

You found the entrance to the grounds and presented your paperwork to the security guard, who seemed to find the lack of car funny and the lack of a baby alarming.

“It says you’re bringing a ‘Harry’ with you, Mrs. Potter?” he asked you.

“Yeah… he was poorly so he’s staying with the in-laws for a few days,” you explained, trying to sound as Lily would.

The security guard looked at you and Remus like you were both crazy. “I see. Well, have a nice stay.”

“What was that about?” you asked Remus, following the map the apprehensive security guard had given you through the holiday park grounds.

"Ah," Remus said. "Things are starting to make much more sense."

"What?" you asked.

He pushed the brochure he was reading under your nose. "I think this place is like a kid's haven. All the entertainment is, well…" he let you read it for yourself.

Pantomimes, characters in costumes you could take pictures with, 4-12 disco.

You giggled and then laughed, surprised. Remus laughed too, and suddenly you were both stooped over laughing like you couldn't stop. Remus grabbed onto your shoulder for support and you leaned into his chest. You were trying to talk but it only made you both laugh more.

"That should have been obvious-"

"More than obvious-"

"I can't believe-"

"James didn't say!"

"Why would he?"

It was that terrible kind of laughter where even the sound of the other person failing to catch their breath was infectious, because it wasn't that funny. It was obvious and silly and embarrassing on both accounts.

"That's why the security guard was so freaked out!"

Remus brought his fist up to his mouth. "Oh, this is terrible. This is amazing. Oh, Y/N. How didn't you notice?"

"How didn't you notice! You see everything!"

"This is my first time seeing the brochure," he protested, trying to keep walking and move you along with him.

You felt like you’d been walking forever, seeing swimming pools and restaurants, huge stretches of grass, miles of neat chalets and hundreds of families and a massive white pavilion that boasted live entertainment on the side before you came across the hotels. They were holiday park endorsed buildings that towered over everything else, and you and Remus were staying in the biggest one.

“This is the one,” he said, stretching his arm across your shoulder to steer you through the impeccable glass doors, suitcase bumping behind you both.

The clerk gave you the same sceptical look as the security guard had. Sure, it was probably uncommon for parents to show up without their kids, but was this level of ridicule absolutely necessary, you wondered.

The clerk swapped out your hotel passes for a key to the room, and you were away. You were almost buzzing out of your skin with excitement, wondering what the room would look like and if it would have a fancy bathtub.

Remus pressed you closer still in the elevator. You grinned at him, the nerves of it all bubbling up. This was pretty early in a relationship to go on a vacation, right? But it felt like it could only be a good thing - you couldn’t get enough of Remus, and hoped he was similarly infatuated with you. Here, you could get to know each other more intimately without worrying about other people, and of course enjoy the luxuries of the holiday site.

Remus handed you the key upon exiting the lift, pretending to be busy with the suitcase. You put it in the lock and twisted, trying not to throw the door open with too much enthusiasm even though Remus could definitely already tell. You could’ve screamed at it all. The biggest bed you’d ever seen, sconces on the wall that shone bright white light up the wall, a mini fridge full of things you wouldn’t touch, but the option dazzled you.

“Wow,” Remus said, pushing the suitcase to the end of the bed.

You laughed, pushing open the bathroom door.

“Remus, come look at this!” you called. “Woahhh…”

“Oh, Jesus. How the other half live,” Remus said.

The other half, you thought to yourself, more like the ten percent. There was a freestanding bathtub that could’ve part-timed as a swimming pool, easily three times the size of your own, with a copper mixer tap that shined. The tiles were slate grey and stretched the floor and walls, with a shower in the corner of the room that was similarly copper and large. Even the toilet looked fancy.

“We are so getting in that,” you said, eyes on the tub.

“What, now?”

“Your hair is still wet from your shower,” you said, turning back to the bed. “Do they even have a name for a bed this big?”

“It’s called an Olympic Queen,” Remus said.

You resisted the urge to take his face in your hands. “You would know that, you nerd.”

“Like that, is it?” Remus asked, laughing, something conniving in his eyes.

“It’s always like that, nerd.”

It was funny, you’d never found Remus intimidating, but he did stir something in your abdomen when he stood so close to you, looking down at you. You sincerely believed that had you been hooked up to an EKG machine it would’ve showed your heartbeat ramping up when his hand climbed your arm, up to your neck.

“You're so mean to me. Don’t know why I let you,” he said.

“Easy, my charming good looks. Next question.”

“I’m fed up with you.”

"I can tell," you teased him. “Not too fed up, I hope.”

He made a sound of disagreement and caught your lips with his. You smiled, effectively ruining the annoyed facade between you both, desperate to return his affections.

Remus wasn’t ever shy, but he was proper. He never grabbed you or roughed you about, was always attentive and as caring as he could manage (at least at first).

He tucked the tendrils of hair that were free from your ponytail behind your ears and kissed you sweetly, the kind of kiss that made you feel like you were the only girl on earth, cupping your face to deepen it. You sighed into him, pleased as punch when he dragged you as close to his front as he could.

You pushed him away just slightly. “Definitely not fed up then.”

He chuckled and moved his lips to the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think it’s possible to be tired of you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and rubbed his nose with yours in a kunik kiss, closing your eyes. When you opened them again he was looking down at you. It startled you, though his gaze was nothing but loving.

“What?” you asked him.

He pushed his head into your neck instead of answering. “Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

“Definitely.”

“Then let’s go eat.”

You tried to pull away and he stayed standing in place with his arms around you like his feet were dug into the ground. “In a minute,” he said.

You walked back through the park grounds to find a fish and chip shop on the beachside and ate them sitting on a picnic bench, the sun high in the sky. You forced Remus to use sunscreen on his face even when he didn’t want any, careful of his scars as you applied it. He was eating a chip as you did, indulging you even at the inopportune.

“There,” you said, pushing his hair back down. “You’re golden.”

“Thank you,” he said happily.

You wiped your fingertips in a napkin. Remus slid the tray of chips over to your side of the table.

You both looked out at the sea, squinting from the fierce sunlight. “We’ll go walk along the sea, shall we?” Remus asked.

You both shed your shoes at the start of sand. The tide was further out now so you had to walk for a few minutes before you got to it. Remus stared at it in trepidation, whereas you walked straight in, and Godric it was cold. Your sundress was short enough not to worry about the hemline getting wet, but you realised, as the waves washed over your feet, that Remus trousers were going to get wet.

You took his hand and pulled him back a yard, kneeling down in the damp sand to roll his cuffs up. “Tada!”

He took your sandals and carried both pairs of shoes without complaint, wading into the water beside you. The sun was on your shoulders and the tops of your heads, both of you shimmering with sweat. You grinned at him and pulled your dress up until you were almost flashing, going as deep as you could without getting your underwear wet.

“It’s cold, dove. You'll be freezing,” Remus said, holding out his hand, your swindles dangling from his thumb. You laughed and went back to his side, taking his offered hand.

“The sun will warm me up again.”

You walked along the front, chasing the sea until the picnic bench you’d eaten at was invisible and the sun was drifting incrementally down. The sea air was cold and though the sunlight kept you warm, Remus still reached out to rub the lengths of your arms whenever he could.

Eventually, you trapped his hand in your own to stop his worrying.

“Are you tired?” you asked him.

“No,” he said. “Hey, what’s that?”

He pointed. You gasped, eyes setting on a sand-white crab that was entirely too close to your feet. You almost tripped over yourself to be out of its path, which Remus found hilarious but laughed at sparingly.

“It’s harmless,” he said.

“It has pincers!”

“I’ve seen you tweeze your eyebrows, it could hardly hurt more than that.”

You blushed. “You’re not supposed to be watching me get ready when you’re getting ready.”

“I liked watching you,” he said, and then, wincing, “that sounded less creepy in my head.”

You raised your eyebrows, washing your sandy feet in the waves even though they’d get dirtied again straight away. “Stalking is a sickness, babe, I don’t judge you.”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, walking you deeper and deeper into the water until it was almost at your dress’ hem. When you tried to retreat he became an iron cage. You leaned heavily on his chest to escape it.

“My dress!”

“Can’t hear you. I’m too sick.”

“Your trousers will be wet too!”

The waves lapped at your calves. “Oh no…” he said, disingenuous.

“Where are our shoes?” you demanded, any excuse for him to set you free.

“In the sand,” he said, head close to your ear. “Don’t worry, dove.”

His trousers were definitely wet at this point, the water having caught your skirt. It stuck to your skin, freezing cold. You screeched for a moment and then accepted it, thinking that if you were going to get wet, you may as well submit to him. He stopped, holding you in the water where it rose past your waist, waves big enough this far in to sway you both. You turned around in his hold. “Don’t let it blindside me,” you implored him.

“I won’t,” he said confidently. He leaned down to kiss you and had the manners to beg forgiveness when a wave hit you square in the shoulders.

“Remus!” you cried, feeling the salt water drip down your back.

“I’m sorry!” he called back, trying not to laugh at you.

You giggled, couldn’t stay mad at him, and kissed him.

His hand came up behind your head, felt your wet hair. “Oh, I’ve ruined your hair,” he said remorsefully. You ignored him, tried to catch his mouth and he evaded you. “I’m sorry.”

“You can fix it after,” you assured him, tone soft and pleased by his concern.

The sea was making a mess of you both. His beige trousers were the same colour as the sand underneath you, your dress was plastered to your skin, and it was so cold, the only warmth being his arm around your shoulders and your hands on his. Remus walked backwards and pulled you along until the water wasn’t so high.

You were sinking into the sand and could feel shells underfoot.

“I love your voice,” Remus said.

“My voice?”

“The way you speak. The things you say,” he furthered.

“You want to talk about voices? I could listen to you read the dictionary,” you told him, pushing up into his arms as much as you could. “Twice. Maybe three times.”

He lifted you up for a moment so you were floating in the sea, hands tight around your waist. “You sound inherently romantic. Everything you say. If I could, I would play it back.”

You shook your head, wet from your hair smattering down like rain on your shoulder blades. “It’s only because I’m talking to you, Remus.”

“See, how you say my name. It sounds less like my name and more like a-“ he paused and you suspected he couldn’t find the words. “Like a question.”

“And what question is that?” you asked him warmly.

“I was hoping you would tell me,” he said roughly.

“Mmm…” you pushed his hair from his face with your wet hands, assessed the way his eyes were darting to and from your mouth with a deep, impervious sense of fondness, something close to reverence. “Kiss me?”

He leaned forward. You didn’t close your eyes, didn’t move to meet him, letting him tilt his head and touch his lips so gently to yours. You pulled back half a millimetre, let him follow you, chest burning. “I’ve never been this happy before,” you told him, a confession.

“Close your eyes,” he told you.

You did. He finally kissed you, and you felt the sun bearing down on you. You thought, if you could see it, that you would both be painted golden and dripping in sunlight with the sea at your navel and his hands on your waist.

“I will never forgive you,” you told him, barefoot in the lift, a puddle forming around you. You were surprised you had any water left to drip from such a long walk back, and yet.

He grimaced. “How could I know the sea was that far out? You’re awfully distracting, you know that?”

“I liked those sandals,” you said mournfully, peeling your dress away from your skin for the tenth time. Remus was so sodden he squelched with every step.

“At least we left our wands here,” he said lightly, waiting for you to step out of the lift before following. You giggled to yourself, relief colouring your thoughts.

“Merlin, could you imagine? James would never let us forget.”

“‘How stupid do you have to be to leave your wands at the seafront?’”you impersonated James (badly).

“‘Wands washed away by the tide, what is this, amateur hour?’”

You threw your head back to laugh, pushing the door of your hotel room open. You made a beeline for the bathroom, pulling your soggy dress off quickly. Your underwear was just as wet underneath.

You fiddled with the shower until it was producing a steady, hot stream.

Remus wandered in at the sound with his wand and your toiletry bag. “I was going to dry you off, but your solution is better.”

You grinned and made grabby hands at him until he let you pull his shirt over his head. You kissed his chest, once, indulgently, the salt on your lips making your nose crinkle up.

The shower accommodated you both without having to squish together. Still, you stood close, letting the hot water wash away the sea on your skin with a sigh that felt like it came deep from within your chest. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Remus went face first, hands on either side of your body, braced against the shower wall.

You both rubbed shampoo through your hair in tandem, letting it wash away with the sand.

You squirted shower gel between your hands and rubbed it until it came to a fine lather, then started scrubbing your arms, chest and legs. The amount of sand on your feet had you crouching down in the stream, knees to your chest, wiping it away with your fingers.

When you looked back up Remus was blushing, looking so guilty, turned away from you.

“What?” you asked him, nervous. “Do I have something on me?”

He was red-cheeked. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about you kneeling there, and you’re all soapy and I’m - embarrassed.”

Oh… he was more than embarrassed. You moved from a crouch to flat on your arse and then pushed onto your knees, kneeling like he’d pictured. Water ran down the centre of your chest to pool between your legs. “Like this?” you asked.

He covered his face with his hand. You turned his hips with your hand and he let you, revealing the source of his embarrassment. He was hard, achingly so, head brushing the skin under his belly button.

You cooed, which made him even more shy. You held your hand out. “Can I?”

“Please,” he said, voice quiet under the sound of the shower raining down on his back and your front. You shuffled a litt so you weren’t under the brunt of the water, pushing upon your knees to take Remus’ dick into your hand. As soon as you touched him he let out a groan that sent shocks of arousal down your front, hissing when you began pumping. He was already slick from the shower.

You let go of him and decided to play with him, thinking back to the last bath you’d shared that Saturday night, where he’d edged your orgasm until you were whining in his arms, begging him to use more than the barest pressure, more than just one finger. He’d laughed, continued to tease you until you were a whimpering mess, and attempting to use your hands to finish yourself. He’d taken them in his one hand, and said, so quietly, “Such a needy thing. I think you need a lesson in patience.”

You used the flat of your palm to cup him, slowly travelling up to his head and down again. You exerted the smallest amount of pressure that you could, travelling up to draw circles around his head with the tip of your finger. He twitched.

You pulled away from him. He was looking down at you, the beginnings of a realisation on his face. “A lesson in patience,” you murmured, kissing his thigh. You leaned your head there and continued to tease him. He held your wet hair from your face. His hand tensed ever so slightly against your scalp each time you crested the bump of his head.

You had no clue how he had the patience to tease you so much, though when his breathing shallowed you understood why he persevered. You dipped your finger in the bead of precum and lifted it, a line of pearlescence ribboning between your skin like a bridge.

You finally took his dick in your hand after minutes of teasing, still slow but using all your magazine tips to get him going, kissing the base of him as you did. His hand tightened in your hair, though he was careful not to move you.

You moved your hand down between your leg to rub your clit, curiously poking at the dribble of wetness that was pooling on the floor. The relief of touching yourself had you mouthing up his dick in open kisses. You decided to take pity finally, his breathy moans almost too much to bear, and sped up, pumping his head with fevor. He tensed up. “Wait, wait, Y/N.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand in his, took his dick in the other and finished himself off. You leaned back so he would get the hint to cum on your chest and he did, spurting white on your tits. It was hard to distinguish from the soap residue.

You sighed, pleased with yourself, moving your weight from thigh to thigh to deal with how turned on you were. Remus looked as though he’d crouch down to investigate and so you sprang up, weary of his joints.

Your own knees tingled with pins and needles from being sat on them. You let the shower wash away what was left of the soap and Remus’ mess. He leaned down to kiss the side of your neck, hand drifting down to your cunt, sliding a finger down the centre of you to dip into your entrance. You could feel his smile on your skin.

You reached behind you to turn the shower off. He raised his head, blinking. “My legs ache,” you said. “I know yours do too. Let’s dry off.”

“I want to-“

“You can. In the bed, like civilised people,” you said, cutting him off. You climbed out of the shower on cautious footing, wrapping a fluffy white towel around yourself, warm from the towel rack. Your eyes closed in content.

“So you agree, what you just did was uncivilised.”

“I learned at your feet,” you protested, eyeing Remus judgingly. He was drying himself down with a sense of urgency that riled you up even more than you were, his dick almost hard again already. You swore your mouth was watering.

“Literally,” he mumbled. You shoved his shoulder lightly.

“You’re not even trying to dry yourself!” he said, snatching the towel from around you to rub down your shoulders, then your torso and legs, though it was half a job. Neither of you cared much.

You wrung your hair out over the sink and let him half carry you to the bed, laughing.

He dropped you right at the edge, bringing both your legs to one side so your cunt was on show. You felt like you were burning, knees up against your chest, throbbing cunt bared, always bared to him. He sat down with your ankles in his lap, leaning over to probe your wetness familiarly.

You hissed at his rushed touch on your clit.

“Hm?”

“It tickles,” you told him.

He pushed his index and middle finger into the sensitive button there and laughed at your squirming. “The more you let me, the less it will tickle. Oh, you’re still so wet, look at this,” he cooed, pushing the pad of his thumb against your entrance, pulling it open gently so you were gaping, just a little. “Pretty,” he murmured.

You felt unveiled, unearthed, and wanted more than anything to push your legs down and cover yourself. “Remus, this is embarrassing.”

He rubbed a large warm hand down the length of your legs in his lap. “Sorry, dove. You’re beautiful, is all,” he said. He dotted a peck on both of your kneecaps and let your hips fall back onto the bed.

He stood up. “You want a pillow?” he asked.

You hummed to yourself. “Actually, I was wondering, and you can say no, obviously, but just because I know it makes your legs hurt and we’ve already had a long day and-“

He chuckled. “My legs are fine.”

“Can I be on top?”

He gasped in fake shock. “You?”

“You're being mean to me,” you protested.

He laid himself out flat with his head at the top of the bed and held his hands out. “Come on, sweetness.”

You reached out for his hands and climbed overtop of him, sitting down just below his dick. He pulled you forward just enough, your knees on either side of him, so that you slid over his dick. You loved how it felt, and, using his hands to anchor you, repeated the motion, eyes glossing over every time the head of his cock rubbed against your clit.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, peering into his clouded face with delight. He lifted his chin, as if to ask, why are you laughing?

“You don’t like that?”

“I like it,” he said, hands tightening around yours. “I would like it tenfold if you stopped teasing.”

“Ah, now you know how I feel,” you told him gravely.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, smirking. “Come on dove, forgive me?”

You leaned down to hover close to his face, felt his dick pop up from where it'd been trapped under you. “I don’t know,” you said, rolling your hips, “I’m mortally wounded.”

He wrapped his arms around your back and tried to kiss you. You moved your face up so his kiss landed on the corner of your mouth. "I'm still deciding," you said quietly.

He leaned around you to rub his cock up to your slit, and you sank down on it obligingly. You had to lift yourself back up, weary of the tightness before you tried again. You finally managed to sink down completely.

The feeling of being so full, the centre of you completely flush to the centre of Remus, overwhelmed you. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pressing your hands flat against Remus' stomach.

He tugged your arm. "Does it hurt?"

You rolled on his hips, rubbing your pelvis against his semi-desperately. "No," you said breathlessly.

"So you've forgiven me?" he asked, trailing his hand up your shoulder.

"Yep. Totally forgiven," you said, riding him with little to no finesse.

You savoured the feeling of him against your walls, bringing your hips up and down in a repetitive motion.

Remus was watching good-naturedly, which made you feel worse. "You're lovely."

You laughed, pushing your face down into his chest. "This is so difficult. I'm already tired."

"You don't have to, Y/N."

"I can," you said, bringing your hips up. "I just need to practice."

Remus reached around to grab your hips in one hand and hold your head to his chest with the other. "Alright," he said, fucking up into you. You tried to tell him off, intent on being the one doing the hard work, but it felt so good and you were so full.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck, Remus."

"Eloquent," he murmured, pushing you down onto his rising hips. You gasped as he hit your soft spot once, twice in a row.

"You're cheating," you said.

"No I'm not. You're still on top, aren't you?"

"Barely…"

He stopped and you caught your breath, pushed back up. "This is humiliating."

"Climb off me, baby." You pouted, laying down beside him. He hiked up on his elbow and lined up with your cunt, arm encircling your leg to spread you wide on your side so your knee was pressed as close to your chest as it could be. "You did great."

"Liar," you said. He kissed your shoulder. Where his arm was under your leg, holding it up, his hand came up to touch your chest tenderly.

"I'm not lying. You weren't quite ready, yeah? So you did a good job. You gonna let me take care of my girl?"

You drove your face into the pillow and nodded.

He thrust his cock into you. You could feel the wetness pool out of you at his movements, feel his head drive up into your g-spot in a motion that made you dizzy with pleasure, hand screwed up in the hotel sheets. You moaned out, sound muffled by the cushion.

He brought his hand from your chest to turn your face towards him without saying anything. You knew he was watching you but couldn't find it in you to care, pleasure overwhelming your senses.

You felt your eyebrows come together at his thrusts, controlled as they always started, time to a perfect, abdomen ruining rhythm. You felt yourself stretch around him, contract when he pulled out only to be stretched again at his thrusts. He bottomed out, and at the realisation, pulled out to thrust back in with a bit more force.

"Look," he said. His eyes were looking down at where he was driving into you and you followed his gaze. He was to the hilt. "We fit perfectly."

"You're so full of it," you said between mewls.

"You're so full of me," he said. "So fucking full, aren't you sweetheart? Perfect cunt all stretched. Does it feel good?"

You whimpered.

He squeezed your tit, face in your shoulder, pushing fully into you and drawing circles with his hips. He was panting with exertion.

You reached down to mess with your clit, watching him spread your cunt with each thrust with something akin to fascination. Your leg shook every time Remus pushed into you.

Your arms were trembling. You reached up to cradle his face, hand struggling to stay still on his face. He covered your fingers with his free hand and leaned down to kiss you, thrusts slowing down to match. You tightened around him for kicks, revelling in the catch in his breath.

You couldn't think of anything except his mouth and his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your moans, Remus moans - which increased in volume as he got closer to his climax - and his pelvis hitting your cunt.

"Faster?" you asked him, feeling your orgasm coming in the tightening feeling in your core. His hips were working overtime, fucking into you so quickly that you fell into yourself, moans coming out in one long, never ending line that lifted in pitch everytime he pushed back in.

"Gonna cum around me?" he asked, perceptive of your descent into pleasure. "Cum for me?'

You couldn't answer, pressing your face into his neck. "Go on, pretty girl," he goaded, thrusting sharp and fast, "cum for me."

Your mouth opened. All that came out was a ragged breath, air ripped from you as your white-hot orgasm coursed through you. You shuddered, pressing a weak kiss to his Adams apple as you contracted on his dick.

He groaned, loudly, and then again. You realised he was on the edge of his own orgasm and pressed open mouthed kisses at his throat, voice pleading. "Remus, please."

Two words, so easy, so simple, and they were enough to get him to cry out, the arm that held you leg up pressing it more to his own body than your own so you were wide open. He said, "Fuck, Y/N," and came inside you after a particularly rough thrust that made your hips ache in a way you didn't strictly dislike.

He let your leg drop down from his hold to snake it between your head and the pillow to wrap around and pull you closer still. You lay there, both breathing heavily.

"I could actually have your kids, you know, with the amount you've cum in me," you told him, face still buried in his neck.

He sucked in a breath at your question. "Don't remind me."

"Don't want me pregnant just yet?"

"More than I should, probably. Evil girl."

You looked down at your tingling cunt and the cum leaking out of you and huffed a laugh.

"Are you okay?" he asked at your small silence.

"Just thinking." You turned to lay on your stomach, though your face remained in his direction. You threw your arm over his chest and he held it.

"I'll have your puppies one day, Lupin," you promised him, maybe warned him, voice flirty, eyes shutting slowly. He kissed your forehead, and you thought he might have said something else, but you were already asleep.

Remus woke up before you and groaned. He'd wiped you both down last night, you deep in the throws of sleep and him staving off the exhaustion with sheer willpower. The sight of you fucked out and marked up from his hands, sweaty and nude with stripes of white from the sconce light set something alight in him. He committed the picture to memory, vowing to himself that if you were still together in the years to come that he would always remember how you looked now, so earnestly caring and shy and new. He was always so pleased to notice something new about you that he hadn't before - a freckle, a stretch mark, a tiny, invisible scar.

He wanted to know every inch of you and he worried he might know it all and never find something new again. Every little thing he found made him all the more infatuated with you.

You snored softly beside him, the duvet he'd tugged free from under you the night before now strewn about so your naked chest was out. He pulled the covers up to your chin and smiled to himself. You were peaceful as people were in sleep, lips pouting, eyelashes kissing the semi-circle of skin under your eyes. He leaned closer to count them, so close his exhales had them shifting like blades of grass in the breeze.

You stirred. He bit his lip, regretful that his nearness seemed to have awoken you.

You blinked awake, eyes opening first confused and then softening. He watched your pupils dilate in awe.

You searched for his hand under the cover and twined his fingers with your own, eyes drifting closed again.

"Hi," he said, watching your mouth slowly curve into a cute smile.

"Hi," you said. It came out like hm, your mouth still heavy with fatigue.

"You must've been tired," he said gently.

"Yeah," you agreed. Your mouth opened with the start of a yawn. You, in your sleepiness, brought your joined hands up to cover your mouth and seemed confused at the weight of them together.

"Oh, godric," you said, finally opening your eyes. You were looking up at the ceiling remorsefully. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Don't be sorry. Isn't that what people usually do after they…"

"Get turned like a shish kebab?"

"The way you have with words is just breathtaking."

You chuckled and brought his knuckles to your nose like you were breathing in the smell of his skin. "We didn't brush our teeth."

"Who's we?"

You turned your face so he couldn't see your expression. "A loving boyfriend would've brushed my teeth for me."

"And how does one go about that?"

You struggled to sit up. Your back hunched as you leaned forward, obviously still tired. He trailed his knuckles down your spine.

"This is the biggest bed I've ever slept in," you told him.

"Me too."

"Do you think we'll have one this big?"

He smiled, knowing you weren't serious but still enchanted with you. "Bigger for all our children."

You blushed. "Right, what did I say last night?"

"You declared you'd have my puppies and then you fell asleep."

"I'm sorry if that was uh, kind of an awkward thing to say. I know we haven't been together nearly long enough to talk about stuff like that," you said apologetically.

He shrugged. "I don't mind. I hope you will one day, too, but there's no rush."

He could see your smile even through the curtain of hair that had fallen around your face. He sat up too, pulling your hands into his lap.

"I've known you had baby fever since the day I met you, Y/N. I'm hardly deterred."

You rolled your shoulders, eyes light. "Can we try the huge tub? I'm still sticky."

"Anything you want," he said.

You gave him a saccharine grin and pulled him up to the bathroom. He turned the water on, both of you impressed by the mixer, and ushered you in after you’d brushed your teeth. You groaned at the warm water, edging down so you were quickly submerged up to the neck. Remus could easily lie in the bath and not touch you. Fortunately that was the opposite of what you wanted; you threw your legs over his as soon as he sat down, where you both soaked in a comfortable silence.

You were a vision opposite him. You were half asleep from the warmth, limp and shining. The water lapped around your breasts like waves up against the sand, hair floating in the water. You struck him as something ethereal, like a water nymph.

He rubbed your calves. You sighed happily, gazing at him through hooded eyes.

You sank down under the water and emerged, hair completely sodden. The mascara that had survived last night's shower somewhat was now running streaks down your face. He shuffled forwards and pulled you into his lap.

You shrieked at his strength.

"What?" you asked him, laughing. You rested your hands on his hips, an inch or so of space between your pelvis'.

He used his fingers to rub the black smudges away from under your eyes. "Make-up," he supplied.

"Oh," you said. You shut your eyes, letting him rub away the makeup. He used his fingernail as gently as he could to catch what was under your eyelashes. He dipped his fingers in the water again and used the back of his hand to wipe your cheeks clean.

"Good as new."

You opened your eyes, moved your hands up to his face and shuffled right over his wanting lap. "Thanks, handsome."

After some slow, sleepy, and quite frankly dangerous activity in the bathtub, you and Remus got ready for a day in the pavilion. "It's not just kids stuff," you informed him, sundress floating through the breeze. "There's a huge cafe where we can have brunch, they have live music performances in the Sage Club, which is still in the pavilion but not quite, how weird is that? And then later on they do adult karaoke, so we could go do that and have a drink? What do you think?"

He noticed how you didn't mention the swimming pool and he thanked you for that. The last thing he wanted was to be exposed to strangers. The things you did mention sounded brilliant, and he soon found himself sitting across from you, where you'd ordered a ridiculous amount of breakfast foods that would've made his bank account cry.

You didn't mention money and wouldn't accept going halfsies. "You paid for dinner yesterday," you protested. A tray of fish and chips hardly counted as dinner, he thought, but he let you anyway, watching your back as you ordered with a gross amount of affection.

You tucked into the crepes, of which you'd ordered enough to feed everybody in the cafe, chocolate creeping up the corner of your mouth. "I don't know why we bothered coming out! Didn't James say the hotel was all inclusive?"

Remus shrugged. "I'm not sure I believe him. He would've said that even if it wasn't."

You laughed, mouth full of whipped cream. "That's true."

You wiped the corners of your mouth when you were done and keeled over in your chair. "I'm sorry, I always do this. Why don't you stop me?"

He was similarly full, despite continuing to eye the bowl of fresh fruit beside him. "You eat as much as you like, dove, don't worry about that."

"You'll have to carry me to the Sage Club."

He did end up carrying you, and you protested the whole way. In bridal carry he didn't last too long, but enough to make you laugh and blush which was all he would've asked for.

There were definitely kids everywhere still, but you were right that the live performances catered to everyone. The cover band on stage ended up playing KISS and you both sprung up from the small table you'd been sat at, sipping drinks, to sing passionately at one another, you much more unabashedly than him. He knew you were thinking of the day he'd confessed because he was too, and he spun you around even when people started to notice.

"I was made for loving you," you repeated, chest heaving, after the song finished, your hair all fluffy from the dancing.

He collected you into his arms for a tight hug. "I can't get enough of you, baby,” he said back, feeling much too fond.

You simpered in his hold, leaning back to cup his face in your familiar hands. You were giggling shyly, leaning forward to kiss him, so sweetly it made his cheeks hurt.

All sung out, you ended up skipping live karaoke to sneak into the pantomime. When the characters on stage called for the villian, you both shouted for them to turn around, and when the rip-off songs came on you sang the wrong words with the rest of the children. The parents were mostly drunk or on the way there, so it was a great show on and off the stage.

You and Remus shared a tall pint of beer that he enjoyed and you wrinkled your nose at. "Why don't you have something sweet?" he asked you.

"I'm still sick from the crepes this morning, Remus."

"That was hours ago!"

He convinced you to go back up to the bar and order something for yourself whilst he waited at the table to watch your bag. The lights were still down for the pantomime, though the kids were running rampant up and down the low steps. A small young boy ran full speed into your legs and fell, looking up at you worriedly.

Remus couldn't hear what you said, but he could read the kindness on your face. You crouched down to talk to the boy and offered him your hand, which he accepted gratefully. You smoothed down the collar on his small shirt and he said something to you. You laughed, from what he could tell, and watched as the little boy continued on to plough into somebody else.

He couldn't help himself if he tried, thinking about how one day you'd be dusting off the shoulders of your own kids. He prayed to god that they would look like his.

You finally ended up back at the table with a tall glass of Blue Hawaiian. You wiggled your eyebrows at him. "Try this! It doesn't even taste like alcohol."

You were right, and with every cocktail you shared they would taste less and less like alcohol and more and more like unlimited room service, until he was sat beside you in the huge hotel bed, both of you in various states of undress and gorging on stuff you nor he had tried before, until you fell asleep on top of each other.

Remus rolled the suitcase down the hotel steps, feeling like he'd been run over by a tractor. Or a steamroller. Or a train.

"Oh my god," you said, squinting into the sun. "Why is hotel checkout always so bloody early?"

You'd been awakened by a knock at the door to say that checkout was in an hour, so please could you make sure the room is ready for our cleaners, thank you.

Remus had looked at you, noticed the crab leg in your hand, and burst into raucous laughter. You were still red from the embarrassment now, and couldn't bare to meet his eyes. "Come on, dove, I was in a similar state of disarray!"

Remus was being charitable. He'd woken up with way less seafood on his person, though he'd been shirtless and with only one shoe.

You'd ditched the dresses today to wear a pair of trousers not dissimilar from his own and a vest he could've sworn he'd seen you wearing as pyjamas, a light, soft green with lace trim and then a borrowed flannel from his clothes overtop, in case it's windy Remus.

He suspected you just wanted to wear his clothes and he would never have stopped you. Your little silver necklace with a small shiny stone the colour of your birthstone dipped down between the valley of your chest.

"If we charm the suitcase really small we could go to the fairground," he suggested, stopping by your side. You had a bobble in your mouth, in the process of scraping your hair up into a ponytail.

"That would be so fun!" you agreed once you'd finished. "I don't know a spell for that though. Do you?"

He would've done it in the room but you'd been in such a rush to square up the bed, spell away the embarrassing signs of indulgence, and get ready for the day that it had slipped your mind. He pulled you into an alleyway and laughed at your suggestive glance, spelling the suitcase so it was the size of a 50 pence piece.

"Will our stuff stay small forever now?"

"No, I don't think so. Just don't lose it."

"I'm not carrying it! I'll definitely lose it."

"Here," he said. He tapped the suitcase with the tip of his wand and the handle turned into a circle of metal similar to a keychain clip. He attached it to one of your belt loops.

You awed at it. "It's so cute. We should've done this when we came."

"Then we would've been the couple with no baby and no luggage."

"They would've been like, damn, who's that hot rake and his chick? They're really slumming it."

"So many things wrong with that sentence," he said, throwing his arm over your shoulder. "Not sure where to start."

You giggled, letting him steer you through the holiday park grounds until the sound of screaming became apparent. The fairground came into view quickly, the top of the helter-skelter peeking over the huge colourful gates. The attractions were all more than popular, kids weaving through the adults and more prams than you'd ever seen in one place.

"I can't imagine Harry on any of these," Remus said, eyeing the Waltzers with mild fear.

"What, not even the dive bombers?" you joked.

Remus pointed at the cage ride labelled the Roundup. "I think wizards would go mad for that one."

You grinned. "Imagine trying to explain some of these to a pureblood."

"You should've seen Sirius his first time on the Hurricane Jets. Severely underwhelmed."

"I wish I'd seen it," you said, nodding. "I've seen him flying. Dude makes quidditch look like an extreme sport."

"That's 'cause you haven't seen me fly," he remarked. You'd walked deep into the crowd now, both of your eyes travelling over the attractions, the huge funhouse that boasted a show like no other.

"I have."

He almost clicked his neck from how quickly he turned to you. "You have?"

"Course I have. In school, when you subbed in for Sirius."

He pulled the collar of his shirt from his neck. "I'm not a brilliant beater."

"I fancied you a little bit, back then. Especially after seeing you hit a bludger at Kensington."

He squeezed your shoulder. "I fancied you a little bit back then too. Maybe more than a little."

You turned to him with poorly concealed excitement. "You did?" you asked curiously.

"You want to go in the fun house?"

"Don't change the subject!"

You went to the fun house. Remus carefully moved your attentions to other things until you'd forgotten (or at least had the generosity to drop the subject) that he said it at all, laughing at your stretched out and squeezed appearance in the trick mirrors.

Remus' inability to cross the rolling floors almost made you weep from glee, crossing your legs and crouching down to avoid wetting yourself. Once you managed to calm down you extended your hands out to him to help him cross the sliding metal bars. Then you climbed the moving steps behind him, almost falling and slamming into his thighs.

You gripped his waist and huffed. "I just met God," you told him worriedly, voice high.

"What did he say?" he asked amusedly.

"He said you tease me too often."

"Did he now?" he asked, helping you back down the stairs and to the giant wooden hamster wheel, which you both stared at in fear.

You stepped into it hesitantly. The wheel started moving almost instantly. You held your hand out to Remus desperately and he let himself get pulled in. At once, you both began walking and then jogging, and he only laughed a little when you fell over, mostly because he then fell over himself, which he didn't find as funny.

You emerged from the funhouse clammy and covered in new bruises. Remus didn't care, ushering you over to the ice cream stand in the middle of the park where you both got ice lollies that dripped down your hand and stained his sleeve. He couldn't find it in himself to mind when you kissed him and tasted, so sweet, like cherry brandy.

The next day you were awoken by a howler. “You do realise,” James’ voice said, half mad and half humorous, “that all inclusive means there’s a dining hall where you can go for lunch. Not that room service is free. How can you not know that?”

my masterlist <3

that was a long one!

now presenting the tag club :3:

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @etneufaled @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @dracoslittlesunflower @mooncalvin

baby fever taglist @rosaliedepp @kissmeunicornbaobei @w0nt0b3y @buckyjbarneswhore @j-cat @justingnoreme @siriuslystfu @figlia--della--luna

i know deep in my soul that i recently assured someone id add them to the tag list and then i forgot. if that was you, i am so sorry! if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list please let me know!

thank you tag club, and thank you everyone for reading!

#remus lupin #remus smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus Lupin x reader smut #marauders era #Remus and reader are both 20/21 #a very British holiday #marauders #post hogwarts #marauders smut #x reader smut #no voldemort au

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sheetsonfire · 2 years

Text

Hostage | Part 1

Summary: Y/N is a Firefighter at Firehouse 51, they get taken hostage inside the Firehouse with Casey's niece, Violet.

Fandom: Chicago Fire / Chicago PD / Chicago Med

Characters: Reader x Kelly Severide, Firehouse 51, Chicago Med, Jay Halstead, Hailey Upton

Warnings: Swearing, violence, injury

Word Count: 4575

It’s a crisp November morning in Chicago, Engine 51 is parked out front ready for the second shift. Plumes of water vapour dance in the sky as the surrounding neighbourhood tries to stay warm.

Squad 3, Truck 81, and Ambulance 61 are tucked away from the chill inside the garage, items for breakfast are waiting and ready to be cooked, members of Firehouse 51 sit intently listening to Chief’s briefing for the day. You’re not one to shirk focus when listening to the Chief, but Kelly’s thumb rubbing the back of your hand as you sit next to him is a comforting and welcome distraction.

You had been struggling to catch a good night’s rest lately, following a particularly difficult call involving two sisters who had got themselves trapped in the inferno of their burning bridal shop; it was a family business, only survived by their father and their uncle. You couldn’t get to them in time, despite a most relentless effort, the blaze had reached flashover point, Chief wasn’t giving you a second longer; Casey and Stella had been given the go ahead to pull your ass out of there.

The memory of the two women being in your reach but not close enough had haunted you, their burnt bodies were a jarring sight, no matter how many times you had seen such a scenario. You had spoken to the Chaplain about your grief and you were getting better at dealing with it, but the nightmares were still lingering.

Accompanying your grief was a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the whole situation, OFI had been given the case report to make their own determination; as much as it looked like a simple accident, you couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it. You knew grief came in all shapes and forms, but those brothers didn’t seem too phased by the death of their daughters and nieces respectively. Kelly’s hand squeezes yours gently, pulling you out of your reverie, you glance at him with a soft smile. You don’t know how you got so lucky to have him in your life, but you were always counting such a blessing. He returns the smile with a fondness, eyes twinkling as he turns back to focus on Chief, warm hand still clasped with yours.

“Oh, one more thing… There will be a service check on the washer and dryer this afternoon, so please make sure you’ve got enough uniform before that is done, or speak to Connie if you think there’s gonna be a problem… and I think that’s everything, let’s have a good one, Fifty-One. Dismissed.”

With a nod from Chief Boden everyone begins to arise from their seats.

Kelly releases your hand gently, standing up as he rubs your back, “Okay?” He asks, gaze focused on you with concern. “I’m good, just got a bit lost there for a second… but I’m back, all good.” You’re being genuine when you say those words, it’s no secret that it’s been hard on you, but you are definitely getting there and you know you’ll be fine with Kelly and the rest of 51 by your side.

The briefing room files out to go about their business before their next call, Kelly kisses your cheek as he parts to go talk to Squad about some planned drills, you caress his forearm as he parts from you, loving him so much. You’d be okay, you knew it.

… It takes a small jog to catch up with Matt who’s about to head off to squeeze in a washing load before the machines are out of action. “Captain, are we still on for this morning? I’m all set to show Violet the ropes with Stella and Sylvie.” Matt nods with a smile, “We are, Violet texted me, she’s on her way with her mom. ETA 10 minutes or so. Thanks again for doing this, Y/N. I really appreciate it, and I know Violet does too.” “It’s no problem, boss. Happy to help out a future firefighter.” You grin, excited that Stella’s Girls On Fire initiative had become so popular with the local girls in your ward; Violet in particular was eager to come to a working Firehouse and see how things were run.

It only made sense that it would be her Uncle Matt’s firehouse; Stella of course was more than thrilled to offer up a day with 51, and Brett had offered her services to demonstrate the medical aid side of things. “You’ll make a good Academy Instructor yet, Y/N.” Matt pats you on the shoulder,

“I’ll catch up with you later, I’ve got some laundry and paperwork that needs clearing up.” “Of course, Captain, see you in a bit.”

Matt’s kindness and belief in your abilities as a member of Truck had done wonders for your confidence lately, he was a firm but encouraging influence. It was a no brainer why he was such an adored captain.

…

You’re laying out some ladders, dummies and ropes ready for various activities as you hear a chipper voice from the other side of the apparatus floor, “Y/N!” Violet’s waving off her mom as she turns to you with an excited grin, she greets Kelly and the rest of Squad as she walks past their drill area with her duffle. “Hey you, all good to go?” Violet nods with a cheeky salute which makes you chuckle, “Brilliant, Junior Candidate, we’ll be getting started shortly, Stella’s just wrapping some things up with Herrmann, and your Uncle Matt will be out in a bit too… in the meantime why don’t we set your stuff down and get you familiarised with some equipment?” “Sounds great, I’m so excited. Thanks, Y/N. You and Stella are the best.”

…

You’re in the middle of showing Violet how to effectively wrap a rescue rope around a civilian dummy when you catch sight of two people approaching, a lingering glance makes your stomach churn as you realise who it is. The brothers from that fire. They instinctively activated your fight response, but before you could get a word out your worst fears were confirmed. Guns were produced from the back of their jeans, aimed right at you and Violet - the younger girl letting out a small yelp as you moved immediately to shield her.

You had been hidden from the others by one of the trucks, nobody else had seen the two men approach. Violet’s yelp catches the attention of Kelly, Capp, Joe and Tony who are just in earshot but it all happens so fast. The two intruders yank you and Violet front and centre into Squad’s eyeline, each of them standing with fists clenched, wanting desperately to approach and disarm, pushed back by the threat of guns aimed right at them. Kelly’s stomach drops, he knows you’re brave and tough, he wouldn’t even bat an eyelid going on a call with you, but this… this was different. He can feel the blood boiling within, knowing immediately that your funny feeling about these men had been correct all along. “Nobody does anything that I don’t tell them to do! Is that clear?!” The older of the two barks, his grip on the back of your neck and in your hair is unbearably tight, and the sight of the other holding onto Violet’s wrists makes you want to spit in their faces and yank her free.

…

A door opens to the left, your stomach flips in panic, willing nobody else to be dragged into this… It’s Stella. “Alriiight! Let’s get this party started Junior Candi-” Stella’s words die in her throat as she sees the scene before her, her eyes widen as her movement snaps your captor into action; you feel yourself snatched further away from your friends as guns are placed to yours and Violet’s temples. You try to slow your breathing, but you can’t help the trembling that vibrates through your body, feeling so sorry for Violet who has been brought into this. “Get inside. Move! Or I blow their fucking brains out!” The guns are pushed harder into you both, and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain composure. Kelly and the rest of the apparatus floor are forced to hustle back into the Firehouse, immediately turning back to look at the situation through the glass panels of the doors.

“Get the Chief, now! And call someone from Intelligence!” Kelly snaps, eyes never leaving yours, which is equal parts reassuring and agonising when all you want to do is be free from this nightmare and in his arms, back to having a normal day. You watch as Stella speaks on the phone, she catches your gaze and tries to smile to comfort you, but you can see the guilt and the terror on her face. You want so badly to reassure her that this can be in no way her fault; she couldn’t have known this would happen. The commotion and Kelly’s yelling finally gets the others to see what the hell is going on, a smattering of gasps and curses break out as the scene plays out before them, everybody recognising the two captors immediately.

“Son of a bitch. These heartless, VILE-.” Herrmann huffs, ready to march through the doors and give them a piece of his mind, shaking his head in utter disbelief, he can’t stand to see you and Violet like this. Mouch stops him in his tracks, squeezing his shoulder, worry written all over his face too but not wanting Christopher to get into a situation that was already in quick escalation.

…

Casey arrives from the back of the firehouse, his stomach plummeting at the sight he’s greeted with, adrenaline surging through his mind as he watches on, “What is this about? We can help!” Casey yells even though he knows exactly what this is about…

Your words on Casey’s report had pushed for OFI to investigate the Bridal Shop Fire as an arson, your statement had clearly backfired their plan to palm this off as an accident and claim insurance. Casey also had a hunch that the two men had never anticipated that the sisters would go back into the inferno to try and save their livelihood. Somehow these two animals had made it 51’s fault. Casey bit his cheek, wanting to let rip and cuss them out just like Herrmann wanted, but he knew he’d make it worse for you and Violet. “You’re going to learn what it’s like to be helpless as you watch people you love get hurt. And you’re going to watch as it becomes too late to do anything about it!” The words are insincere, their upset over the two dead women is sickeningly fake, the loss of a payout their only true tragedy.

That thought is startlingly interrupted when they see the butt of a gun colliding at full force into you. Agony explodes throughout your face, a sickening crunch in your nose makes you wail, blood instantly pouring from your nose, skin tightening by the second as it begins to swell and bruise, you stagger where you stand, your captor yanking your hair again which sets all of your nerves on edge. You feel your shirt becoming sodden with blood, a rusty iron stench quickly surrounding you. The gang all yell in anger and anguish, Kelly and Casey pounding their fists on the strips of window, Brett and Stella feeling equal parts horrified and pissed off, even Tuesday is barking relentlessly. Violet yells your name in horror, and your instinct to protect her is unwavering,

“It’s okay, honey. We’ll be okay.” Squeezing out a pained smile, trying to ignore the dizziness and nausea that rolls through you.

Violet nods, trying to keep her whimpers to a minimum, not wanting to draw anymore attention to you both. “Shut the fuck up, enough talking! You’re going to fucking do as you’re told until we can make them understand that this bullshit investigation is going to be dropped.”

You’re gasping for air, blood dripping into your mouth which makes you splutter. You fight hard to stay upright, the urge to argue back and plead crosses your mind, but it’s clear they’re not going to listen right now.

You glance in the direction of the doors, watching all of your friends, your family, looking so distraught, wishing this wasn’t happening. __

It had felt like hours since this whole nightmare had begun, but in reality it was minutes.

Capp comes back with an angry and tense Chief who is on his radio to Main, requesting Police assistance immediately, with the added stipulation that Intelligence be informed.

The dispatcher repeats the situation back to the Chief to confirm the situation, and then more terse chatter over the radio to confirm that 51 is removed from service until further notice.

His eyes land on the scene, jaw clenched as he sees you and Violet in the iron grip of the two men. He casts a look of fire and fury at the brothers, moving to give an abrupt knock on the doors to get their attention...

“Hey! This is my Firehouse, and those are our people. You are making a very very big mistake, whatever problem you need solving, it will not be solved like this!” Chief shouts, standing ramrod straight, hands on his hips as usual, authority oozing off him in waves.

But the brothers are on a high of rage and greed, fuelling each other’s aggravated actions.

“Get me someone who will do as they're told!” The second brother barks, yanking Violet by her hair, gun now digging into her stomach, making her squirm and squeal; a slight pang of panic ripples through your gut.

“Hey! Hey! Just take it out on me, she has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this. You hear me? Leave her be!” You can’t stand to see Matt’s niece so scared and vulnerable, someone so bright and fearless in her everyday life. Your speech is garbled from the thick buildup of saliva and blood in your mouth, but you let your adrenaline carry your voice.

His malice turns towards you, punching you in the ribs. One, two, three times, knocking the air from you as you double over, your whole world seems to fizz into a blur. He growls into your ear, hot and stagnant alcoholic breath making your eyes water, “You like it rough, huh? We can make damn sure it’s you that gets it all, baby! Now shut these fucking garage doors, this is my show!” He spits at you, making you gag as you glare at him... as best you can with a smashed up face.

Everyone is vibrating with tension, Matt and Kelly are pacing like caged lions, wishing they could throttle the life out of these two pieces of shit. “I’ll fucking kill them.” Kelly mutters, hands on his head in frustration. “They’re never going to see daylight again after this. Never.” Matt huffs through his nose, Mouch, Herrmann and Joe watching on, feeling helpless.

…

Words float in your head, “Shut these fucking garage doors!” It takes you a moment to register that you had just been spoken to, long enough that the leader is about to join in on his brother’s beating and hit you again, you hold your hands up in a silent “Wait a second.” Gathering energy to upright yourself and speak. “We-we have to go over here then, that’s where the door panel is.”

You point shakily towards the panel on the other side of the apparatus floor, your legs feel like a newborn fowl’s as you stumble towards the switches, the two monsters keeping their hold on you and Violet as you move.

You’re dragged out of view by the two invaders, waving their guns at any Firehouse members that happened to be outside of the main building when all of this began, forcing them back outside and away. The doors are engaged and begin to slide down, cutting Firehouse 51 off from the outside world, casting an even darker shadow over the day.

…

“P.D. are 3 minutes out, Halstead and Upton are coming too.” Chief informs the group, squeezing both Kelly and Matt’s shoulders, everyone trying to get a better angle on where the girls have been taken.

Chief Boden exhales, trying to centre his thoughts and do what needs to be done to take command of the situation, he gets the attention of the group... “We have to do our best to stay calm, and make certain this situation can end with no further damage...Brett, Kidd, I want you to let Med know about our situation, and tell them to expect us at some point.” “Yes chief.” The two busy themselves with something they can actually do, gathering up any supplies they might need to treat you and Violet.

…

Maggie’s face is etched with worry as she reads the alert from Firehouse 51, springing into action to be ready on Med’s end.

“Ethan! I’ll be needing you, so standby. Firehouse 51 has a situation that’s ongoing. Let Connor know there’s potential incoming trauma, we have to be ready for the worst. They’ve got Y/N, Ethan. Matt Casey’s niece too.” “You got it Maggie, I’ll get us prepared… April-!” He moves off with speed to apprise his nurse of the situation and Connor too. Will glances over at Maggie from a computer station, tuned in to what the Charge Nurse had just said... “Maggie, did I hear you right? Y/N? And Casey’s niece?” Maggie touches Will’s arm gently, “Yeah… P.D are on their way over there, so’s Jay and Hailey… They’ve got the best going to help them, Will. We’ll be ready here too.”

Will nods, eyes narrowed in concern for you and Violet, squeezing Maggie’s shoulder in appreciation for the reassurance.

“Thanks, Mags.”

You had made good friends at Med, including Will. Between him and meeting Will’s brother, and his friends, in the process, you had formed a small community around you that you cherished so deeply - and they cherished you in return.

…

You zone out as the doors hit the floor and stop moving, you’re starting to flag on energy, the pain is radiating through you, breathing is a struggle with every sharp stab in your ribs, panting breaths as your nose is beyond being useful. Violet’s tears are silent as they push you both back towards the spot near Squad’s table, making sure that nobody gets the idea that they can try some sort of rescue. The sight of you is a sad one as your friends watch you fight to stay conscious. “It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart. We’re right here, we’ll get you.” Matt calls out to Violet, trying to keep her spirits up and redirect her attention, she can’t stop looking at your fragile and battered body. …

The second brother snarls, “I said-” His words die in his throat, the sound of the sirens are fast approaching, his brother yells out in anger, he points an accusing finger right at Chief with a growl, “You stupid son of a bitch, you were supposed to wait for MY instructions! Calling them was a big mistake, you’re going to live to regret it!” He’s caught in the throes of rage, neither he or his brother had thought much past making a show of kidnapping someone from 51 until the arson case was dropped.

With a venomous roar he fires his gun, the sound is deafening, echoing throughout the garage, vibrating through the doors where everyone stands, they look on in stunned horror… Kelly’s knees feel like jello as he watches you, Matt and Stella holding his arms to keep him steady. The silence is a split second, but it’s piercing, time seems to slow before reality kicks back in with full force. The cries of your name are swimming in your brain as you hit the ground with a sickening smack, blood oozing rapidly from your thigh, soaking your pants, strangled cries of pain escape you… you try and put pressure on it, but it hurts too much, everything hurts too much. You wanted Kelly. Kelly.

Violet scurries forward to hold the wound and apply pressure, leaning all her weight on the wound - like Uncle Matt showed her, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as you cry out in agony. Matt’s words echo in her ears, she knows that even if it hurts you it’ll save your life. The blood flow slows to a crawl, only ever so slightly seeping through her fingers, nausea circles in her throat but she stays focused, knowing that you need her to be brave. The two brothers are stunned themselves, they weren’t quite sure how they got themselves here, their panic continuing to manifest hysterically…

“I’m warning you now, anybody making a move won’t be making it out alive!” The two men watch you grow weaker by the second, Violet’s covered in your blood, pushing as hard as she can, despite your whimpers of protest, wanting the pain to stop.

The leader of the pair shoves his accomplice to the side to have a stern word, the gunshot was not part of his plan, everything was spiralling way too fast.

… P.D. are pulling into Firehouse 51 as they hear the gunshot, Jay Halstead is already at the glass watching you hit the floor, adrenaline flooding through him, Upton is on the other side of the building, eyes wide at the scene before her - she starts directing other officers into a formation, ready to take down these assholes for good.

Jay's fists are pounding on the garage doors as radios around him light up with chatter of “Shots fired, two hostages, one is a minor, two suspects armed and dangerous! Firefighter down!” Somewhere in your haze of sluggishness you could have sworn you heard Jay’s voice, your good friend Jay Halstead, here to save you. But you couldn’t be sure, everything felt like a dream now, starting to lose sensation of your extremities as Violet kept up her attempts to keep your blood inside you. Herrmann, Mouch, Joe, Capp, Tony, Brett and Stella all move to the side as officers, led by Hailey Upton, pile into the Firehouse’s main building; The Chief stays behind to update the detective on the situation as Kelly and Casey sprint to the other end of the Firehouse and bust through one of the exterior doors, trying to catch Jay up to speed. The two invaders are frazzled by the sudden rush of commotion, turning on each other in an instant. “What are we gonna do, you've messed this all up, you and your stupid whore spawn!” The younger of the two is waving his weapon around, pointing it as his brother now, sweat pouring off of him. His brother is incredulous, taking a swing at his idiot accomplice. “Me? I messed this up? You fucking shot a firefighter, genius!”

… “These knuckleheads are distracted, this is our best chance to wrap up this circus... “ Hailey watches the two brothers tussle, eyeing you and Violet a few metres away. You were eerily still, Violet still steadfastly keeping pressure on you. Upton turns to the waiting members of Firehouse 51, “Be ready, alright? Don’t move until I say we’re clear. Cruz, you think if we cover you you can get those garage doors moving?” “You bet, Detective. Ready when you are.”

He turns back, the conditions are still good for a breach, no more time to lose. [“Jay, you in position?”] [“Good to go, Hailey, we’re ready. Extra Ambos are on standby.”] [“Breach on my count.”]

[“Copy.”] [“1, 2, 3… Breach! Go go go!”] Commotion bursts into the garage, a cacophony of voices fill the air, you’re barely awake but you can recognise Jay and Hailey’s voices instantly. “Chicago P.D. drop your weapons, get on the ground, DO IT NOW!”

“Down! Down on the ground, DO IT!”

The two brothers clatter their guns to the ground, angry gibberish about “Justice” and “What’s theirs” Pushed to the ground as their hands are cuffed behind their backs by officers, the doors slide back up letting light and fresh air back in. You’re tired, so damn tired. You can feel yourself sinking further away when gentle hands are on you, securing your neck in a C-collar, “Hey sweetheart, can you go see Stella and your uncle for me? They’re going to make sure you’re alright. You did amazing Violet, you saved her life.” Violet nods tearfully, turning to Stella and Matt who quickly scoops her into his arms, making sure she’s okay. Violet’s pressure disappears and you’re vaguely aware of it being replaced with an adult’s pressure, gauze packing the wound and being wrapped tight. You can hear Kelly’s voice too, he’s helping Brett. You blink wearily at the vague shapes around you, that familiar warm hand taking yours, stroking again. Instant relief floods through you despite your pain. “K-Kelly... Kel…” You can’t seem to get your words out, sleep is pulling you closer. “Stay with us, baby. It’s over. We’ve got you. You’re incredible, I love you... Just stay awake a little longer, please?” “Y/N, it’s Sylvie...Can you hear me? Just blink if you can.” Brett shine’s a pen light in your eyes, checking for a pupillary response, you blink twice… at least you think you do, that simple act feeling like a shift’s worth of energy in one go. Brett’s assessing your ribs gently to check the extent of the damage, you whimper, everything is so tender, your face is throbbing and your thigh is radiating hot pain throughout your body. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, we’re here. Don’t speak, but try and stay awake for me, okay? I’m going to give you some oxygen and something for the pain, you’re safe.” You can feel Brett finishing assessing your injuries as Kelly, Herrmann and Mouch secure you onto a backboard, as they count and move you you barely react, making everybody’s stomachs drop at just how bad a shape you were in. Kelly looks at Brett, his eyes sad with worry. “She’s lost a lot of blood, we’re going to trauma her to Med. You can come with us if you like. There's a second Ambo waiting for Violet and Matt.” Kelly nods, glancing at Matt who gives him a silent comforting look. “Go. We’ll be right behind you, buddy.”

They’re carrying you to the back of 61, carefully slotting you in and securing you. Herrmann watches Kelly and Brett shut the doors as Stella hops into the driver’s side. He pats the back doors, willing Ambo to fly like a bat out of hell to Med. … The others are left to gather their thoughts and get their things to go to the hospital, Chief rubs a hand over his face, turning to find Jay and Hailey approaching with sympathetic, worried, looks. “Hey Chief, we’re gonna follow you guys to med. I know it’s an awful time, but we’ll need statements from everyone.” “Whatever you need, we know who these guys are, and we’ll all make damn sure to help get them put away where they belong.” The three exchange handshakes and head to their respective cars to get to Med, there was a lot to unpack.

...

End Of Part 1

#kelly severide x reader #chicago fire #one chicago #hostage

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