#Oh my god I can’t believe the drift was THAT terrible

[shima-draws]

So I noticed over the past few months that my right joycon has been drifting. But I didn’t realize how fucking BAD it was drifting until I got a pro controller and started running around in Scarlet going “……Holy shit? My camera isn’t constantly drifting down? I don’t have to consciously move the camera back UP every 3 seconds? This is amazing. This is AMAZING I can actually experience this game like a normal person”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Rose with pistachio from 300 followers prompt list..I'm a sucker for bad boy Law🤭🤭congrats on 300 followers🥳

I am so sorry I made Mean Law into Nice Law at the end :) he's just such a dream!

Pairing: Law x Afab!Reader

WC: 1600

Prompt: “you’re such a fucking asshole.” 

 

“Hey y/n, happy birthday!” Bepo’s fluffy, smiling figure towers above you as he hands you a wrapped gift and a handmade birthday card. 

“I hope you like what we got you! If you don’t, well… that sucks I guess.” Penguin comments from behind the jumpsuit clad polar bear. 

“You guys really didn’t have to do anything… I don’t even like my birthday! A beer or two would have been just fine!” You smiled shyly as your crew mates present you with your gift. You unwrap the package and find a new pink sweatshirt (one you had been eyeing back at the last island and never quite pulled the trigger) and a stained money pouch filled with 1,000 berries. 

“Wow…” You look down and can’t believe anyone would have ever done this for you. You had just joined the crew less than a year ago and had spent most of your time trying to hone your fighting skills, not making friends. “Th-thanks guys…” You eyes begin to well. “Hey, let’s start drinking! It’s a celebration, right?” 

Your crew mates cheered and the small group of you cracked open a few bottles of beer in the kitchen to celebrate. You all enjoyed a terribly made birthday cake and several more beers as you joked and laughed with your friends. The collar of your off-white jumpsuit was stained with amber liquid as the captain of the Polar Tang entered the room. You all briefly paused the festivities. 

“Hey captain why don’t you-“ You gesture towards the fridge. 

“hrrmmph.” Law pushes past you to grab a few tea bags and retreats back to his office. 

“Oh.” You stood by the counter, defeated. You had pined for your captain for so long, but he kept pushing you away. It hurt, but never enough to abandon the pirate life you loved with your crew. 

“Don’t read into it, y/n. He’s been working a lot lately.” Shachi patted your shoulder. 

“Yeah… you’re right.” You sighed and finished your beer. “Thanks guys, but I think I’m going to bed. Thanks for the great birthday.” You faked a smile and headed to your room to wash up and go to sleep. You held back tears as you tried to drift off. 

— —

You awoke in the morning after a restless night.

How could your own captain forget your birthday? The one who asked you to join the crew in the first place? You think back to the day he held you in his arms on the battlefield while you bled out dying… He said he would fix you if you’d join him on his crew as his (insert profession of your choice). After that day you were a Heart Pirate.

Law was never an expressive man, but lately he had kept to himself all together. Your sadness had started to turn to anger. Your morning was spent cleaning the kitchen and you found yourself slamming the mop buckets around and throwing rags into the sink. 

“He’s such a jerk.” You mutter to yourself. 

After a long day of cleaning you prepare dinner for the crew in the galley. Most everyone thanked you and ate their food happily, with the exception of your captain. Law snuck in, loaded a plate full of food and slunk back to his office, without so much as a hello. You seeth through dinner and leave the dishes for whoever was on kitchen duty that night. 

“I’m not letting him act like this.” You tell yourself as you storm out of the galley down the hallway to the captain’s quarters.

 In your furious state, you push the door of his office open without knocking. You found Law at his desk pouring over several textbooks as a forkful of the mac and cheese you made was hanging out of his mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You storm towards his desk. “You know that?”

“Y/n what-?” Law swallows the bite in his mouth and leans back in his chair. 

“You only fucking care about your stupid research! The Gods fucking forbid you give a shit about anyone else!” You punctuated your last statement by ripping off your apron and balling it up, throwing it on the ground. 

“I assure that everyone on this ship is safe and-“ Law confidently retorts as he rises from his chair and moves towards you. 

“Yesterday was my birthday, Law.” You state firmly and look him in the eye. 

Law had nothing to say. He held your gaze for a few poignant moments. 

Law breaks eye contact and hurriedly moves over to his desk. After shuffling a pile of papers off his workspace, he grabs a small, leather-bound journal and opens it. He sighs as he looks over the page he was searching for. 

“Shit… y/n… I tried to make sure I didn’t forget…” He hung his head at his desk as he slowly shut his calendar. 

He wrote it in his calendar? Your birthday? He cared enough to write it down? You snapped out of your thoughts. 

“Well. Yeah. You did.” You cross your arms. 

“Y/n…. I’m so sorry….” Law strides towards you. His face is inches from yours. You continue to pout, holding firm even though the man you yearned for was breathing down your face. You keep your eyes fixed on the floor. Law gently takes your head in both of his hands and lifts it took look at him. 

“Can I make it up to you?” Law whispers, so close to your own lips. 

“… please…” You gasp out, flustered at your proximity. 

Without hesitation, Law pulls the back of your head towards his and mashes his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. He forcibly sticks his tongue into your mouth and moves one of his hands to grab your hip. You whimper into his mouth as you feel his grip on you tighten. Law grabs your ass and lifts you up to bring you over to the long leather couch in his office. He drops you gently on the soft sofa. Law is on his knees between your legs and leans forward into your neck. 

“Let me take your clothes off…” Law slides your jumpsuit off your shoulders. “I want to prove to you how much I care…” He kisses the crook of your neck as he slips your coveralls off your lower body. 

“Ok…” you panted our nervously as you were now naked in front of him for the first time. He was now between your knees as you sat naked on the leather sofa. Law leaned in to kiss you again, your hands on his neck. As you made out, your hands moved to toss his hat off his head. 

“Take that off, want to feel the real you…” You breath out as you continued to kiss him again. 

Law grunted and backed off of you to remove the rest of his clothes above you. He kneels back down and is face to face with your dripping cunt. 

“Gotta have you now…” Law whispers as he dips his head between your legs. Law swirls his tongue around your clit before he lays the flat of his tongue against your whole sex and drags it up your body. You moan out loud. He stops briefly at your right nipple and sucks harshly before moving his tongue up your body again. Law slides his tongue up your neck from your breast and back into your mouth. 

“Gonna show you how much I care now, okay y/n?” Law whispers in your ear as he lined his cock up with your hole. He teased your slit with his leaking tip before he began dipping in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Law… want all of you…” You sigh out as you clutch his biceps.

Law smiled down at you. 

“And you’ll get anything you want, love.” Law pushed himself fully inside of you swiftly. You moaned as you felt his pelvis meet yours, feeling his cock caress the deepest places inside your body. 

“Captain!” You shriek out as Law pulls out of you and pushes back in forcefully. 

“I know, I know… just wanna give you the best…” Law grips your hips tightly and thrusted quickly into your wet hole. 

“Shit! Fuck! Law!” You cry as you are bounced against the back of the leather sofa, your captain hitting your spot just right.  “There, Law!” Tears formed at your eyelashes as he brought your body to the culmination of pleasure. 

“Kiss me when you cum. Do it now.” Law leans forward and pushes his mouth onto yours. The rhythmic thrusting of your captain inside of you and his lips on yours was too much for you to handle, you gasp and cream on the cock inside of you. Your eyes roll back into your head and the grip on Law’s arms loosens.

"L-law!"

Your body becomes limp in his hold after your orgasm. 

Law jerks his hips a few times and pulls out of you to spurt hot ropes of cum onto your abdomen. Your normally stoic captain whines as he finished his release. Your head far too hazy to even notice that he had finished on you, you groaned and pulled your lover into your arms. 

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” You whispered teasingly into your lovers face as he brushed your nose with his. 

“What? That I care about you? Of course. As for the rest of tonight… maybe we should.. what’s the word you said? “Soft launch”?”  Law rubbed your noses together.  You laughed. 

“We can keep it quiet for now.” You giggled at your captain. “But I fully expect a party for our anniversary.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Law chuckled as he pulled your body into his and you both drifted off to sleep. 

xx MoMo

[camels-pen]

our hearts will blend (with a fucking semi)

Summary:

“Y’know I think I can take out my heart and still like. Live.” “That’s nice, Danny.”

Danny proves a point.

—

based on @phantomphangphucker 's prompt "To prove a point, someone (it could even be Danny himself) removes Danny’s heart, and promptly misplaces/loses it." and @kawaiijohn 's prompt "Tucker Foley's terrible, awful, very bad day."

Warning: gore, blood, body horror, mentioned animal death

Ao3 Link | Phight '24 series

“Y’know I think I can take out my heart and still like. Live.”

“That’s nice, Danny.”

There was a grumble. “I can do it.”

“I wasn’t doubting you.” Danny stuck his hand under his shirt. “I WASN’T DOUBTING YOU, DON’T SHOW ME!” Tucker shrieked.

Danny ignored him. There was a loud, wet tearing noise—almost a SQUELCH—followed by a pop and Tucker was covering his eyes and walking away. The sounds of some of the jocks down the hill grew louder as he fled, but he would take jocks over still bleeding hearts any fucking day.

“Tucker, c’mon—Tucker.” It sounded like Danny was jogging after him, but Tucker sped up.

“I can’t believe I have to fucking say this, but I am not hanging out with you until you’re not holding your actual real live heart that is still bleeding in your hands.”

“It’s not even that bad—” There was a squeak, like sneakers on wet grass. It was the middle of a drought. In July. “Seriously, it’s not even that much blood.”

“You’re a liar and a whore and I’m ignoring you.”

“You know that’s pretty racist, Tucker.”

Tucker stopped. Another squeak behind him as Danny too, stopped.

“This is a perfectly normal part of ghost culture and is actually really helpful for keeping happy and healthy. To just dismiss it and say such hurtful things 

“This is a totally normal thing for ghosts—it’s part of our culture and all that. Intangibility, flying, and shapeshifting, that kind of stuff,” Tucker could practically hear him fumbling his heart in one hand as he listed things off on his fingers. “Taking out your organs for fresh air is just another thing on the list of normal ghost things.”

Tucker slowly, oh so slowly, let his hands fall from his eyes.

“Really hurts my feelings to hear that you don’t like a part of my culture, Tuck.”

Tucker turned. Danny had a stupid fucking grin on his face, smug like a cat that caught the canary.

“You’re breaking my heart here.” He held up his hand and Tucker finally got a good look at the bloody, pulsing thing Danny was so proud to show off. His hands were practically painted red, there was so much blood on them and despite the lack of any blood vessels connected to that—oough—fucking thing, it pumped along, happy as a clam.

When presented with such a thing, Tucker did as any average, normal guy would do.

He screamed at the top of his lungs and slapped it away from him as hard as he could.

The heart was flung from Danny’s bloody fingers, soaring in a wide arc down the hill. 

It landed in a patch of grass. Intact, thankfully.

“69! 420! Phantom rules! HIKE!!!” 

A wide, white, untied shoe punted Danny’s heart high into the air, followed by Dash tripping and swearing bloody murder. The wretched, happy thing fell with a distant splat atop the trailer of a parked moving truck. 

“What the hell did I just fucking kick? Where’s the fucking ball?” Dash started to push himself up when he slipped and looked down. “What the—oh my god.” He scrambled away, falling over himself as he made gagging noises.

“Dude, did you just kick a fucking squirrel? Did you pop that thing?” Kwan yelled.

Tucker stared at the scene below a long while before a hand tugged his sleeve. Danny pointed him towards the street. The truck had pulled out of the driveway and was driving innocently down the street.

Danny and Tucker watched it leave, the stupid fucking organ pumping in tune with each bump in the road. Almost as if waving goodbye.

“Hm.”

“Hm.”

The sound of Dash’s gagging and sobs drifted up from below. 

“So,” Danny said, stretching out the word. “I can’t go ghost without that. You think your mom would lend us her car?”

Tucker put his head in his hands. “Dude, you’re fucking heartless.”

“Is that a yes.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Great!” Danny slapped him on the back. Blood immediately seeped through Tucker’s sweatshirt. “Also, I need to borrow your shower.”

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

It’s really funny when you think of season 4 basically being a tragicomedy where two fruity disasters are engaged in a dance of who can miscommunicate the most. They both are actually on the same page with a desire to go crazy together and be a team but they assume the other boy is reading an entirely different book. Mike goes to Cali frazzled with a million chaotic thoughts, his confusion and flustered heart barely concealed by his Big Bird core outfit.

I have a girlfriend and I’m supposed to love her. Of course I love her, she’s my girlfriend! She’s El! She has superpowers! She’s changed my life! Yes, stick to the script! I can’t wait to meet her friends she’s been telling me about and also to meet Will 😍. Wait, why did I just get flustered? It’s just Will. My friend. Will Byers. WHO HAS APPARENTLY BEEN MAKING A PAINTING FOR A MYSTERIOUS GIRL?!? I wonder what that’s about. Actually I don’t wanna know. It’s fine. Oh my God, he got hot. Why did he get hot? Wait, don’t think that. That’s weird. He’s a boy. He’s Will. Act calm. Be normal. Uhhh. hi 😍 😍😍 Wait, why isn’t he showing me that? Does he hate me? Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?

Meanwhile Will, with no idea about Mike’s internal monologue, is extremely eager and happy to see his best friend again and is utterly confused why he is being so weird and not hugging him and why his outfit is so questionable. I guess he doesn’t care about anything I have to say anymore. I’m so stupid. Why did I make this painting and bring it to this airport like a loser? He doesn’t want to see it. Which is literally the opposite of the truth. And then things start happening too fast to process anything, and everyone’s talking fast, and El is flagrantly lying to Mike and it’s quite disturbing. Why would she do that? Friends don’t lie. This can’t end well.

And then at the roller rink Will is in tragic yearning mode while also keenly aware that a fire is brewing and wanting to put out the fire before it hurts both his sister and his best friend, both of whom he loves dearly. But Mike is oblivious to all of this while in his feelings about Will, paying absurdly close attention to Will “moping and rolling his eyes,” interpreting things in the wrong way. And then he shoots up like a gopher on adderall when Will tells him they need to talk about El because something is terribly wrong- which would be crystal clear if Mike wasn’t hyperfocused on Will’s every mood swing- and he refuses to believe it until it becomes undeniable, choosing instead to address what is clearly on his mind significantly more than his actual girlfriend on a theoretical date. And they have a high school musical coded fight in the middle of the building, entirely misunderstanding where the other boy is coming from, and it just leaves them more flustered, frustrated, and confused. But because they are incapable of personal space, it doesn’t make them drift apart physically. They stand side by side as El absolutely decks Angela to Will’s shellshocked sinking feeling of “This is my fault. I should have prevented this from happening,” and Mike’s feeling of horror and shock and, “Where did any of this come from? I just got here.”

And then later on El and Mike have their fight about him not being able to say I love you, which is confusing and full of gaslighting and contradictions and is super messy no matter how the cake is sliced, but Will is not there for any of this, so he has no reason to believe El and Mike are on the rocks. Because why would they be? He heard Mike say I love you to a room full of their friends a year ago. And Mike is clearly dealing with so many internal thoughts and conflicted feelings that he won’t share with the class- with the class being both Will and the audience- so post el’s arrest and post her “superhero” journey we have to watch Byler have these incredibly coded conversations that get increasingly more chaotic. Mike’s basically like, “Yeah bestie I’m not sure about this whole macaroni and cheese thing and I don’t know if me and El are really right for each other, you know? It was prolly like dumb luck or something, but you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, Will, and I think we should work together as a team, as best friends, as lovers- wait, who said that? Anyway, what do you think, my totally platonic bestie?”

All this as [tender, emotional music] plays. And Will, even though it destroys him inside, is extraordinarily selfless, and is basically like, “I’m sure you and El will work things out and talk through whatever’s happening. You love each other. You are perfect for each other. And I will always be here to reassure you.” And Mike’s like, “That’s not how I envisioned this convo going. Are you sure?” And while holding back tears, Will’s like, “Of course I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be sure? Look at this painting I made you.” And Mike’s like “Wow 😍😍😍 did you make that for me?” And Will’s like, “Sure did! Actually El basically did. She commissioned it.” And Mike is like, “Oh. Okay. It’s still really beautiful tho. Which of course it is. Because you made it. But I… I’m confused. But I don’t fully understand why I’m confused. I’m glad El needs me! I think?”

Meanwhile, Byler literally wants the same things, they both deeply desire and love each other, but they don’t know how the other feels. And if they both paused for one second, were fully honest with each other, and stopped speaking in code, things would fall into place. And they could walk hand in hand, crazy together, into the apocalypse.

[rants-about-opm]

OPM/MP100 Characters as Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon Incidents

Dimple: Has exactly one rope tethering him, pray to your gods and your devils that he doesn’t decide to do a back flip, and then prepare, because it is not an if, but a when.

Garou: Every year he snags on at least four buildings, one time he just drifted off down the wrong street and no one realized until he’d somehow committed attempted murder on a pedestrian.

Genos: You’d think nothing would happen, but then the balloon would randomly explode because a mosquito smacked into it. If I had a nickle for every time this happened, I would have no time to count through them all because I would be dealing with the lawsuit.

Reigen: No one ever sees his balloon, somehow they always manage to time it so the ads run in place of the footage of him passing by. If they lost him somehow, they would absolutely replace him with a dollar store party balloon with his name written on it. Despite never having seen this balloon, you would be somewhat relieved by this.

Mob: Literally the most well behaved balloon, some of these fuckers are over here causing international crises, meanwhile he just occasionally gets stirred up by a strong wind and gets a little hard to handle. One year he got loose, but everybody ran to get him safely back, and now he gets extra tethers.

Saitama: Stopped a terrorist attack. Saved the president. Stopped global warming and terraformed mars. Nobody has seen this balloon in years. It drifted off one time and no one noticed. Now it’s just randomly seen in the background of major breaking news broadcasts. What the fuck is this balloon, how is it doing this. Theorists are afraid.

Mumen Rider: Has to be patched every year, sometimes more than once. It’s amazing this balloon is still recognizable. In his debut, he knocked over a stand of bikes, and promptly got run into by a spiky grey haired balloon that popped him. Tumblr posts pics of this balloon in a hospital bed like he’s Markiplier breaking his nose for the fifth time.

Tatsumaki: Is the balloon...Oh fuck...it’s ROTATING, what the fuck, holy shit MOVE, OH MY GOD IT’S TANGLED WITH ALL THE OTHER BALLOONS AND IS VEERING OFF THE PATH, HOLY- IT HIT THE PRESIDENT, I REPEAT, THE PRESIDENT IS DOWN, THE PRESIDENT IS-

King: Stopped a terrorist attack. Saved the president. Stopped global warming and terraformed mars. This balloon is front and center every year, everyone believes it is an omen of incredible luck. There’s nothing tying this balloon to any of the things it’s supposedly done, but his followers are unwavering. Catholics are afraid.

Ritsu: Almost destroyed a city block one year. Has never had an incident since. Often mistaken for another balloon.

Serizawa: Giving this balloon an open umbrella was a terrible idea. Would be the most passive balloon in the world if not equipped with Satan’s sail. Thankfully, he’s well tethered and hasn’t gotten loose recently. He usually just bumps gently into the other balloons and stops anyways. 

Fubuki: Seems intent on clinging to every other balloon in the parade. They’ve tried reducing the static cling, but this balloon really just can’t stand being alone. Unfortunately, it means that smaller balloons tend to get pushed off course and damaged. Bigger balloons seem to do just fine.

Shou: Hit a power line, caught on fire, burned its tethers and flew loose over the city for multiple hours, causing dozens of injuries because of melted plastic dripping off of it. The man who made this balloon was charged with several crimes for making a balloon this dangerous and knowingly releasing it into the world. It has since been remade, and has had few incidents.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

May I request "there's my beautiful bride!" or "I'm the luckiest man alive." for Beast and/or Wendy? These two deserve some attention and I hope this is a nice way to give them that.

they sure do, I love these girls!! <3

(if you listen real close, you can hear me being hilariously bisexual in the background XD)

things that you want to hear.

It still sort of blows your mind that you’re married to someone now.

BEAST may not be many people’s idea of a ‘traditional’ wife, but she’s yours. There’s no way you could ever want anyone else when you have her. What do anyone else’s opinions have to do with your relationship, anyway? They don’t matter.

Of course, you think they matter to her. Sometimes you see her looking in the mirror, touching parts of herself that people have expressed judgment about. (Her leg and chest, most notably. People on the street look at her like she’s this person without class who’s missing parts. You don’t think it could possibly infuriate you more, and there’s nothing you can say directly that will ever make it better.)

It makes you sad; that other people feel she’s not fit to be a wife, when all being someones’s wife requires is to be a woman who marries someone. Who cares what else is true about her?

She has a good heart. She’s a good person. She’s a good wife, because she’s yours.

One such night when you come home from work, you venture upstairs. What you find in the bedroom is Beast in front of the full-length mirror, wearing an outfit that, while very much her style, is a little revealing as far as the masses are concerned.

It doesn’t bother you, so why the hell should it bother anyone else? It’s nobody else’s business to be looking at how your wife is dressed. You have to wonder if that’s why she doesn’t often leave the house, especially without you, unless she’s working at the circus ― because people pay attention to how different she is in every way.

God. That must drive her insane, having people look at her all the time and notice every little detail about her that isn’t ‘normal’. It kind of pisses you off.

What else can you really do, except come up behind her and circle your arms around her waist? “There’s my beautiful bride!” you hum, pressing your lips to her neck. “Look at you; you’re a vision.”

Although she startles, it’s not really a bad reaction. She seems to flinch at first no matter how affectionate you’re being, likely a side effect of a lifetime’s worth of abuse. “… Eh? Where at?”

“Right here.” You chuckle softly and lean closer so you can kiss her on the lips. No way are you going to let her feel bad about herself when you’re right here to reassure her. “Is it my imagination, or are you even more gorgeous than when I left this morning? Ah, someone’s going to steal you away from me.”

She scoffs, though she shifts her arms down so she can set her hands over top of yours. It looks like she’s slightly more relaxed now, thank goodness. And she’s stopped paying any mind to the image in the mirror in favor of paying attention to you. “Oi… y’ talk too much. Silly thing.”

You tilt your head. “I could try to say better things whilst talking a bit less. What about a simple ‘I love you’? Have I told you that today?”

“Mhm, when y’ left earlier.” She nuzzles against you. “Come off that, would y’? Y’re gonna get me all used t’ bein’ told that.”

You arms give her a little squeeze. “Oh, how terrible. I love you.”

Her eyes drift closed. “Aaaah… I love y’, too.”

“And,” you continue, “I’m so happy you’re my wife.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then she lets out this tiny breath of a laugh. “… There’s worse things t’ be, I s’pose.”

There are times when you can’t really believe that another person hasn’t swept WENDY off her feet. She’s all yours, for as long as she wants to be.

How? You truly wonder in some moments. People may not be perfect, but Wendy is such a wonderful person. She’s got a playful beauty about her, and she’s kindhearted, and she’s so much more intelligent than anyone gives her credit for. (Except perhaps her brother. If anyone knows better than you how smart she is, it’s Peter.)

When you’re lying awake in the early hours of the morning, in bed next to her, it strikes you that this is your life. You’re fortunate enough to have someone like her as your partner, to have the rest of her family as friends. They’ve pretty well accepted you.

You probably won’t be able to get back to sleep for a while, so instead of doing anything productive, you start to card your fingers through Wendy’s hair. Watching her sleep makes you feel peaceful… she doesn’t get enough sleep, you know. It’s nice to look at her relaxed for once.

After a few minutes, you regret it a little when her eyes start to flutter open. She blinks at you and offers a groggy groan. “Mhn… wot’s goin’ on, (Name)…? Can’t sleep? C’mere…”

Always so selfless. What did you do to deserve a woman like her? Whatever it was, you wish you’d done it sooner so you’d met her years ago.

“Nothing’s going on, sweetheart. I’m just looking at you… and thinking,” you add with a chuckle.

She laughs sleepily, reaching to grab at your waist regardless. “Thinkin’? ‘Ope y’ ain’t thinkin’ too ‘ard… liable t’ pull somethin’…” All the other things you love about her, and she’s also got a sense of humor even while half asleep. “Wot y’ thinkin’ ‘bout, darlin’?”

Your fingers make another pass through her hair. You adore that she usually takes it down to sleep… it’s like a side of her only you (well, and Peter) get to see. “I’m the luckiest man alive. For starters.”

“Yeah? ‘Ow do y’ figure?”

You move a little closer and press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Well, I’ve got you. Isn’t that all I need to think of myself as the luckiest man alive? Honestly, even some of the lucky dead men might be jealous.”

She laughs, slightly more lucidly, leaning into the contact. “Mhh… y’re either full’a it ‘r dreamin’. ‘N’ I ain’t willin’ enough t’ find out which, considerin’ wot time it is. Guess I should jus’ feel ‘appy y’re spoilin’ me, sayin’ things like that.”

“It’s the truth.” You continue stroking her hair before wrapping your unoccupied arm around her. “I love you very much, Wendy. Sometimes I’m not sure you know how much.”

She nestles herself in against you ― making you second-guess yourself. Maybe she does know how much you love her. There’s no question she loves you, but she apparently feels the need to reiterate it. “Love y’ more’n that. I don’t care ‘ow much y’ love me, I love y’ more.”

She drifts back to sleep in your arms shortly after, and you think there’s really no way you can argue with her.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

1 fic per Billy Joel song: That's Not Her Style

“Please join me in a new segment we like to call: crazy things the Daily News says about Midge Maisel that are not the least bit true!” 

The audience laughs and applauds as Gordon grins at Midge, who shakes her head. 

“Now, obviously Midge can’t comment on these things, because she’s really looking to save her own skin here,” Gordon jokes. “But luckily, her husband is here to clear up some of these strange stories, please welcome Lenny Bruce!” 

Lenny steps out, grinning, a stack of newspapers in his arm as he heads over to the couch, kissing Midge’s cheek affectionately on the way, earning him a playful shove. 

The audience laughs and applauds more as he sits down next to Gordon, setting the newspapers on his lap. “Hello, Gordon.” 

“Hi, Lenny. How’s life?” 

“Ah, y’know,” Lenny grins. “I haven’t been arrested this week, so not too terrible.” 

“Hey, that’s great,” Gordon grins. “What have we got?” 

“We have the last five issues of the Daily News, where one L. Roy Dunham cannot seem to stop writing about my lovely wife,” Lenny explains. “I’m not sure if I should be offended at all the lies, or worried that this writer might be a dangerous threat who defames her because he cannot have her..” 

“Well, what kinds of things are they saying?” Gordon asks.

Lenny clears his throat and unfolds a paper, starting to read. “‘Mrs. Masiel seen out carrousing on Monday night without notorious husband. Could this spell trouble in paradise?’” 

“And what was Midge doing Monday night?” Gordon grins.

“We made dinner together,” Lenny responds. “Pasta on Monday night, actually. And then we uh…turned in early, if you get my drift.” 

That gets a good laugh, and some whistles from the audience and Midge shakes her head. 

“You’re not supposed to tell people that, Lenny.” 

“Why not? I enjoy my wife’s company,” he defends himself with a wide smirk. He tosses the paper over his shoulder and picks up the next one.

“You’re making a mess of my set,” Gordon complains. 

“You’re the host of the Tonight Show now, don’t you have people to clean up?” Lenny asks, confused. “You’d think this joint would be swankier than your last gig.” 

“He’s his own janitor,” Midge jokes, getting a good laugh. 

“Alright, ‘’Mrs. Maisel buys a fifteen-thousand dollar mink coat to go with her new Gordon Ford Tonight Show Gig -” Lenny barks out a loud laugh. “If Gordon Ford is his own janitor, what makes anyone think he has the money to pay MIdge enough to buy a mink coat?” 

“And mink is a lot of look,” Midge comments. “I’d drown in a mink coat.” 

“No comments from the peanut gallery!” Gordon scolds. “So no mink coat?” 

“No,” Lenny confirms with a grin. He drops the paper and pulls out the next one. He reads and then starts to laugh. “Oh, Gordo, you’ll love this one.” 

“Oh?”

“Well, I cannot read this aloud on national television,” Lenny says regretfully. “But it basically insinuates that Midge got her gig here with you buy uh…doing you an extra little favor.” 

“Oh god,” Midge moans, covering her face. 

“Which would be the correct words and intonation she would have used during said extra little favor,” Lenny comments, closing the paper.

“Lenny!” 

Gordon stares at Lenny, stunned, as the audience laughs hard. 

“I think L. Roy Dunham broke Gordon,” Lenny tells the audience. “Whelp! It’s my show now.” He gets to his feet, dropping the rest of the papers and shoving Gordon out of his desk chair and onto the floor, taking his place. “Folk, I think the point of this little exercise is that you cannot believe everything you read. Just because they print it in the papers, that doesn’t make it true.” 

Gordon gets to his feet and hops into Lenny’s lap. “Which is what you’ve been telling people for years.”

“It’s true!” Lenny agrees, straight-faced as the audience continues to laugh. “And if anyone is probably trading favors with Gordon Ford in this marriage, it’s more likely to be  me.” 

Gordon kisses Lenny on the cheek and then turns to the audience. “We’ll be right back!” 

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It's Winter! Have a wonderful weekend!

What If?

He paced back and forth, using all his body’s inner strength to remain calm and sensible while a hundred horrible thoughts formed in his brain. 

Tonight was the last night he’d be alone - thank God. 

Tomorrow, he’d be marrying his best friend and soulmate. 

What if she doesn’t show up? 

What if she changes her mind? 

What if I’m not good enough? 

What if she realizes she made an awful mistake? 

What if?

What if?

What if!!!!

Catching a glimpse of his suit hanging on the door, he couldn’t help but wonder what her wedding dress looked like. Brigitte had kept it a secret, not giving him a single hint of the design, style or colour. And Laurence and Tiphaine were just as tight-lipped as their mother. 

Patiently waiting over 10 years for this next chapter in his life, he couldn’t believe the day was finally here. Unfortunately, falling asleep proved to be an impossible task. The nights he spent without her by his side were always the worst, and tonight was no exception. In fact, today was the hardest. 

Without hesitation, he dialled her number, not caring that it was almost midnight. He needed to hear her soothing voice. 

“Emmanuel, what’s wrong?” Brigitte asked, wondering if something terrible had happened. “Are you hurt? Are you sick?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice.” He breathed into the phone. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

She smiled, “I can’t sleep either. I’m excited for tomorrow.” 

“Really? Are you sure?” 

“Of course, I’m sure. Why? Are you having doubts? Emmanuel, do… do you want to call off the wedding?” She fearfully asked. “We don’t have to go through with it.” 

“No! No! No! Chérie, it’s the opposite!” The words poured out of his mouth. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I … I’m scared you won’t show up,” Emmanuel whispered. “Or you’ll abandon me at the altar.” 

“That will never, ever happen. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I know you have too. Manu, I’ll be there. I promise.” She twirled her engagement ring, wishing she was beside him right now. If only to be in his strong arms as they drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

“What if ….” 

“Emmanuel Macron, stop with your what-ifs! You need to sleep so you’re awake and energized for tomorrow, and lord knows I need my beauty rest,” she joked. “I’m not getting any younger. You should see the wrinkles around my eyes. Laurence took me to the spa this afternoon and ….” 

He didn’t give her a chance to continue. “You’re beautiful, Brigitte. You’re always beautiful. And I know you’ll still be the prettiest woman in the world when you’re 70 years old - wrinkles and all.”  

She laughed loudly, “I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like at that age. Thankfully, it feels so far away. Now, please go to bed. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow at our wedding.” 

“I love you too, chérie. Goodnight.” 

—— 

“What are you thinking about?” Brigitte wrapped her arms around his waist and planted a kiss on his shoulder. “You’re staring into space.” 

“I was just thinking about the phone call we had the night before our wedding. Do you remember it?” Emmanuel asked, sinking deeply into her embrace. She always knew what he needed, as if they shared one brain.  

“Of course, I do. You thought I wouldn’t show up!” She laughed at the memory. “You should have had more faith in your fiancé.” 

“You should have had more faith in yourself.” He pointed out. “And obviously, in me, your brilliant husband.” 

“Why?” She was confused. 

“Because at 70 years old, you’re still the prettiest woman in the world - and I knew it all along.”

Helloo Winter! ❤️

Oh the sweet potato scared that Brigitte wouldn’t show up at their wedding. But the 70 years old comment back then and now was a really sweet touch!

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[marsmarvel02]

"What Manny Can't Fix" Review: Chapter 17

Welcome back and welcome again to my review of "What Manny Can't Fix" a Handy Manny fanfic that- well, if I'm reviewing it, you know it's got to be bad.

Last time, a lot of plot went down, and today- wow, I can barely believe it- we're covering the last chapter of Part 1. That's right, folks- after today, we'll be done with Turner, and on to the hapless adventures of some other tool.

(And as always, if you'd like to start this review series from the beginning, Chapter 1 is here.)

Chapter 17

Manny was packing the last few boxes into the back of Abuelito’s car when Turner came back.

Gee, after that cliffhanger I was kind of expecting this chapter to begin with a Plunker segment.

Good! I’m not too late!

“Manny!” Turner panted out as he rushed towards the car.

Manny looked over in surprise. “Turner?”

“Manny...I...I changed my mind! I want to stay with you!” He said, out of breath.

Manny smiled widely. “R..really?”

Turner felt the knot return to his stomach. Great….I’m still just using him, aren’t I? This has to stop….

A tool using a human. I’d say that this is actually some clever irony, but given the author’s track record I’m pretty sure it’s unintentional.

“I can’t lie to you anymore kid!” Turner said.

Manny frowned. “What do you mean?”

Turner broke down and explained everything. “For the past month I’ve been living with a group of tools who don’t like humans! And...and we all needed to chip in to find food and I kept coming here for food, and I feel terrible for using you! Then they found out that we were...were…”

Friends.

Now Turner didn’t feel so unsure about the word. It felt nice….and it felt...right….

“...That we were friends.” Turner sighed.

“Turner…” Manny frowned, leaning down to his level.

“I understand if you hate me, kid. I...I just needed to tell you. I feel bad for using you like that.” Turner started to leave, but Manny pulled him into a hug.

Turner looked up, confused. “You’re not mad?”

Of course Manny’s not mad. He’s obviously That One Random Kid Who Is Somehow The Embodiment Of Kindness And A Paragon Of Humanity, duh.

“No.” Manny said, hugging him closer. “You’re my friend Turner….And you needed help….”

He pulled back slightly. “Do you wanna stay with me Turner?”

“Yes!” Turner said a bit too excitedly. 

Manny smiled. “All right, come on.” He headed over to the backseat of the car. “We’ve got a long drive to Concrete Falls.”

“And I’m sure my parents won’t mind that I invited a stranger to come live with us!”

That night Manny curled up in his bed in Concrete Falls, holding Turner close.

This is a lot more comfy than the alley. Turner thought as he snuggled deeper into the blankets.

“Turner, do you wanna hear a story?” Manny asked.

“Sure, kid.” 

Manny pulled a small box onto the bed where all his story books were packed up. “Here, pick  one out.”

Turner looked through the books. Usually books weren’t his thing, but he was willing to listen to one for the kid’s sake. None of the books caught his eye at first, until he came across one: Snow White

Oh my god. Not this again.

“This one.” Turner said, plopping the book onto the bed.

“Snow White?” Manny smiled. “I love this one!”

AAAARGH!

He patted the pillow for Turner to come over. 

Turner hopped over and slipped under the covers. They were warm and soft, unlike the piece of fabric he’d been using.

Manny opened the book and started the story. “Once upon a time there was a Queen who was The Fairest Of All.”

WHY?!

That’s what she thinks! Turner mentally scoffed. 

“Each day she’d ask the mirror, “Magic Mirror on The Wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” And each day the mirror would reply, “You my queen are the fairest of all.”

Turner snuggled deeper into the covers and started to drift off as Manny read about the dwarves washing their hands for supper. 

Yeah, stuff like that would probably put me to sleep too. 

He felt comfortable and safe, like he belonged.

Like he had a family.

And that’s the end of Turner's story!

(The beginning of the next tool's story can be enjoyed here.)

I was actually going to be a bit charitable here and say that, while far from a masterpiece, this work of fanfiction was still more enjoyable to read than certain stories that were actual published books, but with the first part ending with another friggin’ Snow White sequence I can safely say that this is no longer my opinion.

Also, I’d like you, readers, to know that this story has inspired me to coin a new word- “plunking”, meaning “wasting time, usually in a work of fiction by the use of unnecessary subplots”.

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 27

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:  ART

I must’ve drifted off sometime in the afternoon, I realise now it must be getting late the way most o’ the candles have been extinguished round the room, just a few burning now, most o’ the remaining light coming from the fire burning in the hearth.  Reckon I was slow realising just how much time I’d actually gone without more’n a drunken snatch o’ sleep that Krakka then just burned right outta me with his god magic.  I mean he sobered me up, gave me an edge again for the fight on the Heath, but … fuck, it was a rough night an’ morning after.  And even worse after the warehouse …

Thorin … Hardway was annihilated.  Whatever the fuck that rogue wizard set up in there did its job spectacularly.  Worse the way they set up all that scrap metal to make the wreckage a whole lot more brutal, I never really heard about anything like that before.  Must’ve been something that evil bitch Vandryss dreamed up, seems like just the kinda cruel trick she’d think of.

The chaos afterwards … I’ll admit my sleep’s been less than restful cuz of it.  When I’m shaken awake again I come up a good deal rougher than I’d like, genuinely jumping outta my near-prone sprawl on the couch in the Temple lounge with my heart pounding, and I feel how clammy I am under my leather.  Sweating up a storm in my sleep … no wonder, given the half-remembered horrors I just escaped.  Something loud and angry and very wet, genuinely soaked in blood and terror, I reckon.  Whatever it was shook loose by that terrible blast and everything that followed it.  Not just what did but what could have.

So I’m sat right up when I open my eyes, wide as they’ll go I reckon, and I’m genuinely a little surprised to see it’s Yeslee who’s drawing back now.  I didn’t scare her, I know that much, she don’t look even remotely rattled and I wouldn’t have expected it either, but maybe there’s a touch o’ concern in her look as she examines me.  She ain’t straightened back up yet, still leaning over the back of the couch, watchful now.

“Oh … fuck, that was …”  I feel the flush of heat rising under my face, and like always I’m glad o’ my fur and the way it can so easily hide it.  “Sorry.  I’m just …”

I don’t finish as I feel the small, rumpled shape tucked in close beside me stirring now, a somewhat lost, confused mew of half-consciousness escaping her as she starts to shove herself up too.  Bloody hell … I can’t believe she actually stayed.  When she settled in beside me she told me not to say a word about it, and definitely not to try anything, she just needed to crash, same as me.  I fully expected her to be gone long before I woke up again.

Finally Darwyn sits up too, bleary as hell as she blinks away through her dishevelled hair, fighting for focus.  “Oh fuck … what is it?”

This just makes Yes frown a little deeper, but she don’t answer.  Instead she just straightens up at last, half turning to regard someone else who’s stepping forward now.  Normally I can see just fine in the relative gloom we’re surrounded by, but I’m still waking up myself, it takes me a long moment to focus so I have trouble recognising ‘em …

Fuck.  My eyes widen again, and I genuinely start to smile, I’m a little overwhelmed to see Shay.  “Hey!  You’re okay!  You are okay, ain’t you?”

Letting out a deep, weary sigh I feel in my bones, the half-orc slumps a little, reaching up with both her hands in order to shove her hair out of her face.  She’s stripped off her armour again, down to the well-fitted leather and padded linen under-armour she wears underneath it, which gives her a very svelte, lithe appearance.  That being said, the slouch in her posture kinda ruins the effect.  She’s tired, same as the rest of us.  “It’ll do.  Honestly, I think both of you had the smarter idea.”

She looks good, though, all things considering.  When we started to regroup after the blast, she was well out, having taken a major hit as Tulen jumped ‘em out, and if it hadn’t been for Hurrig Stormshield’s uncanny enchanted armour reckon she’d have been good and shredded.  In truth I’m surprised she actually removed it at all, I don’t think I’d ever take it off again after something like that …

That being said, she didn’t escape entirely unscathed.  She’s got a few cuts on her right cheek, one going pretty deep, that the healers have clearly been at, reduced to striking purple silk scars, and she got a little notch taken out of her ear too, I notice.  Like Kesla.  It don’t do a thing to make her look any less beautiful than she already is, it just makes her look more dangerous with it.

Shifting a little more on the cushions so I can swing my legs over the side and sit up properly, I give my back a little stretch.  “I dunno … feels like a bloody mixed blessing to me right now.  Can’t tell if I’m just fucked in the head now, or –”

“You’re fine.”  Yeslee growls, stood by now with her arms folded tight.  She’s as unmarked as the pair of us, of course, but then she had the good sense to start running the second people started shouting about getting the fuck out of that place.  “You’ll be fine.  You just need time.”

“Yeah, sure …”  I drop my head and brace my hands behind it as I double over for a long moment, breathing in and out several times through my nose and mouth.  Finally I give my back one last stretch, then look up again.  “Oh … okay, I’m all right.  What’s up?”

Shay don’t answer right away, instead shooting a cautious look at Yes while she just shrugs, although she looks down as she does it, suddenly unable to make eye contact.  Oh … well that can’t be good.  And now I start thinking about … oh shit … oh, no … that couldn’t be …

“No … please, she’s okay, ain’t she?  Tell me she didn’t –”

“She’s awake.”  Shay answers quick, wide-eyed and a little breathless as she catches on that she just shocked the hell outta me.  “Kesla’s … well she’s not not great, but she’s awake.  She’s pretty angry about her back, but I think that might be more about the tattoo than the actual wounds.”

Oh thank the gods … I breathe out again, my heart starting to slow, and after a second Darwyn surprises me as she gets up on her knees and reaches over, giving my shoulder a good, tight grip with her other hand wanders to the back of my neck and starts kneading with gentle but familiar surety.  Wow … ain’t felt that in a long time.  It’s almost enough to set me off purring.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”  I manage to chuckle now, mirthless and more’n a little bitter, I realise.  “Typical Kesla.”

She was definitely the one hit worst out of all of us.  Tulen took a nasty shot in the shoulder and very nearly lost hold of the other two, which I suspect might’ve been disastrous for Kesla and Shay when they were porting, I dunno exactly how that works, just how instantaneous the teleportation actually is.  When we found her she was screaming bloody murder about it, but I can’t say I was overly surprised – never mind it was a messy wound, a little deeper or just an inch more to the side and it might well have cut her arm clean off, I was quick remembering that it was also her first time ever actually getting hurt in the field.  She had no clue what it’d actually be like, so she was entirely unprepared.  So when we got back she was sent straight to the healers and I ain’t seen her since.

Kesla though … she definitely got it worse.  That flying metal … fuck, that shit must’ve been flying angry hot and scary fast to have torn through the steel of her back-plate like that.  Her half-plate got pretty comprehensively ruined by the blast, the shrapnel, I heard that’s what it’s called, hitting her harder’n one o’ Yeslee’s arrows.  I suspect if she hadn’t been wearing that plate, she might’ve been killed, and even Janna Merphin’s miraculous jack-of-plates only negated the damage a little more.  The worst of it still got through, and when we finally found her she was down, very much out, and bleeding badly.  She was priority number one, then – Lady Naru grabbed hold of both her and Shay on the spot and ported ‘em both back to the Temple before coming back to the rest of us.

When we finally got back, she was still in the most extreme back room of the infirmary, the Surgery itself, undergoing some serious, life-or-death treatment with the Temple’s most skilled clerics.  Honestly, when I last saw her Kesla looked bad enough I was genuinely expecting her to die, much like Shay damn near did a few days ago too.  Indeed I know full well that’s exactly what must’ve been going through her mind once she woke up again, prompting her to do the exact same thing that Gael did for her since it took her so long to resurface.  I’m sure she’s thoroughly relieved underneath all her clear exhaustion to see our friend and nominal leader’s gonna be all right after all … indeed, not only that, but it sounds like she’s already pretty much back to being her old self.

Once again, thank you Minerva.  You’re an incredible goddess.  You keep this up I just might have to start praying to you too.  Certainly I can now see what Gael’s always been going on about.

Thinking about our missing wizard puts a dampener on my good mood right away, and I deflate.  Shit … and that was our last chance to find ‘em, too.  Now we’re back to scrabbling about in the dark, meanwhile they’re …

When I look up again, I can see the clear concern in Shay’s face, knowing she’s read my mind pretty effectively.  So I take a deep breath and try to fortify myself again, figuring she would’ve just let us both keep sleeping if it wasn’t really important.  “Well yeah, that’s great news … so what is up?”

“Honestly?”  Shay’s expression don’t change, except maybe to get a little more haunted, actually.  That don’t do my nerves any favours.  “We’re not too sure ourselves.  Sessa just got back.”

I blink, having to take a beat to get my memories in order as the name throws me a little.  Must still have a little waking up to do … “Oh yeah, you mean Gael and Tulen’s friend?  The cute one?”

Darwyn hisses, immediately stopping with the massage while giving my shoulder a much rougher pinch before letting go now as she starts to shuffle away from me.  No surprise there, she knows me too well, even if I don’t really mean anything by it.

Yeslee, on the other hand, simply rolls her eyes, while Shay chuckles, somewhat ruefully.  “Gods Art, you think they’re all cute.”

“Well they are.  She certainly is.”  I cock a brow with a half-smile, letting her know I ain’t being remotely serious about it all.  “Yeah … anyway, that’s good, ain’t it?  I thought we were expecting her.  If anything she’s late.  Almost a whole day, in fact.”

Again, the two women exchange a somewhat worried, furtive glance, Shay’s shaky good humour evaporating instantly.  “Um … no, that’s not exactly … she came back alone.  And she was hurt.  Quite badly.”

I stiffen immediately, while Darwyn slips off the cushion now, dropping to her feet beside us as she reaches over to collect her gear and start pulling it all back on with a rather nervous look now.  “Oh, that … yeah, I can see how that sounds … bad.  What ‘s happening, then?”

“Well, we’re going back into the infirmary to have a word with her, see if we can find out what’s going on.  The last thing we need right now is any more surprises.  I figured you’d want to know about it.”  She sighs.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re pretty focused on getting Gael back right now, and believe me, I sympathise, but –”

“No, you’re right.”  I push myself up onto my feet, my legs surprisingly steady and my back not complaining like I might’ve expected – looks like that little bit of rest helped after all, despite the bad dreams.  For a moment I consider the rest o’ my gear, but in the end I leave it where it is in the bundle on the floor, instead just stooping for my swordbelt on its own.  “This is important, clearly.  Let’s get on it.  I wanna see how Kesla is, anyway.”

Smiling again, Shay, gives my mane a quick little ruffle, and I don’t shake her off.  Honestly, right now I don’t really mind any.  I start to strap my belt on while Darwyn cuts round to the chair where Zuldrad’s been camped out since we all settled in, and the way he’s just curled up in it now I reckon he’s succumbed to his own tiredness right now.  Even so, when she gives him a poke he sits up quick, blinking wide.

“What?  What is it … huh?”  He casts about for a moment, still blinking, until he registers the rest of us and starts to relax again.  “Oh.  Hey … what’s going on?”

“Something … I dunno.”  I shrug as I step over, picking up his own bundled tangle of harnesses and weapons and handing ‘em over.  “We’re heading over to the infirmary.  You good?”

Frowning, he shuffles off the chair and pushes himself upright, accepting my offering now.  “I’m … fine, I reckon.  After earlier, I … reckon I needed that.”  He dips into one of his pockets for a moment, and retrieves his smoked-glass lenses, snapping them open to slip on in preparation for the journey.  “Let’s go.”

Giving his shoulder a light slap, I turn to Shay and nod, and she returns it before stepping away, heading for the door now.  Yes hangs back for a moment, giving me a complicated look, and I stare back at her for a moment as I cinch the buckle in before letting my sword hang comfortably on my hip.  “What?”

She takes a couple beats answering, but I got the feeling she wants to say something all the same.  Finally she just shrugs, turning away too with a noncommittal grunt of:  “Later.  Maybe.”

I hold my tongue, not expecting to get any further now with a protestation than I ever have in the past, and just start after the pair of ‘em, trusting the others to follow.  Darwyn’s already caught up with me before we get into the hallway, and she seems to be in a better mood now, all things considered.  Certainly she don’t seem to still be irritated with me over that harmless crack, but then she knows me well enough.

In truth she’s been a good deal better all round with me since we got all that shit straightened out early in the morning, before we headed out.  She was proper relieved to see me in one piece after the blast, and genuinely nice to me when we got back here.  Sure, when we settled down she made it clear me trying anything would not be tolerated, but in truth it didn’t feel all that serious, like she was mostly going through the motions of her frustration now.  I reckon, after me meeting Vanna and all that air getting cleared between us, maybe she’s finally come round to me again.

I dunno exactly how I feel about that, now I think about it.  I ain’t pissed at her anymore, even after I made it clear she should’ve told me.  Maybe we’re on genuinely good terms again, maybe she might even be open to something like what we once had again, or maybe something new … but I dunno if I am anymore.  Something’s … I can’t really figure it, but it’s like something’s really changed.  It’s strange …

Even so, when I turn to her and give her a commiserating smile, she cocks a brow and at least quirks the corner of her own mouth up a little in return.  It’s something I wouldn’t have expected even a day ago …

When we make it into the main chapel, Zul now wearing his lenses again in deference to all the candles, we find Driver 8 still hunkered down in front of the altar, while three of the Temple’s resident wizards fuss about him.  He’s getting a proper royal treatment, clearly, but then he needs it after what happened to him out there.

The pervading theory, once we’d been able to actually think about what had just happened to us again after the warehouse got turned into so much blackened kindling and ash, was that while that trap was meant for all of us, Tavarrat had one target in particular in mind.  Even with an armoured ogre, clearly a leftover from the Northern Campaign back before the Occupation, there was ­no chance Jammund’s people could realistically get rid of our golem, so they had to come up with a workaround.  Looks like they picked a doozy.

Looking Big Man over as we approach around the side of the chamber, they came impressively close to pulling it off, too.  He’s definitely a mess, at least compared to his usual dusty, blood-splattered self after a normal fight, but then when we first found him he actually seemed genuinely out of it, there were a few minutes there where we thought he might actually have been genuinely destroyed.  I mean, granted he was still in one piece when we found him at the edge of the crater blasted into the centre of the wreckage that was once the Hardway warehouse, but he wasn’t moving, not even when Krakka started trying to resuscitate him.

To be honest I don’t think his god magic really did much to help the situation, and there was no lifting him from where he lay, on his side and smoking from where his whole shell looked like it’d been sandblasted and scalded, still glowing hot in a few places.  Even the glow in his eyes was out, they were just dull red glass, but at least they were intact, and after a whole lot of praying and urging from our increasingly flustered cleric, the fire finally rekindled itself.  Even so, it was several minutes before he even started moving again, and longer before he could gather himself enough to talk.  Like he’d genuinely been knocked right out.  That scared the hell out of all of us.

We couldn’t risk Lady Naru getting wiped out again trying to port him back and leaving the rest of us stranded, so instead Yeslee elected to camp out on the edge of the wreck and watch for anyone coming to check out what was going on.  Meanwhile me and Zul did the best we could to clear a big enough patch of ground of ash and detritus so the sorcerer could draw out a teleportation circle so we could all go at once.  She even has the foresight to plan it out so that it would destroy itself once we used it, a trick Darwyn immediately recognised cuz apparently Gael used it after they caught Vik.

Even so, we came damn close to getting caught, by the time the circle was ready to go Yes was creeping back fast through the chaos to warn us that there were townsguard moving in to investigate the damage.  They were being pretty cautious given the smoking, hellish mess, but clearly that wouldn’t last, so we needed to move now.  So we helped Driver 8 crawl onto the circle the best he could and then Lady Naru activated it and we were back.

He's been here since, with half a dozen Temple staff taking care to fix the damage that’s been done to him the best they can.  I’m sure part of it’s just their sense of duty, theirs is a temple dedicated as much to aiding their fellow man as the pursuit and appreciation of knowledge, so to them he’s just another unfortunate in need of healing.  But these wizards are also, undoubtedly, pretty enthusiastic about just having the chance to actually get to handle and maybe even mend a real honest to gods golem, which is very much in keeping with the sheer wonder he’s engendered the whole time he’s been here.

Clearly they’ve already done some impressive work fixing him up, I can see whole sections of his previously pitted, gouged and badly scored armour that’s looking pretty pristine again, but there’s still a lot of work to do.  As it is a small pile of half-melted pieces of twisted metal shrapnel that’s been pulled free from his shell has grown at the base of the statue of Minerva, like some strange offering, and there’s still plenty more stuck in him now.  Whole plates on his right arm and much of his chest are still pretty wrecked, and the three who are still working at it look to be tiring now.  The rest are stretched out on the front pews, looking thoroughly exhausted, although they still make an effort to sit up as we arrive.

“Hey, Big Man.  Y’all right?”

The golem shifts slightly at that, giving me at least the impression he’s now looking my way, and when he starts speaking he sounds the same as always, albeit more impressive now given the acoustics of the great vaulted room.  “I am well enough, Art.  The good folk of the Temple have been very kind, helping to bring me back to my optimum operational parameters.  I am most grateful to them.”

“It’s our pleasure, sir.”  One of the busy wizards pants, lowering her hands from one of his chest plates and giving ‘em a good wring.  She looks unsteady on her feet, while her eyes are heavily lidded, and I can see how bad her hands are shaking as she tries to loosen up her stiffening knuckles.  The other two don’t look much better off.

“Minerva … have you lot been at it all this time?”  I turn to Shay.  “What time even is it now?”

Frowning, Shay thinks about it for a moment.  “I think it must be close to midnight by now.  They were doing this before when we came to find you.  As far as I know they’ve been doing this non-stop.”

“They have indeed.”  the golem rumbles, matter-of-fact as always.

“For Minerva’s sake, take a break, you lot.  Get some sleep or at least rest for a bit.”  Shay lets out a heavy sigh, setting her hands on her hips now as she looks down, shaking her head.  “I don’t know … what do you think Big Man?”

“I am functional enough for now, Shay.  I will keep, as Kesla would say.”  I think he must consider for a moment, because he then asks:  “Are we needed again?”

That makes her frown.  “Oh … I don’t know, Big Man.  Can you make it into the Infirmary?  I’m not sure the doorways are really built with you in mind.”

“I am sure you can fill me in on anything that I need to know afterwards.  For now I am content to wait.”

Turning to regard Yeslee for a moment, Shay sighs again while shuffling her feet.  “Okay, I guess you’ve earned the right to rest for a little longer if you feel you need to.”  Now she turns and starts eyeing all the other wizards closely, particularly the three who are now making their very weary, slightly unsteady way to join the others on the pews.  “As long as the rest of you follow his example, at least until you feel you can help again without burning yourselves out.”

“Yes, Mistress.”  that same wizard sighs after planting herself, wiping the back of her sleeve across a very sweaty brow as she blinks her bleary eyes.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we can.”  she tells Big Man as she turns back  “Hopefully it’s nothing that can’t keep, anyway.”

“Of course, Shay.”  He don’t nod, but I suspect he would if he could.

Frowning again, Shay looks around at the rest of us, and I suspect she still don’t actually want to leave him outta this.  But then Yeslee just starts walking on her own, and that decides it for her as she scrambles to follow.  “Okay, well … just, I don’t know.  See you when we’re done.”

I let the others go ahead, instead just looking up at the golem, and I reckon he’s doing the same back now.  I’ll admit I’m glad he’s all right, it genuinely surprised me how hard seeing him laid out like that actually hit me.  I’d come to think of him as genuinely unstoppable, it was a sobering moment.  I realise now it’s a sign of just how fond of this massive metal man I’ve become.

So I offer up a fond, is somewhat tired smile, and he dips his shoulders ever so slightly in a very clear responding nod.  That makes me smile a little wider, and I return my own nod before heading off to catch up with the others.

When I reach Darwyn, I find her stood just outside the now open main door to the emergency ward, while the others are nowhere to be seen, but I can hear voices inside the room now, a whole cluttered selection of ‘em in fact.  It’s not unlike the last few times we been back here, when there’s been chaos after a fight and everybody’s been rushing round at once.  To be honest I’m really starting to dislike this place on principle through its associations.

Then I see Dar ain’t waiting on me after all, she’s looking down at the floor, and the way she’s so stiff and tense immediately puts me on alert.  She looks proper shook, I realise, then I realise why – there’s a sizeable splash of blood on the floor at her feet.  I realise now that it ain’t the first one I seen, either, it’s just that up until we got into this part o’ the Temple the relatively dark carpet made it hard to spot.  And then there’s the attendant I just passed, diligently mopping the floor, and I realise now he was clearly making his way up to this patch.  But this is too fresh to miss, even on the dark tiles here, still wet and slick enough to reflect the lamplight.

“What the fuck happened?”  I ask her as I step up.

Darwyn don’t respond, and for a moment I think she’s genuinely frozen, just rooted to the spot, but then the finally looks up and points through the door.  “In there.”

Oh … yeah, that can’t be good.  I look at her for a long beat but she just stares right back, and while she ain’t scared witless like I thought, she’s definitely shook.  Not really knowing what to say to perk her up right now, instead I just turn and head through the door after the others, taking great care to skirt the blood while I’m going.

It’s another stark, minimalistic chamber, white walls and lots o’ light with another smooth, dark tiled floor, but a little different from some of the others.  There are racks and cupboards lining two of the walls, each shelf arranged with arrays of tools and instruments in gleaming, pristine steel or phials, bottles, flasks and pots of medicines and oils and whatever else they need to treat wounds and whatever.  The other walls are lines with beds, almost a dozen of ‘em altogether, although the vast majority are empty right now.  After all, the majority of the intensive care from this morning and before should have been taken care of by now.

The clamour’s settled down some, but the room’s still in something like professional chaos all the same.  The others are pulling back from one of the beds in the middle of the room, where three of the clerics are currently working away, while I find Krakka’s stood close by, not actually helping right now but still with his head bowed, hands knotted together.  Muttering under his breath like always as he offers up prayers to his own goddess.

Tulen’s there, sat on the bed, which surprises me, I thought her own wounds would’ve been healed a while ago.  Except it’s not her that the clerics are working on right now, she’s simply there for comfort, her arms wrapped around Sessa as she moans and cries and winces, wide eyes wet with tears as they work on her arm.  Oh gods … as I walk in I finally get a look at what’s happened to her, and then I can’t stop moving towards her now, deeply struck by what I’m seeing.

Fuck … it’s been a little while since I saw wounds like that, we ain’t been up against something that mauls folk since back in the Reaches.  Her right hand is just … gone, there’s nothing at all below her wrist, and she’s entirely missing her sleeve from close to her shoulder, while much of the flesh of her arm has been badly ripped and stripped, very little skin left untorn.  Many of the marks gouge deep into her flesh, some right to the bone, and while the healers are working hard to fix the damage, so far they don’t seem to be having much luck.

That’s not all, either.  There’s a big tear in her robes as well, on her right side, where the worst of the attack must’ve been, although from what I can see the flesh seems to be mending there now.  Likely the clerics focused on that first, since that definitely would’ve been the most life-threatening wound.  Certainly they’ve clearly managed to stop the worst of bleeding from her arm, but they’re still a long way from done with the rest of it.

There are two deep gashes in her cheek too, the higher one barely missing her eye, and these are still bleeding a lot.  Gods … what the hell happened to her?

When I finally stop and look round at the others, they’re all as spooked as Darwyn, and I realise just how shook I am too.  Even Yeslee’s hanging back, her eyes wider than they usually get, which is always a bad sign, and there’s a slight screwed up creasing to her nose that shows she’s catching a particularly bad smell … gods, that’s it, that’s what’s hitting me so hard.  There’s something in the air, something really wrong, that smells like death.  It’s coming from Sessa, which don’t make any real sense, she’s still with us, clearly …

No, it’s coming from her clothes, and her wounds.  Oh … okay, that can’t be good.

After a moment Tulen kisses her lover on the unwounded cheek and gives her a gentle crush, leaning her forehead against Sessa’s crown, and I can see now that she’s openly weeping too.  That ain’t any kinda surprise, it hurts her to see the person who means the most to her torn up like this.  I can easily imagine what that must feel like.  She’s going through as much hell as Sessa right now, but her scars won’t be visible after.

“All right, all right … I’m done, here it comes.”  Lady Naru’s hustling over from the corner of the room now, and she’s holding a jug in one hand and a cup in the other.  She looks pretty chill right now, all things considered, but now I’m looking reckon I can see a subtle edge to her all the same, like this is wearing on her too.

Tulen reaches out a hand before she’s even close, and as soon as the cup’s within reach she just snatches it out of the sorcerer’s hand, but I can’t blame her for forgetting her manners right now.  She shifts herself a little on the bed now and pulls Sessa a little tighter as she raises the cup.  “Here, this’ll help.  Drink it.”

Sessa just looks down at the cup, her eyes wide and wild, and the way they’re rolling right now I’m not sure she’s really seeing anything.  She just whimpers, her one remaining hand clawing without any real focus, just snatching up a fistful of Tulen’s robes.

“Oh … come on, Sessa.  Baby, please … Sessa!  Come on!  Please, just … please!  Just drink it, please!”  She holds the cup in front of her face now, bringing it close to her mouth, and Sessa blinks several times, her brow knitting while she clenches her teeth, and after a moment she finally seems to focus enough to see it.  Finally she manages to pull her fingers free and raise her hand, reaching for the cup now.

Even so, it’s shaking badly, so when she finally gets hold of it Tulen maintains her own grip on it too, helping her guide it to her lover’s lips, then tipping it to help her gulp it down.  For a moment Sessa balks, her eyes screwing up narrow as her face tightens, it’s clearly some bitter tasting shit, but Tulen won’t relent, insisting now as she makes Sessa finish the whole cupful.  Only then does she hold it out for Lady Naru to collect again.

For a few moments Sessa gags, looking like she’s fit to vomit, then the urge must pass cuz she just gasps, panting some as she lets her head fall back, whimpering again … then she opens her mouth again and lets one hell of a burp out.  Any other time it’d be one hilarious bastard, but right now …

But it seems to work, I realise – her shaking slowly starts to ease off, and she stops flinching, her muscles seeming to relax.  Finally she lets a little sigh go and her head lolls a little, turning now so she can rest her face against Tulen’s and she just sits for a long moment, breathing in and out now, slower and deeper than before too.  More controlled, and seemingly more comfortable.  Looks like the pain’s easing right off, then.  I could do with some o’ that shit myself right now, ‘least for my nerves.

The healers renew their efforts with greater focus now as she relaxes, and finally, I reckon, I can actually see the wounds looking … well, they’re still bad, but maybe they’re starting to heal up again.  Looks like it’s still slow, nasty work, though.

Finally Shay steps forward again, and the others seem to be relaxing a little too, or at least their tension’s starting to ease a little.  I’m feeling a little better myself too, although I’m still a long way from great – she still looks too bad to put me at ease.  “Sessa?  Hey, Sessa … sweetheart, are you with us now?”

A frown starts to touch her forehead again, but it’s more confusion now than actual discomfort.  She blinks a little as she looks up, but it don’t take her so long to focus this time as she looks at Shay.  “Oh … oh, Mistress Swift-Kill.  I’m … I’m sorry … that was …”  Her frown deepens a little more, and she winces again, but it seems more detached this time, nowhere near as focused.  So she’s still feeling some pain, then, it’s just fuzzy and indistinct.  Guess that stuff just took enough edge off for her to come back to herself.

“Sessa, it’s okay.”  Shay drops onto her haunches now as she steps closer, reaching up to take hold of the half-orc’s remaining hand in a gentle grip as she glances up into her big, distressingly red eyes.  “You’ve been hurt, very badly.  I can understand you’re a little … scattered.  But we need to know what happened.  Where you’ve been.  And where Madame Daste is.”

“Oh, I don’t … I’m …”  She licks her lips now, wincing again as she looks down, trying to move now but Tulenj just wraps her arms a little tighter and keeps her in place, gently shushing her.  “No … no, I do … oh …”  She frowns deeper for a moment when she looks up, casting about now, and I think this might be the first time she even sees the rest of us gathered round her.  “Yes, Madame Daste … oh … oh no …”

“What?”  Shay straightens up a little, becoming more alert as she takes Sessa’s hand in her other one too.  “Please, Sessa, we need to know, what –”

“Dead …”  The word comes out in a bare whisper, nothing more than a breath really, and she looks so haunted all of a sudden.  “She’s dead … she’s dead.  They’re all dead.  Madame Daste is dead, Halik is dead, everyone who was with us … oh … there were so many, all dead now.  Oh … oh, Minerva … help me …”  Her face starts to crease up, and the tears are coming again as she whimpers.

“Shit …”  I’m the first to speak after a long, heavy moment where no-one seems to know what to say, and at least half of ‘em jump when it’s out.  I reach up now, brushing my paws up and back over my scruffy mane, not sure what to do as I start to turn towards the door again.  In time to see Darwyn stood a little way inside now, looking shocked as the rest of us.  And she ain’t alone now.  Kesla’s behind her, not so much stood in the doorway as leaning against it, like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

You’d think she’d be as haunted as the rest of us right now, given what we just heard, but she just looks pissed.  Angry and not even remotely scared …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[hellsideangel]

Sos I'm a Palaye fan too so wanted to share some of my fave quotes 🙃 (by fan don't quiz me I tend to separate reality with songs)

BROKEN

You know that I've always been broken

"But I see I'm not broken like you

And you are not broken like me"

You know that we've always been broken

HOSPITAL BEDS

Leave the living for today, and dying for tomorrow

I am so blessed and cursed

LONELY

I dug this grave I call my home

The only home I know is my bed

PUNCH BAG

Go get high on my mistakes

Your real, I'm just a fake

Heavens what they sold me, but now I miss the old me

MASSACRE THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM

Went from homeless to your TV screen

How's this for your American dream?

Generation why are we

Why are we so casual about these casualties?

PARANOID

I can't escape my thoughts

Are they real or dreams?

FEVER DREAM

We can be anything and everything

We want to be if we believe

Letting go

Of what we used to know

Fall asleep and make believe with me

We're gonna be alright

So close your eyes

Just say goodnight

MORNING LIGHT

You see my friend

Life is just a game

Oh try to stop me now

Oh I will hit the ground

Oh I will turn around

I do believe that this world ain't done with me

WHERE IS THE BOOM

All my friends are living my dream

I tried to sell my soul

It didn't go so well

And I want to go, want to live my own life

Want to find all the things I've lost inside

DIE FOR SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

You'll never find all the things you want

Breaking free from the chains that haunt you

You gotta die for something beautiful

You'll regret the time

LINE IT UP

I can’t slow down

Because I’m scared to stand still

I can’t go home

Because it feels like hell

I'd rather die

Than pretend like I'm satisfied

I have more but CBA to go throu them all these r the main ones I really like. Also for those who like Palaye YOU should defo check out some band I quite like. (Not all are English btw)

Here's my recommendations and songs to start with:

Badflower: ghost, family, promise me, move me, jester (better with vid), don't hate me, 30, animal, she knows, 24

Nothing but thieves: Amsterdam, sorry, before we drift away, graveyard whistling, overcome, afterlife, everybody going crazy

Set it off: lonely dance, duality, fake ass friends, why do I?, why worry, dancing with the devil, upside down, happy all the time, cordial

Halestorm: black vultures, I'm not an angel, love bites, familiar taste of poison, miss the misery, here's to us, psycho crazy, call me a bitch like it's a bad thing, terrible things

Ren: ok it's hard to get people to like this one but just watch the video of the song full throughout. Violets tale. (Then look at Jenny and screechs tale 🤪)

Sleep token: higher, take me back to eden, aqua regia, the offering, give, ascensionism, hypnosis, the night does not belong to god

One ok rock: the beginning, stand out fit in, save yourself, bedroom warfare, our last dance, broken heart of gold, liar, wasted nights

Bump of the chicken: (some not got English names so just check them out and investigate) happy, go, butterfly

Irama: le genesis to colore, melodia proibita, in respiro, Ali,

Maneskin: if I can dream (really good from musical I think? He sand Elvis song) , zitte buoni (euro vision) , laltre dimensione, back to black, valentine, if not for you, chosen, babay are you coming, Trastevere, coraline

There r other but like not every single song or just for certain songs so not gonna list bomb ya...yet.

Also there's this TV show called paradise city. And Palaye royale as well as bad omens song some songs you should check out:

Cruel game (though watch the series for the best thrill of the song WARNING EXPLICIT)

Cats in the cradle (it's a cover btw by the relentless = Palaye royale)

Be careful what you wish for (this one is by the flux = bad omens)

YOUR WELCOME 🫡

ᯓ★ PALAYE ROYALE PROMPTS, a collection of prompts / lyrics taken from palaye royale’s songs from their album, fever dream— part one.

( mentions of possibly triggering subjects such as violence, self-harm, death, drug abuse, and more. )

✦ ETERNAL LIFE

it feels like the worst days of my life, i still drown in paradise.

i didn’t think i could sink this low.

keep me company ’til the end, does anyone else feel this alone?

my best days are my demise.

i feel pretty when i cry, i’m so ugly when i try.

hallucinations taking off, i’m playing god.

i’m holdin’ out my hands and changing everything i hate about myself.

take me far from me — my worst enemy.

i wanna crawl away into eternal life.

✦ NO LOVE IN LA

livin’ in the moonlight, lookin’ at the hills but the hills don’t shine right.

lookin’ at her nose but the shit don’t blow right.

you can change your face but the pain won’t go away.

addicted to the fame but the fame is momentarily reality.

the creeps are crawling up to the doorways, they’re dying to find out what’s inside.

the creeps are always posting their photos to show off what they’re lacking inside.

on a private jet but you can’t afford your rent.

gettin’ high with fake friends ’cause that’s all you got.

i’m late for my own premiere. maybe i should leave, my dear.

it seems to me that the demons of the city wanna keep me here.

there is no such thing as love in LA.

they’re judging me, i’m judging you. we ain’t got nothing else to do.

✦ PUNCHING BAG.

go ahead and mold me. bought me and then sold me.

i’m smiling upside down.

now i’m all used up, ready for my close up.

am i pretty underground?

i can be your barbie, i can say sorry. i can do whatever you want.

go ahead and slap me if it makes you happy.

use and abuse me till i’m gone.

go on, make my day. go get high on my mistakes.

i wake up, i’m so glad i can be your punching bag.

if you want me, come and take me. because i love the way you hate me.

heaven’s what they sold me, but now i miss the old me before i got stuck in hell.

walking down the street, just a public enemy

this is goodbye, you bled me dry.

this is goodnight, my soul has died.

i gave you my all — you built me up to fall.

✦ BROKEN

i’m trying to be the man that you wanted to see.

cause i’m tired and i’m hurt, and i always try to put you first.

but you say i’m not worth it to you — so why are you worth it to me?

you break my heart cause you’re never home, always with your friends.

i try so hard but you’re just playing games.

i needed you tonight but you got high again.

heartbreaks and mistakes with no change. how did we become this way?

the nights are long and the days won’t end.

no more love between us, let’s not pretend.

✦ FEVER DREAM

don’t look around at all the faces abound.

don’t look behind you cause we are stuck underground.

can you see the words i’m up here tryna preach?

no need to cry, you’ll never find me trying to leave.

cause i see that you’re in pain from your pale and lifeless face.

tell me how it’s fair to put a loved one underground.

follow me into this fever dream — we can be anything and everything we want to be.

✦ LINE IT UP

i’m feeling like a stranger cause i’m stuck here. living like my parents is my worst fear.

they had some kids and got lost in the suburbs, working jobs they hated made them suffer.

crashing in these secondhand motel rooms, driving cross the country ’cause i want to.

i can’t slow down because i’m scared to stand still.

i can’t go home because it feels like hell.

and i’d rather die than live my father’s life and pretend like i’m satisfied.

so line it up for me, steal away my dreams.

cause i don’t need no sleeping when i’m diving off the deep end.

why should i come back to earth when all that’s there is tears and hurt?

diving off the edge feels good, i’m finally not misunderstood.

i’d rather die than ever live my life that way.

✦ TOXIC IN YOU

i can take another hit and overdose ’til you make me sick.

you know i don’t love the shame in my brain when i put you inside my veins.

i can’t take it anymore, will i ever even make it out the door?

all this fucking and fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave.

now i’m self-medicating because i love the pain.

i keep feeling like I’m not enough but i don’t run away from you.

knock me down and twist me up until i’m all fucked up but i don’t run from you.

i guess i’ll asphyxiate — let my heart break straight in two and now i’m turning blue.

don’t know what to do. i just love the toxic in you.

my straight jacket holds me tight and says i’m okay.

locked myself in prison and then i threw away the key.

[luveline]

far to fall [remus lupin x reader]

“Listen to you," he said under his breath. "Can't even speak properly, can you, lovely girl?”

“Remus, don't be cruel. Don't be."

"Cruel with you... How could I ever be?"

summary: you’re in love with your best friend remus. he somewhat shares the sentiment.

word count: 7.8k

tags: smut, nsft, marauders era, best-friends to lovers, mutual pining, getting together, first-time, fluff, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader

requested by @marimorena06 here

You had a huge secret. It wasn’t earth-shattering, it wouldn’t bring about world peace or ruination if discovered. It wasn’t criminal, though it felt like that sometimes, a thief stealing glances at his Sandy brown hair and perfect, inviting eyes. It wasn’t dirty or pure or light or dark, it just was.

You were in love with your best friend.

You’d never believed in love at first sight, but Remus Lupin inspired something alike. You just knew, that day in fourth year, when a quiet, brave boy held out his hand for a crying, lonely girl that something was about to happen.

At the time, you’d thought of love. So maybe you’d known all along. But that day turned into years of the same thing, Remus always reaching out to save you, to pull you away from the stuff that was hurting you - he’d always been that way. His saviour complex was something unhealthy and yet you couldn’t get it out of him if you tried.

The secret was starting to become less secret. It began with one wrong look, a gaze too steady, too longing. Remus went up to the bar for another drink and James said, “Oh my god.”

You could tell from his tone you’d been found out. James Potter had always been extremely perceptive. It was a wonder he’d never noticed before.

You put a handful of pear drops in your mouth to avoid responding.

James reached out to squeeze your cheeks, and they fell from your mouth in a sticky wet mess.

“James!” you sputtered, grabbing some napkins from the centre of the table to clean up your face and the ejected sweets. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he shot back. “I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed. I have to tell Sirius-“

“No!” you said, much too loudly. You quickly searched the bar to see if Remus had heard. He hadn’t, so you leaned in very close to James’ face and whispered, “You can’t tell anyone.”

James wrinkled his nose, “I tell Sirius everything.”

“And Sirius tells Remus everything!”

James tilted his head in thought and then conceded. “Fair.”

Your hackles lowered. “Thank you.”

“But I want to talk about this!” he whispered urgently. Remus sat back down, a drink for each of the three of you in his hands. A butterbear for you and something with a little more kick in it for himself and James.

“Cheers,” James said.

“Thanks,” you said.

He smiled, a small smile, brilliant all the same. “You’re welcome.”

“When will Lily be joining us?”

James’ face clouded with adoration. Lily was in her second trimester of pregnancy, so she definitely wouldn’t be drinking anything. She kept a good lid on the boys, a skill you’d never managed to acquire.

“Not long now.”

“Oh, wipe that infatuated look from your face,” a new voice said. You turned your head to see Sirius Black looking exceedingly smart, although dampened by the rain outside. “I’m here, no need for tears.”

“Prat,” James said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Where have you been?”

“With Marlene.”

“How is she?” Remus asked. Marlene had broken her leg trying to dust Sirius’ wardrobe. He felt terrible.

“She’s great! Cast comes off next week.”

They drifted into conversation. You tried your best to pay attention, clenching and unclenching the napkin full of pear drops in your hand.

Remus pushed his shoulder into yours. “Something wrong?”

“Mm?” you looked into his face, startled at how close he was. “No, just thinking.”

“About?”

You looked down at his mouth, caught yourself, averted your gaze to his neck. How do you describe the feeling of being found out?

“Nothing,” you said. “Nothing in particular.”

You insisted on keeping a healthy distance between yourself and Remus, hoping to dissuade James from imparting his newfound knowledge on anyone else in your circle of friends. This was an imperfect method, as years of friendship and doting meant that Remus was more than used to a friendly arm hooked through yours, his shoulders against yours, your knees and thighs pressed together. If you moved, he moved to follow, without thinking. You were almost flush to the booth wall when Lily arrived.

She had the pregnant glow about her, looking incredibly healthy and happy. She squished in next to Sirius without complaint, James  gazing at her as though she were an angel stricken from heaven.

Despite trying to escape his side, Remus gave you such a sense of security that you couldn’t begrudge his right forearm pressed to your left. Your arms fit together like two jigsaw pieces.

“I’ll get some more drinks, shall I?” you asked, hoping to escape Remus and your racing heart for a moment.

“I’ll come with you,” Remus said, sliding out of the booth so you could stand.

“No, that’s okay,” you said abruptly, almost tripping over him. You made a beeline for the bar toilets, shutting the door behind you with a final click.

You let out a loud, panicked exhale.

Being in love with Remus was one thing. It had kept you up so many nights, staring at your ceiling, wondering what you were going to do. Because if you didn’t have Remus, you wouldn’t be you anymore. He was this all encompassing part of you, the glue that held you together most days. If you fucked it all up you would never forgive yourself.

Corrupting the friendship between you both was a taboo you didn’t dare think about. Construing his affection as anything but platonic was your own affliction. You wouldn’t be the one to pull the stitches he’d sewn in you to keep you both together.

It was so heavy. James knowing should’ve made it as though the weight of your secret was lifted - it didn’t. It was crushing.

You pushed the tips of your fingers into your closed eyelids until you saw stars.

Somebody knocked on the door. You threw yourself back from it in a violent flinch, having forgotten where you were.

“Two seconds!” you called, voice rough.

“It’s me,” Lily said through the door.

You frowned. They’d noticed your detour and your absence.

You cracked the door open. Lily pushed in, her small distended stomach brushing the doorway.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes. Yep. Uh…” you had to think quickly of a way to hide how you were feeling. If Lily spent too long here you might spill it. “Do you have a tampon?”

“Oh!” she looked relieved. “No, babe. I’m pregnant, no cycle for me.”

“Right.” You pressed your hand to your forehead and laughed nervously, though it was half false. The panic from before was persevering.

Lily could see it on your face clear as day. “Is it heavy?”

You were confused for a split second. “Wh- no. No, I just didn’t expect to start right now.”

“Right. Uh, I’ll go find something.”

“You can’t be doing errands for me, you’re not supposed to be on your feet.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not that pregnant.”

You stared pointedly at her tummy. “Who told you that?”

“I’ll sort it out,” she said, slipping from the bathroom.

You took the next few minutes to sort out your breathing. You didn’t need to panic. James probably wouldn’t tell Sirius. Sirius was smart and nice enough to know not to tell Remus. And if Remus found out - god forbid he found out - he wouldn’t do anything like you imagined. He wouldn’t toss you aside, cut you out of his life. He couldn’t.

You had to believe he couldn’t.

“Knock knock,” James said. You cracked the door an inch. He could see your blotchy face.

“Is it bad?” he asked in concern.

“It’s fine. Where’s Lily?”

“Sitting, like she should be.”

“I told her that too.”

“Here,” he said. He held out a box of tampons.

“Thank you,” you said, voice oddly tender. Maybe James was a better friend to you then you gave him credit for.

“You need anything else?”

“No.”

“Alright. Remus thinks you’re mad at him.”

“Tell him it’s hormones.”

“Is it?” he asked. You shut the door in his face.

You gave it five minutes as though you’d actually needed a tampon, leaving the full box in the stall for some other desperate soul. You shuffled over to the bar, feeling as though every patron had its eyes on you, ordering a round for your table and some snacks for Lily.

It took you two trips. Remus peered at you in concern, budging up so you could sit at the end of the bench.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Lily said, grinning at her crisps.

“Don’t mention it,” you said weakly.

“Everything okay?” Remus asked you.

“Yep.”

He didn’t believe you. You leaned heavily on the table, tuning into James' story about their evil garden gnomes and the mess they’d made of the baby’s nursery.

Remus took your posture as pain. He placed his large, warm hand to the small of your back and began to rub soothing circles in your skin. You melted under his touch, shoulders slowly lowering into a less defensive position.

James said something, you weren’t sure what, eyes half lidded from Remus touch. Remus laughed, loud, unexpected. It made you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, turning to grace the lines of his exuberant face in a way that was so familiar it made your eyes burn.

“I want a cig. Remus?” Sirius prompted, carefully weaving over Lily’s stomach and legs.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, though he was already standing. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back. He climbed over you with the same care as Sirius had.

“As good a time as any for a pee,” Lily said. Standing seemed slightly more difficult for her than the average person.

James was on you before she’d even made it to the bathroom door. “You fancy Remus,” he crooned.

“Will you shut it?” you hissed.

“This is literally great news. Now you can get married and have kids and him and baby Potter can be best friends forever.”

“You have it all worked out, don’t you?” you sighed in defeat.

“Wouldn’t you? Oh, will you tell him? Please tell him. We can go on triple dates.”

“You say all this like - like it would work out. It’s not that simple.”

James' happy demeanour toned down, a more serious look crossing his face. “I know it’s not simple. But - but when can love not be a good thing?”

Your face flamed. “Who said anything about love?”

James shrugged. “I’d know a thing or two about it.” Lily emerged from the bathroom and his eyes lit up.

“Yes. I guess you would.”

-

“Mate, the amount of whipped you are is ridiculous,” Sirius said.

Remus threw his shoulders back and groaned at the knots there.

“You literally asked me to come stand with you while you smoke in the rain when I don’t even smoke, and now you’re making fun of me for it?” Remus said, leaning against the cold wall behind him.

“Not for me, you pollock,” Sirius said through the cigarette in between his lips, shielding his lighter from the wind

Remus laughed defensively. “Says the man waiting on McKinnon hand and foot.”

“She broke her leg, idiot,” he took a long drag.

“I’m not whipped.”

“And I’m not ruggedly handsome.”

Remus sighed. “If you had your period, I’d do the same for you.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How?”

“You don’t look at me like that. I hope.”

Remus titled his head backwards so that the rain fell on his face. “It’s a want I can’t entertain.”

“You are so determined to be unhappy,” he said theatrically.

“Is that why we’re friends?” Remus asked, lips quirked in a lopsided smile.

“Get a grip.” Sirius said, dropping his finished cigarette on the floor and squishing it under his heel. “Just tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Look, she didn’t care about your monthly cycle, I hardly think a confession of love will deter her.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is,” Sirius said, holding open the pub’s side door. Remus walked through. “Some things just are.”

“Not this.”

“She’s nice, you’re nice. Perfect match.”

“She’s more than nice.”

“Yeah, get a load of you.”

“I despise you sometimes,” Remus said, although he was laughing all the same. Lily was toddling back to the table. You looked as though you were upset, James saying something quietly to you, his eyes on his wife.

You leaned back against your chair in a slump.

“Move up, sweetness,” Sirius told Lily. “Lest I have to climb over you again and risk damaging my godson.”

You made room for Remus without complaint. He would’ve commented it was too much room - you hadn’t been as touchy today.

Hormones. Huh.

“You want to go home?” He asked you.

“Boo! Don’t go, Y/N.” James said. “Stay here and drink martinis with me.”

“I’ll stay, but I’m not drinking anything with vermouth in it.”

“Margaritas?”

“Be a man, Potter!” Sirius said with bravado. “Cosmopolitans or nowt.”

“Please no cosmopolitans,” Lily pleaded. “They make James too slutty.”

-

You were hiccuping through your third cosmopolitan when Lily cut you off. The pub was busier now that the night was starting, you had to strain to hear her.

“No! No more, Y/N. I can’t manage you and James and Sirius.”

“Remus will manage me!” you giggled.

Remus laughed. “Don’t I always.”

“I resent that.”

You braced your hand in between his knees, reaching forward to swipe Sirius' drink now that yours was empty. Lily threw her hands open when Remus did nothing to stop you.

“I’m not the boss of her.”

“Right!” you agree, practically gulping down the red drink.

“Maybe a little,” he said, disentangling your fingers gently from the stem of the glass.

“Spoilsport,” you mumbled. The cold from the glass was seeping down your hands.

“Feel,” you said, holding your hand out. “I’m cold.”

“You are,” Remus agreed, taking your hand between both of his.

You nodded, satisfied. You were a little dizzy now. The drinks were finally getting to you, seemingly. It was nice to be drunk - you could only think about your cold hands and Remus’ legs and none of the scary stuff.

Sirius was similarly drunk, leaning heavily into Lily’s side and spurting babble at James who was much more sober, surprisingly, his second cocktail still in front of him. How responsible, you thought. How boring.

“Loser,” you mumbled.

“I hope you’re not talking to me,” Remus said lowly.

You giggled. “Not you, Rem.”

Sirius clocked his missing drink and made a high pitched sound. “You fiendish girl.”

“Snooze loose.”

“Jesus, she’s gone,” James said. “I wish we had a camera, she’s funny when she’s drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

Everyone at the table looked at you sympathetically.

“You guys suck.”

“I’m so tired,” Lily said, leaning her head atop Sirius’.

“Me too,” Remus said. They shared a companionable laugh.

“Not me,” James said.

“God, getting older sucks. What happened to getting blackout at sixteen? You guys have three cocktails each and fall asleep at the table,” Sirius said.

“Because you look wide awake.”

“Toss off, Moony.”

I volunteer, you thought to yourself. You laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Toss off Moony,” you repeated. It was funnier the second time; you giggled to yourself hysterically, so hard that it made you feel sick.

“Alright, calm down,” Remus said, fingers wrapped around your upper arm. “We don’t want a repeat of Sirius’ birthday.”

“You throw up one time and no one lets you forget.”

“It’s not that you threw up,” Sirius said gleefully, “it’s because you threw up laughing at frogs.”

You couldn’t help yourself, sighing in happiness at the memory. “They were so sticky.”

“Right. Home time. You’re coming with me-“ Remus said to you, “-so I can make sure you don’t choke to death. Sirius?”

“I’ve got a date with Miss McKinnon.”

“She won’t touch you like this,” James said, long arm wrapped tight around Lily’s shoulders.

“We’re gonna cuddle,” he said, enthused.

You staggered to your feet, wobbling in your canvas trainers. Remus steadied you by the shoulders.

“Can you side-along or are you a splinch-risk?” he asked you.

“I’m fiiiine, Remus. You worry too much,” you said, spreading the fingers on your hand against his chest affectionately.

“Sure. See you tomorrow for tea?” Remus asked the remaining friends at the table.

“Yes, Remus. See you then. Goodnight both!” Lily called.

“Goodnight,” you said. You crossed the threshold, Remus’ arm steering you out. He held your shoulder tightly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“1, 2-“

You hurdled through the air, a complete feeling of weightlessness moving through you, landing gracelessly at the bottom of the steps to Remus’ flat building.

You felt like the air had been ripped from you, bending over at the waist to brace yourself.

Remus patted your back, used to this post-disapparation sickness.

“You’re okay. Quick, stand up before you throw up.”

You did as he said, smoothing your wind-blown hair to the sides of your head. “Why is side-along always the worst?”

“You’re usually drunk to begin with,” he said, opening the door for you. You walked into the foyer, grateful for the warm air that greeted you. You rushed forward to click the lift button, pleased at the green light that it emanated. Someone had drawn two dots over the downward v to make a weird smiley face.

The doors whooshed open, a low-pitched tone announcing the elevator's arrival. Remus walked in after you, much more steady on his feet.

The mirrored walls displayed you both clear as day. You, looking a little messy, mascara smudged under your eyes. Remus, handsome, neat, worn coat with the patched elbows.

You caught his eye in the reflection. “You’re tall.”

“Am I?”

“Mm,” you said, hopping from foot to foot. “Very tall.”

“No ones ever told me that before,” he said, nudging you out of the opening doors and onto his floor.

“Really?”

“No.”

The inside of his flat was orderly, the smell of woodsmoke and something soft, like lavender or thyme, greeting you. It wasn’t a huge place, just an open plan kitchen/sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. He folded your coats over the side of the sofa and kicked his shoes off.

You couldn’t work the laces of yours, moaning in annoyance.

“Here,” Remus said, leaning down. You brushed the hair out of his eyes without thinking. He untied your laces in the nick of time. You used his shoulders to balance yourself and toe them off.

He rose to his feet. “Come on, you’re in the bed.”

“Remus,” you said, knowing the argument that was about to happen. “It’s your bed, I’m perfectly fine on the sofa.”

“You’re my guest,” he said familiarly.

“It’s your bed,” you repeated.

“You never win this one - I don’t know why you try.”

“You’re being unfair.”

He smiled, knowing he was winning. You had a sudden stroke of genius.

“Look, it’s a double bed. We can share. That way you know I’m not choking to death on my own vomit,” you used his logic against him.

He was hesitant. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. Now come on, I’m so tired I can see two of you.”

"What a treat for you,” he said. You turned from him to smile.

-

You woke up confused, boiling hot and with a mild headache. Remus was asleep next to you, his face peaceful in sleep. You shrugged the blanket off of yourself and huffed, trying to cool down. If you squinted, you could see his alarm clock on the opposite bedside table.

9:42AM.

You blinked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Remus had already laid out a glass of water and a closed box of paracetamol.

What a sweetheart, you thought to yourself wistfully.

You sat up to chug the water, forgoing the painkillers. You knew the headache would dissipate as soon as you had a drink. Your legs were aching.

You shrugged off your jeans, bending over to rub at the red lines embossed in your skin from the seams. You searched through Remus’ clothes until you found a pair of navy jogging bottoms, pulling them on instead. You sighed in relief, unbuttoning your shirt to reveal the vest top underneath.

How you’d managed to fall asleep completely dressed was besides you. Remus was in similar fashion, probably overheating just as badly as you’d been.

You crawled over the sheets to his side, placing your hand on the flat stretch of his stomach. Kneeling like this, you could see every detail of his face, his collarbones, his Adam’s apple.

“Moony,” you sing-singed under your breath. “Mooooony.”

He scrunched his eyes closed even tighter. “What is it?” he asked.

You sat back on your haunches, hand trailing down to his hip bone. You considered yourself for a moment and drew away.

“I’m awake, so you must also suffer my misfortune.”

“How selfish,” he said, stretching and pushing his face into the pillow. “Godric, it's warm.”

“You’re fully dressed.”

“What?”

He opened his eyes, looking down at himself.

He glanced at you. “You’re wearing my clothes.”

“Oh, sorry. I can take them off.”

“Would you?” he asked, faux-eager.

You sniggered. “You’d like that, huh? Typical boy.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I want breakfast and we’re late.”

“Yeah?” he turned his head to squint at the clock. You ignored the urge to reach forward and touch his neck. “It’ll have to be brunch.”

-

“Cosmopolitans make you slutty too?” James asked, gesturing to your tank top.

“Misogynist,” you gasped, pretending to be scandalised.

“I never said there was anything wrong with being slutty, babe. Have as much sex as you like with Remus.”

“I’m not having sex with Remus.”

“You sound unhappy about that.”

You punched him in the arm. “Leave me alone. It’s too early for this.”

“It’s almost 11AM.”

You could hear Remus making tea in the Potters’ kitchen, his and Lily’s voices drifting in to mix with the sound of the washing machine, the whining kettle.

You’d come straight to the living room, intending to starfish on their sofa. James had beat you to it. You sat on top of his legs until he moved them

“I am unhappy about it,” you admitted.

James’ face might’ve split from the force of his victorious grin. “Acceptance. That’s like, the last stage.”

“Of what?”

“So, you’re gonna seduce him?”

“Are you joking?”

“No. Seduce him. Or confess your undying love, then seduce him.”

“I could do neither.”

“Bo - ring,” he said. “Look, I’ll help you out. We’ll plan, like, a whole thing.”

“You’re scheming,” Remus said suspiciously. Lily was close behind him, raising her eyebrows.

Remus sat down on the arm of the sofa next to you, offering you a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” you said.

James sat up properly to make room for his wife. Lily rested a protective hand on her stomach, tea held to her chest. They melted together, James’ arm wrapped around her shoulder, hand wandering up and down her upper arm. You could see the goosebumps break out on her skin, an expression of content on both their faces.

You leaned into Remus, just a bit, your hair against his elbow. You breathed out, watching steam from your tea swirl with the action. It tasted exactly as though you’d made it yourself.

“What are you and Y/N planning?” Lily inquired, smirking.

“I’m not planning anything.”

“That’s right, plausible deniability and all that,” James said, nodding gravely. “This burden I shall bear by myself.”

“That sounds like it’s not going to end well.”

-

It went like this.

Marlene got her cast off. Sirius decided that was enough to celebrate, declaring a party must be had at his flat. Everyone had to attend.

It was rammed from one end of the room to the other. You could barely make out one old friend from the next, people from your year of Hogwarts and even the year below having arrived in droves. Marlene sits in the middle of it all, a permanent perplexed expression on her face. Half the people who came brought birthday balloons.

You’re pushing through the people, looking for Remus like you usually are. He’d disappeared to find drinks and never returned 20 minutes ago.

Sirius popped up out of nowhere. “Hey, can I get your help?”

“Sure. Nothing better to do,” you said.

“‘Nothing better to do,’ she says. You’re young, fun and at the biggest party of the year!”

He led you into the kitchen, which was less packed but still had some milling guests, through the kitchen into his bedroom.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I knew there was something, but what was oh- right! You're in love with Moony."

Your face fell. "Sirius-"

"Don't worry, dollface, my lips are sealed."

You frowned. "James told you?"

"I guessed."

"With prompting?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"I'm going to wring James' neck."

"Settle down… is it such a bad thing, loving Remus?"

"No, of course not! He's - he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Then what's wrong?"

You sat down heavy on his rumpled bed, picking at a ladder in your tights. "It's difficult." You paused, chewing your lip.

"It's difficult," you repeated. "For me."

Sirius sat down next to you. "It doesn't have to be."

"I think people keep saying that, but they don't really believe it."

"I believe it. Love is never easy, but what's the point in loving someone and not telling them? Love with nowhere to go isn't what it could be."

You dropped your head into his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be having this talk with him? He's your best friend, not me."

"We're good friends, aren't we? Plus, James bagsied him."

"You drew the short straw," you grumbled.

"You're not the short straw, idiot. I like talking to you, especially if you're gonna marry my best mate."

"Marriage is not on the cards."

Sirius tapped a rhythm on his leg. "You're both the same. Determined to be unhappy."

"I love him," you said miserably. "It's a lot. I can't see everything else anymore."

"Love is supposed to make you happy."

"He does!"

"Then why won't you tell him?"

You thought about this for a long time.

"When we were 17… You remember, in potions, Slughorn made Amortentia. I was never any good at potions, Remus used to let me copy all his answers and - I turned to Emmaline, and I said - 'God, can you smell that? It smells like woodsmoke in here.' She looked at me like I was stupid."

You inhaled.

"I've loved him since I was 17," you whispered. "Maybe since the day I met him. How do you tell someone that?"

-

Remus leaned his head against the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle. James was looking at him with an intensely pleased expression.

"Woodsmoke," James said. "Boom."

He unwrapped his hand.

James' face was a picture. "Wh- wait a second! Where are you going?"

"I need to buy a ring."

James chased after him, tugging him back by his shoulder. "Woah- woah, Moons. You can't just ask her to marry you out of the blue."

"She loves me."

"Marriage is more than just love. Trust me." They both came to a stop. James was still grinning. Remus couldn't help it, he smiled back.

"She loves me."

"She does."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to."

"Oh, so now you've suddenly developed an ability to keep secrets?"

"Why do you think I pulled you off to Sirius' room in the middle of a party? For a snog?"

"I'm an excellent kisser."

"You sound like Sirius."

"Can't I get her a ring without getting married?"

"You can get her fifty. But maybe put the poor girl out of her misery?"

"How do I tell her?"

"Think on your feet, buddy," James said, turning them both around.

Remus felt as though volts of electricity were running through his body, as though every footstep he took back down the hallway was as loud as a thunderclap.

Sirius was shutting his door gently behind him.

"Ooh, perfect timing, lover boy. She's debating her whole existence in there."

"What did you say to her?" James asked indignantly.

"Nothing bad. Just that if she never tells him she'll die alone."

Remus ignored them both as they argued, squaring his shoulders to stare at the door. James patted him solidly on the shoulder. "Go get 'em."

They walked down the hallways like kings. "Let's get this party started!" Sirius cried.

"Y/N?" he called through the wood. "Can I come in?"

You said something. "What?" he called.

"Yes! Come in!"

You were splayed out on the bed, hair around you like a halo. You looked sick to your stomach.

"Cramps?"

"What?"

"Is it your period?"

"No."

He pushed himself up against the wall, his palm against the cold plaster.

He took a deep breath.

"When we were 17," he started shakily, "we had potions. Slughorn made amortentia. You were always pretty good at potions, but you never had any confidence, so you'd always copy my answers and I'd pretend not to notice."

You were staring at him with wide, wide eyes. He didn't dare move toward you, swallowing hard.

"And I turned to James and asked him what he could smell. He said Lily, obviously. He asked me what I could smell, and I said, ‘chocolate'. But-" he held your gaze, heart racing, and took the leap, "I lied. I didn't want anybody to know, I didn't want you to know. It was my biggest secret. Even bigger than the wolf."

He hesitated.

"It smelled of you. I fell for you a long time ago," he admitted.

“Was it so far to fall?” you asked him, voice cracking.

“It didn’t hurt at all,” he assured you.

You blinked. A tear gathered at the corner of your eyes, glassy in the low light.

You'd barely sat up and he was on you, almost pulling you off the sheets with the force of his hug. You laughed wildly and he cherished the sound.

You pushed your face into the side of his neck and he shivered at the feeling of you inhaling. You went to say something, and he knew he should've waited, listened, but he couldn't. He plastered his mouth to yours. You didn't hesitate, not for a second, kissing him back with all the wild abandonment you possessed.

He laughed into your mouth, kissing and kissing. You weren't the shy kisser he often imagined, matching his passion and tenacity with ease.

"Wait, stop," you said.

He looked at you in concern. "What, what's the matter?"

You leaned your forehead against his. "We can't make out in Sirius' room. That's, like, a cardinal sin. Imagine the things this bed has seen."

He touched the tip of his nose to yours. "Where else can we?"

"My bed, your bed. I'm not fussy."

He grinned, ducking his head to kiss your cheek. He pulled you up onto your feet. "Splinch-risk?"

"As if. He puts who-knows-what in the drink."

"1, 2-"

Maybe because he wanted to ravish you so badly, the disapparation felt as though it took millenia. When you both finally arrived at the outside of his building he pulled you in.

He couldn't accurately describe love to someone if they asked, but if he could he would play this clip, both of you falling over each other to steal kisses and laugh in the elevator at yourselves, red-faced, ecstatic in the reflections, almost missing your floor. Him fumbling with his keys at the door, forgetting to pull them out. Kissing you up against the thin flat walls like you were a sacred being, like you were a prayer he was sending.

The fronts you put up for other people, for yourselves, fell away. It was just you and him. Maybe it was hard to kiss your best friend without laughing madly or maybe it was your own mistake. Either way, it was a mess of kissing and laughing and struggling to breathe.

"Don't, don't," you begged, tickled by his lips against the skin under your ear.

"Or what?" he asked, though he pulled away anyways.

You went up on tip toes to do the same to him, laughing as he went boneless.

"Alright." He swatted your head lightly with the back of his hand. "You proved your point."

"Did I?" you asked, taking the skin between your teeth.

He gasped. "Demon."

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. Sent to corrupt me."

"Consider yourself corrupted," you said, licking a stripe over his nibbled skin. "Now you're mine."

"Is that so?" His hands, seconds ago having held the nape of your neck, traveled down. The other pulled you flush against him. He watched your face saturate as you realised his affliction.

The other hand slipped under the edge of your skirt, holding your hip in a brushing grip.

"Excited to see me?" you asked, breathless. You were doing some exploring of your own, fingers traveling over the lines of his stomach and chest.

"Excited to do lots of things to you."

You moved away from the wall he'd pressed you against, walking him backwards until his knees hit the back of the sofa and pushed him down, clambering into his lap. You didn't shy away from him, setting yourself down on him in a way that made you both stutter in your breathing.

"Aren't we supposed to wait?" he asked you.

"For what?" you asked him, pushing his hair from his face with both hands.

"The right time."

"Doesn't it feel like now?"

"I just want you to be sure."

"I'm sure. Are you?"

He grabbed your hips, pressing you down, grinding you against him. "I'm sure," he laughed at your squirming. "I'm sure."

"Let me take my skirt off," you said, moving as if to climb off of him.

His arms tightened around your waist. "Do you have to?"

"Like this one, do you?"

"Can't you tell?"

"Let me up." You unseated yourself from his lap. It seemed much more illicit suddenly, him lying back on the sofa, red in the face and hard watching you undress with a heady gaze. You pulled your tights off in a hurry, almost toppling over. He smirked in amusement.

Next was the skirt. You unzipped it, letting it fall to your ankles before stepping out.  He hooked under your arms and brought you up, onto him again. Your underwear were simple, cute, black with a lettuce edge trim and purple ribbon with a bow on the top, like a gift.

He trailed a finger at the slip of skin just above it.

"You always wear stuff like this?"

"Thought I might get lucky," you admitted, bashful.

He moved his hands, pressed flat at the curve of your stomach, up, over your shirt to the peaks of your breasts. You brought your fingers up to the buttons, he squeezed.

The shirt came off. He pushed your bra up, not bothering with the clasp.

"What, you never took a bra off before?"

"Quicker," he mouthed, pressing his lips to the underside of your breast. He kissed stripes, leaving wet half circles in his path.

You did your best to maneuver around him, digging your fingers into his shirt buttons. You stopped at the first inch of a scar, tracing the thickest one with the lightest touch of your fingernail, sending goosebumps up his back.

"Do they bother you?" he asked.

"Never," you said. Pushing his shoulders back with your hands, you leaned down to analyse the scars. There was no rhyme or reason to them. Some were purple, some white with age.

You brushed your hands down his bare chest and smiled at him.

"You're so handsome."

The smile he gifted you in return was soft, loving.

"You're more perfect than I could have imagined," he said in turn.

"You imagine me like this?"

"Only every night."

Your hands wandered down to the zip of his trousers. You hesitated. "Go on," he said softly, pleaded softly.

You unzipped, unbuttoned. The trepidation between you both heightened. The shape of him was clearer and clearer.

You pulled his trousers down, then used a gentle hand to palm him through his boxers. His breath hitched. You were soft, lovely, probing with curious fingers. You'd be his undoing.

A fingernail, scratching at the waistband. You pulled him free, finally, his dick standing up. You used a knuckle to trace a prominent vein, gasping in happiness at his twitches.

He turned his head to the side, blinking hard. You took him in your hand and pumped with a confidence he wasn't sure you actually had, shyness and pleasure both written on your face.

"Alright, don't do me in," he said. He gripped the skin of your hips and pulled you forward, your silky underwear sliding against him. You took to this like a fish to water, planting your knees on either side and rocking your hips into him. He groaned, attempting to help, but your movements created a weakness in him he couldn't overcome.

You were wet on top of him, leaking through silk, coating him where you made contact.

You reached down in between your bodies to pull your panties to one side. You dipped a finger inside, then two, pulling slickness out and rubbing a circle around your entrance. Remus watched with half lidded eyes.

"You want to?" you asked him. He was better at it than you, probably because he could actually see what he was doing. He graced the skin of your clit, down, pushing his middle finger inside you with infinite care.

You moaned, your shoulders pushed back. "Ah, can you- will you-"

His middle finger was joined by his ring finger. His pinky and index hit the soft skin surrounding your entrance with each stroke. The meat of his pan rubbed your clit, sending spikes of hot pleasure up your abdomen.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, falling into his chest, arms braced on the sofa behind him. You tucked your head into his neck and gasped for air.

This restricted his speed but not his movement, scissoring his fingers inside you, curling to find where it felt best and repeating it whenever you squirmed.

You lifted yourself to escape his ministrations.

He rubbed the head of his dick against you. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Mh-hmm."

You were flat to his chest. He pushed his hips down, lining up with your entrance. You cried out at the feeling. The first few inches were easy-going, sliding up into you as easy as pie. You'd brought a hand up to the hair at the base of his neck and he winced at the death grip you had.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, coming to a stop.

"No - oh my god. You're big."

"I thought I was tall? Handsome?"

"You can be - oh, you can be all of those things."

"Listen to you," he said under his breath. "Can't even speak properly, can you, lovely girl?"

He was far from bottoming out. He held you in place, pulling out to push back in, stretching you out that little bit further each time, filling you up. You tried to move, ride him, and he tightened his grip.

"Stay still, sweetheart."

You listened. He was making good progress of you, easing you open with long, firm thrusts. You were beside yourself at this point, making sounds in his ear that almost pushed him to the edge every time he pushed back in.

Finally, with his full length inside you, he stopped. You wriggled circles around his dick, moaning with weak desperation.

"Remus, don't be cruel. Don't be."

"Cruel with you..." He thrust up, harder than before but never enough to hurt. "How could I ever be?"

You were pitched up, higher than he'd ever heard. His hips were doing all the work, you a sopping wet mess.

"We're a perfect fit," you said, your hair on his neck, your face against his shoulder. He turned to kiss your forehead.

He spread you open with his hands, the drag of his dick against your walls almost too much to bear. He was moving you up and down on him, finally encouraging you to move. You did so with a struggle, using your knees as an anchor to ride him.

You rose as high as you could, taking great pleasure in making him moan with every drop, pulling all the way off to abruptly drop back in, feeling his dick at the very deepest part of you.

When he was fully inside you, you rolled your hips, leaning forward to press pecks to his chest. He tangled a hand in your hair.

His head was thrown back against the sofa. You might look at his face and think he was distressed.

You steadily increased your speed, puffing with exertion though it could hardly be noticed between the sounds you were making.

"Don't wear yourself out," he said, sounding worried.

You let yourself drop onto your legs completely. "I can do it."

He lifted and dropped you with little effort, bobbing short, deep strokes, touching a part of you that stopped you from thinking.

"Can we go faster?"

He lifted you up close to his chest and layed you out flat on the sofa. It felt nice to be on your back, staring up at him instead of down. He hiked one of your legs up by the knee. The other leg fell off the side of the sofa.

It was his turn to be on his knees, lining up with his hand braced beside your head.

He did exaclty as you asked, fucking you at a pace that hardly let you catch your breath. It was overwhelming in the best way. His free hand came down to rub big, arching circles in your clit.

"Pretty baby, so pretty spread open like this"

"I'm close," you breathed uselessly, hand gripping the wrist near your head.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?"

The praise sent a hot flush through your whole body. You cried out, feeling the pressure of his thumb on your sensitive clit increase. Despite enjoying the feeling you felt yourself shy away as the climax started, pushing your leg down and in. Remus chuckled, doubling down his efforts.

He thrust into you with a force and it was enough to push you over the edge, both hands clamping down hard around his wrist where he held himself above your head. “Oh, god,” you cried, breathless,  the words ripped out of you.

Remus had an intensely pleased look about him, bringing up the hand from the apex of your thighs to cradle the side of your face, smoothing the lines where you’d scrunched your eyes closed.

You opened your eyes, misty as they were, to look at him, the corners of your mouth going up. He leaned down to kiss you, pushing most of his weight on you.

You made such sweet sounds, he thought. And you were stunning, sweaty and boneless, splayed out across his sofa like a vision, face alight with pleasure. You covered the hand he’d brought to your face with your own, steadying the jostling of each thrust.

He held your gaze and you laughed, a cascading sound, breathy and infectious. He was nearing his own climax, increasing his speed so that the loudest sound in the room was the slap of where his body met yours. You were half-sobbing with every thrust, though they were coloured with pleasure.

He pulled out, leaning back on his haunches, and painted the skin of your stomach white with a few rapid pumps of his shaft.

“Messy,” you said.

“Yeah, you should see the sofa. I’ll never have company again lest they see how much you like me.”

“I more than like you.”

“That much is evident,” he said, charting a course down your abdomen and slipping his fingers back inside you, pumping leisurely in and out, forcing wetness into the ever-growing pool beneath you and smiling like it was funny.

He moved back, his fingers still inside you, to kiss the soft skin between your cunt and your thighs, teasing you. You held your breath in anticipation, almost screaming when he teased the bud of your clit with his mouth. He liked stripes up your centre until you were begging him to stop, ticklish and overwhelmed.

He pulled his fingers free of you and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

“If we weren’t wizards I’d send you a dry-cleaning invoice.”

You snickered, finally closing your legs to rub the skin of your hips. He watched you, kneeling before you like a prayer.

“You’re a rough fuck, Lupin.”

“That wasn’t too rough, was it?”

“You could go rougher.”

“Oh, could I?” he said, pulling you up and into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs on either side of him. He was still hard enough underneath you to keep going, but he hadn’t pulled you up for that. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, the other behind your shoulders, soothing the shakes moving through you.

“Maybe not today,” you mumbled.

“No, I don’t think so. Another time. We’ve all the time in the world.”

You dotted lazy kisses over his freckled shoulder.

“Wait,” you said, stilling with your mouth a millimetre from his skin. “I lied before, about being on. You didn’t know that. You were gonna fuck me on my period?”

He pushed your head back, his hand in your hairline. “Yes? What a strange question to ask.”

“I am not the strange one.”

“I’ll fuck you whenever you like. A little blood never bothered me.”

“I’m not sure if that’s romantic or insane.”

“You’ll change your mind the next time you cycle.”

-

James invited you over with a bottle of champagne.

You rushed forward to hug him, laughing when the air rushed out of him. “Thanks for your devious master plan, James.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, surprised. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“She’s always like that,” Remus said.

“I bet she is, you dirty dog!” Sirius chimed in. Marlene whacked him upside the shoulder. He shifted her where she sat on his lap, laughing.

“Baby Lupin on the horizon? Harry’s getting so lonely,” James said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Harry’s not even born yet,” Lily said. “Stop pressuring our friends into having kids.”

You felt yourself light up at the thought. It was definitely too soon to be having kids, but it didn’t stop you from thinking about it with great anticipation.

Remus hugged you to his side, grinning. “We’ll see.”

&lt;3

thank u for reading !!the title and some lines of dialogue are directly inspired by the end of love by florence and the machine as linked above!!!

[soleilnomoon]

Hhhhhhhooooooowwwww am I only just now seeing this???????? Like, holy shit, congratulations on reaching 500, oh my god that’s a lot! 👏👏👏👏👏🎊🎊🎊🎉🥳

I’d love to put in an order please, I would like a topping of whipped cream and caramel, from the menu options can I please have 1, 4, 8 and 44 and from the secret menu can I get 1 (Eustass Kid I’ve been soft yet feral for this man lately and there’s not enough fluffy smut of him to sustain me)

And again, congratulations!

hiiii (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ thank you so much omg it's pretty wild i still can't believe it myself lmaooo i am so glad you asked for kid i love him, he's so grumpy 😭🥰️ also i'm terrible at fluff so hopefully this was fluffy enough for you 😊 (also ty for being patient!! 💛)

1.9k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; there's fluff if you ignore all the nonsense he does towards the end, a pinch of angst (i'm a sucker, i can't help it) but nothing wild, kid is bad with feelings, and reader isn't any better 💛; feat. a bit of brattiness, a bit of bruising, kid's a menace & a tiny bit mean, but nothing reader can't handle (obvy). (if u see spelling/grammar mistakes no u didn't 😌)

“whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — emily brontë

gray, puffy clouds float aimlessly across the sky, blotting out the faint orange and yellow light surrounding the slow-moving sun. the air is sticky and moist from the storm last night. with the way the wind is blowing — furious, as if it has a point to prove — coercing the already jaded sea to beat against the victoria punk mercilessly; its waves are persistent, heavy fists that are seemingly more ferocious than they really are.

eustass kid ignores all of that; he ignores the ominous and foreboding winds, ignores the incredulous look you give him when he insists on continuing with his meal, and ignores your protests when you squeal after he pulls the thick blanket off of you.

slinging your arms around his neck, you try to siphon some of the warmth radiating from his body. “you’re impossible,” you murmur in between sleepy kisses, your lips moving against his softly and tenderly, while also somehow manages to give him a burst of energy.

“i thought you were ‘fearless’,” he says mockingly, lips twisting into a sly grin, one that drives you to smack his chest playfully as you roll your eyes. “you can’t tap out now, i’m hungry.”

if you had the energy to fight him, you really would; but kid has a tendency to take all of your snark and sharp words as foreplay, which is exactly how you ended up in his bed last night. an unnecessary argument over a spilled drink and a broken plate — one where he kept goading and baiting, where you fell into his trap without question — that resulted in heated kisses, hurried hands tugging on your clothes clumsily until kid got fed up and ripped them in half. with a flushed face and heaving chest, you called him a beast; he laughed in response, his voice low and husky, as he bent you over his bed and fucked you.

“incredible. absolutely unbelievable.” your words don’t phase him — not that you need them to, you just want him to know that that’s how you feel. “you should probably see a doctor for your condition, y’know.” you sit up and eye him warily, your gaze drifting lower as you take in his erection. “all that vitality can’t be healthy.” it’s a joke that you throw at him from time to time, but sometimes you do wonder how a man like him has that much stamina.

“like i said before,” he reminds you as patiently as he can, his hand grabbing your face to pull you close again, “i’m hungry.” except this sort of hunger has kept him up late at night, where all he can do is angrily fist his cock to keep himself from waking you up again.

you squirm a bit, face heating at  his unspoken words — ones that sit heavily between you — goosebumps crawling down your arms as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. he tugs on your lip playfully, eyelids lowering, voice terribly hypnotic when he speaks again.

“open your mouth.”

it’s not so much of a command as it is a friendly suggestion — but you know better. you let out a soft sigh when your lips finally part and he slides two fingers in your mouth; instinctively, you begin to suck, tongue running flat against their length before you take them in deeper. he’s always very impressed with your skill, with the way you treat his fingers with the same way you handle his cock — graceful movements, soft lips, a very willing mouth and tongue. if he died now, he certainly would do so with a stupid grin on his face.

he hates it, so fucking much.

“enough,” he manages to let out as he reluctantly plucks his fingers away from your beguiling mouth. you look at him curiously even as you hitch your leg around his hip, rubbing against his cock greedily.

“hurry up then.” it’s not in your nature to be openly needy, but lately he’s had you under a spell of sorts, one that coils itself around your body, suffocating any logic that dares to enter your mind. kid lets out a quiet groan when you roll on top of him and grind your hips against his; eager, greedy, but he likes it. even says as much when he slaps your ass and tells you to move faster.

whatever fatigue that cloaked itself around you earlier has disappeared entirely; all you can think about is having him inside you all over again. your pussy glides along his length with ease, your arousal dripping onto him as he bucks his hips up against yours.

“kid,” you whine hopelessly, pausing your movements to look at him — so pretty and so pitiful — blinking as you bite down on your lip. if his pride didn’t continuously get in the way, he’d tell you that you look cute like that, face flushed, lips swollen from kissing him repeatedly. “help me out,” you say softly, nails gently raking down his skin.

you know he’s only doing this to tease you, but you really can’t handle any of that right now. “please,” you add in the end, annoyed with the smug look he’s sporting as he places a hand on your hip.

“now you want my help? i’m touched.” he’s going to milk this for as long as he can, especially when he rubs the thick head of his cock against your folds, earning him a series of soft whimpers from you. “i like seeing you like this,” he says for the fourth time in twenty-four hours; what he means is, he likes when you have to rely on him, likes when you’re so hopelessly drawn to his body, likes when you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you.

telling him off is the last thing on your mind when you finally sink down onto his cock, his girth every bit as imposing as it was hours ago. his grip tightens, more than likely you’ll bruise later on, but it doesn’t matter. you’re too focused on regulating your breathing as you relax, not wanting to overwhelm yourself before anything can happen. similarly, he’s also telling himself to relax, to not act as crudely as his impulses are telling him to act. he lets you take the lead, tucking an arm behind his head, as he watches you ride him.

you move your hips slowly, rolling and grinding until you find a pace you’re comfortable with. your thighs tremble and you breathe shallowly, an ache building in your abdomen, encouraging you to increase your pace. it’s his fault, but you’re the one doing the work; that smug attitude never leaves him, he enjoys seeing you struggle to take him, each roll of your hips more labored than the last.

“c’mon,” he says, orange eyes — sharp and wolfish — landing on yours, making you swallow back whatever retort you had for him. “i know you can do better than that.”

it’s not for lack of trying on your part, you’re just tired and he knows that, but that’s a you problem in his book. and, because you’re feeling bratty, you clench around his hardened length, enjoying the way his face contorts as he fights back a moan. it’s precisely that bratty attitude that he wants to fuck out of you.

your pussy is warm and tight, much more captivating than his hand could ever be, when his grip on your hip tightens, hips snapping upward as he plunges his cock into you deeply.

“don’t complain,” he says in warning, but he knows you won’t, not when he’s rolling so you’re beneath him, pulling out just so he can slam back into you again.

normally, you’d be a little more mindful about keeping your voice down, but you can’t do that when kid gives you brutal strokes like that, your cunt squeezing around him tight enough to put him into a frenzy.  his lips are on your neck as soon as you wrap your legs around him, holding him close; he bites you several times over, licking and kissing each spot as he powers into you relentlessly. he’d meant to take it easy, to let you have your way, but you were taking too damn long, and he knows that eventually the rest of the crew will wake, and he doesn’t want to deal with their incessant comments about how in love he is with you.

they’re liars, that’s what he tells himself; it’s what he keeps telling himself when you sigh in pleasure, breasts bouncing as you gladly take his rough thrusts, enjoying the way his cock fills your pussy and the way his balls slap against your ass.

his name falls off of your lips in a chant that increases in tempo and pitch, voice strained as his hips jerks against yours. he’s annoyed with how much he likes seeing your flushed skin — soft and supple, neck and chest littered with marks courtesy of one insatiable eustass kid — and how much he enjoys the way you arch into him when he leans down to kiss you.

your heart is at capacity, you fear — especially because he takes his time kissing you, tongue gliding into your mouth without prompting, sloppily swallowing your gasps and moans, hips knocking against yours as his strokes get shorter and harder. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging on the strands roughly as he chuckles against your lips, the vibrations rippling down your body as a tremor takes over.

because he’s such a generous and kind person, he grabs onto your legs and drapes them over his shoulders as he leans forward, his cock reaching a spot so deep that you start telling him irresponsible things like, i love you and don’t stop, don’t ever stop. it messes with his head, so he tries not to think about it — tries not to think about the way you look at him, as if you actually mean those words. a traitorous flush crawls onto his cheeks and ears; he ignores that too.

instead, kid focuses on the lewd noises that your pussy makes each time he pounds into you; it echoes around the room, the headrest bumping against the wall as kid fucks you remorselessly. again, he marvels at your tenacity, at your soft smiles and breathy moans, finding himself more and more entranced the longer his cock stays inside of you.

kid, quite literally, fucks you senseless; so much that when your orgasm approaches, you hardly see it coming. as your pussy clamps down mercilessly around his cock, you buck your hips wildly, a few tears spilling onto your cheeks, ones that he licks away before kissing you again, his own orgasm finding him shortly after. while he likes pulling out and cumming on various parts of your body, he doesn’t this time; he’s not sure what compels him — although, he’ll somehow find a way to blame it on the gloomy weather — but as his hips slow, as both of you attempt to catch your breaths, you drop your legs, and he brushes some of your hair off your face.

your yawn is contagious, and he finds himself yawning too, reluctantly pulling out but not straying far from you when he lays back down on the bed. you curl up against him, fingers tracing shapes on the palm of his hand; he wants to ask why you do that, why you never seem apprehensive about him or about any of this. but if he ever found that courage to ask, you wouldn’t have an answer for him. it just feels… natural to do so, nothing more, nothing less.

you’re completely at ease, and even though he’d rather die than admit any of this, he feels at home whenever you’re by his side.

[aamalaaa]

tiny dancer (an ode to life)

pairing: jungkook x reader, hoseok x yoongi

genre: bandmates au, fluff and cheese, with an extra layer of chedar, this story takes place in 1971

warnings: none

a/n: I was feeling soft today, ayyy<3

word count: 1.1k

-

-

“How much time left?” You sigh, throwing your head back against the headrest.

You’ve been on the road for eight hours now, drifting in and out of consciousness here and there, writing ideas in your notepad, sighing again and again at how slowly time passes.

It’s not that you’re ungrateful, on the contrary, you’re so happy to be able to drive around the country doing what you love the most, accompanied by your chosen family.

It’s just that today has been so hot, and the air conditioning has stopped working in the rundown van you’re using to tour around the country, Jungkook’s van. And god, your ass is so sore from sitting down for such an extended period of time. You need to get out of this fucking van now.

Jungkook’s light airy laugh reaches your ears as soon as your whining stops and you send him a murderous glare. He quickly glances at you before focusing back on the road ahead, sneaking one hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze while the other stays on the steering wheel.

“What’s so funny? My ass is sweating and as your loving girlfriend, I’m appalled by your lack of empathy.”

“Oh I’m sorry baby, I’m such a terrible boyfriend,” He coos, running his hand up and down on your soft flesh. You shiver, despite the insufferably warm temperature.

You cross your arms and pout as hard as you can, earning a loud chuckle from the man you love. You’re not really mad, it’s not his fault. You’re just a big baby and he knows it very well, hence his unserious reaction.

“My ass is sweating too,” Hoseok exasperatedly sighs, you nod solemnly in understanding.

Yoongi huffs in annoyance. “Everyone’s ass is sweating, stop complaining.”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “I’d really like for us to stop talking about our sweaty asses please,”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You started it.”

“I don’t mind talking about your ass,” Jungkook grins.

You flush a bright shade of pink and slap his arm,

“Kookie!”

“Fucking gross, the both of you. I can’t believe I’m in a band with you guys,” Hoseok whines in fake annoyance. You know because he’s always been so supportive of your couple, being the one to convince your dumb asses to finally start dating a few months ago.

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, you guys can barely keep your hands off each other.” You smirk as you notice his ears reddening. Yoongi only rolls his eyes, shooting his lover an incredibly enamored smile.

“We can take a short break, though we only have like an hour or two left before we reach the hotel,” Jungkook shoots you a dazzling smile, you can only swoon at the sight.

Yoongi hums. “Probably best to do so if we want to stop hearing them both complaining.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You couldn’t stop complaining last week when we were heading to Oklahoma.”

“True,” Jungkook adds, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Just stop at the next exit, yeah,” Yoongi groans, prompting a loud laugh out of both Hoseok and Jungkook. You giggle quietly at his flushed features.

God you love these people so much.

You soon stop at a gas station and immediately head out the door, chatting with your friends and stretching widely as Jungkook takes advantage of the break to fill up the tank.

You buy sodas and fifteen minutes later, you get back in the car, a little less annoyed than you were before.

“Thanks baby,” You lovingly say as Jungkook fastens his seatbelt.

The young man smiles bashfully,

“We needed to fill up on gas anyway,” He mumbles under his breath.

“Thanks anyway,” You reach out for his right hand and lean in to leave a soft kiss on his incredibly soft lips, smiling as you do so. He presses back, grinning in the process. You’re so in love with this absolutely endearing man.

You lean back against the seat, fastening your own seatbelt.

“Are we all good to go?” Jungkook cheerfully asks, his mood absolutely infectious. You don’t know how he manages to be so damn positive and radiant no matter the situation, you just know you couldn’t do this without him.

Everyone nods and your boyfriend drives away, turning the radio on as you embark once again on the highway. Only an hour or two, you can do this.

You all drive for a while, Hoseok and Yoongi playfully argue in the backseat as you try to the best of your abilities to decipher the road map in your hand, giving vague directions to a confused Jungkook.

The scorching hot afternoon slowly draws on, the sun soon starting to set as it paints the horizon all shades of orange, ochre and pink. It’s a beautiful spectacle and suddenly you feel very grateful for this chance you’ve been given to spend so much time with the people you love the most in the world.

You stare out the road and suddenly feel a warm large hand pick up your dainty one, engulfing it in a safe hold.

You look up to your lover, suddenly overcome by emotions as he lifts up your hand, leaving short sweet pecks on each of your knuckles.

You perk up as you hear the first few notes of one of your favorite songs playing on the shabby car radio, the sound a bit distorted but you couldn’t care less.

You squeal in delight as you turn the volume up, swaying to the melody in delight. Jungkook chuckles adoringly at your reaction, hand still holding your own.

“Oh I fucking love that song, turn it up,” Hoseok excitingly exclaims, you smile widely and up the volume again.

“Oh it’s Elton John’s new song right?” Yoongi perks in interest.

You turn towards him. “Yep!”

When the pre chorus embarks, you can’t help yourself and start singing along, the moment too beautiful for you to care about anything but here and now.

Jungkook squeezes your hand as he joins you with his harmonious voice, and soon, the four of you are loudly singing alone, smiling from ear to ear as you do so.

‘Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today’

You look at your loved ones, happily singing together as love quietly fills the air, and almost shed a tear.

Because this day is beautiful, the bond you share is as sturdy as steel, and as much as you like to complain, you wouldn’t like to be anywhere else but here, wrapped in a loving untouchable embrace.

You think these are the moments that make life worth living, moments that could easily pass you by if you didn’t bask in them.

You promise yourself to truly cherish them more.

-

-

taglist: @bwormie @fragmentof-indifference

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

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

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[nat-20s]

fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you.  He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.