#and it will fucking go down like a sandcastle in the waves the second there’s an excuse to hate Jews

[hazel2468]

At this point, “OP is a Zionist” means “OP is a Jew who has spoken about the rampant and violent antisemitism in leftists spaces and it makes me feel icky that a kike dares to express their opinion because I’m a racist bigot, so I’ll call them a Zio and that means I can get away with being outright racist about Jews because it’s acceptable to hate ‘Zionists’- and if any other Jews call me out, I’ll just say they’re Zionists, too!”

You absolute fucking ghouls couldn’t be more transparent if you tried. You’re not allies. You’re not good people. You do not care about human rights. Your “activism” is the smokescreen you put up to hide the fact that you get off on hating Jews. Your “activism” is about nothing more than making you feel good and getting your little brownie points from other antisemites online.

We see you. We know the deal. At least the fucking Nazis had the guts to say outright that they want every Jew dead. You’re so cowardly that you have to couch it in social justice language and beat around the bush.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #in case it wasn’t clear #no you do not have to hand it to the fucking Nazis #its just amusing #and by amusing i mean i hate it #that violent right wing antisemites and white supremacists and Nazis #seem more willing to be openly devoted to their hatred and wear it on their chest #whereas leftist antisemites fucking cower behind seven layers of social justice language #like either way Nazi or leftist they want me and mine dead #but everything since october seventh has REALLY proven to me #that leftist compassion and the very bedrock of the movement is 100% conditional #and it will fucking go down like a sandcastle in the waves the second there’s an excuse to hate Jews

[jungshookz]

y/n needs help with sunscreen and, uh, yoongi can definitely help out with that

➺ pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n 

➺ genre; ...:-) 

➺ wordcount; 1.5k 

»»————- ☀️ ————-««

“remind me again why we couldn’t just stay home today?” yoongi grunts, leaning back against the flimsy foldout chair and tilting his head back, squinting slightly as bright rays of white-hot sun seem to shoot directly into his eyes despite him wearing a pair of pretty solid sunglasses, “fucking hell, that’s bright. you need to do something about the sun. can’t you, like, fly up there and shove some clouds in front of it or something?” 

god, he hates the outdoors 

and he hates the heat

years of living on earth have really softened him because he would like nothing more than to go back home and blast the air-conditioner until the apartment becomes an icebox 

“aw, don’t be like that. i, personally, love summer,” jimin sighs, crossing one ankle over the other as he basks in the warmth of the beautiful, golden ball of butter hanging in the sky, “and humans love going to the beach during the summer season! we need to do things that they like now that we live with them. you need to humanize yourself-“ 

“first of all, you love everything, and second of all, we aren’t humans,” yoongi grunts, reaching over to adjust the umbrella so that he’s covered by more shade, “you could literally sprout wings out of your back if you wanted to, and i could set someone on fire right now if i wanted to. and right now, this heat is making me want to set everyone on fire- oh my god, this shitty umbrella isn’t budging- how far did jungkook stick it into the sand?!“ 

“NOOOOOO!” both jimin and yoongi look over when they hear jungkook whining, yoongi letting out a laugh of genuine joy when he realises that jungkook’s sandcastle just got completely washed away by a rogue wave

HAH

“oh, no!” jimin gasps, sitting up straight in his seat as if the destruction of jungkook’s sandcastle is the worst possible thing to happen in the entire course of humanity, “oh, gosh… we should help him rebuild his castle, it’s the only right thing to do… i feel awful-“ 

“awful? that wave did him a favour.” yoongi snorts, “his sandcastle was an ugly little clump of sand, anyway- and if he was smart, he shouldn’t have built it so close to the water-“

“aw, did jungkook’s castle get wrecked?!” yoongi turns his head slightly upon hearing your voice and he isn’t surprised to see a popsicle (or what’s left of a popsicle) in your hand, “i told him not to build it so close to the water but he refused to listen to me. he said he wanted it to be close to the water so the crabs would be able to live in it if they wanted to.” 

“yeah, i’m sure the crab real estate market is booming right now-“ yoongi rolls his eyes, “see, jimin? i’m not the only one around here who thinks that jungkook’s sandcastle location was stupid-”

“hey, i never said stupid-“ you drop to your knees on top of your beach towel next to yoongi as you slide the rest of the popsicle off the wooden stick and pop it into your mouth in one go, chomping down on the deliciously citrusy icy crystals, “i jusht said it wahs in a bad locashun-“ 

“yeah. a bad, stupid location-“ 

“well, i don’t know about you guys, but i’m gonna go help him!” jimin gets up from his seat, pulling his sunglasses down from the top of his head before shaking his head, “i feel bad, i can practically see the waves of disappointment radiating off of him and i just can’t help but-“

“yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re an angel-“ yoongi dismisses jimin with a flick of his wrist, his eyebrows raising slightly when he sees you peeling your top off to reveal the very cute bikini you have on underneath, “and i am the complete opposite, hello-“ he lowers his sunglasses onto the tip of his nose, shamelessly letting his eyes wander along the slope of your back and the curve of your perky bum as you get settled on your beach towel, “where’ve you been hiding this little number??” 

“i haven’t been hiding it anywhere, i just brought it out for the beach!” the corner of your mouth twitches in a smirk as you get comfortable on the soft, warm ground, folding your arms over each other and resting your cheek on top of them — the truth is you have been hiding this little number (it’s a slinky little two piece that matches the fiery orange of yoongi’s newly dyed hair) because you’ve been saving it for a nice beach day like this, “do you think you could help get my sunscreen from-“ 

“yes.” yoongi rips his sunglasses off his face and gets up from his seat immediately, leaning down to grab the bottle of sunscreen out of your bag,  “god, yes, i can help-“ his mouth goes dry when you reach behind yourself to undo the string of your top and he turns to bite his fist because all he wants to do right now is thank satan for linking him up with you 

he remembers he was gonna call in sick on that day, too, but thankfully he decided to get out of bed and actually go to work like the good, hardworking demon he is 

it’s only a second later that you feel yoongi straddling you gently, crotch pressed against your bum and- “oh- god, yoongi, a little warning would’ve  been nice-“ you laugh lightly when you feel a squirt of sunscreen shoot across your back, shutting your eyes as your muscles relax under yoongi’s familiar touch 

“your ass looks so fucking good, baby-“ yoongi seems to be mesmerised and in his own little world as he rubs the sunscreen into your skin, letting his hands glide up and down your back in slow sweeps as he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, “i, like- god, i wanna fuck the shit outta you-“ 

“yoongi-“ your eyes pop open and you feel your face burn up immediately when yoongi suddenly grips your hips with both hands and forces you up a little 

you turn your head to look back at him (which, in hindsight, perhaps only encouraged yoongi even more because he loves when you look back at him when he’s got you on your elbows and knees for him), flustered to see that yoongi’s eyes have gone dark and there’s a certain look of heat swirling around in them, “we are in public-“

“so? there’s an umbrella and we’re off to the side-“ yoongi’s hand slides up your greased-up back before it slinks into your hair, fingers wrapping around your hair before he gives you a gentle yank, “and you love when i fuck you in this position, you were certainly a big fan of it last night-“ he growls playfully, leaning down so he can press a kiss to the back of your ear 

“you are shameless!” you can’t help but let out a laugh of disbelief as the logical voice in your head tells you that this is a highly inappropriate way to act on a public beach while the sprinkling of demon in you tells you that you should 100% just let yoongi yank your panties down on a public beach- 

“i’m a demon, the fuck did you expect?” yoongi’s other hand grabs a fistful of your ass as he starts rocking against you, “you knew who i was when we got together, you literally summoned me-“ 

“y/n, jungkook needs your help with his castle!” 

“shit- one second!“ you practically shove yoongi off and roll out from under him when you hear jimin’s sweet voice ring out, getting up onto your knees and reaching behind your back to fumble with the strings of your top, “you’re horrible, you know that?” 

the last thing you’d want is for jimin to pop his head under the umbrella to see yoongi slutting you out because that would probably traumatise him 

“you love it, don’t lie.” yoongi can’t help but chuckle to himself at how flustered you are (even after all this time together, your cheeks still get so pink as if you’re not used to him being so brazen with you all the time) as he plops himself back down on his chair, running a hand through his hair before he leans down to pick his sunglasses up off the floor 

“you’re gonna have to help him dig the moat because apparently i didn’t do it as well as you-“ 

“coming!” you get up onto your feet, dusting the flecks of sand off your hands and looking around for your own sunglasses, “i’m coming, i’m coming-“

“well, not yet, but you will be once we get home.” yoongi coughs, flicking his finger towards you before your sunglasses suddenly float out of your bag and over to you 

“you are horrible.” you snatch it midair before anyone notices before scrunching your nose at yoongi in a frown of disapproval

absolutely horrible! 

🎙️ scold yoongi and y/n for public indecency (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

#demon!yoongi #demon!yoongi drabbles #yoongi drabbles #yoongi headcanons #yoongi one shots #yoongi drabble recs #yoongi fic recs #yoongi headcanon recs #yoongi one shot recs #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fics #yoongi smut recs #yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff recs

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Sandcastles

Summary: timetraveler!reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it

A/N: This is my entry to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Hot Fic Summer Challenge and literally the only thing motivating me in the midst of a writer's block. It was so fun to write :)

You thought that summer in Kattegat would be bearable. As in, it’s in Scandinavia and fucking climate change wasn’t a thing. But here you were, on the shores, hiking your dress up to your knees and letting the water splash against your calves for some relief from the heat.

People were giving you strange looks, but no one was approaching you, so you kept standing in the water listlessly, staring at the waves roll against the sand. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that this was some tropical getaway, maybe Thailand or Bora Bora.

You could almost see it in your mind, the spa treatment that was waiting for you, Ivar, who would be old money in the future, insisting to spoil you. Hvitserk tagging along, wolfing down every sample and appetizer that some waiter had on their tray. Ubbe calling, making sure that Hvitserk hadn’t gotten food poisoning.

The heat distracted you from your little daydream, so you opened your eyes, walked back to the sandy part of the beach and sat down. Almost automatically, you began digging around in the sand, until you hit a damp spot in it, and an idea hit you. Quickly, you packed a bunch of sand together, trying to make the structure stay put, before adding another ‘tower’.

Still, no one paid you any mind, so you began to dig a small moat around the two towers. Leaning back, you admired your work, until a stroke of genius hit you.

If you couldn’t use a plastic bucket to make a tower, you could do that dribbly thing, where the wet sand made the ‘castle’ look like a molten wax candle.

You’d barely finished on the first tower when you heard Ivar complain behind you, his crutch getting stuck in the sand. With a huff, he gave up, sitting down next to your sandcastle.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making sandcastles.” You replied, letting more sand drip onto the second tower.

“That doesn’t look like a castle to me.” Ivar replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t have any molds to make them strategically accurate and to your liking.” You snarked back sarcastically.

“So, what are the purpose of these sandcastles?” Ivar asked.

“I don’t know. I used to build them as a kid. And the wet sand is nice and cool.”

Ivar raised a brow as you continued to work on your towers, but eventually, he sat down next to you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him shift some sand next to him, before he looked around, and started making another tower. You had to keep yourself from laughing as he kept looking around, as if someone was going to scold him for making a tower of sand.

He did, eventually get caught unaware by Hvitserk.

“Brother! What are you doing in the sand?” he asked, unaware of how Ivar’s ears began to redden from embarrassment. Hvitserk sat down next to you, basically squishing you into a Lothbrok sandwich.

“I am-“ Ivar began, before he looked down at the sand again. “I am making a sandcastle. Y/N needed company while building hers.”

“Sandcastles?” Hvitserk asked, taking a look at your impressively high towers.

You nodded, adding the top to one tower that looked dangerously close to falling.

“Ivar, why haven’t I thought of this before? It’s fucking genius.”

Immediately, Hvitserk made for the water to get more wet sand, while Ivar groaned.

“He’s never going to let this go.” He complained.

“Of course not, Sandcastles are pretty great.”

#cherry pie's hot fic summer #hvitserk #ivar #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #history vikings #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #ivar imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok

[space-writes]

Happy STS! Here’s a summer themed ask for you:

All of your OCs are at the beach! What is each OC doing and what chaos ensues?

(Optional things for your OCs to be doing, there are no rules <3)

Which character is most at home in the water and has to be dragged out, and demands that the whole group play all the water games?

Which character full stop refuses to even touch the water (whether out of fear or another reason)?

Who has the bag full of snacks and is constantly yelling at people to drink water and put on sunscreen?

Which character is dunking people in the water, grabbing other people’s ankles, pulling dumb pranks, etc?

Which character is just there for the Instagram (or equivalent) pics?

Which character gleefully asks to be buried in the sand and realizes too late that they’ve made a horrible mistake?

Which character is the sandcastle captain making elaborate sand creations and who WILL FREAK OUT if you come within ten feet of their project?

Which character is Mx. Put on Way Too Much Sunscreen?

Which character didn’t put on ANY sunscreen and is now burnt to a crisp?

And finally: Which character is the reason that the group has to go home early?

for whichever and however many OCs you would like <3 answer whenever you want <3

Hi Anna! this is such a good ask, i’m gonna go wild with this, thank you~~

The main crew, aka Lucian and friends:

Quest is having the time of their life. They’re in and out of the water, starting every game under the sun, they have, apparently, limitless energy and as soon as one set of people get tired, they’ll go and bother another to do something else. Also come look at this cool crab they found—wait no, why are you running away!?

Zander is a) trying to prank people and b) look as cool as possible whilst doing it. He is not above using magic to dunk people in a wave, or send an army of tiny crabs after them. The second he gets in the water, though, Aliyne will dunk him, no magic needed, and then he spends the next few hour sulking and trying to fix his hair.

Leshanna is a Damiri elf, a snow elf, aka Miss Cannot Handle the Sun. She’s under a huge parasol, sweating profusely, trying to keep as much sun and sand away from her as physically possible. The only beach activity she is here for is reading on the beach, and she’d really rather be doing that anywhere else.

Lucian is happy to keep Leshanna company at first, and is probably building sandcastles—once he figures out what those are, anyway. He won’t go in the water, he doesn’t want his braids to come down, and unlike Zander, it’s not pure vanity, it's [redacted for plot reasons :p]. He is also the one who gets 100% tricked into letting the others bury him, only realising too late that he is now stuck…and then he starts actually panicking and everyone scrambles to get him out.

Aliyne alternates between fucking with Zander, keeping Lucian company, and sparring with Quest. She’d never say it, but by the end of the day she’s the one standing aside watching them all pack up to go home, trying to ignore the warm fuzzy feelings by pretending it’s heatstroke.

As for Vetuska K’zinla (+ Vren)…

K’zinla beach party! They’re the kind who are down there all day, until well into the night. They’ve thrown an enormous barbecue and started a massive bonfire (well, statistically probably Mayhem started the bonfire, and it probably wasn’t meant to be a bonfire initially…). There’s music and lots of drinking, and Aspiration managed to dunk Excellence three times before he stomped out of the water, sulking, and refused to take part any more.

Wit is convinced there are horrible sea monsters in the Valloroth sea, and refuses to go in until Mayhem puts them over her shoulder and just yeets them into an oncoming wave. Hope is floating nearby, chilling and enjoying the sun. She gives Wit a little pat on the head when they come up spluttering and cursing Mayhem's bloodline.

Sorrow spends a huge amount of time sunbathing, sipping magically chilled wine, and pretending he’s too chilled out to care, whilst actually keeping an eye on everyone and making sure they eat and drink and don’t accidentally kill each other. He’s also been waiting all day for Vren to take off his shirt and go swimming, but Vren is apparently content to sit and eat barbecue and stare at the ocean by himself.

And because the two groups are definitely at the same beach, at some point Aliyne does drag Vren into the water, and Sorrow is not hiding his appreciation for all that Mohaade muscle at all. Aspiration almost gets a tiny crab in his mouth before he shuts it.

(And if I’m being self-indulgent, and setting this post-story, Sorrow and Vren sneak off when everyone’s asleep and have ill-advised beach sex. And then spend the next day trying to get sand out of increasingly unlikely places)

#writeblr #thank you for the ask! this was a fun one! #valloroth blogging #c: aliyne #c: lucian #c: vren #c: sorrow #c: quest #c: leshanna #c: mayhem #c: excellence #c: aspiration #c: hope #c: wit #c: zander #i think i got everyone. good grief there's a lot of characters in this book TT_TT

[peterthepark]

twisted in bedsheets

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: slow burn leading to 18+ graphic smut, angst, fluff ensures, mentions of break-ups and dating apps

summary: the second part to august slipped away in which closure is sought after and second chances are given. you and peter find one another again, but things have turned bittersweet.

notes: highly requested sequel to august slipped away which you can read in the link! can be standalone as well, but i recommend the first part for everyone!!! enjoy! (not my gif btw)

missing out? ➤ [my masterlist]

The only purpose of autumn is to make you forget the beauty of what was summer. At least, that’s what Peter says to feel better about himself. The sun moves out of the way to make room for falling red leaves and time is supposed to be slower, which meant Peter’s days would eventually feel longer than usual.

If only August could have done the same.

It’s the peak of November now, and for the second time in his life, Peter is in heartbreak.

He hates the emptiness of New York — the same old weather, the layers of jackets upon sweatshirts and sleepless nights in a bed that feels too big, too quiet, too cold. The streets are always bustling with noise, and Spider-Man is needed more than ever. Without a doubt, he misses the salty air of California, the excessive sunscreen and crowded beaches with soaked shores full of sandcastles. He misses the flavorful taste of boardwalk ice cream, the harmonies of chirping birds and the lullabies of ocean waves during low tides.

Most of all, he misses you.

Your voice. The scent of your hair. The curve of your hips. The weight of your fingertips.

Bedsheets that smelled like lavender. Swimsuits hanging on top of your balcony railing. Sunsets where you would stay up drinking gross beer or taking tequila shots by the local bar. Lazy mornings where he’d wake up to the warmth of your enticing thighs and the taste of your swollen lips, clothes thrown about and onto the wine-stained carpet.

He really fucking misses you. Letters and phone calls just don’t suffice. The pixelated images of you in small bikinis with that cheeky look just can’t bring his lustful thoughts any justice. Not when Peter can’t touch you, can’t run his hands down your body and smile at the thrumming of your laughter or the satisfied moans in his ear.

He knows he was the one who left, but part of him feels it would be easier for him if it was you who ended up leaving.

Selfish, but honest.

He can’t visit. With barely enough money to pay rent in Queens, how could he afford a ticket to see you? And with you going back to university, how could you fix your schedule to accommodate him?

He left half of his heart on the other side of the world and somehow he can’t get it back.

January is supposed to be a month of new beginnings. He’s supposed to be celebrating, to pop a bottle of champagne and claim that this year is going to be his year like he’s done every other year before this one. The only thing he receives from you is a text message and a candid picture. You look happy. It makes his heart feel fragile, because he wants nothing to wish you a happy New Years and kiss you tenderly once the countdown reaches zero.

But he can’t. Because he’s here and you’re there.

He sends you an ‘I love u.’

You can only reply with a laconic ‘U too.’

Overnight video calls on the laptop suddenly turn into short two hour catch-ups on the phone. Paragraphs of texts become meaningless conversations — his daily question of ‘how are you?’ and your simple reply of a half-assed ‘good’ after forty minutes of nothing.

The lack of elaboration is enough for him to understand that he was right all along: your relationship was never built for long distance.

It was either New York or California, nothing in between and no compromise.

Peter thinks that it would be better to move on, even though he still loves you. Seasons change, people only remember to forget, life continues forward, and it’s supposed to be alright.

He’s supposed to be alright. He will be. He has to be.

But deep down, he misses you more than he remembers you.

The handwritten love letters stop coming. His phone is the quietest it has ever been, and yet he can’t bring himself to delete your number. However, he removes the pictures: the ones of you at the beach, in bed, in his arms, him with your friends and him kissing your cheek as you smile back at the camera with eyes glimmering of sunshine. It hurts, but he tells himself it’s just a photo. He just can’t look at you for too long or else it would be a reminder of what could have been.

He can’t look at you and not think about August — how he chose to slip away and how he’s been dealt with the card of immense regret.

Another year passes by.

It’s finally summer.

Peter doesn’t think of you as often anymore. As pathetic as it sounds, he’s turned to dating apps for pointless meetings with girls he doesn’t even like and hook-ups that never go past foreplay. He’s not actually looking for a relationship — godforbid he gets into one in the first place — but it helps him, sort of. The hole in his heart is still aching, but he’s found (healthy and unhealthy) methods to keep it at bay.

To keep the thoughts of you at bay.

He refuses to give into the virtuous construct that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

He’s not one to dwell on what he can’t have, therefore he avoids thinking of you. He’s proud of himself, because not once has he drunkenly texted you nor called you like those clichés in movies. You’re nothing to him but a memory. And memories have no place in the present. What’s past should stay past, and Peter knows better than to cross the fine line of dead relationships.

He doesn’t hate you. In fact, he hates that he can’t hate you. Every ounce of him perks up whenever he hears your name. It’s hope, but for what exactly? A romantic affair that lasted the entirety of summer, just to crumble at the arrival of autumn? If the fire in your heart was so passionate, then why did it burn out?

Was growing apart supposed to hurt that bad?

He’s staring out the window of an old diner, one of those historical NYC restaurants too iconic to tear down. The red leather of the booth that he’s sat in has begun to chip, flaking onto the colorful tiled flooring as the neon sign by the bar buzzes in his eardrums loudly. The clanking of the dishwasher in the back kitchen and the bubbling of a coffee maker fills the intimate silence. Peter’s basically the only one here except for the group of laughing teenagers in the corner.

He’s envious. They have so much time on their hands.

The waitress approaches his table with his plate of onion rings and a hamburger, accompanied by a strawberry milkshake and a small glass of water. He shoots her a polite smile, ignoring the way she lingers more than she needs to.

It’s late afternoon outside and his date is twenty minutes late when he checks his clock for the tenth time. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted that new dating app and that girl he accidentally swiped right on (Anita Millis PhD, MIT alumni with a sun in Sagittarius according to Bumble) – most likely a catfish, but the calculus pun in her profile made him crack up.

He’s starting to think she won’t show up. Asshole.

Not that he wasn’t entitled to a date, but he traveled all the way from Queens to Greenwich Village for this. So, yeah, maybe he is a little let down. But it’s fine. He could go exploring, check out some new patrol routes, the possibilities were — sort of — endless.

He’s halfway finished with his burger when the bell by the door chimes and a woman comes walking in.

Not Anita Millis, that’s for sure. But he can’t really see her face with how briskly she walks to the front of the diner. She takes a seat on one of the barstools, leaning over the C-shaped counter as she warmly greets the older cook in the kitchen.

“Hi, Carl!” She throws a hand up, wiggling her fingers in a friendly wave.

“Hey, sweetheart. Back already? It’s only July.”

She shrugs casually at his comment. “Gonna be August soon. School starts in a week and I wanted to make sure I was all adjusted. Plus, you know I’m loving the east coast.”

No, can’t be.

“Well, good to see you’re enjoying it. I’ll go ahead and get your usual.” Peter continues to observe the stranger. It’s too familiar — the way she fiddles with the strap of her tank top, the summer-like sunkissed highlights on her head and the timbre of her kind voice. “One strawberry milkshake.”

Strawberry.

“Thank you, Carl.”

He hands her a straw, “Pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.”

Impossible. Fucking impossible.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you take a sip of your shake.

A breathy laugh leaves you when Carl mentions something about his time in university during the seventies, then Peter thinks he’s having an acid trip. Maybe he’s been drugged. Maybe this is a dream. Weakly, he slaps at his cheek.

God, this is real.

It’s even more real when you glance at the table of teenagers in the corner and the slope of your nose is on full display. Then, your head turns over your shoulder in Peter’s direction.

You’re looking right at each other.

He hasn’t seen you in almost two years. Time stops and it feels like August all over again.

The unforgettable shade of honey in his eyes, the curious pout on your soft lips, the shared shock that falls upon both of your features as you instantly recognize each other. Memories of tall palm trees and windy road trips come barreling in, and Peter is taken back to a different universe — a different time when everything was picture perfect. Almost. He stares at you and thinks of sunny postcards, of the tan lines on his body that never quite went away. It feels like sand is blinding him again, pebbles and cracked shells digging into the soles of his burning feet atop of concrete.

“Y/N?” He breathes out, eyebrows knitting into pure confusion as his exasperated voice echoes over the quiet music.

“Peter? H-Hi, hi, wow.” His name rolls off your tongue like a crashing wave. It’s like second nature when the two of you stand up, approaching one another slowly with hands that want nothing but to reach out for the other.

But neither of you dare to make that decision.

You bury your fingers into your pockets, and Peter does the same. It’s an awkward distance as you stand in front of him, eyes traveling over the freckles that your lips had once traversed and marked their own. Somehow, it’s only been a year and Peter thinks you look older — a good older, because you look even more beautiful than he remembers.

“What are you — what are you doing here?” He chuckles nervously, fidgeting on either foot as he pinches the reddened bridge of his nose.

You notice he still hasn’t broken that habit.

“I, uh…” You touch your cheek. “I go to school here.”

“What?” The disbelief in his tone is evident. You can’t tell if he’s confused or upset. “Wow, since — since when? That’s… all the way over here? Really, Y/N?”

“Yeah, NYU.” You shyly look away when Peter huffs in amazement. “They had a program for out-of-state students.” He nods, gesturing for you to continue despite the reluctance in your stance. “I just got back from California, actually. So, you’ve caught me at a really weird time.”

“California.”

The word shares sentimental value. It’s rich with nostalgia, a fleeting romance and the hazy memory of skin against skin. It’s like finding a letter that got lost months ago in the mail.

Even worse, a letter full of things that he meant to say, but never meant to send.

It stings and soothes him at the same time.

“And you? How have you been?”

“Fine. You know, just… just trying to get by.”

“Ah, I see. That’s nice. How’s Aunt May?”

He’s already sick of pretending to enjoy this small talk, pathetically acting as if you never shared a bed together or spilled your darkest secrets to one another.

He reminisces about all the times he practiced what he’d say to you if he saw you again by chance.

“Y/N, why didn’t you reach out?”

He recognizes the flicker of pain in your avoidant gaze.

Peter can tell he’s hit a real nerve when nothing but silence comes out of your mouth. “Can we talk outside?” You weakly gesture towards the door, curling up under his unwavering stare as he fishes out a fifty from his wallet and leaves it on his table.

The bell chimes on your way out, where the two of you stand beneath the shaded awning of the diner. Peter watches you pull your hair back into a ponytail, strands sticking to your neck from the New York heat. You catch him staring, and an awkward smile is exchanged between you when he glances away a second too late.

Never did Peter imagine he’d feel awkward around someone he used to feel safe around. Unsure. Uncertain. A maybe.

Perhaps that was the keyword — maybe.

‘Maybe’ had countless connotations.

Maybe if he stayed. Maybe if he fought for it. Maybe if you fought for it. Maybe if you begged him even more, he would have given in. Maybe if you didn’t understand the extent of his responsibilities. Maybe if your relationship was strong enough — wrong, it was, perhaps the two of you weren’t the strong ones.

Maybe if it wasn’t August.

Maybe if you were given more time.

“Peter…” You sigh, hand pressing to your temple as his question rings through your head.

“And don’t bullshit me on this, Y/N.”

A wounded scoff mistakenly leaves you. “You act like it was all one-sided.”

Peter gapes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because it was? You are the one who stopped replying… stopped trying.”

“You don’t think I tried?” You scrunch your nose at him in frustration. He didn’t understand how it felt. “I thought about you every day. Every waking moment, you were the only thing on my mind. I missed you so much, it consumed me. I didn’t want anyone else, Pete. I didn’t look for anyone.”

“Is that supposed to excuse everything?” He looks down at the ground with anguish.

“You — you left me.”

“You told me you were okay with that, Y/N. You told me that we would be alright. You didn’t fight for it.”

“What was there to fight for?” He tenses when you finally lock eyes, tears glistening on your lashes when you rub the spot over your heavy heart. “You were decided. That was always the case, right? That you were gonna leave? And I was always gonna stay behind?” Your voice hitches when you take a painful gasp of air. “And yeah, of course I was going to be okay with it. Because it was for you. Letting you go back, letting you come here… I had to be okay with it. So, yes, maybe — maybe I didn’t fight for it, but at the end of the day, you needed to get home. That was all that mattered. Why are we having this conversation right now?”

Peter exhales through gritted teeth.

“You were my home. That was what mattered to me.”

The comment knocks the wind out of you, fists unclenching at your sides as deafeaning silence washes over.

You nod at him. This was no argument. There was no right person here, and at the very same time, neither of you were wrong. “I’m sorry that I drifted away.”

“And I’m sorry that I left.”

“That’s nothing to be sorry for.” Peter gazes at you longingly as you continue, eyes following the movement of your mouth. “You know, I stopped replying because I thought that was the right thing to do.”

“Did you think if you distanced yourself from me, it would’ve helped?”

He knows you too well.

“Helped the pain? Yeah.” You smile sadly at him. “One thousand percent.”

The phrase comes out of your mouth at the same time.

“It never helps.”

“It never helps.”

Surprised chuckles echo onto the sidewalk as you and Peter look at each other. It’s yearning. It’s melancholic. It’s the kind of laugh that fades out into sadness, then reality suddenly isn’t a reflection of what could’ve been. And as Peter liked to say, it is what it is. Only this time, he doesn’t want to believe that. There must be more to this, more to what your relationship was and could be.

“I hope you’re doing okay.” Your fingers twitch outwardly in his direction. It’s an instinctive reaction, but your skin doesn’t meet his. He wishes you’d touch him.

“I am… I guess I am now.” All the progress Peter made of trying to forget you has dwindled down to a barren autumn tree. He doesn’t want to admit that he wants more than another ephemeral August with you. He’s scared. Not because you’re here. But because he knows what this means for himself. “So, I overheard that you’re enjoying it here, miss NYU.” Peter pipes up humorously, muscles straining around his shirt sleeves when he crosses his arms over his chest. The course of the conversation feels more natural now. The tension isn’t so unbearable when the dimples on his face deepen. “Better than LA? I won’t be offended if you sugarcoat it.”

The corner of your lips tug into a lopsided grin as you squeak out a noise of uncertainty. “Eh, honestly, I haven’t gotten a proper tour around.” Subconsciously, your bodies have moved closer to one another. There’s still a few feet between the two of you, but the slight shift in the way you carry yourselves is unmistakable. “Never really found the right guide, so I don’t— I don’t really have a fair opinion.”

Peter amusedly hums at that, training his stare towards the setting sun. The playful tone in his voice is nothing but charming. “I know a guy.”

Your smile widens on its own account, teeth on full display as you teasingly run your tongue across your molars. “Oh, really now? A guy?”

“Yeah, totally. Lived here all his life, a local from Queens, knows a lot about subways if ever you get lost but he told me that he prefers walking because it really gives off that…”

“Oh, sure. Sure.” You tilt your head with a lighthearted giggle, eyelashes fluttering at Peter while he admires the shadows on your face.

“…That, you know, genuine feeling of being a real New Yorker. Really brings the whole vibe together, Y/N.”

You point your chin up at him, feigning a look of deep interest. “How does one get a hold of this guy of yours? Would he be able to give me a tour?”

Peter doesn’t break eye contact. He notices how you ever so subtly glance at his parted lips, throat flexing as a bead of sweat trickles down your neck. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him even after being unable to see you for so long. But fuck, he isn’t sure if he deserves that place in your life again. He doesn’t even know if you’re the same person you once were. A year can change a person. A breakup can change a person. If he crossed that line with you again, would you be able to walk with him till he reached the other side?

Could every month be your August? Could every year be an entire summer?

“What are you doing tonight?” Peter squints at you, gnawing on the inside of his cheek nervously when your features widen at the soft-spoken question. “I don’t really have plans. And well, I don’t mind clearing up my patrol schedule to show you around. There’s this taco truck that I’ve always wanted to try, but I just never really wanted to go alone.”

“Oh, Peter. You don’t have to do all that.”

You’re beautiful when you’re shy.

A determined sigh escapes him. “I know, but I’d like to.”

“Peter, I… I’m sorry, I wouldn’t want to bother.”

“It’ll be like old times.” He clears his throat. “No pressure though. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you — seeing you around, I mean! Not like… not like seeing you in that kind of way, Y/N, not that it’s bad or anything but….“

Your chuckle breaks his rambling. “Stop talking, you dork.”

Peter laughs, words trailing off into an incoherent, childish apology until he finds your eyes through the spaces between his falling curls. “I missed you.” He purses his lips together solemnly and kicks at a loose rock with the toe of his scuffed Chucks. “And I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have — I shouldn’t…”

“Hey.” You lightly tap his arm with your hand, gaining his attention. “I missed you, too.” He grasps it before you can pull away, thumb running wistfully across your knuckles until his pinky finger nudges against yours. “So much.” Peter stifles the choked sob that wants to leave him, happiness threatening to spill over his eyes. “I am free tonight, by the way.”

He squeezes your arm, then gingerly lets go of it. He nods his head slowly, sucking on his bottom lip hard enough to make an audible sound. “Okay. We can… I can meet you at your place? Just send the address and I’ll come swinging by.”

“Mhm, sounds great.” You’re about to turn away from him until the thought crosses your mind. You quickly spin on the balls of your feet, arms hugging over your front. “Do you still have my number?”

Peter studies your expression with certain intent.

“Of course, I do. Do you still have mine?”

The crinkles by your eyes stretch as a wave of embarrassment comes over you. “Well, I have a multitude of Peters in my phone, but I’m just gonna assume yours is the one with the heart.”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “Interesting. A heart, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, spidey.” You glance at Peter over your shoulder, carefully putting one foot in front of the other as you start to walk away from him.

He stays put, raising his eyebrows at what he wants to believe is a term of endearment. “I’ll pick you up. Eight o’clock.”

Another lingering stare. Another jitter in your hands as butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

-

It’s eleven minutes before eight when a soft knock vibrates against your front door. You mumble a foul string of curses under your breath as you slip on your left shoe, smoothing down the front of your dress until you’re retouching your makeup in the mirror for the millionth time of the night. Winded and stressed, you inhale deeply, pinching the pads of your fingers together in an effort to calm the adrenaline coursing through you.

And with one swift turn towards the door and a twist of the knob, you’re met with Peter Parker standing on your welcome mat and a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. His lips pull into a perky smile as you lock eyes, arm outstretched to give you the yellow arrangement.

“Hey.”

The simple greeting makes him blush, especially when he notices you’re wearing that particular green dress that drove him crazy.

He thinks he could kiss you right now.

“Hey.” He quickly composes himself, putting on another grin when you gesture for him to come inside.

“These are really gorgeous. You didn’t have to, Peter. I’ll just set these in a vase, then we can head out.” Your voice echoes from the kitchen, drowned out by the sound of a running faucet.

He takes the liberty of glancing around your apartment. Part of him was hoping he’d see pictures of himself, pictures of you both at the beach, any semblance of California — somewhere, some reason, as if you still had that same fervor for him.

“Everything good?” You chirp during your return to the living room, tossing a crumpled paper towel into the trash as you blink patiently up at Peter.

Then he sees it.

It baffles him how he never saw it in the first place from the moment he looked at you; the initial necklace sat perfectly between your collarbones.

P for a promise. P for Peter Parker.

The silver chain was something that he had given to you the night he left. It laid there, on his side of the bed, in place of his inevitable absence for the following day. But now, here it is, dangling on your chest — and god, it belonged. As it glistens under the ceiling lamp, Peter finds himself entranced that you kept it on. Even when he wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, you made it seem so. You came to New York, knowing Peter was there, no longer part of your life and yet you still wore his necklace despite the ties that had been cut. It was a proclamation of the love that was birthed by August, faded by the end of last January.

Were you waiting all this time?

“Peter?”

“Yeah?” He snaps out of his thoughts, noticing how you mindlessly roll the silver-plated initial between your fingers. Your eyebrows are drawn into concern, unaware of what was running through Peter’s mind.

“You’re okay?”

His stomach grows warm when you step closer. “I’m perfect.” The words leave him exasperated and unsure as he toys with the loose yarn of his cardigan.

He wants to kiss you.

He forgets what it feels like to look in your eyes, to look into the swirling flecks in your irises and see a lifetime of summers, an endless August and the burning of sunlight against his skin. He forgets what it feels like to reach out towards you, brush his roughened fingertips against the softness of yours. He forgets what it feels like to trail his hand up your arm, feeling goosebumps form beneath his touch as he finds solace by the naked crook of your shoulder.

You lean into it, not breaking the intensity of his stare as your lips part to speak a cracked whisper. “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly look like it.”

He wants to kiss you.

Peter cups your chin ever-so-gently. “That I don’t… I don’t look perfect?” You chuckle, feeling his thumb hesitatingly press against the corner of your mouth as your palms slowly travel up his torso. His breaths are shallow, fanning softly over your face as you shake your head with a twitchy smile. “What are you trying to say, Y/N?”

“No, no, you look perfect.” Your fingers tangle between the curls by the nape of his neck. “It’s just—”

He’s going to kiss you.

You can feel the low bass of Peter’s voice thrum against your own chest. He looms over you, his tall and lean shadow swallowing your figure. “I think you’re perfect.” His hands cradle your face now, tucking the wispy strands of hair behind your ear. “So absolutely perfect.”

“Pete, I…”

All at once, his lips are on yours like a crashing wave. It’s high tide and his arms are pulling you into the whirlpool that is him, his body, taking you under. His breaths are heavy and loud against you, teeth bumping and tongues remembering the warmth of each other’s mouths as he grasps your waist like a lifeline. Similar to a man deprived of water, he drinks at you as if you’re his first glass in years — tasting the chapstick on your lips and the perfume on your neck when he kisses down your throat. Every part of you quenches his thirst, and he passes through all four seasons — winter, spring, summer, fall — when you whimper his name.

“Peter…” You sigh, his forehead pressing against yours as he pulls away. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it. Starved, needy, messy. It’s more of an ‘I missed you’ kind of make-out rather than a ‘I need you’ but you supposed those two things were one in the same at this point.

“I’m sorry — I wasn’t thinking—“ You kiss him this time before he can continue. It’s short and sweet, but the brunette finds himself wanting for more when he desperately reconnects his lips to yours. “Y/N, the more you kiss me… the more I…”

“Do you… should we stop?” Kiss. “I just… you looked…”

“Really kissable?”

“Yeah — I mean, no, but I… I missed you. Missed this. And you were staring at me as if I wasn’t…” You moan when his hand wanders up your thigh, the other on your lower back. “As if I wasn’t real… and I just… had to prove it to you—“

“Do you have a boyfriend?” His nose nudges against yours, tightly-shut eyes fluttering to gaze at you between pecks.

“You said what?”

“A boyfriend.” His voice is charmingly hopeful, yet wheezy from his lack of oxygen. Breathe, Peter. Breathe.

“You didn’t think to ask before you kissed me?”

“Well, to be honest, I—“ And you interrupt him again, reaching up on the tips of your toes to pull his face back down to yours. “I just assumed.”

“Should I be offended, Parker?”

He chuckles at himself, then mumbles an apology against your skin. “You know, I had a whole thing planned out tonight. Wanted to take you out to that taco truck, maybe walk around the city for a bit, take you swinging if you’d let me. We could’ve caught up. I’d ask you about your studies and you would ask me about my lower than minimum wage job… but honestly…” His fingers run over the initial on your chest. “I really, really, really wanna keep kissing you.” He winces. “Is that okay?”

“Certainly wasn’t the welcome I was expecting, but… okay.”

“Say yes for me.”

You nod, teeth tugging on his bottom lip with eagerness.

“Yes, that’s okay.”

Then instantly, you find yourself backed up against the door to your bedroom. The once-hanging purses and jackets drop loudly onto the floorboards as Peter kisses down your stomach, head buried beneath the short skirt of your dress while your left leg dangles over his shoulder. His bare shoulders ripple below you, flexing as his arms effortlessly hold you up.

“Everything about you, Y/N…” His words are muffled under the green silky material, pining and breathless. “So fucking soft. Missed touching you. Kissing you.” He hooks his thumbs over the waistband of your boyshorts, tugging it down your knees until they pool around your bare feet. “Making you squirm.” He nips at your inner thigh. “Making you mine.” A shudder leaves you when he inhales through his nose. “Missed your scent — that sweet fucking scent. Christ, I can’t wait to taste you again, Y/N.”

“P-Pete…” You whisper, searching for his face beneath your dress. The tone of your voice alarms him slightly, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull his mouth away to check on you. His features are caring, yet worrisome. “I’m alright, I…” You avoid his stare in the poorly-lit overcast of light in your bedroom. “I just wanna be able to watch you.”

His forehead rests against yours in the chaos of your heaving bodies. “Watch me…? What, baby? Help me out here.”

Smug bastard. “Watch you eat m-me out.” You huff out.

A low hum. “Who said I was gonna eat you out?”

“Huh?”

“Y/N, I’m not just gonna eat you out…”

“Well, I mean, I’d hope not.“ You gulp, laughing shyly as he dips down to catch the bashful glimmer in your pupils. “Cause honestly, I’d be a little disappointed—“

You yelp when his hands find your hair, tugging it roughly so that you’re forced to look up at his lusted eyes. “I’m gonna devour you, baby. I wanna remember how it feels to be buried in you again.” He smirks visibly, admiring how your jaw falls ajar at the filthiness of his forward declaration. “Can I do that? Lay you out on your bed and have you all spread out for me?” He thumbs at your bottom lip. “Make you cum tonight, over and over, just to tell you how much I missed you?”

You nod meekly.

You let Peter’s thumb dip into your mouth, your voice quiet and dripping with desperation. “Can’t I show you how much I missed you first?”

He shudders when you suck on the digit. “Okay, show me then. I’m all yours.”

The phrase is enough to make you drop to your knees. Peter exhales shakily as you unbuckle his belt, fingers flying between the buckle and popping the button of his jeans before you’re excitedly pulling the denim down his legs.

You missed him. More than words. More than actions and sex could ever show, but this would work. This could work.

His boxers join the puddle of clothes on the floor, leaving his already-hard dick fully exposed to you. Precum dripped from the aching tip, his girth wider than you remembered as you pumped his length slowly in your smaller hand.

You haven’t experienced a man this big in more than a year.

“Come on, baby.” Peter groans when you press a chaste kiss to his slit. “Don’t be shy now.”

“M’not shy, just wanna admire you.” You lick a stripe from the head of his cock to the base, lips worshipping the smooth skin of his abs. “Just as perfect as the night you fucked me silly in that bathroom.”

“Please, Y/N. Need your mouth already.” He gapes as you stare up at him, batting your lashes innocently as his member prods against your tongue. “Please.”

“Anything for you, loverboy.”

Loverboy. Fuck, he could cum right now.

With doe-eyed pupils, you watch Peter slowly fall apart as you guide his length between your swollen lips. He’s heavy in your mouth, poking the skin of your cheek with enough pressure to create a bulge.

A satisfied hiss escapes him when you use your middle and ring finger to wrap around what your mouth can’t reach, head bobbing on him as he uses the door for standing leverage. His palms are splayed out onto the wood, chin tucked against his chest to watch you suck his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. Fuck. So good, you take my cock so well.” He bites his lip, restraining himself from bucking his hips into you. “S-Shit, Y/N. You look so gorgeous with my dick in your mouth, all filled up and drunk on this — jesus, this fucking cock.” You hum at the statement with a growing smile, causing Peter to moan at the vibrations of your sweet chuckle. Your free hand strokes at his thigh, painted nails digging into his flesh as your pace quickens.

You’re gagging around his dick, a string of saliva pooling from your chin as your mouth begins to work faster. Peter pushes your hair away from your face, leaving two wispy strands to frame your cheeks as he attempts a poor take at a ponytail.

“Mmm, Peter…” You mumble with a throat full of saliva and a sore jaw, fist stroking him gently. “Can’t wait to have you inside me. Stretching me out… fuck, making me yours.”

“Me too, me too, but Y/N, I’m sorry — I need to… I need to eat you out first.”

You giggle, running your lips across his shaft with a tantalizing gaze. “Right now? You don’t wanna cum in my mouth?”

“I would love to, but tasting you again is at the top of my list of priorities.” Peter carefully pulls you off of him, grabbing you by the hands to help you up from your kneeled position.

“Didn’t know you had a list… was tasting me the first thing you thought of when we saw each other?” You joke, fighting back your excited grin when he turns you around to unzip your dress.

“Thought about a lot of other things.”

His lips skim over the back of your neck, following the hot skin below while he drags the zipper lower and lower and…

You help him pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, his fingers resting on top of yours as he whispers sweet nothings by your ear.

“Missed you. You drive me crazy. I can’t believe you’re real.”

Peter’s hand wraps around your throat; it doesn’t feel rough, nor is it meant to be an act of outright dominance. It feels like a warm morning, the enveloping heat between blankets and the blossoming of flowers in the wind as his fingers trail across your jaw so tenderly, lips complimenting the ghost of his touch like little birds flocking to a nest. You turn your face up to him, and while his touch is a reminder of all things summer on a hot afternoon, his eyes are a window to the constellations of clear nights.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I’m sorry, I never should’ve left.”

You see the Northern Lights in the glimmer of his affectionate stare and Cassiopeia beneath the Milky Way of his heavy eyelashes. His mouth finds yours in the universal chaos of summer and fall, index and middle finger placed on either side of your ear. He smells of musk, but rather than a forest of evergreen trees, Peter is more like swaying palm trees along the breezy coast of Malibu.

Going with the flow. Here, not there.

You’re here. He’s here.

His stature towers over you, toned arms pushing against you until the back of your knees hit the bed. He doesn’t let you lay back — not all the way, at least.

“Didn’t you wanna watch?” He quirks a smug brow, teeth tugging on the fat of your inner thighs as his mouth nears your needy core. You can feel his cool breaths against you, large hands holding you down by the waist as his nose nudges at your clit. “You’re gonna sit up the whole time, and I’ll give you what you want. Lemme see that pretty face, Y/N.”

He carefully pulls your legs apart, softly drawing hearts on your calf as he gauges your reaction. Your smile twitches with anticipation, a mixture of shyness and amorous familiarity broadening your features.

Peter immediately picks up on the way your heartbeat quickens. “This okay?” He whispers, barely audible when he brings his thumb to your clit. The nub is already throbbing under his light touch, and you let out a whiny hum of approval because it feels so — oh, god, he’s kneeling.

Still keeping you upright, his mouth suckles at your folds. You jolt at the sensation, broken gasps mewling from your throat as he moves back and forth from your clit to your dripping hole.

“Peter, f-fuck…”

“Shh, I know.” He looks up at you with eyes full of adoration and desire. “I know it feels good. Don’t need to tell me. I already know.”

“You still remember what I…”

“Y/N, of course I remember what you like.” He swirls the pad of his middle against your cunt, collecting your wetness before he uses it to push into you. “I remember exactly how your body wants it — wants me. My fingers.” You throw your head back when he adds another digit. “My cock.” His wrist slowly snaps against you, the heel of his hand prodding against your sensitive clit.

“No one gets me off like you do.” You whisper, nails massaging at his scalp as you guide his lips back onto your core. “You were always so — fuck, so attentive with me. So caring, so careful and so…” You whimper when he curls his fingers into you. “So giving.”

“And you, always so needy.”

You exchange bubbly laughter. Even with his face buried between your thighs, he radiates nothing but love.

Pure and absolute all-consuming love.

The combination of being fingered and his mouth starts to make your legs shake, abdomen flexing as you try to even out your breathing.

“Baby…”

“God, I can just feel you squeezing around me. Ready to cum, sweetheart?”

The vulnerable word leaves you in a gasp. “Please.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, but his moans join together with yours as he watches you reach your orgasm. You clench your thighs around his hand, forcing to keep your eyes open as you press your forehead to his.

He coaxes you with a free hand on your back. “There’s my girl. Yeah, ride it out. Fuck, Y/N.” He holds you in place, afraid that you’d topple over from the intensity. “Did so well for me.” He kisses either side of your cheek. “Do you wanna stop? Let me know if you can’t handle any more.”

You shake your head. “I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You gaze into his eyes for what feels like the first time all over again. He’s so unbelievably pretty, that you’re afraid this is all a dream. His lips tug into the faintest smile, almost as if he could read your thoughts. “Hey, stop staring.”

You flick his shoulder. “I’m not staring.”

“You are.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand hold you by the back of your head. “Never stop staring at me.”

His name tumbles out in a trembling thrum when you pull him towards the bed. “Peter.”

“Y/N.” He lays beside you, elbow propped up as he studies you.

“I missed you.”

His features soften as you straddle his lap. “I missed you more.” You lean forward, hands on either side of him as you slowly sink down onto his length.

A collective moan echoes through the quiet air. His features mimic yours — eyebrows furrowed, lips parted in a surprised gasp from how full he makes you feel.

And how your cunt is already milking his cock just from him bottoming out.

You roll your hips against his, testing the waters. Peter can’t help but sit up, back resting against the headboard as your bare tits distract him from the view of your dripping cunt. He kneads at the soft flesh, giving attention to either nipple with his warm tongue while he looks up at you.

But something about the way you ride him is different from all the other times.

It’s not a desperate goodbye. It’s a wish for him to stay. Strings of curses and the familiar mewl of his name don’t fall from your lips at this moment. It’s on loop, as if you were afraid that this memory would be fleeting like the rest.

I missed you.

I missed you.

I missed you.

And Peter doesn’t want to say he missed you too. Instead, he utters his next three favorite words in a slow, hushed whisper.

He assures you he won’t slip away.

“I love you.” His hands remember the curve of your hips, the love handles and the dips in your thighs that left him in awe. He kisses you like he’s reaching for your heart rather than your lips. His cheeks are incredibly flushed, tears blurring the portrait of you in his vision. “I love you, Y/N.”

You breathlessly grin at him, “I love you, Peter.”

His hips snap into you, breasts bouncing in his face as he pulls you as close to him as possible. No other words are exchanged. Your moans are full of passion and your hands endlessly tug at each other’s skin in yearning.

Almost two years. August. Summer. California. The way your sweat feels against his. New York. July. You, this is real. Peter, this is real. Strawberry milkshakes and sandy bodies. Ice cream and silent walks on the boardwalk. The afterglow of city lights. The burn of tequila and the feeling of three beers in.

The necklace around your throat.

The way Peter breathes all of you.

You and him twisted in bedsheets like always.

He cradles your head against his shoulder as you both cum, bodies quivering from the long high as Peter coats your walls with his warm cum. Your arms are thrown across his back, forehead slick with sweat as you stick to his body.

A shudder leaves him when you roll off his lap, blankets feeling hot against your exhausted bodies.

It’s just you two and the rare peacefulness of New York.

“Y/N?” You let out a soft grunt in response, too overwhelmed to reply. “I won’t slip away this time.”

“I hope not.”

“It would be an honor…” He inhales himself against your skin. “… to be yours all over again.”

“Mine. Just all mine.” You turn to him feverishly, glassy eyes glancing at the clock on your nightstand. “I won’t slip away either.” Your finger points at the flashing numbers, a playful smile on your lips. “Would you look at that?”

The brunette looks over his shoulder.

August 1st.

With tangled limbs and vibrant smiles, he pulls you into another breathtaking kiss.

Peter thinks August could be the start of forever.

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter angst #tasm!peter parker #tasm fanfic #tasm fanfiction #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman x you #tasm andrew garfield #tasm smut #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #spiderman x you

[bubblyhoney]

sandy cheeks

warnings: language of course, nipple talk??, dream being a fanny pack dad for .2 seconds, an admission of Love

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 1115

A/N: wrote this in like an hour.. not sorry!

-

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, shoulders tensing as you pull your hands up to your chest. The water is fucking cold. Like, shrink-your-balls-cold. Like, my-pinky-toe-fell-off-cold.

“Come on,” He teases, grabbing your wrist and tugging you towards him. You just stumble like a newborn deer, slamming into his chest and gasping at the splash of water rising to your hips. “It’s not that bad.”

“Tell that to my rock-hard nipples,” you sputter, crossing your arms tight on your chest and letting yourself get swayed by the current.

It’s a surprisingly windy day in Florida, sun out every once and a while to warm up the scattered groups of people on the beach. Sapnap insisted you two go down to the beach (“we don’t even have to swim!”) for dinner and to waste some of the day away. It’s summer, so you can do that. You still put on a swimsuit, deciding that relaxing would be more comfortable in less clothes anyways.

“Tell your nips to chill, then.” A large hand catches you around the waist and tugs you forward. His chest is surprisingly warm on your skin and you shiver. You press even closer, hiding your face in his neck to steal some of his warmth. “You are cold,” he murmurs, in awe, and slides his hands up and down your biceps that prickle with goosebumps.

“No shit,” you whine and shuffle closer. Gravelly sand works its way in between your toes and makes you shuffle your feet, disgusted look pulling at your face. “I hate the beach.”

Sapnap reaches to brush your windswept hair out of your face and his hand drops to thumb at your pout, brows pulled together.

“No you don’t. You just hate being cold.” His hands tug at your elbows and lift your arms to loop around his neck. “Just hug me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Your pout softens and you silently agree. He is warm. He also smells like sunscreen and something musky you attribute to that cologne he says makes him “smell like David Beckham’s butler”. Whatever the hell that means.

Your attitude shifts as soon as you stop trembling. The sun peeks out of the clouds and warms your shoulders. The water lapping at your abdomen seems calm and warm instead of rough and piercing. And the boy in your arms is patient instead of the devil reincarnate who wants you to become a human popsicle.

“Better,” you decide, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck and tracking your fingers through his silky hair. He just hums, content. The arms slung around your waist grip tight as you two sway together to no tune in particular.

A gruff voice shouts from the shore and you peel yourself from his chest, turning. It’s Dream. Waving like an idiot from the place where your bags and towels lay in the fine sand. He must’ve just got here after finishing up a plug-in at home, too busy to come with you guys when you left but apparently not too busy to leave ten minutes after. You just lift a hand, grinning at his excitement. Everybody likes beach day.

“You hungry?” You ask, voice quiet and sweet, and Sapnap just stares back at you with a blissful expression. You blink. He shakes his head, licking at his bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah.”

You pass him a weird look.

“Is the heat getting to your head?” You suggest with a mocking tone and lift a hand to press to his forehead. He bats you away with a smile.

“I will hold you under,” is all he says before he’s letting go and walking back up to the shore. You just gape, pausing, before wading after him.

“You wouldn’t.” You sound scandalized and he just laughs, waiting until you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with him so he can take your hand in his.

“Try me.” His lip quivers with a held-back laugh. You just roll your eyes and shove his shoulder. Brat.

The sandwiches and fruit he packed are well-needed replenishment. Well, however much fruit you get—Dream is a cantaloupe fiend. And he steals like half of the bag of jalapeño chips. This is why you can’t have nice things.

But the rest of the late-afternoon swings by quickly. The wind dies down with no protest and the beach gets less and less crowded as time drags into sunset territory.

“Go stand over there,” you order, gesturing to a lump of sand right next to what used to be a sandcastle.

“I don’t want a picture, Y/N,” Sapnap complains, not very go-with-the-flow.

“Too bad, baby.” You lift your phone and snap a few pictures of a grumpy looking Sapnap in front of the beautiful sunset.

“Smile like you love me,” Dream suggests, standing to the right of you with his hands on his hips. This feels like two parents forcing their eight year old to take pictures with the Mickey Mouse statue at Disney World. Your boyfriend pulls his face into what looks like halfway between a grimace and grin, but it’ll have to do. A smile stretches your lips subconsciously at his cute face.

“So cute,” you coo, and step forward to squeeze at his cheeks. He can’t help but chuckle and lean to press a kiss to your mouth. Okay, two. Would be three if Dream didn’t make a vomit noise and stomp back to your things like a petulant child. You just shake your head.

The ride home is perfect. Sapnap has the windows down, allowing you to lean your head out and feel the wind in your hair with closed eyes. Music different to his usual modern taste drifts lazily out of the speakers and makes you uncharacteristically sleepy for 9 pm. The second he parks in the driveway you jerk awake, blinking wildly around in the night air. A yawn splits your face and you lift a hand to cover it, turning to Sapnap with watery eyes. He just gazes at you, looking somewhat in a trance.

“I love you.”

You freeze, palm dropping from your mouth. The water in your eyes stills.

It’s the first time.

First time he’s said it.

And he doesn’t sound nervous. No shake in his inflection, no quiet tone. He says it like it’s the easiest thing, deciding to love you.

You love him too. Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?

“Really?” You ask, shy grin creeping onto your lips. He just nods, cheeks pink. You wait a beat, still processing. The wind slides gentle and easy, lifting the hair up off your neck. “I love you too, you know. You have to know.”

He just nods.

Of course he knows.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap one shot #sapnap oneshot #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #bubblyhoneyfics #sapnap x reader

[multifandomthoughts]

Sunbathing Beauty

MINORS DNI, NSFW

AFAB READER

Requested by: @softiebadbitch

Warnings: Fellatio, Penetration, Semi-public sex (though nobody is there)

“Ace, you can’t even swim!” You shout as the brunette held your arm, dragging you across the warm sand as he ran, umbrella slung over one shoulder and a backpack over the other. “But I wanted to spend time with you, and pops said if I didn’t get out soon, he’d tell the cook not to let me have any food for a week. I know he didn’t mean it, but that personal of a threat has to mean something.”

“I still don’t understand why you took me to the beach of all places.” You retort, the sun beating down on the two of you, reminding you to put on sunscreen after this conversation. “Isn’t it enough that I want to spend some time with you? You are my favorite person after all.” Ace flashes you a wide grin and drops the bag he was carrying, some of the contents spilling out.

You get a look at the contents and sighed. Buckets and hand shovels? The second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates… wants to make sandcastles? “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” You say, trying to act annoyed but unable to keep a smile off your face. Pulling out the rest of the contents, there are two towels, sunscreen and sunglasses. The towel and sunscreen are most important, considering you were burning not only your skin, but the soles of your feet from the baking sand.

The first thing you do is spread your towel on the sand, and once the safe haven is formed you get off your hot feet and lie down on it, putting on your sunglasses. “Since we’re going to be here a while, do you think you could help me with the sunscreen? I don’t want to burn my back.” Ace nods and grabs the bottle. “Want to untie your top or should I just work around it?” He asks, squeezing a sizable dollop onto his hand.

You nod as best you can while lying down and reach back to untie the knot holding your top on. A small sigh escapes you as your chest feels that little bit more free. It’s soon replaced by a squeal as you twitch from the sudden presence of Ace’s cold, wet hands on your back. You return to a relaxed state once the initial shock wears off and enjoy the loving touch of him applying the lotion all over your bare skin. It feels like the interaction is over almost as soon as it started and soon he’s left your side again to start filling his buckets with sand. You pout a little bit, as you tie your top back on and sit up to start applying your own sunscreen everywhere else.

A funny feeling starts to creep upon Ace. His mind is no longer focused on the whimsy of building sand castles. He’s more interested in that bikini that you spent so much time trying to have him notice. His heart is racing as if he were on the battlefield, but adrenaline and aggression are the furthest things from his mind right now. This is purely… excitement, and something akin to the awe he gets from a sunset, all focused on you. The desire to get even closer to you begins to overwhelm his mind, and he has to do something about it. The thought of dumping a bucket of cold clear ocean water on you has passed.

Acting on impulse alone he left his buckets behind and stood in front of you once again, wordlessly staring. You give him a confused look. “Do you need something, Ace?” Stumbling over his words, Ace blurts “That swimsuit is so revealing it’s practically pointless. Let’s get rid of it.” Your face turns bright red, it wasn’t the reaction you expected, but one that you were looking for. “Ace….” You respond, a smirk on your face. “We can do that, but this is a public place!” “But why not? Being a pirate is about the freedom to do what you like when you like. And a relationship is about not caring what others think because you’re happy together. So since I’m all worked up now, let’s have some fun!”

You scan your eyes across the beach, looking for any signs of other inhabitants. It seems like any other occupants have left, either because they knew who Ace was, or they had become disinterested. Satisfied that you don’t have an audience, you give a sigh. “Alright, but can you at least put up the umbrella so we’ll be more cool in the shade?” Giving a mock salute, Ace sets about planting the pole in the sand and spreading the umbrella over your heads. “Nice and comfy now, hot stuff?” “Totally, the shade makes it nice and cool, as well as covering up.”

You go to take off your top, Ace’s eyes glued to your torso like a dog towards a steak. That gives you an even better idea, and you immediately put that plan into action. Running yours hand up and down your shoulders and thighs, you hover your hand over the knot keeping your swimsuit together. You can swear you see Ace gulp and a bead of sweat cascade down his forehead.

Rather than pull the knot undone right away you tug on the strings over your shoulders a bit to make your chest bounce for him. “You said this doesn’t cover enough, but I think you’re going crazy because you can’t see the best parts yet… but don’t worry baby, I’ll show you everything soon. And then you’ll melt in my hands, knowing that you have to beg. Ace squirms excitedly, his hands clasped together between his knees in a futile attempt to keep him from reaching out.

You right hand reaches behind your back to untie the knot while simultaneously holding your left arm in front of you, covering up your breasts as the top of your swimsuit goes limp around your body. Winking at him, you bring your free hand back around to your waist and start tugging at the side of your bottoms. “Which will it be first, Ace? Move this arm out of the way, or take the rest of it off?” For the first time, you think you’ve silenced Ace. He doesn’t say anything, and just stares straight ahead at your covered breast. So mesmerized, so enamored that not one word drips out of his mouth.

Ace says something, but the words just don’t come out. He repeats this multiple times, each time as quiet as the last time. You tilt your head in mock confusion, trying to hold back the smirk that attempts to creep onto your face. “Sorry babe, a little louder?” His fists are tightly clenched in between his knees as he sits in front of you staring unblinkingly at the arm keeping him from your treasure. “All… I want all of it… I need all of you…” he groans through gritted teeth, his legs constantly shifting as if that will bring any relief to his fierce prisoner.

“Oh, is that so? You laughed, happy to know that your plan of teasing him with your swimsuit has gotten you to this point. “So, what’s it going to be? Tits or pussy?” Ace flashes you a devilish grin, having gained his confidence back. The Ace that you met who was full of swagger, and could take on absolutely anything. Without a second thought he gently grabs your wrist. “Yes.” Next thing you know, you’re on your back in a passionate kiss with Ace. One hand is running through your hair, the other has pulled your arm away from your chest, your breasts now pressed against his pecs as the friction sends a wave of heat through both of your bodies.

“Now, for the elephant in the room….he declares. “Do I have your permission to touch you?” Nodding your head violently and vocalizing a yes, you take his hand, place it on your breast and wrap his fingers around the soft tender flesh. His knee runs up your inner thigh, stopping short of the prize and coming back down, then back up again. If he had finished the journey he would feel the damp spot in your bikini bottoms. Instead, he brings his mouth down to kiss and suck on the tit his hand had left unattended. “Love these so much…” he mutters, bowed over you as if in a prayer of gratitude. When his head does raise to meet your gaze, the mischievous look is back though a bit hazy with lust. “Permission to finish stripping you?” He inquired with a smirk. “G-granted…” you manage to squeak out between shuddering breaths and half suppressed moans. “Great. Then get up onto your knees and bend over for me.” He says with an authority you can’t dismiss but a needy tone that betrays the facade covering his desperation for this.

As he asks, you get on your hands and knees. No sooner have you done it than he is behind you running his hands over your ass. But he does not let himself get sidetracked and you feel fingers hooking under the waistband of your bottoms. With baited breath you try to hold still as he yanks the garment down to your knees. Your arousal is apparent in both the wetness of its crotch area and the moisture glistening on your exposed pussy. “Naughty girl, aren’t you?” Ace teases, knowing damn well he and his pitched mast aren’t ones to talk. “I could take you right here like this… would you like that? Or should I ask you to return the favor and help me out of my trunks now?” You squirm in his grip, before slipping out onto your back and spreading your legs for him. “You’ve been begging for it, I don’t know how you’re able to wait!” You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him. Seeing you in this new seductive pose silences Ace yet again, not to mention being called out for his lust. You take a little pity on him and sit up again to reach out for his swimsuit.

“I guess I won’t make you wait in agony any longer… let me see your handsome body…” you say softly as you pull his clothes off. Sure enough his erection springs out stiff and ready. You mull your eyes over it for a minute, big and thick before running your hand down and up the base. Ace let’s out a long sigh, one that he didn’t know that he was holding. He scoots back onto the very edge of the towel, spreading himself out so you have more room to take him in. Before anything else, you knew you had to give this thing some hands on attention… and probably lip service.

Running a finger up and down the warm flesh from soft tip to twitching base, you lick your lips and feel your lower half getting equally wet. You’re not some superficial girl who only appreciates a guy for physical attributes… but fuck this is an impressive dick. As you reach the tip again you wrap your hand around his shaft instead and start to gently stroke up and down. “So big and hard… just for me? You know how to make a girl feel special don’t you… Let’s see if I can make you feel even better. Just tell me if it hurts, or if you’re about to blow.” He nods violently, as you begin to lower your head back onto his dick. Your hand on the base of his shaft, you move it in the opposite direction you are sucking, sliding your hand up as you go down.

With a gentle grip guiding your head, Ace directs your motions in a steady pace, releasing a cacophony of moans. For every rise and fall he lets out a pleasured sound unlike anything you’ve ever heard from this notorious pirate. Some guttural, some high pitched, all from your man. You flutter your eyelashes again as you look up at him; it’s useless, as his eyes are gently closed in pure bliss. Despite the umbrella casting a long shadow across the two of you, beads of sweat roll down his forehead; you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. A sharp tug on your hair alerts you that he’s close, as his eyes roll back into his skull. He attempts to take control and starts thrusting in search of climax. You weren’t prepared to be face fucked like this, but you can adapt quickly.

Using your arms, you forcefully remove Ace’s hands from your head, releasing you from his guide. In an attempt to coax his climax quicker, you breathe in deeply through your nose and take all of his thick cock, burying your nose into his pubic bone. The mixture of deepthroating, and your hand on the base of his shaft causes him to let out an ear piercing whine. You manage to stay down and are rewarded as his pulsing cock unloads, the warm rush of cum filling your mouth. You swallow, before winking and blushing back at your partner.

“Ready for round two?” You coo, giving the tip of his cock a kiss before widening your stance expectantly. “Or can you not handle what beauty is sitting in front of you?” You expect him to need a little time to cool down and recharge, but his erection hasn’t gone down in the slightest and he only looks more eager. “I think I can handle you pretty well, just wanna be sure you can handle this bad boy. Guess I have my answer, so here’s a better question: Do we have any kind of protection?”

Biting your lip, you drag your discarded top through the sand, and reach inside the breast pocket. “For when a sexy man wants to have some fun…” You quip, tearing the wrapping open with your teeth. “Now’s the main event, big boy…” Separating the rubber from the plastic, you put Ace’s cock in your hand once again. In one quick movement, the condom is on and the two of you are ready to go. As he draws in close again, you run a playful finger along his abs. He takes hold of your left thigh while his right hand holds his member steady on its course. “Let me help with that…” you offer softly, grabbing his wrist to make the intention clear. He lets go and you take hold of the slick latex and warm flesh. Now with both hands on your thighs, he keeps your legs spread and your body steady as the tip of his member presses at your waiting opening to seek entry. With you to guide him he pushes a bit more and finds it.

You wince in pain, gripping his shoulders as his big cock fills you. He was stretching you a bit, but you didn’t mind the sting. The pain is worth the pleasure. You take a deep breath as you bottom out, a pleasant feeling enveloping your core. “Fuck me Ace, please…you feel so good…” you plead, squirming to get more of that wonderful feeling. “Okay hot stuff, be prepared for a wild ride.” His hands wander up to your breasts, grasping them as if they were the most precious jewels. Tantalizingly slow, he pulls out of you. You beg and whine, every inch lost leaving an empty feeling until all you have is the tip. “Put it….in…please!!” You howl, clawing at his legs as you attempt to push him back in. He goes back to rubbing your nipples under his thumbs and acts like he’s deep in thought. “Well… you’re making some pretty cute noises right now so maybe I shouldn’t? Ah, but I wanna hear what you’ll sound like when I do this!” And just like that he slammed back in, as you let out a loud moan.

Ace is done going easy on you, and the thrust in is immediately followed by another out, then back in agains and again. He’s really fucking you now, and it feels so goddamn good. Every slap of skin against skin elicits an even louder sound, is it possible that there’s a limit to your volume? The harder he goes on you, the tighter you can feel yourself getting. Your coil keeps tightening, almost ready to snap. As if the feeling of his cock isn’t exciting enough, the look on his face and the grunts and moans he’s making are sure as hell helping. You wrap your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you and arch your back to press your tits into his waiting hands even more.

Pleasure and joy flow through your body and mind so strongly you worry it might start to spill out as tears, and you can certainly tell it’s dripping out somewhere else. Your sexual frenzy continues a few minutes more until you know you can’t take any more. “Ace… I’m so close…” you try to tell him, though by now your voice has been reduced to a shrill squeak. Ace understands it though, and replies with a grunt that sounds like “Me too… together babe.” Your boyfriend leans in and kisses you one more time as he ruts like the animal in heat he seems to be. The dam bursts and you moan into the kiss as your pussy convulses and tries to milk him for all he’s got. Luckily you have the condom in the way, because he’s got a lot. He twitches a few times as a fresh load streams out and is collected in the reservoir tip, and you feel a new wave of heat in your core.

You lay back on your towel, spent. It feels as if you’ve just completed a marathon and every muscle in your body is crying out for rest. Despite this, you look into Ace’s eyes; they’re clouded from what just went on. Catching your breath, your face is just inches away from Ace’s. He’s regained all his energy already and gives you a cheeky grin. “See? I knew we’d have plenty to do at the beach without having to swim!”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagines #portgas d ace imagine #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace

[red-writes]

a/n: I literally thought about this before falling asleep and I had the weirdest fucking dream ever it felt too real now I need to write this so-

cw: body description (of junpei), somno, Junpei is a peeping tom, slight angst, fingering.

Junpei to most people is so weird. He’s unusually skinny for a guy his age. His collar bones protrude unfashionably and peak at you from under his too big t-shirt. His waist is slender and fragile, hip bones poking against the material of his pants. His limbs are so slim, it looks as though he hasn’t but an ounce of muscle on him. He acts weird too. He doesn’t talk to anyone and always sures his hair covers that eye of his. Despite other people finding him weird or awkward, you found him cute. Befriending him was a task all in itself, it was hard to but even harder to maintain a friendship with him due to him always keeping people at arms length. The truth is, you wanted to know him better- get closer to him. What started out as small kindlings of feelings grew and grew into the now roaring fire you held inside your heart. The rare smiles you’d get from him, the way his eyes lit up whenever you complimented him— those small things accumulated overtime until you left with a huge mass of emotions that you had no clue what to do with.

Maybe except one thing.

He looked so surprised, so happy when you told him how you felt, when you handed him that beautifully decorated letter. His face was slowly turning a mean shade of red. What you were expecting to come though didn’t, seeing as he told you he couldn’t accept your feelings. You gave him a sorry half smile that caused a pain within his chest that almost made it hard to breathe. You turned on your heel and walked away, hands clutching the small letter to your chest.

Rejection hurt. Your mother always says “the worst thing that can happen is that they tell you no” but it seemed she was for once, wrong. The friendship you’d worked so hard to build and maintain crumbled in a single second, like a sandcastle hit with ferocious tides. He didn’t speak to you anymore— in fact he avoided you, purposely taking the long routes to class so he didn’t have to see you, eating lunch on top of the roof so he didn’t have to eat with you. Scratch that, rejection didn’t hurt it fucking stung like a bee except this time it was your heart having the allergic reaction.

The whole truth is, Junpei was in love with you. In an instant, if he could, he would drop everything for you to be his. Seeing as he was already yours, unequivocally yours. But he was sick. The first day you’d began talking to him was the start of his sick desires. It began with following you home, footsteps light and unnoticeable. He just wanted to make sure you were safe, that’s all. Then he started peeking into your window while you slept, he did this all night and passed out on the bus ride to school. Eyes drooping and heavy, bags that scream tiredness. But he couldn’t help it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, nothing more.

Then it evolved into him breaking into your house. With your parents away for work and you all alone, he had to be the one to protect you, you were so innocent, too innocent and trusting of this evil world. He couldn’t find a rationale for stealing your used panties. Nor could he find a rationale for taking them home and sniffing and licking at the crotch part while he stroked his pathetic cock to your entrancing scent. Junpei realized long ago that he was in love with you, couldn’t you see he was just trying to protect you from himself? He too, was apart of the evil world, in fact he embodied it.

He’d come late one night, his mother holding him up at home before he could leave his house to go see you. When he got there and peered into your window, you were masturbating. A flush rose to his face and his cock jerked to life. This would be the first time he’s ever seen this before. He didn’t sneak in this time, instead opting to watch your fingers plunge in and out of your cunt whilst you whined, he snuck a hand down and began palming his already hard cock from over the fabric of his slacks. That’s when he heard it.

“Junpei!”

His name from your mouth. You were masturbating while thinking of him? He immediately pulled his hand away from his cock in fear that the thought alone would make him cum. He waited for you to fall asleep to finally make his entrance. His breathing was heavy and uneven when he stood in your doorway. He swallowed down some his excitement, he didn’t want to wake you. But today, he was at his limit, he couldn’t hold back his longing for you anymore. He stripped and laid his clothes gently on the back of your desk’s chair. He slid in bed with you and at the mere feeling of your bare skin pressing against his he shivered. His cock was already hard, if he’s honest, the smell of your room—the room filled with your scent, was enough to have him stiff as a rod.

He analyzed your features before doing anything. Your face was scrunched up in a look of sorrow with dried tear stains on your cheeks. He hadn’t known his lack of presence in your life made you so sad, it had a throb of pain shoot through his chest. He didn’t care, he deserved it. You were naked, exposed breasts rising and falling in time with your breathing, your thighs were still spread wide open and a hand was resting between them. Silly girl, didn’t you know you were supposed to clean up after doing something like this? He’s so excited he doesn’t know where to start first, his fingers lightly tread over your soft skin, running from your neck, down your arm until they reach the smoothness of your thigh. He wants to savor you, take his time but his cock is already beading pre-cum, it’s amazing what you do to him. He cups one of your breasts in his hand and your lips part slightly and he takes advantage of that by placing his lips over yours and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Even in your sleep you’re so needy for him your hips are subconsciously raising off the bed. How adorable, you’re so cute.

Junpei’s fingers pinch your nipple and tug on it which leaves you whining breathlessly into the soft kiss. Junpei finally pulls away after he thinks he’s going to suffocate from lack of oxygen, it wouldn’t be such a bad death if it’s by your hands but he did want to live a little longer to finish the task at hand. He slides his hand down the expanse of your tummy and gently nudges your hand out of the way until his fingers have complete access to your cunt. Junpei’s cock is grinding against your thigh, he’s so turned on and hasn’t even really done much to you yet. He spreads your cunts lips and uses a finger to gently rub up and down your slit. Your pussy feels so nice, it’s soft and mushy and still wet from your earlier activities. He could die happy now, if you were to wake up and hate him he’d be able to live with it—he finally got to feel your cunt with his own fingers.

His decides he wants to explore everything your body has to offer him, he doesn’t want to waste anything. His fingers stumble upon your clit. He curiously runs the raised bud back a forth a bit and your reactions are so perfect. Soft moans keep falling out of your mouth the more he plays with it. He can feel you becoming more and more wet under his ministrations. He takes a chance and slides a finger inside of your cunt. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your soft walls clamping down around his eager finger. Junpei’s breathing picks up and he slips in another finger, he slowly begins moving them in and out, mimicking the movements you did earlier. Your cunt feels heavenly around his fingers, your back is arching now, moans becoming louder as he grinds his cock against your soft body. He’s gonna cum soon.

He hasn’t even stuck his own cock inside of you and yet he’s already on the edge. It’s just your cute reactions are bringing him far closer than he’s ever been before. You’re so perfect like this, brows furrowed as you struggle around in your sleep. His fingers thrust upwards in an attempt to thrust them deeper inside of you. He rubs the pads of his fingers against a spongy spot that has your thighs shaking. He’s panting at this point, his hot breathes are hitting directly against your ear. He can feel your cunt spasm around your fingers and when he tries to pull them out you’re sucking them right back in. Oh god, you came didn’t you? He can’t help the way his hips stutter, his cock twitches as he shoots his cum over your lower half.

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt and he opens his mouth and sucks them clean. He sits up and begins climbing out of your bed. He feels so bad. The guilt is washing over him in waves, he knows he’s sick but that’s why he can’t be with you. His mind can’t help but flash back to the sad look on your face from before. It makes his heart hurt again and begins to get dressed. You sit up, voice still laced with sleep, “leaving already?”

Junpei’s body stiffens once he hears the sound of your voice.

“Junpei I..”

He merely shakes his head and hurries out of your room as quickly as possible, you try and follow him out but your legs feel so heavy you can hardly walk properly. You’re stumbling out of the room and into the doorway.

“Please! Wait- Junpei!” You call out but he’s already gone, leaving nothing but disappointment in his wake. You can feel the hotness of tears well up behind your eyes as you slump down against the wall, with your knees pulled up to your chest you can do nothing more but cry.

#boo writes 👻 #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk junpei #junpei yoshino #junpei x you #junpei x reader #junpei angst #junpei x reader smut #junpei smut #jjk smut #I mean I simp for him soooo #junpei yoshino smut #junpei x fem!reader #smut #I love junpei

[jiilys]

warm front

featuring The Line, also on ao3 here

//

“You’re a lot better at this than Ron.” Harry said into the phone.

 “Well that’s not hard,” Ginny said, not mentioning how she still occasionally picked up the receiver upside down. “Speaking of, he’s started growing a moustache since you left. It’s ghastly.”

 “Oi!” Ron’s voice, annoyed, in the background. Harry grinned.

 “Oh yeah?”

 “It looks like he’s got biscuit crumbs on his upper lip.” Harry laughed, and Millie glared at him from behind the post office counter, “Oh, lovely, he’s giving me the finger.”

 “I’ve started growing a bit of a beard actually.”

 “Come off it.”

 “Feeling left out?” Harry joked

 Ginny snorted. “Yes, desperately. Isn’t it hot?”

 “Well I think so.”

 She laughed, clear and quick, and Harry could imagine her, all limb, leaning against the kitchen cupboard curling the phone wire around her wrist. He’d bought the phone as a bit of joke before he’d left, and then as a joke she’d installed it, and then for a joke he’d rung her, and then this was how they talked now. Arthur had apparently worn a suit when the electrician came to install the power plug.

 “Isn’t it hot though? Bill says Australian summers are killers”

 Harry looked at Teddy, sat on the post office floor in nothing but shorts sucking an ice-pop. “I’ve been sunburnt in places I never have been before, but it’s mostly fine.”

 “Wow, sexy.”

 “Bet Ron loved hearing you say that to me.”

 “I’m sorry Harry, you want to do what to me? Put that where?” 

 “Gin-“

 “No, we couldn’t in my room, there’s not enough room. Lounge is better, more space. On the dining table.”

 Harry could hardly talk. “Stop,” he choked, “He’ll never speak to me again.”

 “He left when I said the bit about the lounge, said I was being ‘very immature.’”

  //

 Andromeda, desperate to get out, away, gone, bought the land in Australia six months after the war ended. She’d said it was because she’d always liked the heat, but when Harry got there he knew why. He’d never seen anywhere so unlike England, the Australian countryside was all scorched earth, red dirt, dry trees. It could have been a different planet entirely.

 He’d followed her six months later to be with Teddy, who at almost a year had hair permanently sunshine yellow, except when it rained it went as grey as concrete. Harry liked the spiders, sand, sunburn of it all. Sometimes, dumbly, he found himself missing sheets of rain, but only when it was so hot he could barely see straight.

 Mostly he liked how there was nothing to do there, nowhere he had to be. He was teaching himself how to drive, burying things for Teddy to sniff out (dog nose), going into the tiny town to talk to Ginny on the post office phone, and helping Andromeda build a shed out the back. He’d never used magic less. The days were long and the nights were longer, but it was so different here that that too felt right.

 He didn’t know when he’d go home. He kept meaning to set a date and then just didn’t, and then everyone stopped asking. It was stupid, but he felt like he’d know when he was done.

 //

 “Dad won’t let me see the phone bill,” Ginny said, picking up on the third ring and not saying hello, “It arrived this morning and he’s been locked in his office all morning with it.”

 “Oh, God, I can-“

 “Don’t you dare offer to pay for it. I don’t even think it’s that much, I think he’s just trying to recreate the logo at the top or something.”

 “I-“

 “Stop trying to pay for it- “

 “I’m not– “ Harry, who had been, was silent. Then: “Gin, please-“

 “No- “

 “But- “

 “Shut up-“ she said, unbothered, “Mum asked if you got the stuff she sent.”

  “I did, the biscuits were excellent. And the tea bags” Harry had cleaned out the tin so Teddy could use it as a hat, which he had been wearing for two days now.

 “I told her they already had tea in Australia but she didn’t believe me.”

 Harry smiled, “I didn’t mind.”

 “She said that even if they did have tea they wouldn’t have English Breakfast, or they would call it something crazy like ‘Australian Outback Breakfast’.”

 “How thoughtful of her.”

 “Stop being nice about it, it’s ridiculous.”

 “It was nice of her.”

 “Australian Outback Breakfast, Harry”

 “I hate tea and hate that it was graciously sent to me by your mum.” Harry obliged.

 “There we go. Killed any snakes yet?”

 “Oh yeah, loads. Bears too.”

 He could hear her smiling, “Bears, huh?”

 “All in your honour.”

 “Naturally. Still no success in seducing Millie?”

 Harry looked around to the post office reception desk, a stones-throw away from the phone, to where Millie– middle-aged, cardiganed, glasses– was pretending to read the paper and not hate him.

 “Haven’t you heard? Wedding’s in the Spring.”

 “Damn. Well, we had it good there for a while but true love always wins.”

 He laughed, and Millie gave him a look. He waved. She ignored him and went back to the paper.

 //

 Ron sent letters, barely legible, by owls that had to be nursed back to health in the bath.

 Harry, 

 Sorry for the writing but I’m on the muggle train because we’re going to Ireland for a few days to stay with her Hermione’s Aunt because she’s ‘dying to meet me’ (???). Anyway, Hermione also says to tell you that Ginny is thinking of cutting a fringe, because apparently that’s important. Apparently girls do that in a crisis, or whatever, she’ll write and explain it. 

 Ginny is basically living at ours now. The other day she put a Hollyhead Harpies poster up in the living room and when I tried to charm it off all the players screaming at me like Sirius’s fucking mum, so I just moved the cabinet in front of it. Bloody nightmare. 

 Honestly it isn’t even half bad having her around, she knows all these drinking games and set up your room and sometimes has a go reading over Hermione’s policy reports to the Ministry when I’ve sworn off them. Do not tell her I don’t mind her being round she’ll be annoying about it. I’m getting that Harpies poster off the wall.

 Hope Teddy is good and everyone is demanding more photos as usual. All Victorie has to do is chew the carpet around here and everyone gets a bit teary, including me. George jinxed Perce’s glasses into binonoulars the other day and for a weird second everything felt like before and Vic giggled and then George looked like he’d been hit the fucking nightbus. I don’t even know how to explain it– kids really just have no idea about any of it. 

 Hope Andromeda is good and that the driving is going better. Dad’s framing all of the phone bills he gets which Gin probably already mentioned but I can’t tell you how weird it is to go into my old room and it’s just a bunch of framed bills. Hermione says hello which I’ve already written but she said I didn’t make it clear enough. 

 We miss you mate. Home soon yeah? 

Ron 

  //

 Often, he thought of the week he’d told them he was leaving. Hermione, drunk, talking to Ginny on the patio of the burrow when she thought everyone was inside. It makes sense, really, she’d said, He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Ron had looked at him and then loudly dropped his firewhiskey and the girls had jumped, turned around, stopped talking, but still. He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Huh.

 //

 “How’s driving?”

 “Oh, fine. I killed a swan.” Harry said, demoralised. Ginny laughed for a good two minutes.

 “What?” 

 “I hit the wrong pedal and speed up instead of slowing down. I didn’t know what to do so I just moved it off to the side of the road.”

 “Ah, the Boy who Lived strikes again.”

 “Stop,” He was smiling, “What if Teddy had seen it?”

 “He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

 Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

 “Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

 “–Permanent–“

 “–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

 //

 Andromeda was in her garden a lot. Getting anything to grow was near impossible, but she wouldn’t stop working at it. She kept saying that soon they’d be able to have a green beans salad, so Harry just drove to a market and stuck a few green beans in the ground to make her laugh. As a sort of joke they’d started calling the land ‘the farm’ even though nothing ever grew here.

 They took Teddy to the ocean for the first time and his eyes went blue the second he saw it. The beach where they’d buried Dobby was overcast, water as grey as dishwater, but here the it glittered like glass, blue light come alive. Teddy sat in the shallows, trying to flatten waves with his fists, laughing.

 Andromeda sat on a towel by the dunes under an enormous hat, tears running down her face, abruptly laughing when Teddy tried to eat sand or fell over a sandcastle. Harry knew how she felt. Impossible, how two years ago Teddy had two living parents and Harry had been seventeen, dead and walking, and now they were sat on the beach, people they loved dead for real, as Harry and Teddy lined up shells on the shore.  

 //

 It was three in the morning but Harry snuck in through a backdoor, cloak on, having to jimmy the lock because he forgot his wand. The streets were pitch black, only three streetlights in the whole main street, with two of them not working anyway.

 “Why’re you awake?” Ginny said lightning quick, knowing the time difference by heart, and Harry’s chest unlocked. It was stupidly comforting, Ginny’s voice, how she never said hello on the phone because she never learned, how if he really made her laugh she’d hold the receiver away from her, like he wasn’t desperate to hear it.

 “I thought I saw Sirius today,” he couldn’t stop himself, “There was a dog on the farm and it was huge and I thought– I forgot he was dead. Isn’t that stupid?”

 There was only Ginny’s breath down the phone. Picture: her in the kitchen, gripping the receiver, still. The memory looped in his brain, how Sirius’ name had risen in his throat, how odd it felt there, how long it had been since he’d said it aloud. 

 “No.” He almost didn’t hear her it’s so quiet, “I went to the shop yesterday and asked Ron if Fred was in the back. I forget too.”

 His heart slowed, the memory of the shop: solid and real, running again, made for laughing, rose up, only then he shut his eyes and saw everyone laid out in rows, glassy eyes, and somehow he was walking through the forest again, going to die, but not soon enough– 

 “Harry.” Ginny’s voice, dragging him back to earth, “You did everything you could. Sirius knew. Everyone knew. No one could have done better.” She sounded so sure, voice as clear as glass, he’d be a fool not to believe her, “It hurts because they loved us. They loved us. That’s the part to remember.”

 //

  “You are kidding-!” This time Harry didn’t say hello.

 “I’m sorry, who is this?”

 “Harpies reserve!” Harry was yelling in the post office and Millie looked appalled, “They’ll promote you in two weeks, you genius, I knew it– “

 “I’m sorry I really have no idea who this is.”

 “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

 “I sent the letter!” Ginny dropped the joke, indignant.

 “We spoke two days ago! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me then–”

 “–I sent our fastest owl.”

 “Marius is currently passed out in the sink–“ 

 Ginny laughed, “I wanted you to get the letter,” she said, finally, “I wanted you to see it. Did you see Madeline McKinnon signed it?”

 She sounded like a kid. He grinned. “I did.”

 “Best beater this century sent a letter to my house, asking me to be on her team. Madness. The English team are after her you know, it’s all over the Prophet.” 

 “I hope you’re not expecting me to send the letter back because I think that really will finish Marius off.”

 “Please, you think I sent the real thing? Dad made twenty copies. He hung two on Ron and Hermione’s fridge and sent one to Aunty Muriel.”

 Harry grinned, “You’re brilliant, I’m hanging my copy on the front door, framed.”

 “The moving logo may cause problems for the muggles”

 “Who cares? I want to tell everyone about this. Chaser for the Harpies–“

 “I’m a reserve.”

 “For now.” He could hear her smile through the phone, “What did everyone say?”

 “Ron said I was a traitor and that he was also proud. Mum cried. Hermione promised to actually watch a game, George reminded me about nicking his broom all that time so technically he was also partly on the team, Bill bought a season pass, Charlie hung a giant Harpies poster in his shite apartment and sent a photo, Luna sent me awful flowers that won’t stop smoking, and Percy called to congratulate me on my admission to the ‘Hollygrove Harps.’”

 Harry laughed, “Incredible.”

 “Yeah, Perce’s was particularly heartfelt.”

 //

 Harry, 

 I’m sat at the dining table and everyone’s still here, but Mum wanted me to recap Charlie’s birthday dinner right now because she doesn’t want you to miss anything. Hermione also agreed with this mental idea. 

 Dinner Summary: 

Food was good 

Hermione tried to explain the electric collage or whatever decides American elections to Dad, it was stupid.

Hermione says it was electoral college not the eccentric cage or whatever I wrote

George got Charlie a life-size model of the Horntail that he almost opened in the house. Mum had a fit.

Dad told a story about how the Muggle Foreign Minister ended up with a bathtub cursed to drown anyone in it. 

Ginny wants me to say Percy is wearing a cardigan Millie would be proud of. I do not know what this means. Better not be a sex thing.

Hermione says hello (again she insisted I write this down like it isn’t obvious)

Mum wants me to say we all miss you still (again, obvious) 

She also wants to know if you need her to make you any shorts (do not answer this) 

Charlie wants to say cheers for the gift – apparently they only do that burn cream in Australia and it’s hard to come by 

George doesn’t have anything to say he just wanted to be involved so I’ve written this so he’ll bugger off. 

 I’m bloody sending this now, I feel like a quick quotes quill (Fleur asks how you are). Have a good one mate. 

 Home soon yeah? 

Ron. 

//

 Sometimes, when he was driving home from the post-office just after the sunset, everything sat in the new-dark, he’d remember when he used to be on watch, sat in front of the tent holding Hermione’s wand with everything going wrong, and how only then he’d let himself think about Ginny. Her voice, long laugh, longer legs, telling him to move over, pass the milk, look left, met her later, skip that flashcard, relax, put Luna in as chaser if it all goes arse up– she’s Ravenclaw but I’ll vouch for her. Dumb hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, sun going down, watching her get shot after shot past him like she even needed the practise. C’mon Potter at least try to save these, you’re making Ron look like Wood. Her hair everywhere, laughing, head back, both of them impossibly far from the ground

 I really don’t want to die, Harry would think in the dark, wand out, ready for it, I really don’t want to die and miss out on you

 //

 Harry, 

 Sorry I couldn’t call but everything’s been nuts here and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to talk to you. Malcotti’s fucked her ankle so I may actually get put in for a game?? She’s been told to take it easy for a week and we play the Magpies in four days, so?? I’ll let you know when I can call. I’m currently writing this at the post-office desk and running late for practise.

 Sidenote: this express owl cost me four galleons so I hope it does a dance on its arrival or at least arrives within the day. Tell Andromeda hello and that I’m still rooting for the green beans. Also, good luck for the driving test!! I’m sure you won’t hit anything living or dead and/or drive into a lake, but also if you do just confund the instructor. I solemnly swear not to tell Hermione.  

 Thinking of you. Kiss Teddy for me, 

Gin

 //

 The click of the receiver: “I only have five minutes, we’re about to eat.”

 Harry smiled, “How’s home?”

 “Absolutely nothing to note. Victorie threw up on Bill yesterday, so that was a joy.”

 “Supportive as usual.”

 “Hey, I am supportive.” Harry could tell the phone was jammed between her shoulder and her ear, heard a knife on a cutting board, “Supportive of Victorie’s right to throw up on Bill whenever she wants.”

 “Are you cooking?”

 “I’m cutting potatoes by hand to avoid the lounge because Fleur and Mum are talking about how to discipline children.”

 “Sounds tense.”

 “You don’t know the half of it. Ron had to pretend to be on the phone with you earlier for ten minutes just to get out of there. He says hi– fuck!” 

 Harry heard the phone fall, “Ginny?”

 A scrambling on the other end, distantly: “You’re bleeding on the potatoes!”

 “Hi,” Ginny’s voice, a little breathless, “I cut myself.”

 “You alright?” Harry asked, quick-shot.

 “Oh, yeah. Just blood. Admirably everyone is showing a lot of concern” (Percy’s voice, distant and mournfully, “well there’s no way we can eat these now”) 

 //

 He thought about going home sometimes, about the flat with Ron and Hermione he was currently paying for that he’d never lived in, what he’d do back in England. No one had ever come out to visit him here, some unspoken agreement they’d all made to give him space. Except, knowing Ron and Hermione and Mrs Weasley and he’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted to it probably was very much spoken, it’s just he wasn’t there for it.

 The thing is, if he went home that meant no more seeing Teddy every day, sitting around eating cereal, watching him walk into walls or turn his nails pink, giving him ice cream for lunch and strap him into the truck, driving around the farm doing spins just to make him laugh. Even after all this time Australia was so far from the familiar, every night him and Andromeda sat on the deck lazily casting cooling charms, looking at all the stars.

 On full moons Teddy got in bed with all the curtains open, blinds up, just to look at the moon. He couldn’t sleep unless he saw it. Harry wondered if he ever did anything like that, got pulled towards something of his parents without realising it. Quidditch, probably. Looking for something without knowing, not sure what you were really missing. Teddy’s huge eyes, the moon, and that familiar feeling: Stop, wait, I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Come back, I wasn’t done yet. I don’t know how to do it without you.

 //

 It was pitch-black, four in the morning Queensland time, but it had been the only time she’d had free. Harry was leaning against the booth wall, letting the cloak slip, exhausted. Ginny cleared her throat in an odd way.

 “So, you know I hate asking about this. It makes me– I don’t want to be that person” She sounded, wrong, uncomfortable, like white knuckles gripping the receiver, “But everyone’s been asking and I want– when do you think you’ll be coming home?”

 Harry was quiet. All this time away– almost a year, eleven months, it occurred to him– and she’d never asked. She was the only one who hadn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

 “Yeah.” She said, unreadable. A beat went past, and Harry could feel the shift, how that was the wrong thing. He could hear her breathing. “Do you want– if you want, we could take a break-“

 “No” Harry said, so fast, “No, no I don’t want that. Do you want that?”

 “No. No. I just– I don’t want this to be difficult. I don’t want you to feel, like– obligated. If you want like room away from everything I get it. Just tell me– I don’t want– Just tell me.”

 Harry’s heart was going into his chest like an endlessly slamming door. How to explain it? You wouldn’t believe the space here, all this room, all this time I have. I didn’t think I’d get it. I want space but never from you. 

 “I’m not with you because I feel obligated. I’m– That isn’t how I feel. I don’t want space or a break or anything.”

 Silence, endless, pouring down the phone. He could be sick. Then, Ginny’s voice: “Okay.”

 “I’m coming back to England, Gin. I’m coming back, just, when I’m– when I’m done. I’m coming home. Soon.”

 “Okay. I just wanted to make sure that this– that this is still good.”

 “It is.” He was so stupid. A war ends and everything finally works out, everyone safe for real, and he goes running to the other side of the world and doesn’t say when he’s coming home. Ginny, at home, getting a phone wired up just to call him. He had no luck for seventeen years and then it all came at once, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.

 “I love you,” he said, which he never said because it felt heavy, full of gravity, and he spent all his time trying to make her laugh.

 Deep breath. He could hear her shoulders unknotting through the phone. “I love you too.”

 //

 “Harry?”

 “Ron?”

 “Can you hear me? Is this?– how do I know if this is on?”

 “It’s on,” Harry said, hurriedly, “Is everything alright?”

 “I tried to give Pig a letter for you this morning and he bit me and flew into the window.” Harry started laughing, “So I thought I’d try give him a break.”

 Harry pulled himself together, “Yeah maybe that’s for the best. How are you?”

 “Oh, the usual. The shop is still nuts so Hermione stopped by to help out on Saturday and ate half a Bile Biscuit thinking it was shortbread– hilarious. George threatened to charge her. If Ginny’s not at a practise she’s at our place drinking all the milk, and Luna came by the other day and threw all the stuff in the fridge out because she said it was infected with ‘Mimilice’. You?”

 “The same. Teddy turned his leg into the end of a snake the other day and I had a fit. Andromeda put him in the sink so he couldn’t slither away before phasing back. It’s currently 39 degrees.” Ron laughed.

 “God, even your voice sounds hot.”

 “Woah, mate. I’m seeing someone and so are you.”

 “Ha ha.” Ron said sarcastically, “I wish I could turn this up so everyone in the empty living room could have heard that.”

 “Please don’t try to use the speaker phone, you’ll accidentally dial the embassy or something.”

 “’Speaker phone’? What could the phone have to say?”

  //

 Teddy turned two and Andromeda make him a cake by hand with a spider on it that moved. He blew out the candles and looked bemused, sat in a top Hermione had sent, still holding onto a scrap of ribbon. Harry took him outside and sat him on his Nimbus Seven Series, entirely too long, and Teddy did slow circles while Harry held the end, watching him laugh, tiny hands grasping the handle. Suddenly, like being thrown through a window, Remus was in front of him, standing in the Hogwarts Hallway, breathless and happy, saying his sons name.

 //

 The post office has been closing for a good fifteen minutes, but Harry brought the cloak, pretended to leave, then snuck back and picked up the phone again.

 “I think I just saw Millie’s husband.”

 “You’re kidding.”

 “A guy came to pick her up, he had a hat on, she got in the front seat–“

 “What kind of hat?”

 “I don’t know, normal. Like a normal old-person hat.”

 “You didn’t say he was old.”

 Harry grinned, “You really thought Millie seemed the type to be with a 25-year-old?”

 “Hey, you’re going out with me after all–“

 Harry spluttered, “I’m a year older!”

 “Year and a half–“ 

 “You’re unbelievable. That is not the same.”

 “Just because you like younger women–“

 “I don’t like younger women, I like you, or I did until a few minutes ago. I’m now reconsidering.”  

 “You like me.” Ginny said, not really serious but also deadly so.

 Harry smiled, said dryly, “What gave me away?”

 //

 Harry had started dreaming of home, the staring in the street, dishes washing themselves in the Burrow, Hogwarts lake dark and silky as eels. He couldn’t tell what had brought this on, only that he was now driving into town every day to talk to Ginny, and now Ron, Hermione, even Neville were coming to the phone.

 “They miss you” Andromeda said, unprompted, drinking muggle wine on the deck one night after dinner, “Molly wrote last week asking if you mentioned when you’d be coming back.”

 “Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. “Do you think you’ll come back?”

 The question hung between them. Terrible thought: Teddy never back in England, Teddy growing up where Harry couldn’t see him.

 “I will.” She looked back at him, unbearably, and it was everything that went unsaid. 

 “How?” Harry asked, unthinking.

 Andromeda looked back out the window, the pressing dark, the unbearable heat. Even after all this time, making dinner, sitting on the dark deck, weeding the garden, she was still unreadable. Grief undid you in layers.

 “Because Nymphadora would want me to.” She said, simply. “Because I want her to think I’m brave.”

 //

 The post office shuts for a week because Millie goes out of town, and the place is small enough that that means it’s not open till she gets back. Harry makes it four days before apparating hundreds of miles away, almost splinching himself in the heat, dizzy from lack of practise, and stumbling to a payphone at the side of a highway. 

 Click. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

 “Yeah, I went out of town to call.”

 “Out of town huh? Miss me that much?” Ginny’s voice, joking.

 Unbelievably, Harry thought. “Yeah well, Teddy isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

 “Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll knock his confidence.”

 “He’ll get past it. How are you?”

 “Fine. Well– actually, you won’t believe what happened at practise on Thursday, I hope you’re sitting down–“

 “I’m not–” Harry grinned

 “Squat then,” Ginny said blithely, “because Jacqueline has actually gone full bonkers–“

 //

 “My parents say its incredible “ Hermione’s voice, the only person in his life who spoke in a normal tone on the phone

.

“Yeah, we’ve been actually.” Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that Teddy had found the Great Ocean Road blindingly boring and had only made it an hour in before him and Andromeda had decided it wasn’t worth the screaming anymore.

 “Yeah, Mum and Dad were thinking of coming down, doing it again.”

 Harry played along, “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.” She was endearingly fake-casual, “Maybe Ron and I would come too.”

 “Ron wants to drive 150 miles along a stretch of boring road with your parents?”

 “You didn’t say it was boring.”

 “Slip of the tongue,” Harry smiled, “What about the Ministry? And the shop?”

 “We’re thinking about doing travelling.”

 “The year we spent in a tent in various country-sides not enough?”

 “Funnily enough seeing the sights wasn’t top of mind then.”

 Harry smiled darkly, “If we’re going travelling let’s do Italy, or America, or something. Soon. Somewhere none of us have ever been.”

 Hermione left it a beat too long for it to be a normal silence, “I heard Italy is beautiful, the history there is incredible…”

 Harry could almost hear talking to Ron later: “and then he said if we’re going travelling, ‘we’re’, Ron! And ‘soon’! he thinks he’ll be travelling with us ‘soon’!. And Ron, “so you didn’t ask when he’s coming back then?, and then Hermione: “didn’t you hear? soon! He said soon!”   

 //

  He was walking back to the car from the post office one day, Teddy plodding beside him infatuated with a passing goose, with Ginny’s voice still swimming around him, the sound of Ron telling her to shut up, pass the receiver, I’ve got to tell him the Cannons score, and he walked into the travel agents and booked one-way ticket to England for next week. Just like that.  

 Stupid, really, how he heard their voices all the time (walking in the street, making a sandwich, fixing the plumbing) but had never made the connection. He was in the street like always, hearing the call all again, and thought I wish they were here for real, and then walked into the air-conditioning and pulled out his chequebook. It really was that easy. The goose was still outside when he left holding his ticket, Teddy squirming to get closer to it with a full-on beak that Harry was trying to hide with one hand.

 Home soon Harry thought the whole drive home, the thought expanding in his chest, the window open, his hair blowing everywhere– longer than it had ever been. Even when he got back to the farm, told Andromeda (who promised to follow in a year), made dinner, went to bed, he imagined he would feel different. Something huge and unfelt before, but really everything was the the same as ever. He just missed them, is all. He was learning that sometimes love really was that simple, that it was reason enough.

 //

 “I read that people sometimes make signs at airports.”

 Harry smiled, phone cord wrapped around his palm. “Saying what?”

 “Guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

 “Oh, God.”

 “Don’t worry, no magic involved. We don’t want to alarm the muggles. Luna asked if she could bring her lion hat but Hermione got intervened.”

 “Luna’s coming?”

 “Yes, duh. Everyone is. It’s been a year a half.”

 Harry, who had had visions of kissing Ginny ridiculously for an hour in front of the plane, adjusted his expectations.

 Ginny, as usual, reading his mind: “Don’t worry. I’ve briefed Ron that I’ll still be kissing you senseless so he had better start getting over it.”

 Harry grinned, “Bet he loved that.”

 “He called me a cocksucker, and then I pointed out that actually I hadn’t been in a year and a half–“

 “Gin!” 

 “–and he said my name exactly like that, yeah.”

 Harry couldn’t stop laughing, bright red in the post office for the last time as Millie shushed him, “You are unbelievable.”

 “Well, believe me.” she said, dryly, “I’ll be seeing you in 29 hours.”

 Harry, also counting, ducked his head, grinning. It turned out all his best luck was waiting at this part of his life, who knew. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God. 

 “I’m going to be totally unusable, you know. The flight’s twenty-one hours.”

 “Yeah, you’re an idiot. I know you’re on a whole no-magic kick but this really is the limit. What are you going to eat?”

 “Hermione says they serve eggs and stuff.”

 “Wow, really? How?”

 Harry considered. “I actually have no idea. Maybe please bring some chips or something to the airport.”

 Ginny laughed, the best sound in the world, “Only if you bring me some eggs.”

#sorry this is late sorry to all my unanswered messages i had to post this today i had to get it away from me!!! #hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #otp: several sunlit days #i have to run everyone is waiting on me sorry everyone i love you all lots i turn 21 in three days who could believe it!!! #carolineswritingtag

[trrickytickle]

Booming Beach Trip

A/N: Happy bones day! 🐶 MHA TIME AGAIN LMAOOOO <3333 This Time It's Baku!!!! I've always wanted to write this- and more for the bakusquad! I miss going to the beach, especially since we're locked down in New Zealand. My next MHA fic is going to be Ler!Shoji!!

Summary: Tubes, tans and the sun. Exactly what makes going to the beach great. Bakugo's pretty peeved though... and the squad are going to find out just why that is! (Lee!Bakugo (some lee Kiri), Ler!Bakusquad. Aizawa.) 💗💕

IF YOU DON'T LIKE BURIED TICKLES, GANGUP FICS, FOOT TICKLES AND SAND DON'T READ!!

Aizawa never agreed to this. Taking a group of Class 1-A's rowdiest and most boisterous students ever to the nearest beach was not what he anticipated, but it was what he had to expect after losing an arm wrestling bet against Kirishima. He groaned, figuring that taking the "Bakusquad" on car rides, buying them fast food and listening to rap was basically his life now. But honestly, he didn't really seem to mind.

--------------------------------------

"Let's go to the beach, beach, let's go get a wave!" Mina yelled, her fingers dancing over Kirishima's armpit.

"Hehehey, hey- whAHAHAHAH- whahat they gon' say-" Kirishima attempted through his loud laughter.

"C'mon Kirishima! Siiiing~ Anyways... HAVE A DRINK, DRINK, FOUND THE BUD LIGHT-" Kaminari yelled, administering a flurry of electric pokes to his sides.

"Not a chance I'm singing." Bakugo growled, clawing at Kirishima's stomach unenthusiastically from the front seat. "Still tickling him though."

"More for me! BAD BITCHES LIKE ME IS HARD TO COME BY!" Sero yelled, curling up in the trunk, startling when Aizawa's van made a sudden creaking noise and stopped.

"Oh look, we're here!" With that, Kaminari, Mina and Bakugo ceased their tickling to jump out of the car. (They waited for Sero to spend an unnesccesary amount of time crawling out the trunk.)

"Bakubro! You say beach, I say day!" Kirishima yelled.

"No." Bakugo replied.

"Oh."

---------------------------

Despite all their initial rowdiness, the squad took a minute to stretch and appreciate the open sea and the beautiful pastry-cream colored sand in all its sparkling glory, looking upon beachgoers. Some kindergarten students were on a field trip, using their Quirks to play around, a couple on a bench, and- who are we kidding? They got bored of peoplewatching after like, five seconds. Running across the sand and kicking it in Aizawa's van in the proccess, the gang set up their blankets and equipment- however, there was a crisis. They all had different activities in mind.

"Okay, so are you all thinking what I'm thinking?" Mina chimed. On three! Three, two, one-

"Volleyball!"

"Swimming!"

"Working on my tan."

"Sandcastle competition!"

"....."

Of course, there were disagreements- everyone was talking over one another devolving into random fighting over nonsensical things. Mina and Kirishima had a fight over whose hair was better, Sero got a crab jammed in his tape dispenser and Kaminari got towels rubbed on his face to create a static discharge.

"YOU ALL! JUST SHUT UP!" Bakugo yelled. "Let's play some volleyball or somethingdothething whereigetburied...." He muttered, although a certain spiky friend who knew him all too well could make something else out. Maybe he could figure out why he was being so ....quiet.

"Yes! Volleyball! Volleyball!" Mina cheered. Kirishima put a hand on her mouth and sauntered over to Bakugo and flashed that shark-like smirk of his.

"Actually, Mina.... I have a better idea. Why don't we cheer our little sourpuss up?" Kiri formed his hands into crab claws, and needless to say, everyone got the memo. Bakugo gulped, his cheeks flushing a rare cherry pink. You see, Kirishima always knew that Bakugo had a soft spot for being tickled. It was certainly embarrasing, but hey- it made him happy, and Kiri seemed to form a love for tickling hm as well.

"What's this about- KIRISHIMA YOU- FUCK YOU GUYS!" The blond yelled, threatening to punch his friend group. "ABSOLUTELY.... NOT!"

"Wow. Blushing already?" Kaminari teased. Sero and Kirishima started on covering Bakugo's limbs with sand, making sure he was comfortable enough

to not be hurt, but also vulnerable enough to get totally destroyed by his best friends.

"Give me all you've g-got!" Bakugo stuttered.

"Tickle tickle, Bakubro!" Kirishima teased, wiggling his fingers over Bakugo's

ribcage. The air of anticipation made him freeze up, his mouth twisting into a quick smile.

"You like it when we tease you, riiight?" Sero jeered, threatening to scribble the sides of Bakugo's neck- which really amped his laughter up.

"DAHAHAHAMNIT- YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF NERDS! JUST- STOP- NO, START- NO- GODFUCKINGDAMMNIT!" Despite being a total softie for tickling, Bakugo's explosive nature still seemed to show.

"Alrighty, starting... Now!" Kaminari utilized his quirk to a small extent, poking around his toes with a kind of static electricity which felt almost knismetic, which he called a tickle shock, originating from a prank. Bakugo always quite liked that.

While Kaminari was zapping away, Kirishima also made good use of his Quirk and bit and scribbled around his side with his bluntly sharp nails and teeth. Deep down, he wanted this, and he'd take that to his damn grave.

"NOHOHOHO- FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCK- WAIT NONOTTHERE!" The explosive blonde's eyes widened, craining his neck up in an instinctive attempt to crawl out.

"Hahahah, you sound kinda like a chicken!" Mina poked his armpits, wriggling her fingers inside. "Kinda funny how one finger makes you laugh harder than all their Quirks~"

"SHUT UHUHUHUP!"

"Admit it, Bakubro. You want this." Kirishima said. "You told everyone days ago, it wasn't that hard." With that, Bakugo grew more flustered than ever.

"NOOO!!! AHAHAHAH, BITCH-FUCKYOUPIECESOFSHIHIHIT!" Bakugo shook his head, his face turning redder than ever.

"No? Well sounds like someone's got a hankering.. for a raspberry!" Mina held onto Bakugo's stomach, blowing a deeply ferocious one.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH- OKAY-OKAY I WANTED TICKLES! ARE YOU GUYS HAHAHAHAPPY NOW!?"

"Yes. Yes we are." Sero said, helping Bakugo up with a roll of tape. "Now, what to do."

"Bakubro gets to decide!" Kirishima piped up. "Riiight?~" He once again skittered his fingers over Bakugo's ribs while he rubbed away the lingering feelings.

"Ahahaha- yeah! LET'S TRASH SENSEI'S VAN, DORKS!" Bakugo yelled.

Everyone cheered, filling sand in as many containers as they could. Aizawa was going to be so mad.

#tickling #tickle fic #mha tickling #t-word #tickle #tfb community #lee #tword #mha tickles

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

savage love, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: We all make happy mistakes, right? And Jeon Jungkook’s was fucking Min Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend. Oops.

notes: After being attacked for a full week by long-haired, ponytail Jungkook, they just had to drop Savage Love BTS remix... so I had to write about it, of course.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, cowgirl on a couch); non-idol!AU; big feels; ponytail!Jungkook in gray sweats; Jungkook’s POV

--

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

She grinned.

“Oh, yeah. I know.”

Jeon Jungkook chewed on his lower lip nervously, furrowing his brows. He knew he shouldn’t be touching her, because she was the ex-girlfriend of one of his close friends. He heard it had been a messy break-up with cheating and vicious words thrown at each other.

Why would I be in love with you? Love is fleeting anyway.

Are you serious? What the point of spending all this time together then?

Who knows? You would literally fuck anything that walked.

The fuck? I haven’t touched anyone besides you! And then you do this to me?

We were both drunk. I only kissed her.

You know what, go to hell, Min Yoongi!

Jungkook knew all the words exchanged because he had accidentally walked in on the whole thing. Yoongi’s best friend, Jung Hoseok, asked Jungkook to return some music equipment to Yoongi since Jungkook lived nearby but, well, nothing really turned out as planned.

Everyone thought Yoongi’s girl was hot. They always teased him how he got so lucky to catch such a woman. Maybe some people wouldn’t find her cute or pretty, but there was no denying the sexy confidence of her presence that immediately dominated the room when she entered. Short skirts, tight tops, leather jackets, combat boots – she just had that look. That feeling. Perky tits, perky ass, thighs that begged to be squeezed and molded, a smirk that could kill you.

So, when she unexpectedly showed up at Jungkook’s apartment the day after she walked out on Yoongi, Jungkook expected her to be sad. He expected puffy eyes and an oversized sweatshirt. Instead, he found the same teasing, cocked eyebrow and the tiniest black dress he’d ever seen, complete with a silver-studded black leather jacket. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?” she asked in greeting.

Jungkook sputtered. “N-no, but–”

She cut him off by getting on the tiptoes of her chunky ankle boots and kissed him, plush lips on his, pressing hard against his body. They stumbled into his apartment, her hands clenching his grey hoodie, slamming the door closed with her heel. She had him breathless within seconds, her kisses firm but coy, teeth nipping at his lips. She didn’t shove her tongue into his mouth, but let it linger between his lips, lightly licking before pulling away as he moaned softly.

She backed off to unzip her shoes and kick them off, giving Jungkook a moment to breathe.

“Does… does Yoongi-hyung know you’re here?” Jungkook croaked, still stunned by her entrance.

She shrugged. “Who cares? He doesn’t matter now. Only you matter.”

He really shouldn’t have been happy about that but his heart skipped two beats. It was extremely likely that the only reason that she was here was to get back at Yoongi. For his sanity, he really should just tell her to go home. But she yanked down his grey sweatpants way too fast and he started, suddenly shoved against the wall as she kissed up his leg.

“I always thought you looked pretty good with longer hair, Jungkook,” she purred, leaning against his legs and looking up at him. Tits. Yup, that’s basically what his brain immediately fixated on.

Jungkook reached up and touched his black hair as if he didn’t know the length. He had worked out a bit before returning home and his hair was still tied up in its small ponytail. He felt his cheeks burn with the compliment.

“A-ah… I haven’t gotten a haircut in a while,” he stuttered, sucking in a breath as she stroked him slowly through his underwear.

“It still looks good,” she said casually, as if she wasn’t palming him right at the entrance of his apartment. “But you always look good.” She blinked slowly, a smile dancing on her lips. “You’re handsome, Jungkook. Handsome and so, so fuckable.”

Welp, he was screwed now. It didn’t really matter if she meant it or not because his cock was literally trying to rip out of his boxer briefs by himself. He was rock hard and his face was ten million degrees with how red he was getting. She tilted her head at him, one hand gently cupping his dick and balls through his underwear. Almost innocent with how focused she was on him, lips slightly parted, her free hand clinging to his leg. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was an angel.

“Do you want to fuck me, Jungkook?”

Oh, god, the way his name floated out of her lips like an ocean wave crashing into his soul. His resolve crumbled like a sandcastle. His mind was going blank except for the thousands of fantasies he had about Yoongi’s girlfriend. No one could shame him if they stayed in his head, right? No one could see him if he was rubbing one out in the shower, or on his bed, or fuck, even in his damn kitchen. It was his apartment! No one was going to know.

She wasn’t Yoongi’s girlfriend anymore now, right? Who cared what happens now?

“Fuck yes, I want to fuck you,” Jungkook nearly begged, grinding his hips into her hand.

She grinned devilishly at him and yanked his underwear down. He gasped as she leaned in and licked his cock, nice and slow, trailing over his balls.

“Ah, n-no… I’m dirty…”

She smirked. “Only going to get dirtier with me involved.”

His head hit the wall as she took one of his balls into her mouth. It was instant warmth and wetness, pleasure soaking deliciously into every fiber of his being. Oh, fuck. Her mouth was so soft but tight, tongue circling around him as she worked him. His hands were flat against the wall and the pathetic whines were most certainly him, but Jungkook couldn’t register them at all because he was trying to not ram her in the face with his hips. The head of his cock smeared against her cheek and he shuddered at the sensation. Such soft skin. She lifted it, switching sides. He moaned much too loudly, chanting her name as she tugged lightly, bobbing her head up and down. So warm. So wet.

She hadn’t even actually sucked his dick yet and it was leaking everywhere.

When he thought he was going to burst, she finally released him and planted a sloppy kiss on the head of his cock, tongue expertly sliding out to rub against the bottom of the head. If she slowed down for one fucking second, then he might have made a much sexier noise than his yelp as she enveloped his cock with his mouth, eyes glued to his reaction as she went down, down.

“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” he groaned, eyelids fluttering.

He could feel the head being squeezed by the back of her throat. Her tongue caressed the bottom, ever so slightly swiveling her head from side to side. Each movement made the head of his cock rub against different cervices, his breath hiking with pleasure. After a moment, she moved back a little and then slowly bobbed her head up and down, mouth so wet Jungkook thought she was going to spill, but her lips were tight against the base of his cock. When she slid up, she would squeeze the base of the head with her lips and then suck him in. She steadily increased her pace, eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration. The head of his cock rubbed deliciously against the roof of her mouth, sending sparks dancing down his spine.

In short, how was he supposed to get normal blowjobs after this?

Jungkook gasped, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of his stomach.

“W-wait, I’m going to–”

She went even faster, what the actual fuck–

He moaned as he came, cock jerking in her mouth as he felt her suck it out of him, swallowing infuriatingly calmly as if this was routine for her. It was a lot more than he thought he could produce and she held his hips in place, licking the sensitive head gently as the last few drops were milked out of him. Jungkook shivered, realizing he was panting heavily as if he had run ten miles. She pulled back slowly, opening her mouth. His cock slid out, slapping against his thigh wetly as a string of saliva snapped between it and her tongue.

Was this what nirvana felt like?

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He snapped out of his reverie, eyes going wide. “What? What, is something wrong?”

She chuckled and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Nope, just wanted to say you tasted good today.”

Today? Did that that mean there were more days in the future? His mind reeled as she stood up and kissed him lightly, the bitter saltiness of his own cum lingering.

“Still want to fuck me?” she said, leaning against his chest.

His mind was still hesitating but his body answered for him. “Yes.”

She hugged him around the waist, eyebrow cocked and waiting for his reaction. Jungkook nervously chewed on his lip, lost in her eyes. He wanted to be trapped in her gaze forever. His hands slid up her sides, pulling her to him. She smelled like dark cherries, invading his senses.

“Why me?” he whispered, throat dry.

Her hand stroked his cheek with a smile.

“Why not?”

Her thumb grazed against his lower lip, teasing it from his teeth.

“I want to fuck you, Jungkook.”

He kissed her, hungrily, feeling her smirk against his lips. They stumbled to his couch, Jungkook’s legs getting tangled in his sweatpants and underwear. He frowned and kicked them away impatiently, yanking his hoodie over his head. His hair came out disheveled and fluffy. Jungkook shook his head to unstick the hair from his face. She tried to hide her laughter behind her hands and he pouted, shoving her onto the couch. The hem of her dress hiked up, revealing the tops of her juicy thighs. Jungkook froze.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

He saw the flash of her wet, glistening pussy before she closed her legs, sliding up against the couch.

Yup, his cock was awake again.

“You…” Jungkook was lost for words.

She reached into her leather jacket and held out a condom. “Yes?”

Jungkook gulped. He moved a little closer, knowing this was a terrible idea and probably not going to end well, but for some reason he really didn’t care. His hands were still on the sofa, on either side of her. She placed her hand on his, lightly caressing his knuckles. Eyes on his, watching him closely.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He inhaled deeply, smelling her cherry perfume and the scent of sex. “I shouldn’t want you.”

Her fingertips tapped against the back of his hand. “There are worse things in this world.”

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip nervously.

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

Her lips curved into a devious smile.

“Oh, yeah. I know.”

Jungkook leaned down, heart beating fast, head foggy as if he was drunk. Her words sounded a little bitter even though she tried to keep her tone light-hearted. Maybe she didn’t want to hear the word love right now. But the moment he said it, Jungkook knew that was how he felt. His eyes flickered to hers.

“Promise me this isn’t the last time.”

Something flitted across her expression. She seemed to realize how serious he was. After a moment, she nodded slowly.

“Okay. Promise.”

He kissed her, hard, not hesitating anymore. His phone was buzzing loudly on the coffee table and he could guess who it was, but he ignored it, hands cupping her face, planting kisses on her cheeks and lips. She laughed against his kisses, soft and sweet, and for the first time since she had arrived, she sounded happy in his arms. They made it a little game, dodging each other’s lips when they tried to kiss the other until they were breathlessly grinning like a pair of idiots.

Jungkook sat up, smile plastered to his face. He took the condom from her and put it on, discarding the foil wrapper to the floor. He looked up to see her shrugging out of her leather jacket and pulling her dress over her head. No bra either. Her breasts bounced into view, making his mouth water. She tossed the dress aside and smirked.

“Think you’re drooling a little, Jungkook.”

He quickly touched his lips but there was nothing. She laughed, pushing him against the sofa. He pouted but it turned into a moan as she sank down on him, sighing in satisfaction. So warm, so wet, so tight.

“You didn’t let me stretch you out,” Jungkook whined, gasping as the last inch slid in. Fuck, she was so damn tight.

She seemed pleased, tongue between her teeth as she smiled at him. “I couldn’t wait.”

He pouted. It was obvious she did it on purpose. She didn’t seem hurt and she didn’t move right away, placing her arms around his neck and squeezing him with her thighs. Her pussy clenched around him, relaxing before squeezing him again. Wait. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realized she was squeezing him like that on purpose. Voluntarily.

“How am I supposed to last more than two seconds?” he frowned, sucking in a breath as she began to move, sliding up and down with ease.

She hummed smugly. “That’s what next time is for, right?”

Jungkook highly doubted that she was ever going to give him a break. Her face was far too smug for that. He reached up and massaged her breasts, gasping as she increased her pace. She moaned as he rubbed his thumbs against her nipples, teasing the tips with his nail. He had thought about these breasts a little too much. It felt surreal to have such softness in his hands. Her dress must have had built-in cups because her large nipples were hard, jutting out at him. Jungkook imagined them poking out from under one of his t-shirts and groaned, thrusting up into her.

She gasped, clutching his shoulders. An eyebrow raised in question.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked playfully.

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn. “A-ah, just… imagining you in my clothes. With nothing underneath.”

She chuckled and leaned forward, lips against his ear. Her tongue traced against his earlobe.

“That could be arranged.”

His moan became a needy whimper, ramming his hips up again.

“Wanna make you cum for me,” he mumbled, hands sliding down to her hips.

Her teeth caught his earlobe, breath hot against his skin. “Go for it.”

Jungkook wanted to start off slow and make it last but he was too horny and worked up for that. He fucked her from below, kneading her ass as he did so, gasping as she squeezed him every time he came up. Her breathing became labored, pulling him close, breasts bouncing against his chest as she gasped out his name, longing and lovely. He felt her hand slide up and bury into his hair, her back arching.

If this meant he was being used, well, fuck, he would do it again and again.

“F-fuck, Jungkook, harder, please.”

He obliged, setting his jaw as he slammed her down on him, relishing in her sweet sounds and the lewd, wet slapping of their hips.

“Fuck,” she hissed, pulling his hair hard as her pussy clenched, spilling around him and leaking onto his thighs and balls, thick and viscous like honey. Oh, god, it even smelled good, the scent of her orgasm so strong that Jungkook felt the familiar tension straining in his lower stomach, so close to his own. It only took two more thrusts and he groaned, slamming into her hard as his cock shot out into the condom, his cock throbbing inside her tightness, pussy squeezing him until there was no more.

It took a moment to float down from the high. She laid against his chest, the mess between their legs probably soaking into the sofa. He would have some cleaning up to do after. Maybe some unexplained stains.

She wrapped her arms around him, chin on his shoulder. He couldn’t see her face but the breath exhaled told him enough. Satisfied, relaxed, a little apologetic. Jungkook rubbed her back, kissing her neck softly.

“Need a shower,” she murmured.

Jungkook grinned. “Lucky for you, I have one right here.”

She really did have a beautiful laugh.

-

when you kiss me, I know you don't give two fucks but I still want that, your savage love

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook

[newtonsheffield]

Hello again!!!! I'm the Spanish girl back in here!

Firstly, I'd like to send you my best wishes for this tough week of work, and I bet we're going to miss you around here this week. But duty calls! And, look, how many people can say they've got a whole week for relaxing after a week of work? 😌 (Perhaps I've misunderstood the whole thing; I've read your posts quite quick and I've understood sth different to what you wanted to say lol)

Well, what can I say with one of the last prompts you have gifted to us...? Kate, Anthony (and his Spanish!!!!!!) and Spain; you got me there. 😂 I even cried the famous "Ole!" when I read all of it (curious note: not all Spaniards use the expression "ole" in daily contexts; it is more like a regional expression that became worldwide famous bc of several reasons that are too long to post here, lol) and I think it's needless to say I loved it... isn't it?

And, I LOVED a lot Edwina's POV and story (well, I've loved everything you have posted and gifted to us, but Eddie has a special place in my heart)! I don't know, but sometimes I get the impression that, in romantic literature, relationships between sisters are not addressed at all and kinda force them to be friends (if they're not rivals... which I find stupid, tbh), not really deepening in the bond between them. Like, they're sisters and they behave more like "my next door neighbour and friend to whom sometimes I'm distant bc life happens" instead of "this person and I share much more than many people can imagine that's beyond friendship and she's more important than anybody else" -idk if this makes sense anymore... I rewrote it a couple of times bc I got the impression I can't express my idea very well 😂-. And that's something I think both of you, JQ and yourself, have achieved and gifted to all of us! We see Edwina and Kate as sisters: they fight, they tease the other, they can't stand each other sometimes, but always, ALWAYS, they care for and love the other just as sisters do. Because of this, I think TVWLM is one of my favourite books in this genre: they give us a two fantastic love stories, not only between a -heterosexual- couple but also between sisters; which is as important as any other kind of relationship.

After my TED Talk (sorry if it's been too much... 😅), I cannot help but imagine an escapade between Anthony and Kate (sans children) and Matthew and Edwina (oh, Matthew... I love you) to Spain just for Anthony, in his stupid one-side battle against Matthew (I love this, tbh; it's sooooo fun 😂), demonstrate Matthew he can speak fluently another language... Just for Matthew be oblivious to this and enjoy a little escapade to Spain with his girlfriend and her family. 😂

Anyways; I hope you're alright and, again, I wish you all the best for this week.

Besos!!! 🥰 (Spanish equivalent for the "Love!" farewell expression; it means "kisses")

Hola! You’re back again! And I’m so glad! 

I do have a week off once I finish work tomorrow (Saturday)!! Very Exciting! I have a scarf to knit, and lots of writing to do so that’s very exciting. 

Oh Anthony on a Spanish beach in tiny little flamingo shorts? Ole! indeed! That is a curious note, I literally love learning things about other cultures and languages so if anyone wants to share a curious note about their culture, hit me up! I will in turn tell you about the curious culture of The Land Down under, and our propensity to butcher the English language!

I agree, Sister relationships are a very curious thing in media. I’m not a huge fan of very contentious relationships between sisters, I’m not saying they don’t exist in real life, they definitely do, I just think having them as constant rivals is exhausting. And Yes! I Love the relationship between Edwina and Kate very much because I see it as a mirror of my relationship with my own sister. My sister drives me more insane than any other person on this planet. We fight, we bicker, I get absolutely enraged when she steals the last property I need for a set in Monopoly, and yet, She is my favourite person. She can say whatever she wants about me, but were anyone else to? It’s fight on sight. I’ll be honest, that all I’m doing is basing their relationship in these fics  on my own with my sister. Nothing special! 

Okay! Here we go! Anthony and Kate + Goose and Edwina +Spain

Kate Bridgerton was many, many things, but she liked to think an idiot, was not one of them. And so, when Anthony had said, in a tone she was sure he thought was casual. “I think we deserve a holiday, you’ve been working very hard to grow the little broad bean after all and your sister and her little gander should celebrate their engagement.” She had known exactly what he was up to. And she wasn’t really sure why she played along along with it. Perhaps something in her thrived on the chaos she knew Anthony would would create, perhaps part of her just really wanted a decent paella. Surely it didn’t matter, the result was the same: Kate fixed an innocent expression on her face and said  “Where did you have in mind?” 

 And so, surprise, surprise, here she was: back on a beach in Spain. She had to admit, eyeing Anthony appreciatively as he paddled demonstratively in the shallow water, his plan had its merits. though thus far his attempts had been... unsuccessful at best. Matthew Bagwell seemed absolutely thrilled to be in Spain, on holiday with his fiancée, giving them helpful facts he knew about the architecture as they walked through the city, a wide smile on his face, Anthony practically purple when he corrected a fact Anthony himself had said.   “Do you speak Spanish, Goose?” Anthony had said dryly in the hotel lobby shortly after they’d arrived. And Kate had rolled her eyes at Anthony, though Matthew was not paying attention. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Edwina’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her nose crinkle in delight, the sapphire of her engagement ring glinting in the sunlight. And the beautiful picture they made gave Kate’s heart a little stutter. Anthony tutted. “Matt!” He said sharply, getting the man’s attention, Matthew’s glasses slipping down his nose as his head shot upwards in surprise.  “Do you speak Spanish?” Edwina was rolling her eyes now. And Matthew, for his part was completely unbothered  “oh, no. Sorry Mate, might have to lean on your pretty heavily this week.” He said, and Kate caught the smug smile on Anthony’s face and bit back a groan Damnit Matthew.  “I’m pretty fluent in French, German and Mandarin though!” Matthew said smiling happily, turning back towards Edwina, completely oblivious to the scowl Anthony tossing his way. “Of course you fucking are.” He muttered, fixing Kate with an irritated glare as a laugh escaped her!   

The water surely must be a little cool in early October but Anthony showed no signs of it, Beckoning Kate into the water. She groaned and made her way towards him, laughing happily as he tugged her in, his hand resting on her stomach, still no sign of her pregnancy. “Is he watching?” Anthony whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning her through the water So she had a brief image of her sister smiling brightly at her fiancée who appeared to be... bless him building a sandcastle. 

“No. He’s not.” Kate said batting her husband’s hands away irritatedly as he scowled.  “Are you really trying to look more in love than they are?” Kate scoffed, disbelief at her husband’s idiocy rising with in her. Anthony looked indignant. “No! A man can’t take an interest in his wife now? Very poor show Mrs. Bridgerton.” He said, but his eyes, darted towards the shore at the last second.  “Oh I cannot believe you! You’re absolutely manic!” She replied as Anthony attempted to pull her back towards him, Kate putting up very little fight as she tumbled against. him, his voice hot in her ear. “Insufferable I hear.” Kate scoffed. “Ugh! If Anyone’s insufferable it’s him!” 

Kate turned to follow Anthony’s gaze to find Matthew waving at them, grinning broadly, completely unbothered. And Kate couldn’t keep from laughing as Anthony went on another muttered tirade.

Besos! 

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #edwina x Bagwell #edwina x matthew #matthew goose bagwell #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #goose is a cutie #the ridiculous rivalry between anthony and goose #molly’s asks and answers

[tedesquire]

Hi! Could I please add another request to my list? :D it's based off a Hey Arnold episode in which Bill and the reader are on a week long school vacation and they run into each other at the beach and Bill develops a crush on a pretty girl who befriends him but the reader finds out the girl's only using Bill to win a sandcastle contest in order to be on the show Baywatch. The reader tries to tell Bill but he won't listen and he eventually overhears the girl talking with her boyfriend and tells her off only to win the contest with the reader and they confess their feelings? 💕💕

Summer Lovin’ 

Words: 2554

Warnings: cursing, female pronouns (but no genitalia mentioned and no skin color specified) a bit of angst (fluffy ending though)

Author’s Note: first of all, I fucking love Hey, Arnold! and definitely love Helga G. Pataki with all my heart. She’s a weirdo and I love it. I knew exactly what episode you were talking about. I can't believe you got me to write 13 pages of fanfic for such a specific and niche fandom, but hey, I don’t do this for the fame. I do this for the little bit of serotonin my brain gets when I imagine myself in scenarios with fictional characters because real men are disappointing. (Mod Olivia)

-

You hated Bill. You hated the stupid way his stupid blonde ringlets caught the California sun, the stupid vacant look in his stupid sapphire eyes at almost all times, the stupid fucking sliver of tan skin he exposed with his crop tops that he somehow got away with at school. Not to mention you loathed the stupid fucking grin that he gave to his best friend Ted, the one that proceeded the ridiculous laugh the stupid boy had.

All these things you despised, detested, and loathed with every fiber of your being. Simple annoyances beginning since kindergarten snowballed into a big, white burning ball of hatred for the boy. Hatred that made your cheeks heat up and stomach churn, just as it was doing now.

You had been so excited for Spring Break, your family deciding to travel 5 and a half hours to a beach house in Half Moon Bay. A week of the sun, sea, shopping, seashells, boardwalks, and salt-water taffy, with no Bill to bother you.

 So, naturally, when you had reached the beach after a long day of travel, the sight of Bill sitting on the sand in nothing but a swimsuit, skin glowing with tanning oil, made your heart stutter. Okay, perhaps you didn’t hate him… despise him, detest him, or loathe him entirely. From an outside perspective… some might even say that you were… in love with him. 

Oh God, it was true. You couldn't stop thinking about Bill. He looked like he was sculpted after an angel. A prince charming on a white horse. And what he lacked in academic intelligence he more than made up for with kindness. He always treated you with the utmost respect, while you paid him back in nothing but sarcasm and insults. 

You didn’t know exactly why you were so mean to him. Perhaps it was your nerves trying to stop you from getting overeager and admitting your crush. One day you were going to have to either man up and confess your feelings or get over him but that day didn’t seem to be approaching anytime soon. 

You were intent on pretending he wasn’t here, setting up your own place to sunbathe until you heard your name fall from his lips.

“Y/n!?” Bill walked up behind you, prompting you to turn around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Bill.” You stated dryly, “My family and I are staying nearby.”

“No way! My family’s right over there!” He pointed at a nearby beach house, a young woman who you recognized as recently-graduated and newfound wife, Missy Preston making out with Bill’s father on the porch. Ugh.

“Yes way.” You responded dryly. “We’re over there.” You pointed over your shoulder. “Isn’t this a coincidence, my ideal vacation ruined by the one person I didn’t want to see.” You noticed a flicker of disappointment flash in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. “Don’t get any weird ideas about getting all chummy with me, trying to hang out or anything. Just because we’re staying at the same beach and all.” You scoffed, causing him to flinch.

“Uh, yeah. Fine with me, y/n.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before walking off. You eyed him, sighing softly. 

“What is the matter with me?” You mumble, setting yourself down on the sand. This would have been the perfect moment to get closer to him if only you didn’t have to open your stupid mouth.

[Bill’s POV]

As Bill walked off, he felt most confused. He could never remember what he did to make you dislike him so much, but tried to get back on your good side. Thankfully, with the sun, sand, and waves surrounding him, Bill couldn’t stay too upset for too long. 

He had decided to finally get in the water, heading towards the crashing shore when he had stepped on something.

Huh. Bill was met with the sight of a brightly colored bucket and shovel. Excellent! There was nothing more resplendent than a nice sand castle. Ted was going to be so jealous when he heard. All he was doing for the week was staying at home watching Deacon. 

Too caught up in his new activity, Bill barely noticed someone approaching him.

“That’s a stellar sandcastle you have there.” Bill’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. Growing up in California he had seen his fair share of tan beach babes, but this one took the cake. A total babe. Talking to me.... Say something, dude!

“Thanks.” Bogus. Thank God Ted wasn’t here to see him blow his shot so odiously.

She pushed her sunglasses down her nose to look over the lenses, her bright eyes meeting his. “My name’s Summer.”

“Bill S. Preston, Esquire.” He puffed up his chest, raking a hand through his hair. 

“Well, Bill S. Preston, Esquire, you seem to be a pretty great artist. That’s the best sandcastle I’ve ever seen.” His dark brows knitted in confusion, looking over her to see if she was teasing him. “I bet you’ll walk away with first prize from the sandcastle competition at the festival thing later this week.”

“Sandcastle competition?”

“Yeah! Whoever wins first place will get a guest appearance on Baywatch! But that’s not until the end of the week. How about, in the meantime, you can show me around the beach? It’s my first time visiting the bay.” Baywatch? That’s only the most triumphant show on television! Ted was going to be so jealous. 

“Sounds most excellent! However, It is also my first time visiting the bay. Perhaps… we could explore the area together?”

“I like the way you think, Bill.” She winked, sitting on the sand next to him, the pair getting comfortable.

“What the hell?” You mumbled, looking over your book to watch Bill cozying up with a stranger. Your heart twisted painfully, swallowing thickly, You had no right to be jealous, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not to mention you were cruel to him in every interaction, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from forming on your tongue. 

You stood, collecting your things and trekking back to your beach house, the beach having lost its luster.

-

You were so over this vacation. You would have given anything to stay at home. It seemed everywhere you went, Bill and that girl seemed to be infecting the air with their infatuation. 

For the past two days you’ve had to suffer watching the pair on the beach splash each other with sea water, build sand castles, and sunbathe with each other; However, that was nothing compared to today.

You and your family had decided to spend the afternoon on the boardwalk. There you had to endure the couple on the carousel holding hands, feeding each other saltwater taffy, and watching the sunset by the wharf. Most fucking heinous. 

It was early evening, and thankfully, Bill and whatever her name was were nowhere to be seen. You didn’t know if you would vomit or cry every time Bill had given her that award-winning smile, the one you so badly wanted to be the recipient of. 

You didn’t think it could get any worse, until you had leaned against the pier, ears picking up a familiar voice, Bill’s. Your heart fluttered, only to sink back down when you realized he was still with her under the boardwalk, back on the beach. 

“Isn’t this amazing?”

“You are.” You scoffed at Bill’s attempt at flirting, ignoring the tightening of your throat.

“I’m so glad I met you.” She giggled. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone.” 

If it had been any other couple, you might have enjoyed such a romantic conversation. This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been such a bitch to Bill on the first day, perhaps it would have been you and him hanging out at the boardwalk. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here!” 

“Excellent!” You heard him scat in that ridiculous, high-pitched way he did with Ted when they mimicked a guitar. As he walked off, you smiled, not noticing you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek.

You were such an idiot. If only you were able to act normal for a fucking minute and effectively communicate with Bill about your feelings. You had fucked up, it was too late. 

“Hey!” You had heard her speak again, wondering if Bill had returned.

“Hey, babe.” That was definitely not Bill.

“It’s all going according to plan. I do believe Bill is falling head over heels for me.”

“Well who wouldn’t?” You rolled your eyes, angrily wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“He thinks I really like him. What a moron.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was she talking about?

“If he’s as good as you think he is, we’ll for sure win the contest and end up on Baywatch.” It only took you a second to connect all the dots. This jabroni was clearly her boyfriend, and she was only flirting with Bill to win the stupid castle contest.

You had heard enough, running back to the beach in hopes of finding Bill. 

-

Fuck, all these beach houses looked the same. If Bill hadn’t pointed out which house he was staying at you would have no idea how you would find him.

You knocked on the door, praying you remembered the right house, and that Bill would answer instead of his hormonal parents. 

“Y/n?” Thankfully Bill did answer the door, hair wet from what you assumed to be a recent shower. “How’s it...hanging?” He stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey. I’m sorry about being a dickweed earlier.” He seemed as equally surprised as you were by your apology. “Um, I guess I was just thrown off at your presence… that’s not really an excuse… anyways, the whole reason I’m here is about that girl you were with earlier.”

“Summer? What about her, dude?” Oh my gosh, of course her name was something as pretentious as Summer. 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this, but… She’s using you. I was on the boardwalk, and I had overheard you leaving, and I guess her boyfriend came up to her.. Long story short, she’s going to try and get you to build her a sandcastle to win that festival thing at the end of the week and take the credit so they can win the roles on Baywatch.” You met his eyes, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.” 

He stayed quiet, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“That’s heavy. I mean, I’m not stupid. You’re usually most cruel around me, and now you’re acting all...nice? I do not think I’m falling for this one.”

“You don’t believe me?” You couldn’t believe it. “I know I could be less of a bitch to you, but I’ve never lied to you in all the years I’ve known you. You just met her three days ago!”

“Y/n…” He spoke carefully. “I think you were correct when you said we shouldn’t try to hang out just because we’re staying at the same beach.” Your throat tightened, that sour taste returning to your tongue.

“Fine!” You hissed. “I don’t even know why I wasted my breath and time trying to warn you. God, I wish we had never come to this stupid fucking beach!” You ran off his porch into the sand, face burning with shame.

-

Bill couldn’t stop thinking about your interaction yesterday. He was barely paying attention to anything Summer was saying to him. He wished Ted was here. He always knew what to say.

He walked beside her on the boardwalk, eyes glued to the crashing waves, mind replaying the scene over and over again.

“Bill, are you listening?” Bill blinked, turning to face her, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry.”

“I said I’m going to get more sunblock, you’re looking a little pink.”

“Oh, thanks, babe.” He heard her walk off, zoning out again. You had looked so betrayed when he didn’t believe you, but, it couldn't be you were telling the truth. Why would you do something like that? All you seemed to do was glare at him, brush him off, and scoff at his jokes. It was clear he wasn’t your favorite person.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts once more, looking around to see if Summer had come back yet. His eyes caught her figure walking up the beach and he raised his hand to wave, stopping when he saw her wrap her arms around some unknown guy. He was too far away to hear what they were saying but knew what it meant when she had kissed him. Y/n was right. And I was so non-non-non excellent to her.

-

Sweat was dripping from Bill’s brow, his chest heaving as he panted. He could not remember where your house was, even if it was supposedly close to his own. It was the third time he had run up and down the coastline, trying to remember where you had pointed four days ago.

This was ridiculous, he was never going to find you… until Monday, when you both would be at school. But that was days from now!

“Y/n!” He fell to his knees in the sand, trying to catch his breath. 

“Bill?” 

“Y/n!” It was a miracle. He noticed the basket in your hands, having collected odd rocks, seashells and glass while walking along the shore. You had been trying to explore away from your house, hoping not to run into the very man who was looking for you.

“How’s it… hanging?” You asked awkwardly, scanning the area for the female that was usually seen by his side. “Where’s Summer?” He scrambled to stand in front of you.

“Y/n, you were most veracious last evening. Summer had been pursuing me with malicious intent. I caught sight of her embracing her boyfriend and I knew you were speaking the truth. I regret the way I treated you. I should have trusted you.”

“I mean… You had reason to doubt me. It’s not all your fault. Besides, it seemed as if she really liked you. I probably wouldn’t have believed me either.” You coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. “Um, to be honest, I really only acted so bogus because I… like you.”

“No way…” He breathed, trying to recall any instance where it seemed you had a crush on him.

“Uh.. yeah. Yes way.” Your cheeks pinked. “But I obviously don’t expect you to return the feeling. I just get really nervous around you so I guess I figured I should treat you like dirt instead of trying to talk to you like a normal person. But I was worried you would think I was too weird, or that I talk too much, or-” You were cut off by a pair of lips. It was so foolish… and so Bill. 

“What about Summer?” You asked once he had pulled away.

“What about her?” It was just like Bill to not stay too upset for too long. 

His gaze was burning, his lips curling into that perfect, knee-melting, pearly smile. That smile you couldn’t stand. That smile that you couldn’t believe was finally directed at you.

#bill s preston esquire #bill/reader #bill x reader #bill s preston/reader #bill s preston x reader #Bill and Ted #reader insert #Bill and Ted/Reader #Bill and Ted x reader #Bill and Ted imagine #Bill and Ted Imagines #Bill imagine #Bill S Preston imagine #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill and ted fanfic #bill and ted face the music

[novelconcepts]

fic: something to hang on to

When Jamie buys a camera, she isn’t really thinking about it. They’re driving through Virginia, stopped off at a little gas station; Dani’s outside filling the rental Jeep, which puts Jamie on snack-duty. At the counter, she spots a display of disposable cameras and, almost without thinking, adds one to the pile of sugar and caffeine. It isn’t a plan. Isn’t for any particular reason. 

Dani, pawing through the plastic bag of their spoils, raises it from a mess of M&Ms and Pringles and says, “You like photography?” She asks it the way she asks everything, like every little detail she learns about Jamie is another brand-new color added to the shine of the world. Jamie shrugs. 

“Never was much for it, but this brave new land is pretty enough. Don’t mind keeping track of it for later.”

It’s more than that, she thinks as Dani raises the viewfinder to her eye and clicks a photo of Jamie behind the wheel, one hand steering, the other stretching across the center console to rest on Dani’s knee. I almost lost you once, Poppins. Wouldn’t have had anything but my own memory to remember you by. This...this will help. 

Later, much later, years later, Jamie will look back on that moment as one of her wisest. Later, on a bed she can no longer sleep in, holding a thick album between shaking hands, she’ll think some of the most important choices you ever make are split-second recklessness. A camera, tossed in at the last second. A habit, built on nothing more than needing Dani’s smile immortalized. 

Open the album. Take a breath. Flip the page. 

***

A photo: Dani sprawled on a red-and-white beach towel, chin propped on folded arms, gazing out away from the camera as though she has no idea anyone is watching.

They’re with Henry and the kids--the first time they’ve seen the Wingrave family since the events at the house, and, though they don’t know it, one of the last times they’ll see them all together--in Florida. It’s strange, Jamie reflects, watching Miles chase Flora across an endless strip of sand. Strange how much world can fit into one country. England was green, rolling with hill and fog and haunted by things older than any of them can imagine. Florida feels...young, somehow. Too warm, too bright, too perfect on a Saturday afternoon. 

She’s hugging her knees, seated on a blanket with Dani sitting just an inch further away than she’d like. It’s the safe thing, the smart thing, but she misses her--misses the way they sit in hotel rooms and empty bars, knees touching, pinkies overlapping. Dani, in a sundress that matches the blue of her right eye, is laughing as Miles grabs Flora around the middle and tries with all his ten-year-old strength to hoist her off the ground. 

“Miles,” Henry calls, his voice laden with the anxiety of a man who has only just begun learning how to parent. “Miles, be careful--”

“They’re all right,” Jamie interrupts, tossing a handful of warm sand toward Henry’s precarious perch on a plastic chair. "Have you been wound this tight the whole fucking time?”

He looks pained. “You’ll excuse me for never having raised two children before. They’ve been a bit...”

“Precocious?” Dani suggests brightly. 

“Demonic?” Jamie says at the same time. Henry sighs. 

“Adventurous, shall we say, to meet in the middle.”

“They haven’t been...” Dani’s smiling, the way Jamie has grown accustomed to over the last few months: a beautiful smile that never entirely reaches her eyes. It’s the way she smiles when she thinks she needs to wear a mask of stability, when she needs everyone to think she’s doing all right. 

Henry frowns. “Haven’t been what?”

Dani shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Scared? Having nightmares? I don’t know...”

She’s asking-not-asking about that night, like she told Jamie she wasn’t going to do. They don’t need me bringing it up, she’d said back at the hotel, holding tight to Jamie in a way that said she very much needed to talk about this against her own will. They deserve to just live their lives. 

Henry looks puzzled. “Strange, but no. No nightmares. Flora had a few at the very start, before we left London, but...no. Not since arriving here.”

Dani nods like this is all she wants to hear, and rubs her cheek with one slightly-sunburnt hand, the moment passing into obscurity as Flora shrieks and Miles trips directly into an oncoming wave. It’s all good here, all sunshine and ease of temper, and Jamie watches Henry stand. Brush off shorts that look truly insane set against his pale legs. Go awkward-jogging into the surf to lift a giggling Flora heavenward. 

“They make a fine little family,” she says, pitching her voice so only Dani can hear. Dani nods. There’s a tightness to her mouth that says she’s only half here, only half able to let the sun bake away the shadows. Jamie touches her ankle lightly, wishing they were somewhere less requiring of distance. 

“I’m all right,” Dani says. Not a lie of intent, at least, though Jamie suspects it’s more that she wants to be all right. She watches Dani roll onto her front, eyes on the endless ocean, the children tumbling around in its gentle grasp, the man doing his best to keep up. 

Could watch her forever, Jamie thinks, knowing it’s far too early to say something so catastrophically huge. She’s been having these thoughts more and more, wild notions of turning this brand-new adventure with Dani into a lifetime event. It turns a key somewhere deep within her chest, some far-off engine making a deep rumbling sound that sends her tripping toward a very real, very powerful feeling of terror. 

Her hand slips toward the bag of sunscreen, paperback novels, sliced oranges. A camera, small and yellow and used mainly in moments like this one, emerges. Dani never notices as she brings it to her eye, frames Dani’s blonde ponytail and sun-pink skin, snaps a photo. 

Later, when the pictures are developed and spread out across a hotel bedspread, shots of Miles with an orange-peel grin and Flora standing before a monster of a sandcastle intercut with Dani’s far-off pensive expression, Dani will touch the print. Lingeringly, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.

“Why this one?”

Because I loved you more than words could capture, Jamie will know it’s far too early to say. It’d be reckless. It’d be testing the bounds of something still fragile, still one-day-at-a-time hopeful. 

“Why not?” she’ll say, and tuck the photo safely back into its sleeve. 

***

A photo: Jamie and Dani, backs to the freshly painted Leafling sign, standing carefully apart with shoulders back and a small bouquet of flowers clutched in Dani’s hands.

They keep to themselves, mainly, but some of the nearby shopkeepers have been kind as The Leafling goes from mad late-night concept to brick-and-mortar reality. They bring welcome-to-the-block plants and casseroles that are mostly-edible, and Dani accepts each one with true Midwestern courtesy. Jamie leans back, watches the art of neighborly behavior being painted before her eyes: older women who compliment Dani on her earrings, young men bullied into helping move heavy boxes into storage by their mothers. Dani, in the middle of it all, wearing a soft pastel sweater and a smile that has finally remembered its own strength. 

She wasn’t sure how this would go, if Jamie’s honest about it. She’s been telling Dani not to worry for weeks, telling Dani they don’t need to know much about a business to run this one. I grow, you arrange, we make out like bandits with all the nice Americans who value pretty things. It’ll be perfect, Poppins. She’s been saying it, and she thinks she even believes her own words most of the time, but there have been dreams. Anxiety running its red thread through her sleep, telling her she has no skill in this arena, no education to speak of, no idea how to survive in American business while hiding her relationship with her “business partner”. 

The day the shop finally opens, Jamie has been saying “it’s going to be great” for so long, she almost surprises herself by rushing into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet. Dani, expression warm and just the tiniest bit teasing, leans against the doorframe.

“You all right?”

“Perfect,” Jamie gasps, staggering to the sink and thrusting a toothbrush into her mouth. “Jus’ great.”

“Too late to turn back now,” Dani points out. “What would we do with all the business cards?”

Jamie groans, spitting mint foam and rinsing out her mouth. “You could show just the slightest bit less glee, Poppins. I’ve just run us into a brick wall of imminent failure.”

Dani laughs, coming up behind her to hug her tight around the middle. “We should probably at least unlock the doors for the first time before you decide it’s time to shutter them again.”

She’s good today, Jamie senses--not the fake-good where she tries her best to pretend she isn’t listening for some deep-down movement Jamie can’t register, but truly happy. Her body is relaxed, her hands certain as she tips Jamie’s cheek and kisses her calm. 

“How,” Jamie gasps when they break, “are you not out of your bloody mind right now?”

Dani shrugs. “It’s like the first day of school. Spend all summer planning and worrying, but now it’s happening. Just gotta jump in.”

There are already people waiting when they arrive, to Jamie’s mingled horror and delight. Most of them are their fellow shopkeepers, waiting with the brilliant smiles of people who have already lived this particular nightmare themselves, and just want to pay forward the relief of customers actually turning up. They’re kind, these people--they don’t know Jamie in the least, don’t have the first idea what shadows lurk behind Dani’s eyes, but they take their hands, squeeze, and congratulate them all the same. Jamie thinks they even mean it, most of them. Americans are complicated, boisterous, scandalous people--but they can have such heart. 

One woman, old enough to be Jamie’s grandmother, presses a bouquet of peonies against Dani’s chest. “For luck,” she says croakily, patting Dani’s cheek like she’s known her since Dani was three feet tall. “Dry ‘em, hang ‘em somewhere in the back. Remember we’re all rooting for you.”

“Rooting,” a man who owns a nearby pizzeria hoots. “Good one, Carol!”

Jamie almost rolls her eyes, but Dani is beaming. When the others make flapping get in front of the sign gestures, they can’t help but obey, standing with a perfectly-maintained half-person between their shoulders. She wants so badly to reach over, to take Dani’s hand, to kiss her with all the terror and relief she’d never known she could feel at once. Instead, she smiles as professionally as she knows how for the camera someone produces. It’s enough.

Later, tapping a finger against the print the photographer drops on their counter, Jamie says, “Look like I want to pass out.”

Dani glances toward the window, takes note of the empty street, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’d have caught you.”

***

A photo: Jamie, sitting just behind Dani on a plush couch, arm wrapped around her waist, cheek pressed to flyaway blonde hair. Dani, grinning her widest, cheesiest grin, leaning back like she knows there is no world in which Jamie would ever let her fall.

There are parties, occasionally--usually thrown by other under-the-radar couples they get along with well enough for drinks, not so much that they truly build relationships. They like the quiet life, the two-person road trips, the easy silence after a long day. But, sometimes, life is grand and big and loud, and on those nights, they venture out into the world.

There are a pair of men maybe five years their senior who have been together for “a decade”, if you ask Mike, “a century”, if it’s Paul telling the tale. They’re good people, and their home is a safe space Jamie doesn’t anticipate finding. 

Friends are hard, she thinks. Always were, but they’re so much harder once you’ve lost a couple.

Still: when Mike and Paul are set to celebrate a round ten years together (”An eternity,” Paul clarifies, leaning against the Leafling counter to invite them over), they go. Dani wants to, and it’s good seeing Dani want things like this. It’s been almost a year together, almost a year of exploring the map and one another, and Dani’s been getting softer around the edges, less prone to jumping at shadows. The Dani Clayton of a year ago wouldn’t want to attend parties, lest the beast inside leap while her guard is lowered; the Dani Clayton of tonight is holding up a dark green dress, brow furrowed. 

“Too much?”

Jamie hums a moment to buy herself time. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’d like to actually leave the house tonight.” Jamie wiggles her eyebrows, buttoning a black shirt and searching for a good pair of suspenders. Dani laughs. 

“I think you can keep your hands to yourself for a few hours.”

“You,” Jamie points out, sidling up behind her and kissing her neck, “have always had entirely too much faith in me, Poppins.”

Dani is, however, a woman of her word when it comes to accepting social invitations, and soon they’re sitting on an exceptionally soft couch in an exceptionally loud living room. Jamie glances around, reading the environment, registering the two women holding hands by the coffee table, the men dancing near the kitchen, the way even the male-female pairs seem not to see anything odd. Mike and Paul have been doing this a long time. This is as safe a space as their own home. 

She likes the way Dani relaxes, a little more with every drink tucked into her hand, a little more with a lit cigarette pulled from Jamie’s, a little more still when Mike nudges her and mutters, “Your girl looks good tonight, Clayton.”

She likes, most of all, the way Dani doesn’t flinch away when a Polaroid comes out. These are good people, brave people, smart people. If there are photos taken tonight, they will be pressed straight into the hands of their subjects, gifted away before the chemicals have even processed. 

Dani presses back against her, seated on her lap, laughing at some joke Jamie hasn’t really been paying attention to. She’s too busy watching Dani’s profile, the way her head tips back when she’s really laughing, too hard to care what she looks like. Too busy reveling in how it feels to hold Dani in a setting so much more public than usual, her fingers stroking the soft material of Dani’s dress, her body burning and the most comfortable it’s ever been. 

Later, with the Polaroid on the nightstand, the green dress on the floor, and a sheet tucked up against the fall chill, Dani says, “We should do that more.”

Jamie chuckles against her shoulder, kissing a patch of freckles. “This?”

“Yes.” Dani wriggles a little, giggling. “But also that.” She’s gesturing to the photo, propped between a lamp and copy of some old Shirley Jackson novel. “It was nice, wasn’t it? Not...”

“Hiding,” Jamie supplies. Dani makes a humming noise soft in her throat. 

“I like not hiding you.”

***

A photo: Dani, eyes dark with a smolder only Jamie ever sees, a cigarette between her lips, hair loose around her shoulders. 

Nights spent home with Dani, nights where there are no groceries to pick up, no accounting to be done, no errands waiting to be noticed, are Jamie’s absolute favorite thing in the world. There’s just something about this sense of home they’ve been building together, this sense of locked door and secured window and no one else invited to partake that gets Jamie the way nothing else does. 

Especially Dani. Dani at home is less reserved, less careful. With every month that passes quietly, no sign of anything but her own mind, Dani gets a little less tight. A little less prone to gazing off into the middle distance. A little less likely to disappear from an otherwise-normal conversation, emerging several minutes later like she’s pulling herself out of a dream.

And, some nights, she’s not just here--she’s utterly present, every atom of her tuned to Jamie like they have no need of space between them, no need of separation. These nights, the nights where Dani strides into the room on a mission, are Jamie’s favorite of all. 

“Why,” Dani says, leaning back in a kitchen chair with legs spread and head tilted to exhale smoke toward the ceiling, “are you looking at me like that?”

“Me?” Jamie teases. “You’re the one gazing at me like I’m some terribly interesting new buffet.”

She’s half-joking, but there’s something about the way Dani looks at her on this very particular sort of night, with every line of her body tuned toward Jamie’s, that makes her feel a stupid kind of brave. A reckless kind of excitement unwinds outward, until her fingertips itch to grab at Dani’s hair, her knees weak with the desire to pull Dani close. 

She’s doing it now, smoking that cigarette with all the languid energy of a woman perfectly at home, watching Jamie with a faint smirk playing around her lips. No one else sees that smirk, Jamie understands, and it makes her a little faint every time she thinks it. To have something of Dani, some integral comfortable part of Dani that belongs solely to their apartment, their life together, is still a good fortune Jamie can’t entirely parse out. 

Her hand moves toward the camera, small and plastic and containing some of the best memories of Dani she desperately needs to keep. Dani lets her snap off a shot, shakes her head when Jamie lowers the camera.

“That’s going to be one of yours.”

She says it every time Jamie tries to capture the white-hot energy of this kind of evening. Dani doesn’t like to see herself through this particular lens, gets fidgety and embarrassed at the sight of her own face etched with such a confident hunger. Jamie asked the first time if Dani wanted her to stop taking the photos altogether, and Dani had shaken her head.

“I don’t mind. But they’re yours, okay?”

She sets the camera aside, moving to take the cigarette out of Dani’s hand, taking a long drag and dropping it in an ashtray. The rest doesn’t need anything in the way--no lens, no embarrassment, nothing but the way Dani’s mouth opens beneath hers, hands already roaming. The rest is not Jamie’s, but theirs, a joint ownership of soft moans and soft skin and soft assurances that this is still, always, home. 

Later, with Dani asleep, one hand thrown loosely over Jamie’s hip, Jamie will look at the photos that are hers and hers alone. Dani, mouth wet and swollen from a night spent confined to their bedroom around their anniversary. Dani, grinning and half-asleep, glancing over her shoulder to coax Jamie into putting the camera down, joining her among the blankets. Dani, smoke-haze around her face, wine glass in her hand, looking just past the camera at Jamie’s own desire. 

Dani’s choice to share a life with her, Dani’s decision to share every inch of herself with Jamie, is more than Jamie feels anyone deserves. 

***

A photo: Dani in front of the Eiffel Tower, sunglasses on, arms spread wide.

A photo: Dani kneeling at the Grand Canyon, gesturing bewilderment at the sheer scope of the place.

A photo: Dani standing before the alleged largest ball of twine in the world, looking rather like she regrets letting Jamie pick the destination this time.

They travel until Dani can’t stomach it anymore, can’t take the uncertainty of unknown roads and unmapped hotel beds--but, first, years of travel. Years of postcards and rental cars, of Jamie turning maps upside down and Dani being shockingly savvy in small-town situations. 

These photos, more than any other, feel like they have to be taken for someone else’s idea of posterity, and Jamie feels a little strange, at first. Dani’s already seen much of Europe by the time they meet, and has no photos whatsoever to show for it. Jamie, who started turning up in photos for the first time as an adult, says, “It’ll be good to show ‘em off,” while never quite bringing herself to the edge of an unspoken follow-up question: to whom, exactly? It isn’t as though she and Dani are having children, isn’t as though there will be grandkids tottering around down the line to tune out their stories. Who, exactly, are these mementos for?

Dani is far too kind, far too pragmatic, to put the question to her. Dani only poses, grins, lets Jamie take all the pictures she wants, and then--camera tucked safely away once more--grabs Jamie’s hands and leads her into living it: the food, the outdoor markets, the snowstorms, the sun-kissed hikes. As the years go by, Jamie takes more and more photos, never quite able to explain to herself why it’s so critical. Never quite able to look away when Dani finally covers the lens with one hand and brings her close, kissing her like it’s the first time. 

They stop looking at these photos together, after a while. Stop trying so hard to go back, as the days grow shorter and the exhaustion begins to steal the warmth from Dani’s smile. At first, it’s about moving forward--always one foot in front of the other. At first, every photo taken is set aside as a gift to another life. And then, finally, it’s about the moment they’re in, nothing more. Jamie sets the camera on a shelf. Refuses to look at Dani through any barrier but her own two eyes. Dani doesn’t like the snap-click of the camera anymore, anyway--each time, she flinches, like Jamie is about to show her a glimpse of whatever horror she’s been seeing in the mirror. 

I only see you, Jamie promises, the ache in her chest so great, she’s sure it will swallow them both. But Dani can’t bring herself to look. Can’t bring herself, just in case Jamie is wrong. 

Later--so much later, with eyes stinging and arms empty--she flips through the album and remembers Spain, California, Minnesota, Greece. Later, she finds Dani sticking her tongue out, spinning like a deranged nun out of musical, sitting quietly in a cafe with a small cup of coffee warming her hands. Dani, stiff-shouldered and trying not to laugh as Jamie made faces the one time they ever ventured back to Iowa. Dani, hair blowing back into her face, arms looped around Jamie at a terrifying, exhilarating first Pride parade. 

And, in the back, the photos of Dani as only Jamie knew her. The sly grin a second before pinning Jamie to the couch. The sweet surprise from Jamie coming home early with dinner. Shot after shot of no make-up, or smudged eyeliner, or ruined lipstick, of Dani in pajamas on Christmas, or Dani in bed after a shower, or Dani laughing herself silly at nothing Jamie can remember now. 

They’re all here, and they’re all Dani--all of Dani Jamie’s got left now--and still, they’re wrong. They sit, plastic and unyielding, beneath flimsy protective sheets, and they don’t laugh like Dani, don’t breathe out against her skin like Dani, don’t smell like Dani’s shampoo or swear like Dani tripping over a shoe in the dark or look at her with that solid, palpable love like Dani did and should still and never will again. 

Jamie sits, album in her lap, staring down at Dani with paint smudged on her cheek and their then-new bedroom behind her, and suddenly can’t remember how to breathe. Had she known? Somewhere in the back of her mind that day in a gas station, picking up a little yellow disposable camera, had she known that one day, this would be all she had left of Dani? Surely not. Surely, she hadn’t believed it would go this way, all the way back then. Surely, it was one day at a time, and we’ll have time, and any day with you, Poppins. 

Had she known? No. No, of course she hadn’t.

And yet, the idea of not having these in front of her--the idea of Dani’s face slowly, surely, washing away over time as Jamie fails to find her in a world so uncompromisingly cruel...

She touches a shot of Dani with her left hand covering her mouth, her ring gleaming gold against her smile, the day the state had legalized civil unions. Dani as gold as sunshine, in one of the last truly clean moments, before old ghost stories dug rotting fingers into their life. Her vision grays, her head suddenly too heavy to hold up. 

She hadn’t known. But she’s glad. She’s glad she has, at least, this much to hang on to.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #put it on the list of stuff you can blame jess for #as with everything I have ever written I thought it was going one way and then it did something else

[lonelyyinchicago]

giving sirius the childhood he deserves part 6

“PADS?” both remus and sirius appeared next to harry. “i’m going to the beach with ron and hermione and ginny.”

“okay” remus said. “have you got sun cream on?”

“hermione already messaged all of us about that this morning.”

“okay then” sirius echoed, ruffling harry’s dark hair. “have fun.”

“what time are you coming back?” remus called after him just as the front door closed.

“he’ll be fine.”

“i’m not doubting that i just-”

sirius interrupted with his own thoughts.

“what do you even do at the beach all day anyway? it gets boring after a while.”

“errr swim? eat. make sandcastles. they’ll make it work.”

“make what?”

“sandcastles. like, with a bucket and spade. look - i’ll show you.”

“ho- REMUS YOU CANT JUST EMPTY THE FISH TANK LIKE THAT!”

remus shrugged nonchalantly - “he’s still in water.”

sirius ran a quick hand through his hair. he watched from a distance as remus scooped the soggy sand out of the bottom of the tank.

“can you get me a bowl and a wooden spoon please?”

sirius crossed to the kitchen and reached up for a small bowl.

“what are you going to do?”

remus placed a few handfuls of soggy sand from the fish tank into the bowl. he looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before going to the cupboard and adding more dry sand. he mixed it and quickly flipped the bowl upside down.

“what the fuck are you doing?” sirius asked as remus began tapping the bottom of the bowl with the back of the spoon.

“loosening it” remus replied simply. “come here and put your hands around this bowl - i’ll help you do it.”

sirius moved off the counter and next to remus. sirius wrapped his hands around the bowl, and remus placed his on top. he shook them both slightly, easing the bowl off.

“there!”

sirius knelt down next to the counter, squinting slightly at the mound of sand in front of him.

“how is it not falling over?”

“well that’s the whole point. the water binds it; makes it stick together.”

sirius prodded it and fell back in surprise as it collapsed. he sat still on the floor for a second, grinning up at remus who shook his head.

“i don’t know what you expected.”

sirius got up slowly, still staring at the sand. he poked it again and spread it out across the surface. dragging his forefinger through it, sirius drew a small wave as remus watched.

“should we go to the beach?”

“what about harry?”

“he has a key and we can leave a note and some money for dinner. he’ll be fine - come on love, let’s go.”

arriving on the coast one apparition later, sirius’ dark hair whipped across his face. pushing it aggressively behind his ear, sirius turned to face his husband. remus had been watching sirius amusedly and reached out to softly tuck the loose strands away. sirius held onto the hand as it passed his cheek.

remus led the way along the pier, stopping briefly to buy a bucket and spade.

“come on - let’s do it for real.”

kneeling in the sand, sirius waited as remus returned from the sea with some softer sand. as the sun began to set, remus’ fingers twisted around sirius’ pale ones.

“maybe the beach isn’t that boring.”

“well i never thought that” remus said, stretching back on the sand, sirius’ head between his legs, his hand moving back and forth across his body.

“do you think harry’s alright?”

sirius sat up and turned in remus’ lap.

“you were the one who said we could just leave a note and come out.”

“yeah i know.” remus paused. “yeah i-i’m sure he’s okay.”

“he can look after himsel-”

“we said that about james.”

“well, ginny can look after both of them.”

remus smiled weakly: “yeah she definitely could.”

sirius stopped trying to pull remus to his feet when he saw the tears begin to pool in his eyes.

“hey, what’s the matter?” remus shrugged against sirius’ legs. sirius lowered himself to make eye contact.

“i don’t know” remus brushed off the concern and got up. “i’m okay.”

“i-”

sirius followed remus who had strode off to the bus stop. on the backseat, remus’ head fell onto sirius’ shoulder. sirius carefully traced the scars on remus’ left hand, repeatedly kissing the darkest patch of skin.

remus was jerked awake as the bus hit a speed bump.

“hey you.”

as remus’ eyelashes untangled themselves, sirius kissed his nose.

“mmmm?”

“the next stop is ours.”

remus nodded and sat patiently, his head drooping again. holding out his hand, sirius pulled remus from the bus.

there were lights glowing in the front room as sirius moved remus upstairs. enveloping himself in the duvet, remus reached out as sirius left the room.

“where are you going?”

“to clear the kitchen.”

“come back soon, okay?”

sirius nodded, and remus closed his eyes contentedly.

“shhh!”

the body leaning against the sofa slowly turned to face sirius. sirius held up his hands as he moved into the centre of the room. ginny’s head was lying in harry’s lap.

“did you have a good day?”

“can i tell you about it tomorrow, pads?” harry asked, indicating his sleeping girlfriend.

“yeah of course. i’ll just be a minute.”

holding a large bowl under the counter, sirius wiped the sand into it. dropping it back into the fish tank, sirius turned off the lights and went back upstairs.

“remus?”

sirius slid into the bed next to remus who had already fallen asleep.

“i knew you wouldn’t stay awake.”

“what was that?” remus asked, his eyes fluttering open.

“oh fuck you.”

remus grinned as he moved across the mattress towards his husband. as sirius’ hand fell around his neck, remus bent into the warmth.

“i returned the sand to the fish. also harry’s back with ginny. they definitely had a good day.”

“oh good. i knew they would.”

“no you didn’t - you were the one who was panicking.”

“well i-”

“it’s fine; we’re all fine.”

#harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius

[kittenwhiskers]

Smartass - Peko x gn!Reader x Fuyuhiko

Peko and (y/n) have been spending the past few days pestering their yakuza boyfriend. Though they were fully expecting consequences, they would never have predicted the results!

A/N: Yes, this is a "no one dies" AU. Because we like it better that way.

!This is a poly gender-neutral reader-insert tickle fic that contains a bit of swearing!

It had been a rather chaotic morning on the island on this particular day. The majority of the class had decided today would be a beach day, and so, the morning was spent by (y/n) and most of their classmates on the golden sand. The early hours saw sandcastle competitions, water fights, and much more. By the time the afternoon rolled around, much of the class had dispersed. A few stayed behind at the beach, while most went to their cottages to rest before returning. There were only a handful of students that actually showed up to the restaurant, that being (y/n), Akane, Chiaki, Byakuya, and Teruteru. Everyone could tell the little chef was worn out from that morning’s activities, but he still insisted on preparing food for the handful present. No one was about to fight with him on that one.

(y/n) had been engrossed in some conversation they were having with Chiaki in between bites of food, when they felt a gentle hand lay on their shoulder.

“(y/n), are you almost finished with your meal?”

(y/n) turned around to see a pair of sharp red eyes staring back at them.

“Yeah, Peko, I guess I’m pretty much done,” (y/n) said with a smile, placing their eating utensil down on their plate, “why, what’s up?”

“Fuyuhiko-sama has requested us at his cottage right away,” she explained very matter-of-factly, though (y/n) could sense a tinge of dread behind her words.

The request confused (y/n) at first… until they remembered. They were filled with the same dread as they remembered all the pestering they and Peko had subjected the yakuza to over the past couple days. The three of them all understood it was all in good fun, but pestering was called “pestering” for a reason. (y/n) and Peko both knew this was coming, it was inevitable.

With a sharp inhale, (y/n) rose from their seat and nodded.

“Right then,” they said, pushing their seat back into place, “let’s go meet him, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Peko nodded without a word, and headed for the stairs leading to the lobby, expecting (y/n) to follow behind, however, they were stopped by Chiaki clearing her throat. They turned to the gamer girl, who proceeded to mouth the words “good luck”, and gave them a subtle thumbs-up. (y/n) returned the favor with a half-smile, before turning back and quickly following Peko down the stairs and out the doors of the building.

On the walk to the cottages, (y/n) tried their best to prepare themselves for a fight of some sort. They knew Fuyuhiko wasn’t going to actually hurt either of them, but whatever he had planned in retaliation was probably going to be intense. Peko already knew she was going to accept whatever was coming her way, she would never fight back against Fuyu… but she also knew (y/n) well enough to know that they wouldn’t go down without a fight, and she wouldn’t hold them back from that either.

It only took a few minutes before the two students had arrived, and were now standing outside of the short-tempered blonde’s cottage. They both stood tensely, looking at the wooden door, then at each other.

“So, are you gonna do it, or am I,” (y/n) asked Peko softly, referring to which of the two would knock on the door.

Peko seemed to grunt nervously, looking back between the door and (y/n). There was a moment of silence between the two of them, before Peko’s eyes finally stopped on (y/n) again.

“I don’t wanna do it,” (y/n) finally said with a laugh, which in turn caused Peko to laugh as well. If there was one thing (y/n) could be counted on, it was lightening a tense situation.

Peko finally stepped up and knocked on the door. As she stepped back next to (y/n), footsteps were heard inside the cottage. The two practically winced as the door finally swung open, revealing the smug-faced yakuza standing on the other side.

“Thought you two had pussied out or somethin’,” he said with a grin, motioning for them to get their asses inside, “what took so long?”

“My apologies, young master,” Peko apologized as she walked inside, “I had to retrieve (y/n) from the-”

“Hey!” Fuyuhiko snapped, cutting her off, “what’d we talk about? No more calling me that.”

“M-my apologies, Fuyuhiko-sama,” Peko corrected, nodding in understanding, “it’s a force of habit.”

Fuyuhiko grunted softly, shutting the door behind him once the two students were inside. He then turned back to them, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smirking a little.

“Well, I’m sure you two know why I called you here,” he said rather casually.

“Mm, beats me,” (y/n) said, waving their hands around their sides, “I got no clue!”

Peko had to fight back the urge to smile at her partner’s sarcasm as Fuyuhiko shot them a deadpan glare.

“Really?” he asked flatly, “no clue whatsoever?”

“Nope,” (y/n) continued, “but it must’ve been bad to make you drag us all the way out here! God, we must be awful!”

Fuyuhiko sighed, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“I shoulda’ seen this coming,” he growled. (y/n) didn’t know when too far was too far.

Peko was now giggling up a storm at (y/n)’s remarks, and (y/n) couldn’t hold back their own cheeky grin as they continued to tease the Yakuza.

“Or, maybe, we’re totally innocent, and you just wanted an excuse to get time with us to yourself-”

(y/n) was cut off by the wind practically being knocked out of them as Fuyuhiko tackled both them and Peko to the bed behind them, pushing them down on their backs and hovering over them.

“You think you’re real fuckin’ funny, huh, smartass?” he growled, pulling the two students close together on the mattress, “if you’re really as dumb as you’re acting, then lemme spell it out for ya. I brought you both here to show you why you don’t fuck with a yakuza…”

With wide eyes, (y/n) tried to make a break for it, wiggling to get up off the bed. Unfortunately for them, Fuyuhiko had faster reflexes than they could’ve anticipated. He grabbed them by the shoulder, pushing them down into the bed and keeping them pinned in place as he crawled up onto the foot of the bed, sitting up on his knees, and using his legs to pin Peko’s left thigh and (y/n)’s right thigh together, effectively trapping both the students in place at once.

“It took me a while to think of just the right punishment for you two,” he said, leaning over the two ultimates beneath him with a sadistic grin, “but I think I have something perfect planned out here…”

Faster than they could blink, Fuyuhiko’s hands shot down to (y/n’s) and Peko’s sides, squeezing with a purpose, causing both the students to break out in frantic giggles, and attempt to either wiggle out of Fuyu’s restraint, or swat his hand away. Perfect, Fuyuhiko thought, everything was falling into place.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,” Kuzuryu sneered, working his way up to Peko’s ribs with one hand while the other shot up to (y/n)’s armpit, “don’t waste your energy on trying to get away~!”

Peko only managed to cover her face with her hands, somewhat muffling her laughter as she arched into Fuyuhiko’s touch, meanwhile, (y/n) pinned their arms to their sides (which only trapped Fuyuhiko’ hand in place) and squealed loudly. This earned an amused laugh from the yakuza, who drilled his fingers further into their underarm.

“Jeeze, (y/n),” Fuyu chuckled, “You might be even more sensitive to Peko, listen to you!”

“SHUHUHUT AHAHAHAP!” (y/n) cried, twisting to pry Fuyuhuko’s hand away from the sensitive area. Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes at this.

“Shut up, huh? Shut up, huh???” Fuyuhiko growled, lowering his hand just enough to drill his fingers into the top of (y/n)’s ribs, forcing their laughter up an octave, “you think you’re in any position to tell me to shut up, huh???”

“NOHOHO NOO, I’M SAHAHARRYYY!!!” (y/n) squealed, only earning a small chuckle from Fuyuhiko in response. He seemed like he was about to say something, before he was cut off by Peko’s pleas.

“Young master, plehehease!” The swordswoman cried through her hands, “n-nohoho mohohohore!”

“What did I say about callin’ me that, Peko?” Fuyuhiko warned in a low tone, moving his hands up to gently tickle Peko’s neck.

“NAH! F-FUYUHIKO-SAHAHAMA, NOHOHOT THERE!” Peko squealed, craning her neck to avoid Fuyu’s merciless fingers.

Fuyuhiko continued to tickle the two students like this for another minute or so, before pulling back and allowing them to breathe. He smirked at the mess of giggles on the bed beneath him, nearly satisfied with his work, before cracking his knuckles in preparation for his next move.

“Now, I got one more thing I wanna try here,” he said almost excitedly, “but since I ain’t got any straws to draw, it’s gonna come down to this, whoever laughs first, gets it first.”

“Fuyu, nohoho,” (y/n) whined pathetically through their giggles, “I cahahan’t take much more of this!”

“Aww, is that so?” Fuyuhiko cooed mockingly, bringing his hands down over each of their bellies, spidering at them through their shirts, “then it’d do you well to keep your mouth shut, huh?”

Almost simultaneously, Peko and (y/n) slapped their hands over their mouths to fight back the giggles threatening to bubble up from their throats.

“Nah-ah, hands away from your faces, that’s cheating,” Fuyuhiko scolded, “if you don’t follow the rules, I’ll just pick randomly!”

Upon hearing this, both the ultimates hesitantly pulled their hands away from their mouths. Peko raised her arms above her head obediently, while (y/n) reached down and gripped at the bedsheets. Both of the yakuza’s victims strained and whimpered to hold back their giggles as Fuyuhiko’s hands freely explored their tummies. This only lasted about 30 seconds before (y/n) thought they’d break… but relief washed over them when they heard Peko titter with giggles.

“N-nohoho, Fuyuhiko-sama, I’m sohohorry,” Peko begged as Fuyuhiko grinned down at her, “plehehease dohohon’t!”

Fuyuhiko only shook his head at her, still wearing his menacing grin as he reached over and pulled Peko’s shirt up enough to show her tummy, before firmly taking each of her wrists in one hand, and leaning down to pepper her belly with kisses! (y/n)’s eyes went wide at the sight before them as Peko squealed with high pitched laughter and giggles, wiggling every which way to avoid the ticklish sensation. (y/n) turned their head to the side and looked away, not being able to handle the anticipation of knowing they were next. It didn’t help much, though. They could only listen as Peko’s laughter grew louder and more frantic with each passing second, indicating that Fuyuhiko was doing more than just planting little kisses now. Still, they couldn’t bring themselves to look!

(y/n) practically jumped out of their skin when they heard Fuyuhiko deal a raspberry against Peko’s skin, followed by Peko’s squealy laughter hitting an all-time high!

(y/n) couldn’t help but try to wiggle their way off the bed, but was only met by a warning squeeze to the side by Fuyuhiko’s hand, causing them to yelp and recoil.

It wasn’t long before Peko’s hysterical laughter was reduced to a feeble wheeze, at which point, Fuyuhiko finally released his restraint on Peko, allowing her to curl over onto her side.

“You’re up, (y/n)~” Fuyuhiko taunted, straddling both of (y/n’s) thighs, and reaching for their shirt to pull it up. He was stopped by (y/n’s) hands grabbing his own, but the yakuza only chuckled and began to wrestle their hands away. He looked over at Peko, who had now sat up and wiped the tears away from her eyes, and smirked.

“Hey, Peko, babe,” he said, “come help me get this little brat under control, will ya?”

Peko looked down at (y/n) reluctantly, who looked back at her with a pleading look in their eyes as they continued to fight Fuyuhiko off.

“I could always tickle you again,” he hummed with a shrug. This caused Peko to jump, and crawl over behind (y/n), grabbing their hands and pinning them above their head.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed down to her partner. Though (y/n) felt completely and utterly betrayed, they understood. It was clear now that Fuyuhiko was a ruthless tickler… and unfortunately, they were about to face his finale.

Fuyuhiko smiled wickedly as he rolled up (y/n)’s shirt, and leaned down to their tummy, planting light, ticklish kisses across every inch of it, making (y/n) throw their head back with laughter and drum their heels against the bed frame. They had no idea kisses alone could tickle so much! Little did they know, it’d only get worse from there…

Their laughter rose to frantic squealing as Fuyuhiko focused most of the kisses around their navel, and used his thumbs to pinch and massage the sides of their tummy.

“FUYU I CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IT!” (y/n) cried, fighting as hard as they could to fight out of both their boyfriend’s and girlfriend’s restraint, “PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!!!”

Fuyuhiko only scoffed a little as he pulled his face away to look at (y/n), his thumbs still drilling into their sides.

“You can handle it,” he sneered, “a little tickling’s never killed anyone.”

(y/n) froze and tensed up as they heard Fuyuhiko begin to inhale, but before they had time to react, the yakuza had already buried his lips into their flesh, blowing raspberry after raspberry into every inch of their tummy, driving them up the wall! Poor (y/n) shrieked and howled with laughter, making the other two swear the others could’ve heard them all the way from the beach!

Fuyuhiko smiled through all the raspberries he delivered as he spidered his fingers up and down (y/n)’s bare sides, before focusing the last few raspberries directly on top of their incredibly sensitive bellybutton.

This seemed to throw (y/n) over the edge, as their laughter quickly turned into silent wheezes. With a final amused chuckle, Fuyuhiko sat up and patted (y/n)’s tummy, rolling their shirt back down and scooping them up, allowing them to lean against him as they recovered from the tickle-attack. As the yakuza stroked their hair, he patted the bed to his left side, inviting Peko to snuggle in on his opposite side, to which she complied, allowing Fuyuhiko to wrap his free arm around her.

“You two know I love you, yeah?” he asked with a smile, resting his head against Peko’s shoulder while keeping (y/n) wrapped in his other arm.

Peko chuckled and smiled down at her shorter boyfriend.

“Of course we do, Fuyuhiko-sama,” she replied. Even though Fuyuhiko acted all big and tough, he still needed reassurance from time to time. Peko and (y/n) were more than okay with that.

“Wehehe’re still getting you back for this, though,” (y/n) giggled weakly.

“Oh, most definitely,” Peko agreed.

“H-hey, that’s not how this works,” Fuyuhiko argued, “This whole thing was supposed to be getting us even!”

Kuzuryu would never catch a break with these two, he should’ve known that by now...

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