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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink,"

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here.

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with.

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either.

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality.

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table.

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected.

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room.

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation.

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms.

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude.

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this. "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat.

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters.

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra.

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what.

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes.

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss.

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on.

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time,"

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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barcaatthemoon · 4 months ago

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housewife || mary earps x reader ||

mary makes a comment about you not doing enough around the house, tipping you over the edge.

"mummy!" dillion cheered as mary walked into the flat. you glanced over the back of the couch to watch as your wife took in the chaotic state of things. you had spent all afternoon loading up the things that absolutely had to be shipped to france, but waited to pack up other things for mary to get home.

"good evening my little prince." mary bent down and scooped dillion into her arms. you watched her set him down again and push him towards his room, muttering for him to pick out more toys to pack up. "you know, if you're gonna be home all day, you could at least clean up a bit. i don't work myself to the bone to come back to this."

"mary, i'll give you one chance to tell me that you're joking," you told her. mary looked at you incredulously, as if she couldn't believe your audacity. you matched her look, resulting in the two of you just staring at each other for a couple of minutes.

"i don't want to fight with dillion here," mary told you. it wasn't a resolution by any means. in fact, it was your warning that this was going to sit and simmer with mary for the rest of the week.

whenever you had met mary, you had lived a very different life. you worked for a big company as a marketing advisor. the lionesses had hired you for help, and once you saw mary, it was love at first sight. the two of you hit it off immediately, and within the next year, you were married. you still worked from home sometimes on various little projects, but nothing that would have distracted you from dillion.

he was your son from a previous relationship, and for almost two years, his father had been involved. mary had been very understanding in letting you take time to yourself to figure things out. eventually, she had suggested that you stay home and focus on family. you had been skeptical for this exact reason, but you had agreed anyway. and for years, it worked until it didn't.

you could see the cracks form almost immediately. mary's frustrations with united seeped into your relationship. she was a great wife, but she had grown angry and demanding. at times, you pondered divorce, but no matter how bad it got, you never even mustered up the courage to leave.

"what's with the box?" mary asked as she watched you carry one of the boxes from the hallway closet into the bedroom. most of mary's things were packed away and set to arrive at the new place in france, but you were still sorting through your things. you'd arrive with mary, and then collect the rest of your things when you flew back to england to finish up the last couple of projects you had left.

"i'm unpacking," you told her. mary looked confused, but didn't say anything. you could still see the anger simmering beneath the surface. dillion was tucked away in his bed, fast asleep. you were glad that he could sleep through anything because you had a feeling that mary was going to blow a gasket when you told her your decision. "i don't think that i'm going to france."

mary's phone clattered to the ground. you winced at the sound and knowledge that it was definitely cracked. still, mary made no move towards it. she just stayed frozen in her spot on the bed. mary had cooled down a bit since she had gotten home, and while she wasn't at the point of an apology, she was willing to talk things out with you and try to listen.

"don't be ridiculous, it's a done deal (y/n)." mary was spiraling, and while you wanted to stop it, you knew that you couldn't just give in to her. "i've signed. we talked about this. it's a big step, but i think that we're ready. dillion is so excited."

"mary, i've been trying so hard, but i can't. things were supposed to be different when you signed to a new club, but they won't be. this rough patch, it's not getting better like i thought. maybe we should take some time apart," you told her. mary's eyebrows furrowed and she sat up on her knees to crawl to the edge of the bed. "i think i'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight."

"no, please don't," mary pleaded with you. she followed you into the living room, where you had obviously done some unpacking after putting dillion to bed. "you're serious, aren't you?"

"yes mary, i am. some days, you're exactly the woman that i fell in love with, but most of the time, i don't recognize you. you're angry, and i get that it sucks, but you can't take it out on me."

"i would never take my anger out on you, never," mary said. she tried to move towards you, but you put your hand on her chest to stop her. "(y/n), i've never laid a finger on you. i wouldn't, no matter what."

"not physically mary. i spent all day moving your things around and making sure that everything was packed up correctly. i did all of this with a hyperactive four year old who is struggling to work through his french workbooks. not to mention that i'm also trying to learn this language for you because i know that maybe if i have a head start, i can help you too. i've been doing so much for so long, but all you can ever do when you're here is lay around and complain. i'm done, i won't live like this!"

the look in mary's eyes was nothing short of regret. she crumpled down to her knees, and if it was anyone else, you would have brushed it off as a performance. because it was mary, you just watched as the guilt took over and she began sobbing. the anger turned inward, and mary donned a look that you hadn't seen in years, not since you had nearly broken up before.

"go up to bed. i'll be back," mary told you. she stood up and began to walk towards the door, pausing when she was behind you. "i love you, don't forget that. i love you, i'm sorry, and i don't know what i'd do without you and dillion in my life. if i'm out of the house when he wakes up, tell him i love him too, okay?"

"mary, where are you going?" you asked her.

"for a walk love, go up to bed," mary told you. she didn't move until you were gone, but you could hear the front door shut from the bedroom. this wasn't by any means the night you had envisioned for yourself when you woke up that morning, but you knew that your relationship needed some space. all you could do was hope that you'd see mary in the morning when you woke up.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mary earps imagine #mary earps x reader

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aquasarsstuff · 3 months ago

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Arrange Marriage ft. Lilia Vanrouge x reader part 1, part 2, part 3

Tags: Lilia is a flirt, reader is easily flustered, romance, twisted wonderland au, series, fluff, historical au, my longest fic

Summary: Lilia convinces you to go out on a date with him.

Masterlist

---

"Again, what exactly are you here for?" you dusted the crumbs off your lap, letting it fall to the floor, and inevitably for the ants to consume.

"I was looking for a very specific herbs, last night," he pondered for a bit, as if trying to recall his memories from the previous night. You leaned on your chair, expecting to hear another story of his chaotic adventure.

"For a potion?"

He shook his head, "I intended to use it for a new dish, but instead, I stumbled upon a picturesque spot in the mountain." You wince, and here you thought you've already diverted the talk away from culinary.

"You... went there in the middle of the night?" You looked at him from your seat. "Are you sure you weren't seeing things or just being tricked at?"

"Pray tell, what led you to such conclusions?" he took another piece of sweets on the plate, munching them to his heart's content.

"Well... I heard faes are more likely to appear there, after the sun sets and play tricks at humans," you said, a little worried.

"Are you scared of such creatures? Isn't your fiancé one too? Who knows? He might be listening," he poke around, teasing you.

"I would've have probably caught a generation curse if he did," you grimaced at the thought, remembering how vengeful and petty they are if provoke, or rather according to what you've heard from people.

He couldn't helped but burst out laughing, making you look at him. There was a generous filling spread around the skin, near his lips. You can't helped but sigh at how messy he looks. You would've irked at the sight, if he was just some people you don't know. You stood up from you seat and pulled out a handkerchief out of your pocket. While he was busy enjoying the sweet treat, you took the chance to grab his chin to face you. You casually wiped off the fillings from his face, that you didn't noticed how his eyes widen as saucers. When you raised your eyes to meet his, it was now looking at you lidded and filled with mischief.

"Touching me now casually, are we? Do be careful, I don’t want to get the rough end of the stick, by having your prince after me."

You pushed him away, embarrassed at your own actions. He just let out a small laugh, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Shut up," you retorted. "I just can't stand such behavior in front of me. For someone who keeps complaining about aggravating my fiancé, you sound way too happy."

He hums in return. "Alright, if you say so."

"Just continue what you wanted to tell me earlier," you waved your hand at him, sitting on your seat previously. You closed your eyes at how hard your heart was contracting between your lungs. If you didn't put up an end to his teasing far earlier, one of your vital organs might have exploded.

"The stars look absolutely stunning in there, like someone in here."

"And then?"

"I was eager to show it to you, so I came here as fast as I could," he smiled at you gently.

You looked at him, as if he just said the most ridiculous thing ever. "It's Horse Hour currently. The only star available at the moment is too stunning that'll it make me blind."

"Awh, that was a mean thing to say to the ball of life," he pouted.

"Besides, father is in the house. He hasn't visited my room yet, but he often makes rounds in my room in random intervals. He might have different thoughts if he caught me again, gone here. I don’t want him to enforce even more stricter rules for me."

"I've been here since morning, and I can assure you that I haven't come across your father or caught a glimpse of his presence."

"What?" you said abnormally calm, despite reeling in shock. "What were you doing all these hours?" he brought a forefinger to your lips, shutting you down.

"I only know the way to your room, so I went to every room to pull of this perfect disguise. Now, come on. Do I still need to get on my knees, to get you to say yes?" he smirked at you, taking a hold of your palms. His touch was unexpectedly cold to the touch, despite of the fiery sun outside.

"Not without a ring," you pulled your hand away from him, flustered at his actions. "Get out."

"Throwing me out already? It took great effort to devise and even accomplished the heist, you know? I'm not letting the treasure get out of my sights, when it is in front of me. I'm not one to missed chances, sweetcheeks," he whispered in your ears, appearing behind you, in a blink of an eye.

One of your eyes twitched. "I need to get dress," you firmly said.

"I can just turn my back. I promise I won't take a peek."

"No," you were about to push him to door, when he spun around like a basketball and bounced to the window stool. He took a quick looked behind him and winked at you before leaping out. You stood in your room, shocked. It's a wonder he still hasn't broke a limb or two with his random stunts.

Lilia whistle, waiting for you. He sensed something move behind him and saw you threw a long fabric down from your window.

"You can just jump to my arms, sweetcheeks!" he looked up. Your feet sat still on your window, but due to some carvings you overlooked, you slip down. Your heart leaped from your chest. Scared of the upcoming pain, you closed your eyes, but instead. you felt yourself floating in the air. You snapped your eyes open, only to see the petite man carrying you with a smile.

"And what did I just say earlier?" he brought you down to your feet. "You could've had a terrible concussion."

"Thanks," you meekly said. Your heart now continued to beat erratically for a different reason. You swear, he's gonna be the death of you sooner or later.

---

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sarahsmi13s · 11 months ago

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Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table.

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?”

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!”

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity.

It was Maverick.

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water.

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.”

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.”

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.”

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.”

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him.

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base.

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost.

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you.

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip.

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole.

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms.

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.”

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face.

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone.

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground.

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you.

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.”

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off.

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you.

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands.

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge.

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table.

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.”

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar.

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did.

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest.

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing.

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink.

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face.

“Shit…”

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned.

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out.

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name.

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun.

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?”

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.”

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh.

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.”

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?”

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.”

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down.

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left.

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.”

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-”

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–”

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake.

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso.

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him.

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away.

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.”

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.”

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?”

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.”

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door.

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago.

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look.

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him.

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile.

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you.

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you.

“I sure hope no one left you alone.”

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs.

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.”

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it.

“Well, ain’t I special.”

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.”

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.”

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.”

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman.

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him.

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit.

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.”

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.”

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed.

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?”

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.”

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out.

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement.

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you.

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up.

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back.

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him.

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there?

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking.

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you.

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall.

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.”

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall.

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm.

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder.

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback.

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol.

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot.

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent.

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball.

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group.

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice.

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder.

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.”

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?”

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes.

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.”

You nodded and looked back down at your glass.

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob.

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered.

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face.

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…”

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted.

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit.

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met.

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement.

“Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar.

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.”

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious?

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile.

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others.

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.”

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.”

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over.

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours.

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.”

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.”

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.”

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head.

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster.

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.”

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.”

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out.

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces.

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots.

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…”

It was silent for a minute.

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him.

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves.

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you.

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?”

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.”

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?”

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.”

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days.

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement.

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.”

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?”

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.”

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light. You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home.

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang.

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.”

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.”

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you.

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.”

“Y/N, do they know?”

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread… this-this fear. I do-don’t-”

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?”

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.” “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-”

You were cut off by a small, tired voice.

“Is that Aunt Y/N?”

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy.

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!”

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled.

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?”

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.”

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing.

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.”

“Who is it?”

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?”

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.”

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.”

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.”

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.”

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out.

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes.

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow.

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm.

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom.

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in.

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt.

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on.

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away.

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief.

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place.

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them.

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running.

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest.

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again.

“Hey I was-”

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor.

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it.

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing.

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering.

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you.

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was.

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off.

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality.

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.”

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.”

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.”

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom.

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair.

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands.

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling.

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently.

“Do you want me to stay while you change?”

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs.

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit.

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has.

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you.

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing.

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room.

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake.

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket.

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you.

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be-”

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.”

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…”

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes.

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry.

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus.

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears.

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left.

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks.

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.”

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.”

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?”

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.”

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.”

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself.

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.”

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile.

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…”

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable.

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

“Because I-”

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in.

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.”

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone.

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you.

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…”

“Over what, Sweetheart?”

“The accident…”

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings.

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling.

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.”

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…”

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?”

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.”

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.”

“Was it because we talked about-”

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-”

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.”

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug.

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?”

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-”

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.”

“What about you?”

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.”

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?”

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment.

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.”

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

my little cassettes <33: @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @criminallyhamilfan13 @lynnevanss @lovinglyeternal @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @teacupsandtopgun @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @djs8891 @nobody7102 @bobby-r2d2-floyd @mongoosesthings

i apologize if i missed anyone! if you're not on here and wish to be, please fill out my taglist form! -> hello!!

even if you already are here, please fill it out so i can keep track!

love you guys! 💜

#rocks are allowed to crack stars are allowed to dim #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x pilot!reader #jake hangman seresin angst #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #hurt/comfort #sarahsmi13s

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mrs-kodzuken · 2 months ago

Text

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter one

can I call you tonight? dayglow

❝There's so much time

For me to speak up, but I keep quiet

I'll complicate most of the mantra❞

next chapter

"This is the coffee shop that I was telling you about," Kuroo gestured towards a small building that seemed to have a theme of dark academia and books.

The cafe didn't seem all that bad, you thought. It would be the perfect place to study before a huge exam, the tall windows which showed the beautiful inside were not forgettable.

"It looks so pretty. Do you come here often after class?" You questioned as the little bell rang when Kuroo held open the door for you. A wondrous smell of coffee, books, and spice wafted into your nose. It could have been a bit overwhelming if you hadn't loved the scent.

It almost brings you to your favorite season of them all, which is definitely autumn.

"No, only once in a while. This place is kind of pricey, but it gives good beverages and great seats." Kuroo chuckled, looking down at you as you scoured the menu. There were definitely a lot of choices to choose from and yet you still didn’t know what to pick.

"See anything you like?" He asked as you guys stood off to the side – by the entry way that had a lot of books nearby.

"Hm, I think I would like to try the toffee crunch espresso? It seems good." You pondered on that, not really liking coffee but love to try different kinds once in a while.

"Sounds great. You go pick a seat for us and I'll get our orders." He patted your head and slightly pushed your forward a bit in case you decided to protest on the matter.

You rolled your eyes a bit at that but looked across the cafe to see where you wanted to sit. Eventually you decided on the floral printed sofa that had an antique wooden table to set the drinks on. This place was definitely one for the books.

Kuroo soon came back with the drinks and taking that first sip was always magical – until it gave you the shits later.

"Thank you for this. You didn't have to buy it for me, you know." You made a point at that, even though he knew that too. Your parents still give you an allowance, especially now more than ever too. They don't want you working your ass off in college at a dead-end job when you could be focusing on studies.

"I know, little one. But you're my favorite non-biological sister, so why wouldn't I?" He remarked, sipping his drink as the warmth fogged up his reading glasses that he only wears occasionally.

Your heart strings tugged at the nickname Kuroo used for you.

He had given you that name when you were very young and needed help on something so small at the time that your parents thought it was huge – your writing skills.

"So, you have other not favorite non-biological sisters?" You snorted, as that sounded weird coming from your mouth.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved you off, rolling his eyes at your dumb question.

"Okay, so, when can I move in? I was kind of wondering why we aren't there now and instead at a coffee shop." You raised an eyebrow at that. It was kind of weird Kuroo wasn't showing you where you were going to live for the next four years.

"Well, there is something I was supposed to tell you about, but in all honesty, I kind of forgot."

You urged him to go on.

"So, I have a roommate too. His name is Kenma and he's super chill and goes to uni with me and I've known him since we were young." He spit out all at once, leaving you stunned.

"A roommate? How old is he? I mean, I haven't met him. What if he kills me in my sleep, Tetsu?" You can't possibly move in with Kuroo and his roommate that you don't even know! That's just crazy work, he was trying to get you killed.

"I promise Kenma is a good guy. He likes video games and cats. He used to play volleyball with me in high school. Like I've known him forever, there won't be anything to worry about!" He tried to reassure you. Tetsuro had promised your parents that he'd take extra special care of you once you got accepted into his university.

And right now, he hoped that you would look past not knowing Kenma very well and agree. It never really came up in the past letters about Kuroo’s social life – probably because of the age difference. Not only that but your parents had monitored all of your letter conversations till they got you a phone.

"I mean... I guess it's fine," You trailed off a bit, wanting more time to think on it but then again, he's right in front of you. And Kuroo would never purposefully put you in danger, he's not like that. You’ve known him since you were in primary too.

Kuroo blew a sigh of relief, "Great! I swear it will all be fine. Want to go look around a bit? I can show you some good places around this town, so you'll be more familiar with it once you move."

You sipped your coffee, now bitter in your mouth – from how long it sat there untouched or from the conversation? You don't know.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I don't want to not know where a gas station is and have to pull over on the side of the road and a stranger kidnap and kill me." You got up from the cushioned couch to stretch a bit before leaving.

"Did someone make you watch a scary movie lately? You sure are being a bit weird, little one." He chuckled as if it was funny. You're deathly scared of gory, horror movies.

"As if, this is just my regular morbid self." You laughed, exiting the cafe and taking in the scenery of the streets. It wasn't a bad town at all. It looked kind of magical like it came out of a movie or something.

After a bit of sight-seeing, you gathered that there were a lot of thrifting shops, coffee places, a public library and even different kinds of food areas that you'd definitely be trying out once you move.

Your feet started to hurt but you wouldn't tell Kuroo that, he'd make fun of you for being such a big baby.

So, you decided on, "Tell me more about Kenma? I'm still a bit nervous of actually moving in with a stranger I've only heard stories of."

"I'm not sure what to say. He's a year younger than me, Christmas is his favorite holiday, and he's started a small YouTube channel a bit ago."

He saw the look on your face and then added, "He knows you're moving in; it'll all be okay. Save the worries for your new classes, okay?" He ruffled your head, effectively messing up your hair that you worked hard on this morning.

"Agh, stop," You pulled his hand away, "You're annoying." You scoffed at him as you guys arrived at your small car.

This beauty has gotten you through senior year and you're just praying she'll get you through this year of college. It was a red VW convertible that your parents graciously gave you on your 18th birthday.

You had decked her out with plenty of red accessories and most of which were strawberry or hello kitty themed. What can you say? You're just a girl after all.

"Thanks for the day Tetsu, it was really nice. I'm feeling a bit better about moving here." You give him a genuine smile as you unlock your car door.

"Anytime for you, little one." He reached over to give you a squeezing hug and then released you.

"I'll see you soon then, bye!" You waved once you were buckled in your cute little car. Kuroo gave you a huge wave and a smile goodbye.

As you were driving back home, you couldn't help but to roll your windows down and let the air flow through your hair. At a red light, you connected your phone to the car and started playing your favorite song.

A man crossed the road, you couldn't help but to stare at his outfit. Who in the hell wears a hoodie and sweatpants in the summer? Granted, it was the end of summer, so the heat was slowly fleeting but just barely.

As if he heard you, his head snapped up, locking eyes with yours. His strange golden ones felt like they could have pierced your soul with how hard the expression on his face was. Even with the windows down, in the summer heat, you managed to shiver just from him.

As you drove by, you couldn't get the image out of your mind nor the feeling off your skin. You hoped it maybe was the music that had perhaps made that man stare you down in the middle of the crosswalk.

You turned the music up a little louder, hoping to drown the thoughts out and letting the wind send a different type of chills down your back.

. . .

On the long drive home, you couldn't help your mind from wandering to when you had your first encounter with Kuroo. You had maybe been no older than nine or ten. You remember your parents sitting you down at the kitchen table with serious looks on their faces that had you worried.

They had told you that they had been concerned about the way you had been writing your past few school assignments. However, those couldn't have been not much longer than a paragraph or two, so you didn't really understand.

Anyways, that's when they signed up for a program to help you connect with another grade schooler to improve your writing skills. You had been excited to use the many pretty stationary that your parents had gifted you to get you into writing.

You soon had met a junior high version of Kuroo -- through pen pal letters of course. He had introduced himself and mostly asked about you and gave you tips to correct your writing. And then, well, the rest is history.

Not to mention that you definitely kept all of the letters that Kuroo had sent to you as memories.

As the years blended away, you finally got your first phone when you reached your last year in junior high! That was Kuroo's third year too and after the long wait of your letter sending through the mail with the excitement of your new phone, you finally got a message back.

That is when you both decided to meet up in person, conventionally it was right after Kuroo had a match and won it that same day. It's safe to say that he was exceptionally happy to win a match with his team and meet his pen pal sister.

You still remember cringing away from him trying to give you a hug because you both just now met up in person, but he did just win a match. Over the course of your high school years, he would occasionally come back on breaks from university and take you out for ice cream or help with your science homework.

Kuroo was like the big brother you never got, and you were like the little sister he always wished for. It was the perfect duo.

You wish you could have recorded his face once you facetimed him about being accepted into his college. That was the day that he had sworn to your parents that he'd take excellent care of you if you decided to go there with him.

Safe to say, your parents loved and trusted Kuroo.

You couldn't help but to smile at all the delightful memories that ran through your head. 'It'll be weird for a bit, but I'll have my bro Kuroo, so it'll be fine' you thought to yourself, pulling into the driveway of your house.

Maybe it all would be okay.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire multi-chapter fic came from @deftrow !! i made the banner <3

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terry-perry · 3 months ago

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Are requests for the Alastor x carmine!reader still open because I thought of something about the early stages of their dating?

What if even though they're trying to keep it a secret and not tell a lot of people, but they can't resist being in such good moods because they're clearly in love with each other?

"I can't tell you their name but let me tell me how amazing this person is SWOON!!"

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce y'all to Lillian!

"Y/N! So good to see you baby! I feel it's been ages!"

Y/N walked into the salon and greeted her nail tech with a couple air kisses and a big hug. "Hi, Lillian -I know! I'm most definitely due for some new acrylics. Also, is Shannon in? I wanted to get my hair done too. Give it some shine, add some curls."

"She's got a few appointments, but for you? She'll make time!"

Lillian gleefully took her favorite client by the hand and led her toward her workstation. "So, nails and hair, huh? What's the occasion? Are you guys working on an important deal?"

"Nothing like that," Y/N said as she dipped her nails in the bowl of acetone placed in front of her, unable to keep her giddiness inside since she was still having trouble trying not to think about him anymore than she could help. "I have a date tonight!"

"Oh, is that so?" Lillian pondered, wide-eyed as she observed the big smile on Y/N's face.

"Yeah, it's with this guy I've been seeing for about a couple weeks. We've been going out for coffee and taking walks after work, but tonight is our first real date!"

"And where's the lucky guy taking you?" Lillian asked sweetly, focusing on buffing out the last bits of Y/N's acrylics but still investing in their conversation.

"We're going to this jazz club downtown that he likes for drinks and maybe dancing. Then he's planning on taking me to...The Severed Head."

Lillian stopped herself from making her buffer sponge slip out of her hands from surprise at hearing this. She lifted her head to show her disbelief to a practically beaming Y/N. "The Severed Head?! The fancy place people can't even afford to eat bread from?"

"The very same!" Y/N said with a giggle.

"I heard it can take up to months to get a reservation there. How'd you guys swing that?"

"He's got connections. He made a deal with the owner a while back, so you can say he's a big part of why the place has good business."

Lillian continued to look positively agog at this piece of gossip. "So he's an Overlord then. Impressive!"

Y/N hummed, looking very pensive suddenly. "He's incredible, a little rough around the edges, but he's quite the gentleman who treats me well. He's also pretty funny and charming. I feel like I can really be myself around him."

Lillian softly looked at the clearly lovestruck girl in front of her. Something rare to see in Hell was something so pure, but there it was. She was happy to witness such a sight until Y/N got serious about what she said next.

"The thing is we're not out in the open just yet. You know my mother; very few things meet her approval. I don't know if me going out with another Overlord would make that list. So we're doing our best to keep a low profile for now. We have a chance to go out tonight, but only because he had to pull some strings to ensure we'd be alone. So do you think you can keep this to yourself?"

"Oh, of course, my love! You know you can trust me. I'll take this to my grave!" When Y/N gave her a strange look, she added, "You know what I mean."

They shared a small laugh before Lillian continued her work.

Lillian heard the bell above the salon's door chime, indicating someone entered. She paused her clearing up her table to see who it was and gave them a big smile.

"Oh, if it isn't the lady killer himself!" She chirped while walking over to the front to greet them.

"Now my dear, we've been over this," Alastor replied with his trademark smile. "Those particular cases went cold. It was never proven that I was involved."

She laughed at his remark. "How can I help you today handsome? Your usual sharpening?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind, perhaps a clear coat polish. I want them to look extra sharp for tonight!"

"I can take you in a second! I just gotta finish clearing up my station." She gestured for him to follow her there while they continued their conversation. "So, what's going on tonight? Meeting the next star of your radio show? I've been kinda missing it since you've been gone."

"As much as I'd love to feature guests on my show again, I'm going to have to put a pin on that for now due to my current obligations with the princess," he sat down when she offered him a seat and when he sighed dreamily she had to do a small double take as though making sure this was still Alastor she was talking to. "No, I have plans to meet with a special lady this evening."

Lillian paused setting up her tools for Alastor's claws. Did she hear that correctly?

"Am I hearing this right?" She voiced her wonder. "Is the Radio Demon seeing someone that isn't a potential deal or guest on his show?"

"I suppose..." Alastor replied coyly, mindlessly twirling his microphone that suddenly began to play romantic jazz while he displayed a gentle smile. Seeing him like that was almost endearing, if a bit strange. "She's lovely - a dove among all the crows you find here in Hell. Our budding romance could blossom beautifully if I play my cards right! It's why I must look my best and give her a night she won't soon forget!"

Her suspicions were rising, but she needed more to absolutely know. "So what do we have planned for tonight?"

"Oh, I have quite the enchanted evening planned. We'll let some beautiful music play while we share drinks. We'll enjoy dinner and dancing, and if we have time left, I have a surprise for her I know she'll love."

"Ooh, spill!" She had to know what he had up his sleeve.

"This stays between us, right?" He asked with small notes of malicious intent as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Of course, dear," she said, not seeming to be affected by his subtle threat. "I wouldn't dare to dream of breaking nail tech-client confidentiality. I just love romance!"

He took another second to stare at her but went back to discussing his plans excitedly. "Well, she happens to love old movies. As you know, I'm not a fan of visual mediums, but she's worth it."

Lillian almost squealed right then and there. He must really think highly of this girl if he's willing to go through watching a movie with her. "Oh, so you'll finish the night with a movie?"

"A private screening of an old thriller from my time, yes," he answered. "It's about a hypnotist who brainwashes someone to commit multiple murders. I know she'll love it!"

Oh, Lillian knew this had to be Y/N he was talking about! His plans perfectly aligned with hers, and he's right about the movie. As sweet as Y/N can be, she also had a small edge which included having bizarre taste in films, books, and apparently men. She was astounded to learn about their relationship, but the more Lillian thought about it, the more they made sense. The daughter of the best arms dealer in Hell and the mischievous radio host with a soft side very few knew about. It was an unexpected pairing but also a pleasant one.

She couldn't believe she had front-row seats to what could be the start of Hell's cutest couple!

#alastor x reader #au #carmine!reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #drabble #oneshot #request #imagine #x reader

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adaptacy · 11 months ago

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Gale has me in a chokehold, I love his nerdy ass. If you're accepting requests, can I request some angst but then fluff with him? It may just be my own insecure self, but what if his fem Tav still felt insecure and not worthy of him after he spoke to Mystra? Like she tries to smile and nod, but she's actually worried he still has feelings for Mystra?

hiii! so i wanted to actually get to this part before writing for it so i could experience full context instead of just watching a yt vid (200 hrs in the game and i *just* got there... albeit it was with durge tav in an evil playthru (one of like 4 playthrus i've started cause i have no self control), but i got there nonetheless) so sorry for taking a while!! but here you go ^^

Word count: 2k

"Back on mortal soil once more," he exhales, eyes slightly narrowed in a tense discomfort. He doesn't meet your eye, and his lips part in a doubtful smile, as if he isn't sure whether he's awake or experiencing some sort of dream. He blinks, and meets your gaze, his smile dimming – you’re not sure if it’s the result of a forced calmness, or a natural relaxation in his muscles. “I can’t believe I saw her– after all this time,” he nearly chuckles the statement out, and you suppress a cringe, desperately scanning his features for reassurance before you allow yourself to grow unreasonably anxious.

But he seems caught in a state of wonder, his eyes bearing an uncommon light in them – perhaps due to the astral scenery he just returned from, or, more likely, it could be an emotional occurrence. Either way, it stings, and you hate the way your stomach churns, hanging onto what feels like a thinning thread. He’s grown closer and closer to rejecting her, every new discovery being one more small, but necessary, push away from his faith, from any lingering feelings of affection for the goddess.

You couldn’t help but feel as though this was a setback. That, maybe, seeing her again, speaking with her again – maybe it reminded him of a time that you knew he missed. A time that, prior to your relationship with him and a few important facts he’d learned about her, he spoke so incredibly fondly of. He stays quiet, pondering the conversation, and you only feel your fearful anticipation growing more with his silence.

In an effort to break it, you muster up enough courage to speak. “A little intimidating,” you try to chuckle, but it only comes out as a painfully stressed hum, followed shortly by an intense urge to withdraw from the conversation, but you manage to override your anxiety’s desires.

Gale does manage to chuckle, again, nearly effortlessly – especially compared to your own failed attempt. “Powerful, wasn’t it? Magical, just– entirely magical,” he practically swoons, and you force a smile, tearing your gaze away from him. He continues speaking, and usually you’d be keen on listening to his every word, but you can’t help but tune him out. Even so, you can still hear the excitement in his tone, despite refusing to pick up on the words.

You’re not sure how long he continues for, though you know it ends, because you feel fingers on your chin, and he angles your head slightly back towards him, forcing your attention back to him. He’s wearing a frown now, and you blink, pulling your head away from his touch. “Sorry. Just – not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? Damn it, I knew that meat platter was a foul idea. Tavern hardly held a shine, I’m hesitant to believe their appetizers were truly safe for consumption. We should return to camp.” He nods, lowering his hand and offering it to you, and although you feel bad for not disproving his assumptions, you take his hand and go along with the lie, walking back towards your camp.

It isn’t a very long walk, which is most fortunate; you’re hardly eager to strike up conversation, and had it been any longer of a journey, you’re sure that Gale would question your silence. Eventually, you return, and the area is empty, save for the usual occupants that never really left camp. Everyone else was out either exploring the city, settling down for food, finding entertainment, or bargaining with merchants to pawn off the unnecessary equipment they’d picked up.

Gale didn’t bother making a request or saying anything before immediately leading you to his tent, directing you to sit on one of the few cushions that littered the blue rug on the floor. You did as he asked, and he looked around the camp, focusing more on the area around Shadowheart’s tent, though his search for her was ultimately fruitless, so instead he knelt before you, the back of his hand pressing against your forehead. “Not particularly warm, certainly not alarmingly so – though I’m no medic, I do believe I’ve enough experience to deem you unafflicted by any fever. What are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” You repeat, and Gale squints, clicking his tongue.

“Mental fogginess,” he remarks, and you finally shake your head, looking off to the side.

“I’m not sick,” you confess, knowing that he’s bound to ask questions, but deciding you’d rather be honest than have him worry about your physical well-being.

“Now, there’s no reason to hide it. I’m sure that even a divine being would have gotten some strand of illness from that – what was it? A space hamster? And a mighty undercooked one, at that. I’m merely glad you’re still conscious,” he teases, leaning forward and holding your chin, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

You pull back, shaking your head once more. “I’m serious. I’m not sick. I just – I don’t know,” you sigh, scooting back and frowning. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? All that stuff with Mystra?”

Gale eases back, reading your expression a second time to ensure you weren’t trying to deceive him. Once he’s sure, he lowers himself fully to his knees, and then grabs another cushion for himself to sit on. He thinks over your words, and ultimately nods. “Indeed. Rather unsettling. To now know that the weave I’ve had inside of me for so long is nothing more – and always has been nothing more – than a mystery to me, it’s… unsettling,” he repeats, bending a knee and placing his elbow on it, his thumb running over the hairs on his jaw.

“She’s been lying to you,” you murmur, and Gale eyes you, his expression that of some internal conflict. A conflict you fear you may be losing, even if he’d never admit it to you.

“As sadistic as it may appear, she had her reasons. Reasons we may never grasp or understand, but reasons, I’m sure. It’s no matter. Granting my disease a name does little to change said disease – or the expectations that come along with it. If I please her, if I fulfill her request of me, I will be rid of it. Free. At last. Though her actions may seem tyrannical to most, you must understand that it is quite a generous offer she is granting me,” he explains, his head tilting as he watches your reaction, though you’re putting too much effort into disguising your true concerns for him to pick up on them.

“Are you going to give it to her?” You ask, silently pleading for a denial -- for a firm and unwavering ‘No.’

“Of course. I have to,” he chuckles nervously, and whatever hope may have been contained in your expression quickly fades, and you have to break eye contact with him. “My love, this may be my only means of safety. Of securing a future. Should I refuse her, my very life would be on the line. And the miracles that have kept this orb from rupturing thus far – Mystra’s miracles, might I add – I would be left completely without.” He reaches forward, taking a hold of your hands, and you begrudgingly look back at him. “How could I possibly deny the chance at a future with you? I would be a madman.”

His words ease you, even if the effect is incredibly slight. You squeeze his hands, and he squeezes back, his small smile brimming with hope. It’s a pleasant emotion to see him with – one that you haven’t truly seen before. The closest has been eagerness, such as the kind he displayed when you learned of, and eventually obtained, the very book that caused this meeting with his goddess. “What if she forgives you?” You whisper, your insecurity underlining every syllable, and if you weren’t so afraid, your shame would have surely manifested in the color on your cheeks.

Gale pauses, his eyebrows pushing inward as he processes your words a few times over. “If she forgives me?”

“If she calls on you to be her chosen. If you give her the crown, and she excuses your disputes. I want a future with you too, I do. I just… fear a future haunted by her. I want you, exactly as you are.” You inhale, and it’s shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now. “If she forgives you, will you be at her beck and call?”

He smiles again, but it’s nearly a smile of pity. A smile that instills you with a pinch in your throat, daring you to cry. One of his hands slips out of yours, and for a moment, you believe that this is it – that he’ll confess his plans to return to her side, to embrace his faith once more, to leave you behind at the assurance of greener, holier, pastures. But instead, his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and then holds the right side of your face, his hold warm and comforting. “Once I am cured, once all of this is over – the only person I wish to be ‘chosen’ by is you. I confess that, had I not met you, the outcome may be different.”

Despite the small, mildly reassured smile on your face, and your leaning into his palm, you still contain some worry for the future. And so, against the understanding that you should know better than to wonder, you ask “Different how?”

He sighs, squeezing your hand again. “Before the tadpoles, before you, before any of this – I had always believed that I’d never be free of her influence. She occupied my mind much like our little larva pilots do now. To control the weave – to channel and embrace the weave is to embrace Mystra. Pieces of her, at least. Though it’s hard to feel a piece of her and not reflect on a time when I could feel all of her. Had I any choice in the matter, I would remove her completely from my life. But I am no man without my past, and even less of one without the magic that I have been so consistently entwined with. And yet, it’s with you that I feel unburdened by her expectations, by her authority and judgment.” Gale leans forward, and you do too, your forehead against his. His eyes close, and yours do as well, merely enjoying the closeness, and the gentleness in his tone, the comfort that his words bring. “With you I forget my goddess. I forget my past, I forget my flaws, I forget my mistakes. I have a purpose now. One beyond being a vessel. One beyond being a subservient lapdog for the will of a deity.”

When you open your eyes, you find Gale’s open as well, and he watches your lips, debating something. You grant him a moment to think, and he decides to act, pulling you a little closer for a chaste kiss, allowing it to linger before he pulls back once more, the curl of his lips more assured now.

“I would suffer at the hands of her fate a thousand times over if it meant finding you again in just one life. You, dearest, are the one who my heart worships. Even if I speak the tongue of the weave or spin her spells, I know what love truly is – unparalleled, earnest, generous love – because of you, and only you. Should Mystra find herself munificent enough to shell out a fragment of forgiveness for me, she will, quite quickly, understand I have no interest in being her compliant plaything anew. If Elminster is a case that instills any flavor of wariness, I do believe I’d be better off without such an expansive lifespan, and… intense enthrallment in cheese,” he chuckles, pulling a laugh from you as well. When that laugh trails off, he cuts it short with a kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the one prior.

“Just us two, then? After all of this?” You ask when the kiss is broken, and he smirks, shrugging.

“Us two and my Tressym, of course. I promise that she’s much better company than a goddess.”

“Of course. I can certainly live with that."

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios bg3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale baldurs gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fuck mystra #i hate her so much

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sebstanaddict · 1 year ago

Text

The Prettiest Girl

Sebastian Stan x Reader One Shot

Summary: When you interview Sebastian Stan but all he wants is to flirt with you 🤭

A/N : I've been wanting to write this for a while. It's just a little something I wrote for fun. Hope it brings a smile to your face 😊

Warning : just pure fluff and maybe A Different Man spoiler although the movie isn't even out yet, so 😆

Word count: 2.9k

My other one shots >

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Soho, New York - November 11th 2023 - 3.50 pm

—

Millions of soft icy particles fell from the heavens down to the earth on that fateful Saturday afternoon in Soho, New York. They covered everything from trees, buildings, pavements and the top of people's heads. Some had stuck on one particular window of an apartment and created beautiful patterns.

Y/n looked out the window and smiled. It had been snowing all day and it didn't look like it was going to stop soon. Everything looked white and the atmosphere felt serene and beautiful. Despite the cold she had always loved looking at snow and playing with them. She couldn’t wait to go out and make some snow men at the nearest park once the snow had stopped falling. But now she had a job to do.

She sat at her working corner in her bedroom and turned the laptop on. Moments later she opened the zoom application and started setting up her webcam so it showed her clearly with one of the walls in her bedroom as the background. She tidied her hair a little and fixed her white buttoned up blouse so that she looked presentable. Satisfied with how she looked, she entered the empty virtual room in the zoom application.

Her heart rate started to rise as she looked at her laptop screen. As a senior editor at one of the world’s top entertainment media, she was used to interviewing many celebrities. But that afternoon she was scheduled to interview the Hollywood A List actor and Marvel star Sebastian Stan, someone whom she had been in love with for quite some time. Despite having worked at the entertainment media for ten years, it was the first time she got the chance to interview Sebastian and she couldn’t help but feel very nervous about it.

She picked up the paper which had a list of questions she was going to ask him as well as some facts about his upcoming movie. Yes, one of the reasons for the interview was for him to promote the new movie. She had seen the movie and it was quite an interesting movie. She couldn’t wait to hear from him more about it.

She was re-reading the third question when the screen in front of her flickered and Sebastian’s face was shown on the screen.

“Hello!” Sebastian smiled wide and greeted her, making butterflies fly around in her stomach. How could someone look so gorgeous? She pondered as she stared at the screen and admired his beautiful face. Sebastian had let his hair grow but not that much. It was short but fluffy at the top. He had a very light layer of stubble like he just shaved yesterday. But of course it was his ocean blue eyes that mesmerized her the most.

“Hello Y/n.. earth to Y/n. Can you see me? Can you hear me?” Sebastian asked and she blinked several times, finally snapping out of being drowned in his gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I can see you. I can hear you. Sorry.” She blushed as he smiled again at her.

“Oh okay, that’s good. I'm sorry but I'm currently traveling and I'm stuck in traffic right now. So if I get disconnected or something it's ‘cause I'm on the road.” He said as he turned his camera around making her see that he was in a car.

“Oh okay. You know if it's a bad time, we can do this later.” She suggested.

“Oh no, it's okay. I mean as long as it's not two hours long. You know.” He chuckled.

“Oh of course not. Depending on your answers this could take half an hour to an hour at most.” She replied.

“Alright. I'll try to keep my answers short.” He said.

“Well, if you need to elaborate please feel free to do that.”

“Yeah.. yeah.. of course.” He smiled and for a second she could see like he was really seeing her for the first time.

“You look great by the way.” He winked and she felt like her heart leapt out of her chest.

“Uh.. thank you.You look great yourself.” She blushed yet again that she was sure she looked as red as a tomato.

“Oh, thank you.. “ He smiled shyly and she could see that he was blushing too. She loved how he could sometimes be uncomfortable when people compliment him. It was so endearing to her.

“Anyway, how are you? How is Atlanta?” she asked. As it happened, Sebastian was in Atlanta to shoot the next Marvel movie.

“I’m good, thanks. Atlanta is, well, it’s been cold but not that cold. We’ve been shooting indoors a lot with wires and stuff. It’s been hard and exhausting. But, you know, I shouldn’t complain. I really shouldn’t. It’s been great fun.” He replied.

“Can you tell me if Anthony is there?” she asked with a small smile on her lips.

“You know I can’t tell you that. I signed an NDA! I can’t.” He chuckled.

“But.. maybe off the record I can tell you. Later on.” He winked again and she felt butterflies yet again. She couldn’t believe how flirty he was to her.

“Okay, anyway, are you ready?” She asked.

“Yes, of course. Go on.” He smiled and she felt butterflies again in her stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea. She thought as she tried to compose herself.

“Good afternoon, Sebastian.” She finally greeted him after hitting the record button and smiled at him.

“Good afternoon!” He answered, smiling wide at her.

“Thank you for doing this for us and giving your time amidst your busy shooting schedule.” She said.

“Oh no, thank you for allowing me to do this.” He said and she nodded.

“So, Sebastian, you have a new movie releasing soon called A Different Man, directed by Aaron Schimberg starring yourself, the Norwegian break out actress Renate Reinsve and the British actor Adam Pearson.” She said and this time he nodded.

“I had the privilege to see it yesterday thanks to you and the director Aaron, and I must say that it is a very interesting and out of the box movie. Could you tell me how you got involved with it?” She asked.

“Oh yeah. My agent sent me the script and I think it was such an interesting script. I mean, it’s very rare to see movies with this subject matter. The director Aaron had done another movie before this called Chained For Life that had a similar subject matter. In that movie he also cast Adam. And I watched the movie and I fell in love with it. The way Aaron told the story was very unique. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long while. And yeah, I thought that the movie was something that I would love to be involved in.”

“Aside from being the main actor, you are also a producer in this movie. Is that correct?”

“Yeah I am. It’s the first movie I ever produced.”

“What made you decide to be involved not just as an actor? But also as a producer?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about producing for a while but never got anything I was excited about until this one came. Aaron needed some help and seeing his talent and his previous work I decided to jump into it and help him out.”

“I see. So, in this movie, you play someone with neurofibromatosis, and you had to change your face completely. How did it feel to be under all those prosthetics and looking in the mirror and saw a completely different version of you?”

“It felt surreal of course. It took a long long time to get the prosthetics on correctly the first time. I think it took almost a whole day. But then they figured it out and the next day I basically just had to put on like a mask and then they added some more stuff on my face to blend it in.”

“Oh, that’s really interesting. I’m sure it helped a lot in your performance looking completely different.”

“Yeah, yeah. It helped a lot in that I just needed to look in the mirror and just like that I felt like a completely different person.” He said as he snapped his fingers.

“And it showed. Being someone who have seen your work a lot over the years, I must say you have done the best job of your career.”

“Oh my gosh. That’s.. really?” He asked, his face reddened and he put one hand on the side of his face.

“Yeah. Really. It was your best work in my opinion and I wouldn’t be surprised if you get an Oscar nomination for it. I really wouldn’t.” She smiled.

“That’s.. wow.. it means a lot, coming from you. Really.” He smiled and she couldn’t help but blush again. She couldn't believe he would say something like that.

“Umm.. yeah. Anyway, could you tell me how Adam and Renate got involved?” She asked, deciding to ignore what he said. She was just going to cut that part out and pretended he never said it.

“Oh yeah, with Adam it was a no brainer really. Aaron had cast him even before I got involved. Adam was actually involved waaay before I did. As for Renate. I had seen her movie The Worst Person In The World and I loved her performance in it. It was so real and raw. I knew when I read the script I wanted someone like her to play Ingrid. So I suggested her to Aaron and he agreed and I sought her out and well, the rest is history.”

“I can see why you wanted her to play Ingrid.”

“Yeah, she possesses this instinct as an actor that I haven't seen in a while. It was really a pleasure to work with someone who can keep up with you and even challenge you in their own way. You know. It was very rewarding as an actor to be able to work with someone like her. She was really something else. Kind of like you.” He winked.

“Excuse me?” She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Yeah.. I'm sorry but.. umm.. I really have to say this. I have never seen any girl looking as pretty as you are, especially when you blush. You’re quite literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He said and her heart seemed to leap out of her chest as she heard him. Once again she couldn’t believe how flirty he was to her!

“Oh stop it, Sebastian. I will definitely edit this out.” She chuckled as her face continued to redden.

��Oh no, don’t. I want people to see that.” he teased again.

“But that has nothing to do with the interview so I will definitely edit it out.” she insisted.

“Fine, I’m just gonna repeat it along the way, on the record and off the record, later on.” he winked and she just shook her head.

“Okay, back to the topic of your movie.”

“You’re so serious. I like that about you.” He teased her again and she felt herself blush yet again.

“There it is.. the blush. I love it.” He chuckled.

“Sebastian, please.”

“Please what, Y/n?” he asked as his voice suddenly changed to be huskier, as much as she didn’t believe it.

“Please stop flirting with me. I’m trying to do my job.” she protested.

“I'm sorry. I'm being really unprofessional aren't I?” He sighed and she nodded.

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try to be more professional as long as you promise me something.”

“Okay.. promise you what?”

“That you'll go out with me.”

Her heart seemed to stop as she heard him. This couldn't be happening, she thought in disbelief.

“You're in Atlanta and I'm in New York. How are we going to do it?” She asked, suddenly feeling courageous enough to tease him back about it because she was certain he was just joking with her for whatever reason.

“You know I go back to New York every weekend. So, we can go this weekend!” He said excitedly.

“Okay. Sure. I need to ask my husband's permission first though.” She said as an idea popped into her head and his eyes widened.

“Your husband's permission? I should have known someone as gorgeous as you is already taken. I'm too late aren't I?” He said dejectedly and she couldn't help but chuckle. He looked so cute pouting like that.

“Well.. yeah. You are too late. I'm sorry. But, he's quite an open minded person so maybe I can ask him.“ she said teasingly.

“Oh good! Where is your husband? Let me ask him myself.” He challenged.

“Wait here.” She chuckled and she stood up. She went to her bed and picked up a life size human shaped pillow with Sebastian's face on it then brought it back to her working desk.

“There he is. Sebastian say hello to pillow!Sebastian.” She said, showing the pillow to the webcam and the real Sebastian on the screen threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh my God! Hello pillow!Sebastian! I would like to ask for your permission to ask your beautiful wife out, please. I can't stand looking at her being so pretty like that. I must have her. Please. Could you do me a favor and divorce her?” He asked and she laughed.

“He said over his dead body.” She replied after her laughter subsided and he pouted again, making her laugh again.

“Hey pillow!Sebastian, I literally bought you for her and now you have the audacity to steal her from me?! Unbelievable!” He protested.

“He's sorry but he said he loves me and he can't divorce me.” She teased him again and he pouted yet again.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I can’t do this and sit here miles away from you when you look so amazingly beautiful like that just teasing me with your pretty face. You have no idea what I'm imagining right now.” He said, gazing at her with eyes full of love and dare she said it, lust.

“Oh, what are you imagining?” she asked. Despite knowing this was very unprofessional of him, she couldn't help but be curious about it.

“I'm imagining being there with you and placing my hands on the sides of your face and just.. kiss that pretty lips of yours.” he said slowly, his voice low and husky.

She shivered as she listened to him and felt butterflies again in her stomach.

“I miss you, sweetheart.” He continued, staring at her with longing and she smiled.

“I miss you too, Iubirea mea.” she replied, making him smile.

“There it is. I love when you call me that.” He smiled.

“I love calling you that too.” She smiled.

“So, go out with me this weekend?” He asked and she of course couldn't answer with anything else.

“Sure. I'd love to go out with you, my darling husband.” She winked and he laughed.

“Glad to hear that my lovely wife.” he replied making her smile.

Just then his camera shook and he turned to the side.

“Oh, great! We're here!” He said excitedly.

“Sorry, I have to go, sweetheart.” He turned to her.

“Oh okay. Yeah. I'll talk to you later?” She asked.

“Wait.” He said as the camera continued to shake. She could hear the sound of a car door opening and closing and then the camera turned to show the sky as Sebastian continued to move.

“Seb? Sebastian?” She called out.

It seemed he didn't hear her as his phone's camera continued to shoot at the sky and then it showed a ceiling as Sebastian seemed to be entering a building. She studied the ceiling and thought that it looked familiar. Then it seemed like he was entering an elevator. A familiar ding could be heard as the elevator stopped and Sebastian got out of it. She continued to watch with a smile on her face as Sebastian seemed to be walking. Then he stopped and turned his phone's camera back on his face.

“Sweetheart. There's a surprise for you at the door.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes.

She laughed and immediately ran out of her room and towards the front door. She opened it wide and there he was, Sebastian Stan, staring at her like he saw the sun for the first time.

“Hi.” He smiled as he switched his cellphone off and put it in his pocket.

“Hi.” She smiled back, her heart beating so fast in her chest.

“I was right.” He said as he walked slowly closer to her.

“About what?” She asked, feeling like she was going to faint seeing him so close to her.

“You are.. literally.. the prettiest girl.. I've ever seen.” He smiled as he gently placed both hands on the sides of her face and gazed at her with longing.

“Oh shut up and just kiss me.” She said and he laughed.

And with that he pulled her closer to him and gently kissed her lips, causing fireworks to explode in her chest. She pulled him into her apartment and closed the door behind him as her plans obviously changed that afternoon. Interviews can wait. Snow men can wait. At that moment all she wanted was to be with him. Sebastian Stan. The love of her life.

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan fluff

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mangomonk · 1 year ago

Text

i caught myself

↳ summary: remus goes to a coffee shop for the first time ↳ content: fluff, oblivious idiots x idiots, coffee shop au, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i wanted to write something fun and i've been listening to too much of my punk rock playlists from when i was 15. feel very free to listen to "i caught myself" by paramore (or any paramore song) while reading..! i love portrayals of remus as an earnest loser where the reader/sirius is ridiculously infatuated with his endearingly awkward ways. in other news, i've given up on using 'y/n,' it killed me every time i had to type it so i just chose a random name, feel free to make a mental edit to 'y/n' if you're more comf with that.

It's rush hour when she first sees him. She almost doesn't — it's just her and her coworker today and her eyes are only moving from the cash register's buttons to each cup as she hastily scrawls names and orders onto the plastic.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks half-distractedly as she finishes writing Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino before sliding it over to her coworker with an apologetic look. Frappes are the worse to make, and it doesn't help that the line is nearly to the door now. She almost doesn't look up but the silence to her question is a little too long, so Winnie darts a quick look up, hoping to see no one standing there.

What she's not expecting to see is a man with wide brown eyes and equally brown hair squinting at the menu above her head. Winnie thinks he's the most good-looking man she's ever seen. As she tries to recap the Sharpie, she stabs her own hand. "Shit," she mutters automatically.

"Sorry?" The ridiculously good-looking man asks politely, his gaze flickering from the menu to her. His eyes are the same color as caramelized sugar and Winnie thinks he looks just as sweet as she watches him pull at the frayed collar of his knitted jumper.

"Nothing, nothing," Winnie says with a dismissive hand as she puts on her best customer-service-smile. "What can I get you today?"

His brows furrow as he turns his gaze back to the menu. "What—" he begins, drawing out the word slowly. Winnie takes his hesitation to steal another appreciative glance at him — he's tall, his frame somewhere between lean and lanky, though it's hidden by a jumper that's clearly been knitted to be a few sizes too large for extra comfort. "—would you recommend?"

"Well, what do you normally like?" Winnie asks, casting a glance behind him. As much as she'd love to talk to this cute stranger for the rest of her shift, the line has started to wrap around.

The man rakes a hand through his hair, tousling already-tousled waves of brown. He looks sheepish and a little panicked. "I've never really had coffee before," he admits. A little strange, but Winnie's not one to judge, especially when he's looking at her with deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

"How about I get you my favorite drink then?" She suggests, already reaching for the sharpie and another cup. It's a trick she's learned from working in the coffee shop for the past few months — customers are less likely to be unhappy with their surprise drinks if they think it's your favorite drink.

The man nods, his shoulders sagging with apparent relief. Matcha latte, she scribbles before looking up at him again. "Can I get a name?"

"My name?" He repeats, looking dumbfounded as if she had just asked for his number.

She lifts the cup and shakes it a little to draw his attention to it. "For your order."

"Remus," he says, straightening. He clears his throat. "Remus Lupin."

"Got it," she says as she writes it down. Remus Lupin. She's never had a customer give her a full name before, but Winnie doesn't have time to ponder it as she slides the cup to her coworker. "That'll be $4.50."

He fishes out a $10 and when she tries to hand back the change, he shakes his head with a soft, polite smile.

"Come again," she calls after him, pleased, before turning back to the monstrous line that had managed to form behind him. "I can help the next customer."

— — — — —

The next time she sees him, it's just her behind the counter. Since the rush died down an hour earlier, she's been leaning over the counter squinting at an eight count that she can't quite get right. When the door jingles, Winnie puts down her pencil and moves back behind the register.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?" She asks before she properly looks up. It's the fluffy-haired man from last week. Today he's wearing a scarlet and gold jumper bunched at his wrists and slacks the same brown as his eyes and hair. She doesn't recognize the lion emblem embroidered on his chest — it doesn't match any of the mascots of the nearby universities. When he unwraps his scarf, she can see that his cheeks are flushed red from the cold. It's a good look on him. "Cold outside?"

"Getting there," he says with a soft sigh.

"I can't wait," she says conversationally. "I love autumn."

"Hm," he says, ending the conversation rather abruptly.

Winnie tries not to grimace at the awkward silence as she pulls out her sharpie from the pocket of her apron. "So, what can I get for you today?" When he hesitates for a moment too long, his gaze darting back up to the menu behind her, Winnie tries for conversation again. "How was the matcha latte last time?"

Remus hesitates, his gaze darting to her. "It was very green."

The response is so unexpected that Winnie barely bites back a bark of a laugh before she catches herself. She wasn't a gifted conversationalist, but Remus was making her seem like a total extrovert. "It was," she agrees, smiling now. Up close, she can see shadows below his big eyes. Maybe he needed an espresso? Or less coffee and more sleep. "I'm guessing it wasn't to your taste? I'll let you order today—"

Remus seems to catch himself because he straightens hurriedly. "No, I'll have a matcha latte," he says firmly, already fishing out five dollar bill.

Winnie punches the numbers into the cash register and nods him along, but he hesitates, looking at her expectantly. "Don't you need my name?"

"Not unless it's changed from Remus Lupin," Winnie chirps cheerfully, biting back a smile as he blinks at her rapidly. "Has it?"

"No," he says, clearing his throat. "It's still Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up, Remus Lupin," Winnie says with a mini salute as she turns to start making the drink.

After he leaves, she notices a strange looking coin in the tip jar that hadn't been there before. When she squints at it, she can make out the carved word, Sickle. With raised brows, Winnie slips the strange coin into the pocket of her jeans.

— — — — —

The next time she sees Remus Lupin, he's wearing a long coat over a sweater vest. Winnie thinks he looks like a cute little professor.

"Hi, how's it going—" she's beginning to say just as Remus says choppily, "It's cold outside. Now."

They both blink at each other for a moment before Winnie grins a little, inwardly pleased that he remembered their last conversation. "Yeah?" She turns to squint critically out the window. "On a day like this, I'd kill to be in bed with a warm cup of tea."

Remus nods thoughtfully before pausing. "Not matcha?"

"Matcha strikes me more as a spring-summer drink," she muses.

He nods again, eyes darting to the menu above her head. Winnie is used to this now, so she waits patiently for his order. To her surprise, he looks at her again tentatively, his brown eyes startling bright. It feels as though she's been sucker punched.

"I'm not much of an autumn or winter person," he says. It takes her a moment to realize that he was still referencing their previous conversation. "The cold gets to my joints," he adds, looking a little sheepish.

"Ah," she says dumbly, nodding, before blurting, "Well, did you know that matcha has antioxidant and anti-inflammatory effects?"

Remus blinks at her as though she's clubbed him over the head. "Anti-ox-i-dant," he repeats slowly, as if saying the word for the first time.

Winnie inwardly grimaces. Why was she still talking about matcha? She had been so caught off guard that he was continuing the conversation and that his eyes were stupidly pretty that she had fumbled a little. "Er, so what can I get for you?"

"A cup of matcha then," Remus says, fishing a five dollar bill from his pockets. "For it's anti-ox-i-dant effects."

Winnie's cheeks burn a little as she waves him off. "It's on the house today," she says.

Remus looks surprised as he hesitates. "No, I can pay—"

"No, no, it's on the house," Winnie says firmly, thinking inwardly, For my piss poor attempt at conversation. Before he can insist, she takes her Sharpie and writes Matcha latte, even though it's only her behind the counter today. "Name?" She asks, half-teasing, half-hoping to distract him from trying to pay.

He blinks, looking startled. "Remus Lupin," he answers automatically, straightening.

"Just making sure it hasn't changed," she hums, smiling a little as she gets started on the latte.

To her surprise, Remus laughs, the sound low and rich and warm. "It hasn't yet," he says, glancing down at her name tag for a moment before looking back up at her, his brown eyes wide and bright as he drops the ten dollar bill into the tip jar. "Thank you, Winnie."

Winnie is too stunned by his laugh to complain.

— — — — —

Remus starts to come by more frequently. She can never quite figure out his schedule — it's sporadic, sometimes during rush hour where they can only exchange a few words, but mostly when the coffee shop is empty. She's grown so accustomed — and perhaps, has quickly begun to look forward — to seeing him that she can't help but look up hopefully when someone comes in.

Their conversations at the counter gradually grow less halting. She makes a point to always ask his name and Remus dutifully plays along each time, his lips twitching each time he gives her his name.

"You're always working on music," he observes one day. He must have come in without her realizing because when she looks up, she finds Remus nodding down at her paper.

"I am," she agrees mournfully. "I study music at the local university," she tells him, straightening her apron.

"That suits you," he says with the soft smile that she's grown terribly fond of.

Pleasure warms her chest as she tries not to beam at him. Though their conversations are mostly quiet and simple, it feels as though she's always trying not to smile a full-teeth smile at him.

She learns that he's only recently graduated from some sort of private boarding school. From his vague references, it sounded like one of those preparatory schools for gifted students. It doesn't strike her as much of a surprise — from his responses, Winnie can get a sense for how knowledgeable and bright he is, though to be fair, he always seems to bring a new book in when he visits. It might also explain how awkward and closed off Remus is, Winnie decides — she thinks public schools build thick skin. Winnie doesn't really mind the occasionally halting conversations though — Remus, for his credit, is a wonderful listener and always asks her questions when she talks about her band. And something about the attentive way Remus looks at her makes her feel comfortable about talking. She's almost worried that she talks too much — it's a welcome reprieve from the quiet slowness or the repetitive "Hi, how are you?'s" of the coffee shop.

"Sorry," she says one day when she brings him his drink. "I realize that I talk your ear off whenever you're here and I'm sure you've got things to do, books to read."

Remus shakes his head, sending his fluffy brown hair falling against his brow. It's gotten longer since the first time she's met him, the ends beginning to curl down the nape of his neck and around his ears. It's a good look on him, though admittedly, Winnie finds herself thinking that whenever he comes in.

"It's no problem," Remus says easily. Winnie nods, about to return to the counter when he clears his throat. "I... enjoy your company," he says with an impossibly tiny smile. At the sight of it, Winnie wants to fall to the floor, but she hasn't mopped it yet, so she opts to stand perfectly still instead. "If you ever feel inclined to take a break to chat, the chair is always open."

Some days when the shop isn't too busy, she takes him on his offer to sit and chat. Some days their conversations are long and winding, about nothing in particular, and on some days — mostly the days where he looks strangely exhausted — they both sit in a comfortable silence with Remus reading his books and Winnie laboring over her music.

One day when she's put all her focus on composing, Winnie nearly jumps out of her skin when Remus speaks up. "New song?"

Winnie looks up from her sheets at his question. A little thrill runs through her body when she sees that his book has been discarded to the side as he looks at her curiously. "Old song," she sighs. "I've been trying to finish these lyrics," she says, giving a frustrated glare to the paper. "I wanted to finish it in time for my band's next show, but I can't seem to get anywhere good with it."

Remus hums thoughtfully. "What's it about?"

"It's a love song," Winnie says before thinking. She darts a quick look at Remus as her ears burn, but fortunately, he's looking down at her lyrics thoughtfully. To be fair, she reasons with herself, she had started writing it before meeting Remus. "I've been stuck for ages now though."

"Hmm," Remus hums, leaning back in his chair to stretch his lithe limbs before letting his arms settle on his head. It's an effortlessly attractive motion — Winnie tries not to stare. "I'm sure you've tried already, but maybe you can draw inspiration from experience?"

Winnie clears her throat. "Oh, er, well, I actually don't really have..." She falters, feeling her cheeks burn. She's undeniably red now. "—experience in that realm," she finishes lamely.

"Ah," Remus makes a sound, his eyes widening a fraction as he re-rights himself to sit up straight in his chair. "Sorry, I just figured that you... That there'd be..." He stops himself, looking sheepish.

"That I what?" She presses, arching her brow to deflect from her reddening face.

"I just thought that you'd have experience in relationships," Remus coughs, his cheeks pink now. It's cute enough that it nearly distracts her from the mortifying conversation they're having.

"Ah, no," she says, swallowing. Then she adds hurriedly, darting a glance at him, "It's not that I don't want to date. It's just the type of guy I've attracted in the past has always been—" Winnie cuts off her rambling abruptly as Remus leans forward, brown eyes trained on hers.

"Has been what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face, grimacing. "You know, tattoos, eats cigs for breakfast. Maybe my nose ring gives the wrong impression," she lets out an embarrassed laugh, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole to stop her nonsensical babbling.

"I see," Remus says slowly in a tone that very much sounded like he didn't.

"What about you?" She blurts. Remus looks startled, so she shoulders onwards. It feels as though she has nothing left to lose, anyways. "I'm sure you were popular in school."

"Ah," he says, making a noise at the back of his throat. He rubs the nape of his neck, looking embarrassed as he looks down as his discarded book. She bets he wished he never stopped reading. "Not really," he says. "I was always busy with school and, er, other things, so I never..." He trails off, making a vague motion with his hands. "Yeah," he finishes lamely.

"That's a surprise," Winnie says, inwardly relieved that he wasn't dating anyone. "I'm sure you had plenty of admirers."

Remus smiles at her wryly, a flash of embarrassment flickering across his face. "My mates had plenty of admirers," he says, though not enviously. Winnie waits patiently for him to continue — one thing she's gathered from Remus was that he often deflected talking about himself through talking about his friends. Sirius, Peter, James, she had learned were their names. "Sirius, in fact, was plenty popular." He darts a strange look to her, his brows knitted together and contemplative. "You'd get along well with him, I reckon."

— — — — —

Another day, during rush hour. She can see him waiting in the long line stealing glances at her that sends her heart stuttering. When their gaze meets, she offers him an apologetic smile. Remus just returns her smile and shakes his head, sending his hair down across his brow.

When he finally reaches the counter, he doesn't leave her any time to say hello. "I have a mate," Remus starts, pausing long enough for her to raise a brow.

"A mate," she drawls, trying to decode the peculiar expression on his face. He's visibly hesitating, his brow furrowing and relaxing as if he's overcoming some inner dilemma. Winnie waits patiently.

"A mate," he says again, rubbing the base of his neck. "That wants to learn how to play the guitar."

"I see," Winnie says slowly, patiently.

"It's Sirius — my friend that I told you about before," he adds, not quite looking at her but not quite looking away either. "Obviously, you can say no, but I thought that since you played the guitar, that maybe you'd...?"

Winnie thinks about it for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. She felt a twinge of guilt briefly for having an ulterior motive, before reasoning with herself that she was about to give a free guitar lesson. "I can give him an intro lesson," she says. "But only because he's your good friend."

Remus relaxes, his face breaking into a smile that only makes her feel better about her choice. Lord, she thinks, her eyes tracking his dimple. She thinks if he smiled like that at her, she'd do anything. "Brilliant," he beams.

A customer behind him clears her throat meaningfully, jolting Winnie out of the conversation. She had entirely forgotten she was working.

"So, a matcha latte?" She asks loudly. When she looks back at him, she's expecting him to sport his normal embarrassed half-smile, but she's caught off guard to see him grinning at her roguishly. Remus never fails to surprise her.

Remus nods, clearly trying not to laugh as he fishes out a bill. Winnie goes through the motions of punching in the numbers and preparing the cup. "We can do it at my flat, I have an extra guitar," she tells him as she finishes his order.

Remus smiles and nods, turning to leave when a thought occurs to her. "Oh, and Remus?" She calls after him.

He whirls around, brows arched and eyes wide and attentive. "Hmm?"

"You'll be there right?"

"Me?" Remus blurts, looking startled.

Winnie bites back a sigh. As she expected. Doubling down, she nods. "I'm not going to let a random man into my flat," she tells him, brows arching. She tries to ignore the customer behind him huffing impatiently.

Remus hesitates. "Sirius isn't a random man." Despite herself, Winnie likes this stubborn side of him.

"I've never met him," she sniffs, jutting her chin out mulishly.

"So you'll feel better if there's two random men in your house?" He counters archly.

But Winnie had been expecting this. She gives him a smile. Remus blinks, looking startled as any semblance of resistance dissipates. "You're not just a random man," she says meaningfully.

Remus blinks again. Then he turns, clearing his throat as he begins wrapping his scarf around his neck. Winnie thinks she can see a pink flush crawl up his neck before he covers it with a scarf, but she might just be seeing what she wants to see. "I'll be there," Remus says gruffly with a stiff nod.

Winnie mimics his stiff nod and bites back a smile.

"Thank you for waiting," she says to the next customer with her best customer-service-smile.

Before Remus returns for his drink, Winnie makes a split-second decision to write her number on a napkin. The idea has her stomach doing a dangerous, giddy flip in her stomach, but she does it anyways and slips it under his drink waiting on the counter.

— — — — —

The next three weeks is grueling for two reasons. The first is that she doesn't see Remus once, despite taking extra shifts. The second is because she waits for a phone call that never comes.

She's never given her number to anyone before so she doesn't quite know what the socially acceptable amount of time is before getting a call, but after the first five days of radio silence and his absence in the coffee shop, she's sure that she's made a terrible mistake.

She feels embarrassed and a little foolish, wishing she hadn't gotten swept up in her hopes and his stupid brown eyes. She had been silly — she was just an overly-chatty local barista and he was just a nice customer with a nice smile and nice eyes and nice everything who put up with her rambling. It's a little mortifying to think back on, so Winnie tries not to think about it, though every time the door's bell jingles, she's caught in a vicious cycle of hope, disappointment, and embarrassment.

She reckons that if he did ever come back, she'd either just pretend as though she never gave him her number or she'd hide in the storage room. The latter option sounded the most appealing the longer she went without seeing him.

She's closing up the shop one night when the door bursts open, the bells jingling loudly. Startled, Winnie nearly drops the bucket she had just finished mopping with. Her heart drops to her stomach.

"Hi," Remus says, pink-cheeked and breathless. "Are you closed?"

Winnie stares at him wide-eyed. She has a brief irrational flash of self-consciousness as she holds a mop and bucket in her hands, her hair and makeup unruly after a long shift. "I—" Winnie bites the inside of her cheek, looking at the clock. She was just a local barista, and he was just a customer, she reminded herself, swallowing back the growing burn of embarrassment in her belly.

As if sensing her hesitation, Remus straightens, clearing his throat. "I mean, you don't have to make a drink or anything actually, I just—"

"I can make a quick drink before I close up," Winnie says hurriedly, not quite able to look him in the eyes as she moves behind the counter. Memories of her giving him her number is seared in memory and it takes all her willpower not to crumble in mortification in front of him.

"No, it's alright," Remus says hurriedly, following her. "I'll help you close up."

"No, go sit over there," Winnie says, her voice a little too clipped. Remus hesitates, floundering before stubbornly following her again. Too close. She whirls around on him, exasperated and embarrassed. Pride wounded. "Remus, I'll make your drink just—"

"Winnie," he cuts in softly, his eyes tracking over her face carefully, quick to pick up her emotions. Winnie diverts her eyes mulishly. "I didn't actually come for a drink today," he says in a patient tone that only amplifies her growing embarrassment that she hides under irritation.

"Then I'm guessing you came to mess with a small local business," she grumps unfairly to herself, stomping behind the counter to drop the mop and bucket into the storage closet. Remus follows her doggedly.

"No, that's not why either," he says, huffing out a good natured laugh. Winnie ignores how smooth and honeyed it sounds.

"Then why'd you come so late? Seeing as how you haven't come in the past three—" Winnie cuts herself off, mortified, before stalking past him to busy herself with wiping down the counter.

"That's exactly why I came," Remus says from behind her. "I haven't seen you in three weeks and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Winnie swallows, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. And then she continues to scrub the counter aggressively, refusing to turn around and be swayed by him, though she could feel her grievances begin to dissipate. "Well, you could have called," she grumbles pointedly.

"I, er, don't have a telephone."

"You don't have a telephone," Winnie repeats automatically, before turning to balk at him. He looks embarrassed, his fingers fidgeting compulsively with the sleeves of his lumpy cardigan. In disbelief, she squints at him suspiciously. "Listen, Remus, I really won't be offended if you weren't interested, so there's no need to make up an excuse—"

"It's not an excuse," Remus interjects, straightened. He looks visibly affronted, his lips twisting into a slight frown. "I don't have a telephone."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly, her voice small. And then she frowns, still skeptical. "How do you get into contact with your friends? Carrier pigeon?"

Remus lets out a huff of a laugh, mirth flickering in his brown eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

For some reason, she believes him, so she drops it. It's probably the warm fondness in his eyes that neutralizes her. "I see," she says finally, unsure about whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Remus seems to notice because he clears his throat. "I would have called you, really," he says. He's looking at her with those brown eyes again, big and earnest, and Winnie can't help but stare.

Flustered with the way he was looking at her, she turns to grab a tray of milk cartons. "I thought you were ghosting me," she grumbles. "I mean, I give you my number, you don't call and stop showing up. What's a girl supposed to think?"

Remus follows her, even closer now, close enough that she can smell his cologne — he smells good, she notes distractedly — and gently takes the tray of milk cartons from her hand, his big hands enclosing over hers briefly. Winnie nearly drops the whole tray. "You're not getting paid for that," she says, flustered and embarrassed and—

—and Remus is smiling at her with an impossibly patient and endeared smile, the sort that softens his eyes into little half-moons. Lord, Winnie thinks, her mind going unhelpfully blank as any memory of her mortification fades quickly.

"I would have called you," he says again, turning to look at her properly. He clears his throat, his eyes snagging on to hers intently. "I wanted to call you." He's holding the tray of cartons and she's trapped in the corner and the whole thing feels a little ridiculous, especially with the way her heart is stuttering under his gaze. He steps closer, his shoulders curving over slightly as he tries to match her height to appear less imposing. "I'm sorry for not giving you a heads up — I got swept away for work, but I'll let you know next time that happens."

"There's no need," she mumbles, flushing now. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. "It's not like we're..." The words die on her lips. She doesn't really know what she wants to say. Were they friends? She sure hoped so, but she could see how she was just a local barista and he was just a regular.

Remus ducks his head a little so that they're looking at each other properly again. They're close enough that Winnie can see his long lashes fluttering across his cheeks. She can see the splay of freckles across his tan skin. The thin shadow of a scar across the bridge of his nose. It's like she can't escape as her mind goes unhelpfully blank again. His eyes are warm and apologetic and earnest and Winnie feels like she's being seen right through. "How can I make it up to you?" He asks, looking entirely sincere.

Winnie's mouth — her heart — moves before her mind does. "My show," she blurts.

His brows furrow ever so slightly. "Your show?" He repeats, understandably not following because she was barely coherent.

"Yes," she says, straightening and doubling down. "I'm having a small show. With my band. This weekend. You should come." God, Winnie thinks, grimacing at how choppy her words were. Remus is looking at her with those distractingly pretty eyes again, so she steels herself, taking a steadying breath. "I mean, I'd love it if you came."

Remus nods, his lips twitching as if she hadn't just given an awful word-by-word monologue. "I'd love to."

— — — — —

The venue isn't terribly large, but even on stage staring into a dark crowd of faces, Winnie can spot Remus immediately. That's how she knew she was in trouble. Well, maybe she had already known she was in trouble the first time she heard Remus laugh properly.

She's had shows before, but this one feels different. It feels as though it's only her and Remus. So as Winnie plays her guitar and sings her songs, she gives in to the enamored thrill blossoming in her chest and pours it into her music. She hopes he can hear it.

The show passes by in a euphoric blur. All Winnie can really remember is Remus beaming at her from the crowd — and her beaming back — but she thinks it went well. Backstage, her bandmates are energetic and grinning widely, clasping each other on the back. "One of our best," their drummer proclaims, cheering.

Winnie tries to smile and listen, but the excitement of the show has started to turn into a bundle of growing nerves as she waits backstage with her bandmates.

"Waiting for someone today?" Doreen, their bassist, asks astutely as she starts moving some of their equipment.

"No," Winnie blurts unconvincingly, only gathering delighted hoots from the others.

"I knew this one felt different for a reason—" Doreen shouts gleefully, before falling silently abruptly, her eyes falling on someone behind Winnie. It takes all of her willpower to look casual and not whirl around. "Oh. He looks like he should be in a band," Doreen's voice drops into a hushed whisper. "Can we please add him? He can... play the triangle or something. He can be the face of our band. Our new mascot—"

At this, Winnie frowns and turns around. She wouldn't exactly say that Remus, with his soft jumpers and fluffy hair, looked like he'd be the face of a rock band—

"Hi," A voice, smooth and pitched low, says. "Winnie, right?"

Winnie stares at this stranger uncomprehendingly. He's strikingly handsome, his eyes the color of mercury and his hair the color of ink. He's all sharp angles and perfectly unruly curls and devilish smile, the type that Winnie has seen before. It comes with the crowd a rock band attracts, though this man in particular looks as though he was carved out of marble with his aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

Winnie blinks at him. "Yeah," she says uncertainly, scratching her cheek. "Er, do we know each other?"

"Winnie, this is Sirius," a familiar voice cuts in from behind the dark-haired man. Winnie straightens, her eyes snagging immediately on him as he steps out from behind Sirius.

Unlike Sirius's leather jacket and tattoos, Remus looks so painfully out of place in his sweater vest and slacks. She's impossibly endeared at the sight — in fact, all she can really do is stare dumbly at him. He's holding a little bouquet of yellow flowers. Her heart gives a dangerous squeeze.

Doreen clears her throat, jolting her out of her fixation. Winnie tears her eyes away from him to give his friend a polite smile as she shakes his hand. "Hi there." Distractedly, she turns back to look at Remus. "I didn't know you were going to bring a friend—"

"We love friends," Doreen says brightly. Winnie bites back a laugh at Doreen's lovesick scheming as her gaze snags on to Remus again. "Friends are always welcome here."

"I've heard loads about you," Sirius says smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. She swears she can hear Doreen faint next to her. "Remus, in fact, doesn't ever stop—"

Winnie's stomach does an Olympic-gymnastic-level flip as she watches Remus indiscreetly dig his elbow into Sirius's ribs. Sirius seems unbothered, but he stops and gives Winnie a smarmy grin.

"How was the show?" She asks, her gaze darting to Remus. It's like she can't stop looking at him.

"Brilliant," he blurts, beaming. "Absolutely brilliant. You were amazing," he says, eyes bright. "I mean, I knew you loved music, but seeing you in your element..." He stops abruptly, looking embarrassed. She isn't sure if it's the lighting, but his cheeks look pink. Or it's a reflection of how red her face has turned. Pleasure blooms in her chest so violently she feels a little dizzy.

"I'm glad you liked it," she manages, uncharacteristically bashful. She can feel her bandmates staring at her, slack-faced, and forces herself to ignore it. "I wasn't sure if it would be your type of music, but..."

"No, it was," Remus says hurriedly, turning to look at Sirius. "Right?"

Sirius nods, looking between the two of them with great interest. "Remus was practically on his knees—" Another jab into his ribs.

Winnie bites back a laugh, flushed and pleased, before nodding down at the bouquet in his hands. "Are those for me?" She asks, half-bluntly, half-hopefully.

Remus looks down at his hands as if he only just then remembered what he was holding. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he says. Winnie thinks she's dreaming for a moment, until Remus thrusts it into Sirius's hands. "They're from Sirius."

She blinks. Sirius blinks, an equally baffled expression on his face though he covers it up quickly. "Oh," the dark-haired man says slowly, his silver gaze flickering to his friend. "I guess—"

"—as a thank you for agreeing to the lesson," Remus cuts in hurriedly as Sirius hands it to her uncertainly.

Winnie takes the bouquet, bewildered now, but she plasters a polite smile on her face. "Er, it's no problem at all," she says, unsure about whether to say that to Sirius or Remus.

Sirius takes it in a stride though. "I would kill to play the guitar like you," he says, voice dripping with charisma. "How'd you—"

"You can try my bass, if you'd like," Doreen interrupts from behind her. Winnie's jaw goes a little slack — Doreen's the most protective with her bass — but her bandmate shoots her a meaningful look.

"Brilliant," Sirius says brightly. Winnie turns to watch Doreen in disbelief as they disappear into the backroom.

"Now he's not a random man, right?" Remus murmurs to her, his breath coasting against the shell of her ear. She nearly jumps out of her skin at the proximity.

"I suppose not," she says, trying to keep her cool but Remus is looking at her with bright eyes. It doesn't help when his lips quirk triumphantly, smugly. "But—" she interjects before it can widen any further, "—if it turns out that your friend is horrendous at the guitar, I think it's only fair if you also have to suffer through it."

Remus's brows shoot up. "And if he's good at it?"

"Then you get to witness my masterful teaching."

He huffs out a laugh, a little disbelieving, a little amused. "Fine," Remus sighs, but he's clearly trying not to smile. She finds herself wishing that he did. "I'll be there."

— — — — —

Sirius, as it turns out, is awful at the guitar. Winnie tries to chalk it up to it being his first time trying it out, but even then, he seemed... challenged.

She had been teaching him for an hour now — her sitting on one of the kitchen stools she had pulled into her flat's shoebox of a living room-bedroom situation, Sirius sitting on the couch with her old guitar precariously balanced on his knees. Remus tried to excuse himself once he realized his friend was musically challenged. Feeling merciful — and also realizing that Remus's presence was making her too nervous to focus on teaching Sirius — Winnie nodded him towards the kitchen. She had spent all morning meticulously cleaning her flat — even she knew she was being a little ridiculous and overly nervous when she started scrubbing at the oven — in preparation for the session. Even then, the knowledge that Remus was in her flat filled her with a different type of nerves.

"Let's take a break," Winnie huffs finally, setting her guitar down.

Sirius rises to his feet and stretches, looking relieved. "I'll get some water for us?" He offers, already making himself at home. Winnie nods, waving him off as she tries to fight back the incoming migraine from stressing over Sirius snapping her strings. At the reminder of his hand-eye coordination and all the glass she has in her cupboards, she springs to her feet quickly.

"Maybe I should just charm the guitar," Sirius is murmuring when she walks in to the kitchen.

"No amount of charisma will charm the guitar," Winnie says, amused. The boys straighten, looking strangely guilty.

"But Sirius is particularly charming," Remus supplies abruptly, darting a quick look to Sirius, who just looks startled by his friend's sudden proclamation.

"I see," Winnie says slowly, exchanging a baffled glance with Sirius.

"Right, well, I ought to practice some more then," Sirius says, giving a salute as he leaves the kitchen.

"Is he that bad?" Remus asks once Sirius leaves.

"It's like he's never used his hands before a day in his life to do anything," Winnie whispers to Remus with a solemn nod.

Remus makes a choking sound as though he's trying not to laugh. Winnie wishes he did. "You don't know the half of it," he huffs, lips curling as if he's sharing a secret.

"He's not really not very good with his fingers," Winnie admits honestly, lifting her cup to her lips.

"That's not his reputation among the girls," Remus blurts.

Winnie chokes on her water and starts coughing violently. Alarmed, Remus reaches out and pats her on the back. "What?" She rasps around a sore throat as she turns to give Remus an incredulous look.

His expression is too carefully neutral as he shrugs at her. "Sirius has always been Hogwart's most sought after bachelor," he recites, as if she's supposed to know what this meant.

"What's going on, Remus?" Winnie questions, her brows shooting up higher. "You've been acting strange recently. It's like you're trying to sell me this poor boy or..." She falters, turning to look at Remus. To his credit, he looks sheepish as he looks away to inspect her cabinets. "Remus," she begins, her voice dangerously low. "Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with your friend."

Remus goes pink in the face and it's all she needs to confirm her suspicions. Inwardly, her heart drops a little, but outwardly, she just stares at him, waiting for a proper response. As if realizing there wasn't a way of getting out of this, the brown-haired boy sighs a little, raking a hand through his hair. "I just thought you two would get along well together," he says, looking at her with earnest eyes.

It hurts. Much more than she cares to admit. Trying to swallow back the disappointment, Winnie turns so that he can't see it on her face. So that's what this has been about. "For how long?" She asks, her throat dry. She can feel a headache coming on.

"How long what?" Remus asks. He sounds confused.

"How long have you been thinking about setting us up? Did he even want to learn the guitar?" Winnie thinks back to Remus's reluctance on coming to her flat. She thinks back to him bringing Sirius along to the concert. She thinks about how much she likes Remus and how she thought he felt the same way. So it had all been one sided. Humiliation burns in her stomach as she stares down at her hands.

"No, he did, he did want to learn how to play the guitar," he says quickly. "Or, er, he was interested in learning after I told him about you. Sirius is a great guy, really!" Remus, all too late, seems to sense something amiss when she doesn't respond. He straightens, an expression of growing alarm on his face. "Are you... upset?"

"No," Winnie says. She wasn't, for once. In fact, she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her hole. "I'm just..." She trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose before exhaling quietly.

"Sirius is a great guy, I promise," Remus says again, slowly as if not to spook a wild animal. But Winnie has already been spooked.

"Yeah, he is," she says, her voice pitched just slightly too high and just slightly too clipped as she turns to flee the kitchen. "But not very great at the guitar, so I'd better go check up on him. I suspect he'd find a way to set fire to my flat with just a guitar."

"I'm an idiot," she mutters to herself, closing her eyes for a moment.

A cheerful voice chirps up from the couch. "So, when can I join your band?"

— — — — —

Winnie doesn't go to work for the rest of the week. She asks her coworkers to cover her shift with a fake cough and a groan of a headache. The headache part isn't really a lie — ever since her conversation with Remus in her kitchen, she's felt a dull ache drumming behind her eyes. So she's holed herself in her apartment — specifically her bed, under lots of blankets — sulking and moping by herself.

By the fifth day, Winnie realizes bitterly that she can't keep this up. She has rent to pay. On the day that she's decided to come back into the coffee shop, her phone rings. "Winnie, are you coming in today?" her coworker asks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better," Winnie lies as she stuffs her apron into her bag.

"Great," her coworker says before pausing. "There's been a bloke coming by asking for you."

Winnie can feel the headache come back full force. "A bloke," she repeats, knowing full well they both knew who she was talking about.

"Tall, brown hair. I told him you've been out sick, but he seems worried, so you ought to give him a ring."

To her chagrin, Remus is there the first day she comes back.

"Hi, welcome," she says, her voice tight. Winnie plasters a too-bright smile on her face to compensate. "What can I get for you today?"

Remus blinks. "A matcha latte. How have—"

"Coming right up," she says, punching in the order with rapid speed. Still smiling brightly. "That'll be $4.50—"

Remus hands her a five before she can finish.

"Here's your change, sir—" Winnie tacks it on at the end of the sentence before she can help it. Remus's face crumples in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowing together as he watches her for a moment longer. It feels as though his eyes are burning through her.

"You can keep the change," he says softly, still looking at her.

Winnie forces out a thank you. She feels as though her smile is starting to look like a grimace. Her cheeks are hurting. He's still looking at her with those stupidly pretty brown eyes. She knows he's waiting. She forces herself to look back down at the register before straightening. "Next in line, please."

— — — — —

To her relief, she's not on cash register duty the next time he comes. Winnie ducks her head with forced concentration as she makes an order. She's definitely too concentrated on making the drink that she doesn't notice the way his face brightens again when he sees her as he nears the counter. She's definitely too concentrated to hear her coworker take his order of a matcha latte. She's definitely too concentrated to feel his eyes on her as she busies herself behind the counter. She definitely wasn't paying attention.

This game of concentration can only go on for so long, Winnie realizes belatedly after she finishes making his drink. She stares down at his name on the cup glumly for a moment before putting her best customer-service smile back on. "For Remus," she calls out without quite looking up. Though she knows that he's sitting patiently at his normal table.

When he comes, Winnie puts a straw on the lid, trying not to look as tense as she feels.

"Hi," he says, looking at her fully in the face.

"Hi," she says back, not quite looking at him, but also not quite looking away. This time, there's no line and nowhere to escape to.

Remus fiddles with the straw wrapper slowly. "How..." He falters, his eyes imploring as he tries to catch her gaze. His brows are furrowed slightly. "...have you been? They said you've been ill?"

"Ah yeah," Winnie says weakly, busying herself with tidying up the straws and napkins by the register. "Caught a cold."

"It's not Dragon Pox, is it?" He says, his brows furrowing even further, a crease of concern between them.

Winnie blinks at him. "Dragon Pox?"

Remus blinks back at her. "Oh, maybe not then," he murmurs hurriedly before clearing his throat. "Er, if you're still feeling ill, I have this—" He reaches into the pocket of his long coat and pulls out a small vial. Winnie stares at it blankly. "—that helps with cold symptoms."

She squints at it, dubiously. "Is that medicine?"

Remus fiddles with the little glass vial. "Something of the sort."

"You just carry that around... in your pocket?"

"Well no," Remus says, looking embarrassed now. He clears his throat as his eyes dart down to the vial. "I wanted to give it to you, but I thought that dropping it off at your flat might be too much."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly. Her stomach does a traitorous flip and she forces herself to also look down at the vial as her last defenses against him begin to crumble. She should've known this was going to happen. "That's sweet of you."

"It's nothing," he mumbles, setting the vial on the table. "Er, are you busy today?"

Winnie swallows. "Yeah, I've been out, so I ought to pull my weight around here," she says, though she thinks the both of them knows that it's a lie. The coffee shop barely had anyone else in it. But Winnie doesn't look up at him to see his face fall — she knows that if he just flashes her his doe eyes, she'll be back at square one. She forces a smile on her face.

Remus nods. His disappointment is clear on his face as he stuffs his hand back into the pocket of his coat. Winnie tried not to think about it. "Right, well, I'll be over there if you need a break."

— — — — —

Her landline rings again for the third time in the past fives minutes as she tries to get the chord progression correct. Though she's been trying, she's hit an even bigger music-block recently. Winnie squints at the number — it's the same one that's been trying to dial her. With a frustrated sigh, she sets her guitar to the side and picks up the receiver from the landline with a little too much vigor. "Hello?" She asks, the irritation in her voice cutting through clearly.

"Winnie?"

She pauses, taken aback. "This is she," she says after a moment. Who would be calling her nearly at midnight?

"Sorry, were you sleeping? I just got a telephone and I wanted to call, but I didn't realize it was this late—" The person on the other end sounds a little out of breath.

"Sorry, who is this?" She asks, bewildered now.

A pause. "It's Remus."

Winnie nearly drops the phone. "Remus?" She repeats.

"Yeah," he says uncertainly. "Remus Lupin," he adds, as if that'll help.

"Of course I know who you are," she says, a little disbelieving.

"You didn't sound like you did a few seconds ago," he says good-naturedly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a call from someone without a phone."

He huffs out a laugh, soft and quiet. Hearing it close to her ear through the receiver makes a warmth spread through her chest. This was dangerous. She settles back on the couch as Remus continues talking, his voice soft like he's trying not to wake up his flatmate. "Well, to be fair, I did just get it."

"I never thought I'd see the day," she murmurs despite the danger bells tolling in her head. "What made you take the technological leap?"

Winnie can almost hear his eye roll through the receiver. "Well, I may have offended a girl at this coffee shop I frequent by not having one. Thought I should right my wrongs."

Her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She's glad he can't see her because she can feel a pleased warmth flushing across her face as she lies down on the couch and kicks her legs over the armchair. She wants to scream from the giddiness. And then scream again for having no dignity. The thought that he had gotten a phone to call her is entirely absurd, but Winnie almost lets herself believe it. "I see," she says after she collects herself for a moment. "Sounds noble." A pause. "So you kept my napkin."

"No," Remus says automatically. "Sirius threw it away."

Winnie frowns, her brows furrowing. "Then how'd you get my number?"

"I memorized it."

She nearly falls to the floor at that, the phone rubbing against the couch as she sits up swiftly.

"Hello?" Remus's distant voice calls uncertainly through the speaker. "Winnie?"

"Hi!" Winnie chirps into the phone quickly, too brightly. She's beyond glad Remus can't see her face — she knows she's bright red now. And she's trying hard not to grin ear to ear. "Sorry about that, poor connection," she fibs.

Remus pauses. She can almost hear the frown in his voice when he speaks up again. "Is it my phone? The man at the store said it might—"

"No, no, that was on my end," she says quickly, fanning herself now. She needed to calm down. Immediately. "So, why did you call?"

A pause. She can hear him shuffling like he's sitting down. "No reason," he says. "I just wanted to hear your voice. I like this. It feels like I can hear you smiling."

To hell with calming down. She was getting no sleep that night with the way her heart was palpitating. "Holy hell," Winnie murmurs out loud, very sure now that Remus was trying to kill her. Death by heart attack. Remus Lupin, the secret ladykiller.

"What was that?" Remus asks through the phone.

"Nothing," Winnie mumbles, closing her eyes.

They both fall silent, though Winnie is sure he can hear her thumping heart through the receiver. "Er, Winnie," Remus speaks up finally. "The other reason I wanted to call was I suppose it had felt like it's been ages since we last spoke and I missed talking with you."

Winnie's heart does a dangerous quiver. And then she catches herself, all too soon, and all too suddenly.

Even after the past few weeks of trying to get over her unrequited crush, all it took was a few sweet words from him for her to cave and start at the beginning again. She couldn't keep being pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled. If she wanted to properly move on, she needed distance. Proper distance.

As if sensing something, Remus speaks up again hesitantly. "Did I do something?"

"No," Winnie says, closing her eyes. She can almost hear him breathing on the other end of the call. This would be easier to do over the phone, when she can't see his big brown eyes staring back at her earnestly — although she feels as though she's committed it to memory and can imagine it. "It's me, I— It's nothing that you've done or anything, I just need space."

"Space," Remus echoes quietly.

She tries to let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind recently. It's nothing you've done."

Remus is quiet for awhile before he speaks up again. "I'm here to listen if you ever want to talk through anything," he says softly. "We're friends, after all, right?"

"Friends," she murmurs to herself before straightening. "Right, of course."

More silence. "Well, it's late so I'll let you go." A pause, as if he's waiting for a response. Waiting for her to keep talking like she always did. Waiting for a reason to keep talking.

"Good night, Remus," she says instead, her fingers tightening around the receiver.

"Good night, Winnie." Winnie can hear the disappointment in his voice and lets it sink into her like a dagger. She needed to remember it to move on. Then maybe they could properly be friends. Winnie hangs up the phone first.

— — — — —

"Morning, Winnie," a bright voice chirps.

Winnie looks up, startled to see a pair of striking, but familiar gray eyes peering back at her. Sirius Black is standing in front of the counter, grinning at her widely. "Sirius," she says, surprised. "What can I get for you?"

Sirius gives the menu a cursory glance. "Huh, matcha," he says to himself thoughtfully.

"That's what Remus normally gets," she offers, trying to be helpful.

Sirius looks back at her, his eyes bright and startling astute. "You know," he says, dropping his voice to a secretive murmur. Despite herself, Winnie leans closer curiously. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

Winnie recoils, bewildered. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "Grass?" She repeats, a little affronted now. "It does not taste like grass—"

"Winnie," he says again, arching a delicate brow at her. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

She shoots him a baleful glare that goes against her customer service training. "Okay," she exhales. "So what drink would you want then?"

Sirius sighs as if she's being terribly daft. "What I'm saying is that Remus hates the taste of matcha but comes here nearly every other day to drink it. Isn't that strange?"

Winnie blinks. Once. Twice. It's as if Sirius can see the thought forming on her face because he starts to grin. "But," she says stubbornly, mulishly. Sirius's grin falters. Winnie takes secret pleasure in that. "—he drinks it every time."

Sirius's expression goes slack, but Winnie refuses to be deterred. She had already tricked herself twice into thinking that there could be more between her and Remus, she wasn't going to put herself through that again. "Merlin," Sirius exhales, scrubbing a frustrated hand over his face. "You both are so bloody stubborn—"

"No, he doesn't," a voice cuts in from behind her. Her coworker steps in with an equally exasperated expression. "Winnie, I'll be honest with you, he only ever drinks it when you make it. Whenever I hand it to him, it just sits there."

Sirius's grin returns, full force, as he nods excitedly. "I'm only telling you so that you can both stop dancing around each other. And so he can stop playing your bleeding cas— casserole... Merlin, what are they called? The little magical music squares?" Sirius flounders and turns to her coworker for help.

"Cassettes?" Her coworker supplies uncertainly.

"Cassettes!" Sirius agrees, looking relieved before he rounds on Winnie again to continue his berating. "So he can stop playing your bleeding cassettes around the flat!" And then he pauses. "Er, no offense, your music is great, but I just can't keep listening to the same album—"

"He has my cassettes?" Winnie whispers, wide-eyed.

Sirius stares at her like she's being impossibly dumb. "Yeah," he says, solemnly. "Everyday I'm a little tempted to throw them—" He seems to catch himself because he shoulders on smoothly. "Anyways, while he's been sulking around the flat, I finally found out that Moony was being ridiculous and was trying to play cupid. He can be incredibly dense for someone so smart," Sirius sighs, grimacing. "By the way, I actually was interested in learning the guitar."

Winnie stares at him dumbly, a little shell-shocked. "Oh," she says as Sirius gives her a wink.

"He's coming by later," he says as he turns towards the door.

"What?" She blurts. Remus hasn't come by or called her ever since she had asked for space, expectedly. She had been ignoring the empty feeling since then, reasoning it to be a necessary development for her to move on.

"I told him you had called on the — what's it called? — phone-tele saying you wanted to see him."

"What?" Winnie exclaims, but Sirius is already fleeing through the door. Dimly, she thinks that he didn't even order a drink.

"Go easy on him, sweetheart! He likes tea!"

— — — — —

"One matcha please."

"Name?"

A small, uncertain smile. A hesitant hint of a dimple. Her heart quaking again. "Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up."

Winnie tries to still her shaking hands as she makes him a drink. It doesn't help that she can feel her heart bursting through her chest. She takes a steadying breath and rakes a hand through her hair before taking the drink to his table. "For a Remus Lupin," she announces, setting the cup down in front of him. It's near closing time and there's no one else in the coffee shop.

Remus looks up, his brows shooting up below his waves. "What's this?"

"Earl gray," she says, matching his gaze.

His brows furrow. "But I ordered matcha."

"It's a personal recommendation from the kitchen," she says, nodding down at the tea. "I heard that matcha tastes like grass."

Remus's face pales, but he manages to cover it up with a nervous laugh that only confirms her suspicions. And her hopes. "Matcha doesn't taste like grass—" he begins, but his voice falters when he catches sight of her smiling.

"Remus," she says brightly, her smile broadening. "I finished the song."

"The song," he says blankly, looking startled as if he's trying to keep up. He blinks at her rapidly.

"The love song I've been stuck on," she reminds him impatiently.

"Oh! Oh! See, I knew you'd be able to finish," Remus says, still looking bewildered.

Winnie smiles at him. "It was inspired by you."

"Inspired by me," he parrots for a moment, nodding, before his eyes widen fractionally. "Inspired by me?" He blurts.

"What I'm saying is," she begins, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. "I like you."

Maybe the only way to move on was to be properly rejected. Or maybe the only way to move on, Winnie thought selfishly, was to give in to the hope that Sirius had planted.

Remus's face goes slack. And then, wonderfully, a soft pink flush begins to crawl up the nape of his neck, dusting his cheeks in two brilliant splotches. "I— Winnie— But you're—" he flounders, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Dimly, Winnie thinks it's a little unfair how adorable he looks flustered. She also thinks that she wouldn't mind always seeing him flustered.

"But I'm so what?" She asks, tilting her head to the side casually, despite her thundering heartbeat.

"But you're so, so—" he's stammering now, flushed and a little wild-eyed. "—incandescent."

Winnie thought she had control over the conversation, but at his admittance, she feels a little dizzy. "Incandescent," she repeats in a wide-eyed whisper. In that moment, she knew that no boy would ever call her anything as meaningful. That there would be no other boy that would mean anything to her.

Remus's face only turns a brighter scarlet as he backtracks. "I mean, you're you and I'm— I'm Remus," he says nonsensically.

"Remus Lupin," she corrects with a weak laugh, heart still thumping dangerously.

Remus nods earnestly, as if that's supposed to make any sense. "Yeah," he says, throat bobbing as he swallows. "And, and you could do so much better." Winnie's heart clenches a little at the way he can't meet her eyes. "I'm— I'm not good with people— I wouldn't be good for you."

Winnie chewed the inside of her cheek uncertainly. "Remus, I can't tell if you actually think that or if you really don't like me and are just using that as an excuse because I'd rather it if you just rejected me outright—"

"Of course I like you," he blurts a little frantically with a disbelieving laugh. Winnie's heart trembles so violently that she thinks she needs to take a seat. Remus, on the other hand, pales a little at his outburst as he scrubs a hand over his face. "I mean, anybody would. But you could do so much better. I mean, I'm not good with people or talking and I don't—" She can see that he's begun to work himself up into some sort of frazzled frenzy. "I don't have tattoos or eat cigs for breakfast," he blurts.

Winnie does a double-take. "I know?" She says, bewildered. "Where is this coming from?"

"You said the type of guy you're attracted to has tattoos and eats cigs for breakfast."

Winnie balks at him for a moment before she realizes what he's talking about. She wants to laugh but instead holds it in as she stares fondly at the man in front of her. "Remus," she sighs again, stepping closer to him. The knowledge that he liked her back sends thrilling waves of adrenaline through her. Even though he's taller than her, she feels as though she's the one towering over him.

Emboldened, Winnie takes a deep breath, rises to her toes because he's so bloody tall, and grabs him by the cheeks. Remus's mouth clamps shut as his eyes widen. She wishes she could pour all her emotion into her palm and just press it against him so that he would understand.

"I said that those were the guys I attract, not that I'm attracted to. And I think you're lovely, to say in the least. You're kind, brilliant, a wonderful listener. I think your eyes and your smile are stupidly distracting— Actually, I think you're just the prettiest boy I've ever seen. And I wish you could see these things for yourself, but if it means that I have to love you for the both of us, I would be happy to. If you'd let me."

"Oh," Remus blurts, two bright scarlet splotches flushing on his cheeks. Up close, Winnie can see the way the light catches like gold in his brown eyes.

"Sorry, I'm always talking your ear off," she whispers, her fingers curling a little in the waves his hair. His skin is soft and warm beneath her fingers. "It's fine, really, if you want to reject me. But it's not fair for you to make the decision based off what you think I should want. Because I know that I want you and that's enough for me, yeah?"

Remus parts his mouth and Winnie is so sure that he's going to say something stubborn again.

"Can I kiss you?" He murmurs, brown eyes blown dark and wide as they dart to her lips.

Caught entirely caught off guard, all Winnie can do is make an assenting sound before his head is dipping down towards hers swiftly, as though that was all he was waiting for.

There's no soft, chaste exploration she had expected — instead, Remus kisses like he's burning up from the inside, like he's melting into her. His mouth is warm and sweet — he tastes like the earl gray tea she had made — and his lips are soft as one of his hand rises to catch her jaw, his other hand slipping gently to cradle the back of her head, his long fingers in her hair, as he tilts her face up.

Winnie's mind went blank the moment his lips slotted against hers, but she's rendered entirely useless when his teeth tugs at her bottom lip gently. All she can do is cling onto his neck and shoulders — she doesn't even know when her hands had moved from cupping his face — as Remus tries to guide her even closer to him. Winnie doesn't even have the capacity to feel embarrassment at the appreciative sigh that's pulled from her lips when he deepens the kiss.

To her mingled disappointment and relief — because she's started to run out of air and was feeling light-headed — Remus pulls back just far enough to peer at her with wide eyes. "Sorry, was that too much?" He whispers, voice wonderfully hoarse, his lips still brushing against hers. His brown eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back around as if he can't decide where to look.

Total ladykiller, Winnie thinks dimly. Somehow, he always managed to catch her off guard even when she thought she was in control. "Um," she manages, breathless, her heart nearly giving out now. "Wow."

When she catches sight of him properly, another thrill runs through her. His pretty eyes are dazed over and his lips reddened and flushed. He looks a little dizzy. "Yeah," he murmurs back, equally nonsensically. He brushes a thumb across her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine. Catching this, Remus just smiles at her, as if impossibly endeared, and it does little to calm her heart. "How about a date tomorrow?"

"Not a coffee shop, I hope," Winnie says mulishly in an attempt to deflect from her warming cheeks. But Remus, as always, can see right through her.

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest as he smiles down at her fondly. "We can go wherever you want."

— — — — —

It's rush hour again. There's a dozen cups lined up for her to make and she's begun to lose track of what she's doing. When she glances down at the name of the one she just finished, Winnie doesn't bother hiding her grin as she calls out, "An earl gray for a Remus Lupin!"

Winnie's smile widens when she catches sight of him in his knitted sweater. And then, "I'm missing a drink."

Her smile falters in confusion as she looks down at the earl gray in his hand. "Hm?" She hums, frowning now.

Remus nods down at the other drink she had finished making, his lips twitching. Winnie blinks at his smile distractedly before peering at the cup. "Matcha latte for Cariad?"

Remus just smiles innocently at her, his eyes warm and fond. "That one's for you."

a/n: hope you enjoyed! love love love hearing your thoughts, so let me know what you think! <3 i feel like i could make a whole remus coffee shop -verse of oneshots now... if that's something.... we would be interested in............. i love the idea of wizards interfacing with muggle society and how shite they would be (re: sirius not knowing how to do anything). even though remus's mom is a muggle, i imagine since he's been at hogwarts for most of his life from 11-18 and spent his childhood moving around a lot and living in the more rural areas, i wanted to play off the idea that though he's been in muggle society, he's probably awkward as hell in a muggle city. edit: more remus x winnie oneshots on my masterlist! >> my masterlist!

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ilovetheriddler · 2 months ago

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lars x reader with a secret relationship please!!

I love this idea! I always love writing for Lars, I hope that you enjoy it!

Hidden Feelings.

(Ghostbusters Frozen Empire) Lars Pinfield x F!Reader.

Word Count: 746.

Contents: Frustration, kissing, affection, neck kissing and biting, just a bit of jealousy.

Realistically, Lars knew that there technically wouldn't be any real consequences if anyone found out about your relationship. You were both consenting adults, and while you were coworkers, there's nothing outright stating anywhere that you couldn't be together, but Lars still wanted to keep it a secret. And he was overall doing a fairly decent job of hiding it. However, sometimes, he couldn't help himself when you both were alone in the workshop.

He slowly approached you from behind and wrapped his arms around you. Burying his face in your neck and deeply inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"Mm... Good afternoon My love, how are you doing...?"

"Lars... Come on, you're the one who said that you wanted to keep this a secret, so you can't just keep being this affectionate with me. Anyone could walk in and see!"

"I'm aware... However, it's quite difficult to refrain from doing so when I have to see how other people look at you. It makes me just want to show everyone that you're already spoken for..."

He started to press soft, lingering kisses onto your neck, slowly working his way down to your shoulder as he unzipped the front of your uniform just enough to push it off of one of your shoulders. You let out a slightly surprised gasp as he bites down on your shoulder before gently running his tongue over the new mark.

"L-Lars! T-that's going to be visible, oh gosh... how am I supposed to explain that?!"

"Mm.... If you keep your uniform zipped up all the way, then no one other than me will see it, I assure you, my darling."

"It's the middle of summer! I can't keep it zipped up completely, I'd roast!"

Lars let out a slightly frustrated huff and pulled away from you, turning you around and pulling you over into the light a bit more so that he could get a better look at the mark he'd just left on your neck. He carefully inspected it before letting out a pondering hum.

"Well... you could always cover it up with makeup if you're that worried, however, with how hot it is and how much you'd most likely be sweating within a day I wouldn't count on it to hold up all day.... hmm...."

"I wouldn't have to hide it if you'd just let me tell people that we're dating, at the very least our coworkers! Why are you even so insistent about keeping this a secret?"

He looked a bit troubled by your question before he ultimately sighed and shifted his gaze away from yours.

"Alright... the truth is that I'm worried about what people will say about you..."

"Huh? About me...? What exactly do you mean?"

"I mean... I've been working as a Ghostbuster for a few years, you haven't. I'm worried that people will think that you got with me to get your current job instead of contributing it to your genuine efforts. And I don't want people to think that about you even for a moment!"

You were actually taken somewhat aback by Lars' reasons. He wasn't worried about himself. He was worried about how people might hypothetically treat you. It genuinely warmed your heart a little by how sweet the thought was, but also frustrated you that that was his reason for all this sneaking around.

"Lars, while I appreciate the thought, I have to ask.... who the hell would think that? None of our coworkers really would. I mean, would Lucky? Would Trevor? No. They wouldn't."

"... I suppose that's true.... but-"

"But nothing! I want people to know that I'm with you, that I love you, Lars... is that too much to ask?"

"...No... no, it's not."

He gently caressed your face before leaning down to have his lips meet yours in a sweet and gentle kiss. Your lips molded against his perfectly, and it was only cut too short by the sound of someone suddenly speaking up.

"Ha! I told you they had something going on! Now I believe that you owe me... hmm... how much was it again? Ah yes, 50 dollars!"

You both quickly pulled away from each other and glanced over to see Lucky and Trevor standing in the entryway to the workshop. Trevor reluctantly digging around in his pocket for some money. They had been suspicious that something might be going on and had a little bet going. And here, lars thought he was actually being sneaky.

#ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #x reader #fanfic

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orangecarton · 6 months ago

Text

Pt 2 Nordic Bunny x Reader WP (W.I.P.)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Part one:

Here you are sitting in a sad break room chowing down on a bag of cool ranch doritos, because for some reason they didn't seem to have any other flavors. As you're munching Nordic Bunny tries to fit himself into one of the small break room chairs. They were obviously not meant for him but he seemed insistent on trying to sit there.

After a while he got himself awkwardly squished in the chair and triumphantly looks up to you.

"So huuuman, seeing as we are now friends AND hanging out. It is my right as your BESTEST BUDDY IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE!!!... to be asking you some... bonding questions!"

He laughs off to the side and mumbles something about being so clever and tricking us into handing over our "planetary secrets", whatever that means.

"Oh yeah sure man, shoot." You reply between chews. Nordic Bunny grimaces then shakes his head.

"First question! What are Shred Force's weaknesess?"

You ponder that for a bit. No one really knew anything about the two rascals that called themselves "Shred Force". They kinda were just... there. Every now and then there would be some sort of monster and then they would show and blow up half of the city you lived in. But you really didn' know anything about what they dealt with and who they were, being more preoccupied with your own life and problems.

"Hmmm, I don't really know. I've never really interacted with them."

You shrugged, grabbing another chip from the bag.

"Wha- You gotta know SOMETHING! Ugh... Ahem, well then what, pray tell, is the weakness of EVERY SINGLE HUMAN? AND DON'T YOU DARE THINK OF LYING TO ME!!!"

"Uhhh... Well, everyone is kinda different so I wouldn't really be able to say..."

Nordic Bunny scowled at this. Trying to save face you make something up on the fly. Those improv classes you took during highschool better not fail you now.

"Buuut, most humans are weak tooooo-" You look around quickly looking for "HuManIty's gReatEst WeakNess".

"-uhhhhh ranch?"

"..."

"... Liste-"

"OF COURSE! IT ALL MAKES SENSE!!"

"Huh?"

"You humans have MOUNTAINS of that stuff! You just can't live without it! OH, how did I not see it before?!"

He abruptly stands up, knocking over his chair, and grabs you by your arm. Dragging you behind him once again.

"WE MUST PLAN FOR MY NEW BRILLIANT AND AWESOME SCHEME!"

"What scheme?"

"We will steal ALL THE RANCH FROM EARTH! AND THEN NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO STOP US FROM TAKING OVER THAT HOPELESS PLANET!"

He laughs to himself, and you can't help but smile along with him. He has quite a nice laugh, in your opinion.

Walking back down the halls to his strange war room, the reality of your situation sinks in. You are stuck in space with a crazy 10ft tall guitar man who wants to take over the Earth... Hey, we'll at least you aren't hungry anymore!

You both make it back to the "war room". This time you get a good look around. It was filled with all sorts of tech, including a medium holo-Earth that Nordic Bunny seemed to gravitate towards. Towards the back end of the room was a huge window that made up most, if not all, of the wall. Around the sides were extra doors, lights, and tubes that you had no idea what they went to.

"Muahahahahaaa, oh yes I can see it now! We can even make little ranch stealing ROBOTS to do our bidding. AHahahahooo!"

He pulls you aside and starts rambling on and on about his plan, and you listen intensively. He just seems so passionate and creative! You can't help it!

A couple minutes later he calls over some of his minions to bring over blue print paper and a table. When they arrive they are heaving over a big metal table with some paper and pens on top. The two minions let it down with a bang and Nordic Bunny rushes over to it enthusiastically. They seem out of breath, how long have they been carrying that?

After they collect themselves one of them turns over and sees you. They turn back around and nudge their partner whispering to them, they both are now just staring and talking to each other.

Nordic Bunny takes notice of this and spins around, looking back and forth between his minions and you. You honestly could care less about what anyone thinks, but you don't really want to get caught up in whatever space drama is going on right now. So you're feeling, reasonably, a small bit uncomfortable at the moment.

"DON'T YOU TWO HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO?!"

Before your eyes the two are blasted away by Nordic Bunny's hand and are now nothing but feathers.

"Wha- What the HELL?!"

You look incredulously at Nordic Bunny.

"Oh not to worry my dear compatriot! They are simply clones. Of MY design, might I add!"

He poses pridefully, looks back over to you then looks away awkwardly.

"Huh, uh cool."

Taking a breath in you walk over to the work bench he had been working at before to see unfinished sketches of what looks to be robot eels designed to steal... ranch. It does look super advanced though. At least more advanced than you could understand.

"Wow, you did all this?" You gesture to the blue prints and look up at Nordic Bunny.

"W- Why yes! I did!"

"Geez, this is some high level stuff. Super smart, and it looks so wicked!"

He appears to be taken aback by the compliment, donning a shocked expression on his face, then replacing it with a look of smug satisfaction.

"Of course it looks cool! Only the best made by yours truly!"

You snicker a bit at that and he grins then perks up. Grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you towards the huge windows you saw before.

"AND! AND! The robots will be produced over there! In my very own factory!"

Your eyes widen at the sight before you. Through the windows you are greeted by a production line of sorts, all kinds of machinery moving rhythmically and in pace with each other. You squint and look past the factory and can somewhat make out... a city?

"Impresive!... right?"

You look over to the validation seeking guitar and nod, stars in your eyes.

"This is so freaking cool, dude."

You turn back towards the window to keep gawking at the machines. Unbeknownst to you, the overlord beside you doesn't look at his factory, but at his new partner in crime. With just the same amount of fascination.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(TYSM FOR READING AND FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK FROM THE LAST POST)

(I will be crossposting this on ao3 here's a link:

(Here are some doodles B))

#nordic bunny #nordic bunny shred force #nordic bunny x reader #reader insert #shred force nordic bunny #shred force #sorry for the bad grammar #have a nice day

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peppercornpress · 5 months ago

Note

Fic Author Self Rec! When you get this reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, or some snippets from upcoming WIPS. Let’s spread the self-love! Love ya and thank you for all you do!! 💖

Ahhhh!! Days!! Love you too and love the idea of spreading self-love! It's so hard for me to do lately... I feel like everything I write is blah.

I've wanted to share WIPs because they're fun... but it goes against my desire to dump out completely finished work so I kept holding back... but a part of me thinks I need some feedback/advice for this specific WIP? Like... if people have opinions on how they'd like the fic to end, I'm all ears because I'm afraid my current direction doesn't have the oomph I'm after. (I know that's not the point of you asking me about WIPS... but I do love what I have so far)

Here's a snippet of my WIP 'A Thousand Papercuts' (Midway into chapter 1)

Hinata made sure to contact Akane’s desk before she swung by the office. Hinata knew she did everything right, and even got a text from her husband five minutes before she arrived on his floor that proved he wasn’t in a crucial meeting. She made sure to properly greet Akane at her desk to ‘check in’.

“Thank you for calling in advance!” Akane said, looking much more pleasant and not a hint of annoyance in her tone. “I know it’s a hassle just to see your own husband, but I really do appreciate when things are done in an orderly fashion. Shall we?”

“Yes.” Hinata nodded, “Oh, and this is just a small offering for all the hard-workers here.” she passed over the large paper bag she filled with homemade cookies. She had done so every once in a while, and Naruto had always said how grateful the staff was. “As a token of the Uzumaki-family’s gratitude.”

Akane made a noise of pleasure, accepting the gift and peeking inside. “You shouldn’t have! Wow! I’ll be sure to pass them out.” but the way she tossed the bag a little roughly on her desk made Hinata finally pause and give her a long and scrutinizing look.

Akane must have noticed because she immediately back-tracked.

“Sorry, I’m a little heavy handed today–was it breakable?”

“N-no…”

“Please accept my apologies!”

Wordlessly, Hinata nodded. Akane shot her a shrug and a smile.

And that’s when Hinata’s dislike for the woman finally cemented in her heart. All of her previous interactions with the woman, to whom she gave generous excuses for her rudeness, suddenly made a lot more sense.

Akane was purposefully snubbing her. Hinata squared her shoulders, remembering the handful of times this had happened in the past with other bullies while she was still attending the Academy.

“This way.” Akane then flashed her a smug smile, a smile that expressed Akane’s mutual dislike of Hinata.

“I don’t mean to take time out of your day.” Hinata said, cautiously. Once she realized what kind of person Akane was, she knew it made the most sense to distance herself from Akane as soon as possible. “I know the way to his office, thank you.” She didn’t wait for a reply this time and walked her way to Naruto’s door, but felt Akane’s quickened footsteps following after her.

When Hinata got to Naruto’s office, Naruto’s looked like he was trying to desperately fight sleep while holding a dry electric razor to his face. He quickly shoved the razor under his desk, before relaxing, and seeing it was Hinata. His sheepish, boyish grin made Hinata’s heart ache.

“Oh Hinata!” Naruto got up from his desk. As he cheerfully waved, Akane squeezed past Hinata and entered his office first. She waved as if he was waving to her this whole time.

Hinata had just been pondering ‘why?’ the short time it took to walk over to Naruto’s office. Why was Akane being so rude? Why did Akane want to be openly rude to the Hokage’s wife? What benefits her for doing such a thing?

But Akane happily presented Hinata with the obvious reason right away.

Her voice turned to honey as she addressed Hinata’s husband, “Hokage-sama, I know it’s poor timing on my part, but I need you to stamp a few things?”

“Just put it on my desk,” Naruto said distractedly, waving her off. It didn’t surprise Hinata to see that Naruto didn’t even spare her a second glance. He was just as dense as she was to the come-ons of the opposite sex, or he had no interest in flirty coworkers. He comically craned his neck to keep his eye contact with Hinata even as Akane stood directly in front of him to try to block his view. “Hinata, you got a moment to chat?”

“Of course,” Hinata switched out the duffle bag she was carrying to one she spotted conveniently placed near the far left corner of the room.

“Yeah, it’s about Boruto and this ‘rebellious’ stage of his–” Naruto said, rubbing the base of his neck and grumbling. That’s when he did a double-take, noticing Akane was still in the room, and frowned.

Hinata took this time to observe how her husband dealt with Akane.

Naruto calmly waited for Akane to place some files on his desk. Akane was being deliberately slow, placing each piece of paper on the desk as if it was made of fine porcelain. Naruto lost his patience by the ten-second mark.

Naruto cleared his throat.

Akane looked up from her task as if snapped from a daze.

“I’d like to talk privately with my wife,” Naruto announced, pointing in the direction of the door. “Today. Now.”

“O-oh! Sorry Hokage-sama, after last night’s long meeting…” she placed a dainty wrist over her mouth to suppress a yawn. “I’m a little sleep-deprived.”

In any other circumstance, I’m sure this would be enough reason for a professional to let Akane linger and drag her feet out the door, but Naruto didn’t have the best manners himself.

“Well, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Naruto shrugged. “Shizune-nee-chan can take over from here. Go home.”

Akane looked flustered. “N-no! I’m really ok! I can still work!”

“It’s alright. We all see how hard you’ve been working. You deserve to catch up on some shut-eye.” Naruto assured her brusquely, practically pushing Akane out the door and shutting it without a second thought. “Ugh, surrounded by work-a-holics.” he joked right away as soon as he turned back toward Hinata.

“Said one of the biggest work-a-holics I know.” Hinata teased.

“Hey! It’s not just my fault! Nobody seems to want to stop and rest around here–I feel guilty every time I step out of the office!” Naruto whined. “Anyway, about Boruto…”

Naruto was back to rambling, and Hinata found herself not fully present. Much like Akane’s act to get herself to linger in Naruto’s presence, Hinata found her mind drifting on what a comical situation she was in.

She was now a wife worrying about her husband’s secretary. It was so cliche, and stupid.

She hadn’t had to deal with a jealous fangirl in a while. Hinata wasn’t a fun opponent toward petty women; she had grown up around especially sharp-tongued female relatives at the Hyuuga compound. She knew vicious ladies usually got bored if their victims didn’t entertain them. So Hinata had learned the difficult task of growing a thicker skin and letting barbed words slide off her back.

This method thankfully helped her ward away most of Naruto’s fangirls. They’d move on to more exciting prey. Hinata knew Akane would realize this sooner or later and give up when she realized Naruto was too devoted to his Hokage title to think of much else.

And Hinata would also have to limit the time she spent around Akane’s presence…

“Hinata..? You ok?”

Hinata blinked, realizing she was nodding when she was supposed to be saying something back.

“You want me to talk to Boruto about his behavior,” she asked, just picking up things from context. “I have your back. I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s the thing! Talking to him ain’t cutting it. And MY yelling isn’t getting through to him! Could you use one of the old ways to get Boruto to straighten up? Like…take one of his favorite toys away–or make him take a time out! He still gets time-outs, right?” Hinata gave him a scrutinizing look, wondering if he was serious, but Naruto snapped his fingers when the right word came to him, “Ground him! Can you ground him for me? I mean…” he then stomped over to the windows and pointed. “Look what he wrote on my face!!”

Hinata walked over to the window and peered up at the rock faces. She saw the awful words ‘shitty dad’ scrawled over Naruto’s stone face, and it only made her heartbreak.

He misses you. Hinata wanted to say. He’s lashing out! Just like you did! Can’t you see that?

“I’ll handle Boruto.” Hinata heard herself say to her worked up husband. She smoothed a hand over the orange fabric covering his heart. “Don’t worry.”

(End for now)

Essentially, it's a fic that would be resolved very quickly if Hinata just went up to Naruto and told him to fire his pesky secretary...but see, I don't see Hinata really doing that? She'd want to be diplomatic and subtle. She wouldn't want to cause waves... until Akane goes after her kids. It needs a lot more work... But it's REALLY just a fun excuse writing an underhanded mean-girl (Akane) get her just-comeuppance.

And yes--there was an outline... but the more recent changes I made would go against that and I'm fine with it? Haven't re-written a new outline in months so this fic is FULLY in limbo right now. lol

#dayseternal-blog ask #wip stuff #naruhina #oc-heavy fic

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http-tokki · 1 year ago

Text

bark like you want it

~ choso x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: fluff, fem reader, choso not understanding memes, canonverse, satosugu is canon, shoko is ur bestie, established relationships ~ wc: 400

"Is she calling you a dog?" Choso looks up from your phone to give you a confused look.

Your boyfriend hands the phone back to you, completely baffled at the text message you had shown him.

It was the text from your best friend approving your Halloween outfit choice with a lengthy message of barks and howls that had you cackling from the opposite side of the couch, startling Choso from his Animal Crossing gameplay. He had been eager to be in on the joke, clicking off his switch and shuffling to your side of the couch to get a peak at your screen.

"Is that good?" he asks, head titled to the side in befuddlement. "I thought being called a dog was a bad thing?"

Your nose crinkles in adoration at his confusion.

"Being called a dog is a bad thing," you confirm his earlier statement and wait for his nod of acknowledgement before continuing. "but what Shoko meant in that message is..umm.." you ponder the best and most straightforward way to explain the slang.

You don't mind walking your love through the things he doesn't understand. In fact, you find it rather adorable when he sends you memes or videos he doesn't get with a small text of help. You always write back with a thorough description of the joke and added resources so he could better understand it, but this one has you stumped. For a while, even you were uncertain of the intention behind the barking, but after seeing Saturo use it to flirt with Suguru, you knew it wasn't anything malicious.

"Okay, so, if I were to send you a picture of me and you think, 'Oh my god, she is so hot I need to tell her that she looks so good', instead of saying all that, you could write bark bark or something like that. Make sense?"

Choso looks just as perplexed as before.

"So you want me to bark?"

Your laughter explodes from you. "No, Cho, It's just meant to be something funny. You don't have to do that; I was just using me as an example."

"But it's a good thing, right?"

"Yes, it's a good thing," you affirm. "I'm always barking for you in my head; it's like a little crusty white dog in there, just going crazy."

It's Choso's turn to laugh at the image you outlined before him., giggling at the idea of you barking like a dog each time you saw him.

Two days later, you send a work fit to your boyfriend, and his text back is a simple.

bark bark bark bark bark bark

did I do it right?

a/n: i wrote this while making dinner pls be nice, my brain is exhausted I've been working on choso tattoo au

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whateveriwant · 2 years ago

Text

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base.

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others.

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character.

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head.

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else.

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot."

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to.

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal.

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious.

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed.

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now.

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head.

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence.

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box."

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on.

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!"

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud.

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality.

That… was…

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime.

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

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