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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say.

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed down to him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth.

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door.

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side.

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.”

“It’s hardly quarter after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?”

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving.

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.”

Your lashes kiss as you smile back at him, unwrapping your scarf. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?”

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.”

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to these things.”

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James (and by extension, Sirius) most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger.

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand.

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous.

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts.

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.”

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.”

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.”

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises.

He goes into the kitchen. A second later, you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with your string trailing all the way back to the couch.

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat.

“Mhm. You like them?”

“Never had one.”

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?”

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned.

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments out of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat any. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.”

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.”

“Yes!” you cheer. He laughs when you start working quicker with the needle.

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.”

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour.

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives.

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her.

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock.

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!”

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple of sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms.

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Awe, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not very difficult, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.”

“Sorry,” says Lily as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.”

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.”

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry.

“Come here, my handsome little guy.”

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap.

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it.

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious sound Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again.

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly.

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.”

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“I,” Remus cuts them off, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.”

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always find you avoiding everyone’s eyes. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry.

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax.

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story about a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?”

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists.

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her home.”

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees.

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.”

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.”

“Bleak.” James looks slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.”

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you seem to have something from every person there.

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.”

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.”

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know.

“Shit, I forgot to check.”

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, love.”

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile.

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.”

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one, it’s his favorite,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness.

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it. You’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge.

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go.

“Oh, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands.

“No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.”

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir.

“That’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is hiding the bashfulness in your smile. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.”

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.”

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn.

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.”

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.”

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.”

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.”

Remus smiles, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.”

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat.

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.”

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks fairly bad to me.”

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live rather far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.”

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out.

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d rather if it didn’t come to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a massive downer for us every year.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

“Babe, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly formidable when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.”

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of fruitlessly on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you inside Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.”

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!”

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door.

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you.

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.”

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry while James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.”

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out.

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet.

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering.

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees. The look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.”

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you. Your knees are curled towards him and he has one leg crossed over the other, angling him towards you.

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.”

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours.

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during a scene near the end.

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.”

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.”

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.”

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.”

A while later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?”

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.”

“I want to finish the movie.”

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.”

Soon the credits start. Neither of you move.

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.”

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you.

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes.

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.”

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.”

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. You’re my guest, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.”

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.”

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.”

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.”

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down.

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.”

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious.

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you.

“You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.”

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.”

“You can think that if you like.”

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his. You’re warm and weighty against him.

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing.

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb across your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while.

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together.

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says.

You hum.

“Unless you mean it’s working.”

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words.

Remus sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you.

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.”

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.”

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him.

“Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.”

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you.

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back.

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his.

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. A low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to grant access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?”

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.”

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech.

“Do you want to move to my room?”

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip.

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?”

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?”

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.”

❆ ❆ ❆

You always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth.

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him.

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this.

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to Remus’ voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?”

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d asked you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating this warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you.

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees.

“You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it.

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy.

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you.

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him.

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no.

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?”

You swallow. “Okay.”

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?”

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater. He tosses it onto the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan. He kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward.

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline.

“We can stop anytime you want.”

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.”

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs out further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue. He wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time.

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, tugging feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under.

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound.

Remus looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil.

“Come here,” you plead.

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise. You cup his head in one hand and wrap your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens.

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?”

“I want to. Do you?”

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.”

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces.

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another.

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?”

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his mouth, but it’s still a bit shocking.

His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.”

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you.

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?”

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside of you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face.

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?”

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.”

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound.

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint to Remus’ touch. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth.

“Come, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.”

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found underneath your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.”

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.”

“Come here,” you demand again. He wastes no time in obliging you.

He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you.

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all.

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?”

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.”

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway.

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s alright if not.”

“You can,” you say, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from Remus’ face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication.

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens.

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.”

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek.

“A little bit, yeah.”

Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now.

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.”

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?”

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.”

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?”

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.”

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee.

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead.

“That was really great,” you tell him.

“I thought so too.”

“You’ll stay here, right?”

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream.

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new.

Remus puts on the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall.

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you.

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim.

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind? Remus can’t even think.

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?”

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?”

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression.

“Really?”

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?”

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.”

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.”

Your eyes have widened. Remus expects his face is about five shades pinker than normal.

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.”

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.”

They’re his own words, but hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs.

With his track record this morning, Remus really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face.

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?”

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.”

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did, too.”

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with him. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time.

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again.

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is quiet. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.”

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.”

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?”

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty.

“Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?”

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically.

“Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.”

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back.

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference.

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours?

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the creek behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you.

So much for opposites attract.

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face.

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving.

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops to a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re better at hiding things than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?”

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?”

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.”

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.”

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness.

“Would you come here?” he asks.

You comply with an eagerness he wonders how he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make up for it now.

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your forehead. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, your chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.”

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?”

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.”

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.”

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles.

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.”

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor.

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her fed.”

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But, I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.”

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly.

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.”

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.”

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.”

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wileys-russo · 7 days ago

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the holiday runaway II a.putellas

7K of good ole christmas angst straight from the fresaverse the holiday runaway II a.putellas (before the void blurb)

“-but mami why did you not say no!” alexia huffed with a fierce scowl, eli sighing and shaking her head as she turned toward her eldest.

“alexia. ya te lo he dicho. i said no, but they are coming anyway! they just want to help, help to make it a nice holiday, a family holiday.” eli warned, turning back to furiously mixing the bowl of batter in front of her.

“so you, me, alba and fresa. we are not enough of a family?” alexia scoffed as eli rolled her eyes. “just because papi died does not mean we-” alexia stopped at the sound of the shatter, eli mixing so intensely the bowl cracked and the batter spilt all over the counter.

“alexia!” eli snapped in frustration , the girl falling silent as footsteps sounded and within seconds both of her other daughters arrived. “what happened? mami, estás bien?” alba asked with a concerned frown, stepping forward to help clean but stopping in her tracks as eli held up a dirty hand.

“i will clean this up. just both of you, change your sheets over and make your beds, clean your rooms and help your hermanita do hers too.” eli ordered, wetting a sponge as you frowned in confusion. “but mami my rooms not dirty!” you piped up as eli paused and exhaled deeply.

“fresa, hija. your tía y tío are going to stay in your room when they are here remember? you will share with alba, and alexia will-” the woman couldn’t even finish her sentence before your eldest sister interrupted.

“alexia will go to jenni’s. esto es una mierda!” the brunette spat, detesting the entire idea of half the family descending on the house for the holidays and having made this known but her protests fell on deaf ears, and so she wasn’t planning to stick around for the chaos.

she didn’t want it, all of the pitying looks, the overcompensation, the extra hugs and kisses and assurances everything was going to be fine.

her papi wouldn’t be there to dress up as santa, he wouldn’t be there to build presents refusing to use the instructions, he wasn’t there to cook christmas eve dinner, wasn’t there to wrap everything last minute and wake alexia up at ten at night to help him.

things weren’t fine, this was their first christmas without him and all alexia wanted was to forget it was even happening. she didn’t want to celebrate, didn’t want to buy gifts and make a big fuss, she just wanted to sleep and let it all pass her by.

“bien. i do not have time for this they will be here in an hour.” your mami began furiously cleaning the batter from the counter as alba carefully plucked up the shards of the broken bowl, and you charged after your sister who marched off to the front door.

“ale but you can’t go!” you latched onto her leg and looked up with the best pleading puppy dog eyes you had, ones which normally melted your sister like a stick of butter in the sun but today was not that day.

“not now fresa.” your sister warned quietly, pulling you off and sitting down to wrestle on her shoes. “but-but we have to be together ale, its christmas!” you tried again, arms wrapping around your sisters knee and eyes begging for her to change her mind.

“i said not now.” she pulled you off again, holding you off with one arm white trying to tie her shoe with the other, giving up and kicking her shoes off, she’d put them on in the car.

“but what about all the stuff we do? the lights? movies? cookies? you promised.” you stomped your foot, tears welling up in the corners of your eye as your sister didn’t even spare a glance, standing up and grabbing her keys off the hook.

“sí? well sometimes people break promises.” alexia muttered, stopping with her hand on the door as again you latched on tightly to her leg. “but you don’t, best friends don’t and you promised alexia, you promised that-” your words fell short as your sister grabbed a fistful of your shirt and yanked you off.

“váyase! go bother someone else.” and with that you were shoved away, the door opening and slamming closed so hard one of the pictures fell off the wall and you winced hearing your mami scream angrily after your sister who wasn’t there to hear, already sat in her car and shoving the key in the ignition.

bottom lip wobbling you sank down to the floor, tucking your knees up and trying to make yourself as small and as tight as you could, watching as alexia backed out of the driveway, gone.

“-you promised christmas would still be fun without papi.”

“fresa? terminaste? they will be here soon!” you looked up from your place on the floor and nodded, your toys all put away in their correct place as you finished shoving the race track your sisters made you for your matchbox cars very carefully under your bed.

“alba! déjalos en paz!” you shot up to your feet as your sister began to gather your small army of stuffed animals from their rightful place on your bed, tugging on the hem of her shirt and trying to grab them back.

“tía y tío cannot sleep with all your baby crap on the bed fresa.” alba rolled her eyes, pushing you away with her foot and sliding open your cupboard, stashing your furry friends away on the top shelf you couldn’t reach.

“but this is where they live! on my bed! what if they get sad and scared up there? its dark and its cold and-” you tried to climb up your drawers to reach them, your sister snagging the back of your sweatshirt and tugging you off before you could hurt yourself, sliding your cupboard closed again.

“they will be scared? or you will be scared?” your sister teased with a smirk as your eyes narrowed into a glare. “aww can bebés pequeños not sleep without their teddy bears?” alba pouted mockingly, messing up your hair and holding you off with a hand against your forehead as you tried to swing at her.

“m’not a baby!” “are too.” “am not!” “are too, and you better not drool in your sleep tonight monstruito.” you hit the floor with a huff and a thump, alba shoving you and leaving your room as you scowled after her, your plan to chase her down interrupted by knocks at the door.

you heard your mami answer, pulling it open as a symphony of voices and greetings sounding out, you jumped to your feet and hurried out toward the source.

“superestrella!” you were intercepted by your tío danny, tossed up into the air with a giggle, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug as he jokingly pretended to drop you before warmly kissing your cheek hello.

“tío where is angel?” you asked excitedly, pushing up with your hands on his shoulders and trying to peer past the crowd of relatives in the front door, determined to spot your favourite dopey four legged companion.

“oh lo siento angel could not come chica, he is at home!” your tío explained as you visibly deflated with a small oh of disappointment, the older mans toothy grin fading a little as you did so.

“oye there is no frowning en navidad! santa is always watching.” he tickled your stomach as you managed a small smile, pushing his hand away and placed down on the floor, wincing as your cheeks were smooshed and pinched and kissed until finally you managed to scurry away.

you found eli in the kitchen avidly discussing something with two of your tía’s, but it all stopped the moment your footsteps were heard, eli shushing the women sharply with a click of her tongue as you arrived.

“mami where is everyone gonna sleep? in the backyard?” you asked with a puzzled frown, the three women laughing at your question as you were lifted to sit on one of the island stools.

“sí we are camping nena!” one of your tía’s teased, pinching your cheek as you grimaced and eli chuckled. “papi liked camping, alexia said he could build a tent in ten seconds!” you chimed in holding up all ten of your fingers, a strange silence falling as both women behind you shared a concerned look which had eli rolling her eyes.

“he was mija, the best tent builder, and the best at fishing! he was always catching us dinner when we went camping.” your mami encouraged, pushing your fringe out of your face with a soft smile that you returned.

“fish are slimy.” you pulled a face of disgust which made her chuckle, both other women seemingly relaxing a little but eli could tell this entire week was going to be walking on egg shells, and not for everyone else.

“you ate fish for dinner the other week fresa, in the restaurant!” one of your cousins laughed as he walked in, messing up your hair as you scowled and smacked his hand away.

“that fish was for food, not for swimming!” you replied in a duh tone as the boy gasped sarcastically, smacked over the head by his mother who glared in warning, causing your cousin to shrink and wander away again.

but despite your concerns, the sleeping arrangements were set. half the family were staying with your abuela and abuelo on the other side of town, and half were squishing into the putellas household where everyone would gather for the celebrations later in the week.

three of your cousins were taking up alexia’s room and a blow up mattress, another was crashing with alba as were you on the other blow up in there too. your room was for one set of adults, the other couple crashing on the sofa bed out in the garage. tío danny was on the couch, alexia was apparently at jenni’s and eli, at her families insistence, had her room to herself.

only when you arrived to your new sleeping quarters, you frowned not seeing the mattress where it was supposed to be, most of the floor still occupied with albas clothes, bags and shoes, which she was supposed to have cleaned up.

“what?” the older girl asked with a frown of annoyance as you hovered in the doorway, backpack shoved to the brim with god knows what and several books clutched in hand. “i’m sleeping here.” you reminded in case she’d forgotten, but the eye roll confirmed she hadn’t.

“sí, sleeping. is it time to sleep? no. váyase!” alba pointed for you to leave as you frowned. “wheres my bed?” you questioned, taking a step forward as your sister shuffled off her own bed where she’d been sat gossiping with your cousin who sent you a wink and a wave.

“here.” alba kicked a few things away to create a tiny circle of space in the furthest corner of the room. “on the floor?” you gasped with wide eyes of shock.

“i can’t sleep on the floor!” you argued when she made no move to say another word, the older girl rolling her eyes and tugging open her cupboard, pulling something out with a grunt and dropping it to the floor, pushing a few more things out of the way to make room.

“allí, a bed.” your sister gestured as you continued to stare at her in bewilderment as if she’d grown two hands. “that is for angel!” you huffed and pointed to the shaggy dog bed now sat on the floor. “so? you are the same size.” alba snickered, flicking your ear as she passed you.

“alba! no seas cruel con ella. ven aquí preciosa, tell me about school!” your cousin laughed, patting a space on the bed and gesturing for you to climb up and sit beside her. though no sooner had you taken one step forward you were being lifted off the ground by the straps of your bulging backpack, carried right over to the door and dropped past the threshold.

“this line? no insectos allowed past until it is time to sleep.” and with that the door was promptly closed in your face, a quick jiggle of the handle proving alba had locked it too as your shoulders sagged, trudging away and dragging your backpack behind you.

but then you heard cheering and your head snapped up, noticing the rest of your cousins kicking a football around in the backyard.

so leaving your backpack and your books by the sofa you raced off to join in, but no sooner did you appear were you once again sent away, warned you were too little and might get hurt, arguments ignored as you were shooed off and trudged back inside with a huff.

you tried asking one of your tíos to build legos with you, alexia having bought you a brand new set last week as apology for forgetting to pick you up from school, but he was on his way out to buy another gas bottle for the bbq, and your requests to come with him were dismissed as the front door closed in your face.

you asked one of your tías if she wanted to colour in or help you read or write a story, having homework to learn ten new words from your list over the break, but she was busy redecorating the tree, claiming the theme was off and it had too much red and not enough gold and it was just all wrong.

you tried explaining that you always helped with the tree, puffing out your chest and trying to hang some ornaments, only for them to be pinched off the tree and you gently moved out of the way, once more dismissed as you deflated with a sigh, wandering off to find someone else who might have time for you.

though as you tried with each family member making your way through one by one everyone was always just too busy. cooking or cleaning or unpacking or decorating, and despite the fact there seemed to be an infinite list of things to get done, nobody wanted your help.

you had a house full of people and yet you’d never felt so alone, an hour passing by as you sat yourself by the front door, watching the driveway and waiting eagerly for your sisters car to return, knowing she would always make time for you.

she was upset before, you could see that, but you hadn’t been able to give her one of your special hugs and try to make her feel better, instead pushed off and told to go away as alexia had angrily stormed out.

but your mami always said that was her hormones talking and she was never really all that upset. no matter what alexia always came back, if going off to camp or an away game or just to the store, she promised she would always be back.

so you knew soon she would return, maybe even with jenni this time, and when she did she would say sorry and give you a bear hug and someone would want you around.

so you waited and waited and waited, even as the sun started to slowly go down, but despite the fact the afternoon was dying and dinner time was almost here, alexia didn’t come back.

that was how eli found you a while later, not having seen you getting under anyones feet like she feared she’d gone in search of her youngest. seeing you sat by the door watching hawk eyed through the bottom window panel, forehead pressed to the glass which would fog up every now and then as you’d puff air from your nose.

“fresa? mi nena what are you doing?” the woman let out a laugh, startling you a little as you’d not heard her approach. “waiting for alexia. did you tell her dinner is nearly done mami?” you asked innocently, getting to your feet as the woman squatted down with a barely noticeable wince.

“your hermana will not be back for dinner fresa, she is staying with jenni.” your mami explained softly, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind your ear which had fallen from the messy bun it was scraped back into. “tomorrow?” you asked hopefully as eli smiled, but didn’t answer your question.

“she will be back tomorrow. she told me she would take me to get some carrots!” you nodded answering your own question as your mami frowned curiously.

“carrots?” “sí! for the reindeer, papi always left them carrots and we always left santa special cookies.” you nodded happily, elis face softening and a forlorn look glazing over in her eyes.

“oh he did didn’t he, thank you for reminding me nena.” you beamed at that, pride written clear all over your face making your mami smile. “can you go wash up for dinner please hija? if you are fast, you get first pick of the chairs!”

dinner itself wasn’t so bad, bar everyone trying to cut up and feed you your own food and ignoring your protests you were old enough to feed yourself, you felt included. you were asked about school, your friends, the dance class you’d been trialing when the five a side football team your sister had signed you up for hadn’t worked out.

though as always when your family gathered together, even without her actually there, the hottest topic at the table was alexia and her blooming football career. now if you were a little older you might have sensed there was someone at the table who wasn’t so keen on this topic, routinely trying to change it or engage someone in a different conversation.

alba.

alexia may not have been so willing for this big surprise family christmas but alba had been quite looking forward to it, your cousin paula her own age and despite being related they were not unalike best friends. but when even paula spent most of dinner fussing over you or kissing up to alexia and her first national team call up, she’d had enough.

just for once she’d like someone to ask how school was going for her, what had she been up to, how was she doing. but she wasn’t as adorable and cute as you, or as talented and passionate as alexia, so of course as usual she just seemed to fade off into the background.

which is why again if you’d been older, a little more able to see the signs, your sisters actions after dinner might have made more sense.

you’d been shooed out of the kitchen once everyone finished up eating, unintentionally getting under everyone’s feet during the clean up process as you were trying to show off the new matchbox cars alexia had managed to source and gift you as an early christmas present.

you’d then made your way to the living room where the other half of the family, mainly the male half, were about to watch a football match. understanding most of the rules living in such a football mad family you were used to watching them on tv, usually with your sisters though alba would always fall asleep during the first half, you climbed up onto the couch ready to do just that.

however within seconds of wedging yourself comfortably in between one of your cousins and your tío danny, the yelling began and you covered your ears with a wince. you were used to loud football games but not in the living room, so with your ears ringing you hopped down and wandered off to find someone else to hang out with.

which is how you arrived to alba’s room, the door closed but you could hear laughter and voices inside, so with a slight stretch due to the growth spurt you were owed which hadn’t arrived yet you managed to tug down the handle and open the door.

the voices ceased the moment you did though, your sisters eyes narrowing at the sight of you hovering in the doorway, rocking back and forth with your pockets stuffed full of matchbox cars, all your clothes a little too big for you since your winter gear was usually always hand me downs.

“what?” she asked sharply as you frowned at the frosty greeting. “can i stay in here with you hermana? its loud out there.” you asked hopefully, the yelling and jeering only growing as the game progressed, fighting with the laughing and chattering coming from the kitchen where the clean up had become more of a catch up and a gossip.

“no. out!” alba pointed behind you as your frown grew. “oh come on al, don’t be mean. she’s so cute!” paula cooed, patting the bed encouragingly for you to join them, alba sending her a look and shoving her.

“tú crees? try living with her. out fresa, ahora!” alba pointed again as you stopped midway in the room, shoulders sagging. “please alba please!” you asked again, clasping your hands together and looking up at her pleadingly.

“no demonio. go!” alba shook her head again, finger still pointing toward the exit, ignoring her cousin nudging her with a concerned look. “hey mami said you had to stop calling me names!” you reminded, pointing right back up at her as her eyes rolled.

“¿ah, sí? well go tell her then! snitch.” your sister mocked as you huffed. “you shouldn’t be mean alba. santa is watching!” you warned sternly moving to jut your hip out and doing your best to look down your nose at her, the older girl only snickering.

“oh santa is, is he? he’s not even-” though she was cut off with a sharp pinch to her arm, your cousin glaring daggers and muttering something you couldn’t hear as your sister huffed but gave a small nod, not finishing whatever it was she was about to say.

“can i just sit on my bed? i will be quiet, promise!” you begged again, only met with a shake of her head. “vamos alba, she is not hurting anyone. do you want to watch a movie with us pequeña?” your cousin offered with a kind smile as you nodded happily.

“no, out.” alba shut that down quickly with a firm shake of her head. “i could read a book and be very very quiet. please alba?” you pleaded, trying to puppy dog eyes which admittedly often worked better on your eldest sister but were worth a try.

“you do not even know how to read fresa.” your sister taunted with a grin as your eyebrows scrunched together. “can too! you know i can, cause you always-” you began to protest, alba often the one who helped you with your homework given she was much better at being patient than eli or alexia.

“out diablillo, now!” you were cut off, alba standing from the bed and glaring at you in a final warning as you deflated, kicking at a loose scuff of carpet on the floor.

“please? everybody else is too busy for me.” you mumbled quietly, though before you could even look up there was hands under your arms and you were lifted off the ground, legs swinging as alba marched you toward the door, dropping you down just outside.

“it is not my fault nobody wants you around fresa, now stay out! or you can sleep in the backyard and freeze to death.” and with that once again the door was slammed in your face, a swift click sounding indicating it was locked as you deflated again, alba’s words echoing loudly in your head.

your sister of course hadn’t meant what she said, it had spewed from her mouth fueled by the burn of by being isolated at dinner. she’d just wanted to spend some one on one time with paula who actually cared what she was up to and how things were for her, but of course you had to come along, the baby, and take away that attention she craved.

“mami?” you tugged on her pants, the older woman running a hand over your hair and gently pushing you away. “mami!” you tried again, poking her leg as she paused what she was saying and glanced down at you with raised eyebrows.

“i need a bath.” you reminded, not sure what the time actually was but knowing your normal routine was usually a bath after dinner, and with alexia not around to do it the only other choice was eli.

“oye you are nearly six now fresa, no? a big girl! you can do that.” one of your tías smiled encouragingly, patting you on the head and nodding off toward where the bathroom was.

“i can’t run the water. i’m not allowed!” you responded matter of factly, the last time you’d tried you poured in an entire bottle of bubble bath and flooded the bathroom. “go ask your hermana please nena, and i will come and say goodnight later. promesa!” your mami encouraged, patting your butt and with a tap on your back you were wandering out of the kitchen, covering your ears again at the yelling and screaming going on in the living room.

it was overwhelming and loud, and then all of a sudden you began to feel funny.

your face felt hot, your neck felt itchy, your head felt like it was filled with cotton and your ears were ringing like when alexia sometimes put her headphones on you and played the music too loud. your stomach felt weird, you could feel a strange heat in your chest like when you drank hot chocolate too fast, and you didn’t like any of it, not one bit.

it didn’t feel like christmas, not your christmas, the christmas you were used to. your papi wasn’t here to put on silly voices as he sang christmas songs, alexia wasn’t here to put you on her shoulders so you could put the star on the tree, your mami wasn’t around to make cookies, alba didn’t even want to be in the same room as you.

your sisters words might not have been meant but you were feeling them right now, she had been right, nobody did want you around, so you’d go and find someone who would.

now with a house crammed full of noisy spaniards it was easy enough to go undetected, to slip on your shoes and tuck the laces in because you forgot how to tie them and no one was there to remind you.

nobody paid any attention when you climbed up precariously on the hallway table to pull down your puffiest winter coat which hung by the door, or to pull on the beanie that alexia made sure was always kept in your coat pocket because you always seemed to lose it.

nobody noticed when you stretched up and opened the front door which had been left unlocked, stepping out into the evening where the sun was almost gone beneath the trees, the street lights not quite turned on yet.

no one heard the front door close or watched you jump down the front steps in two’s like you were always told off for, picking at the grass in the front yard before you heard a strange noise and your head snapped up.

your once downtrodden look perked up seeing it was your neighbours cat, who spent most of his time outside hunting birds but had been known to pop up at your window, snuck inside for some food until someone realised and shooed him off home.

so clicking your tongue at him in greeting like you had before you were surprised when it seemed to startle him, causing him to dash away as you huffed and gave chase.

“you get back here!” you called as if he would understand, too focused on the four legged feline to notice when he’d finally stopped it was in the middle of the road.

preoccupied with someone giving you attention you squatted down and stroked a finger up and down his back softly, smiling happily when he purred and rubbed against your leg.

it had all happened so fast, if you blinked you might have missed it.

a car came hurtling around the corner, easily going ten or fifteen over the speed limit which wasn’t uncommon in the fairly quiet street you lived on this time of year, everyone seemingly in a rush.

you only looked up when you heard a loud honk, the cat sprinting away and you knew you should too but your body locked up with fear, headlights blinding you and not sure which way to run if your legs would have allowed it.

luckily the vehicle came to a screaming halt, brakes whistling at the effort and doors flinging open as two strangers came hurrying out. you could see their mouths moving, but your ears were still ringing from the noise of the brakes and the horn, eyes now welling up with tears.

the lady smacked the man beside her on the arm, shushing the way he was yelling at you and warning he’d been going too fast anyway and everyone was lucky he’d just had enough time to stop.

trembling with a mix of adrenaline and fear you went limp as the woman picked you up, bouncing you in what was supposed to be a calming manner and again sharply warning the man that yelling at you wasn’t going to solve anything.

you sniffled and pointed across the road to your house when she asked where you’d come from, the man following after her still yelling despite her warnings as the pair of them made their way up the front steps, the woman pushing the doorbell and gently placing you back down on your feet.

it was one of your cousins who answered, smile dropping immediately from his face as he noticed yours stained with tears, shouting out several times for eli as the mans yelling brought a whole other handful of family members racing to the front door.

then suddenly as the man continued his very angry shouting, this time about what had happened and how could you be so careless to play in the road, the woman questioning your apparent lack of supervision given your young age, chaos erupted.

you slapped your hands over your ears as two of your tíos stepped forward, toe to toe with the driver and yelling right back at him, everyone beginning to argue about how this happened, no one even noticed when you scurried off to find somewhere quiet, sick of your ears ringing and your eyes hurting and the weird feeling like you’d been punched in the stomach.

then right as things were beginning to calm, the woman sending the man back to the car and your tíos ordered back to the living room in an attempt to diffuse the situation, a car pulled up in the driveway and eli swore under her breath as she knew right away whose it was.

within seconds flat, her car still left running alexia appeared by the front door, putting herself inbetween the woman and her mami with a hardened stare. “-all i am saying is the niña was very very lucky not to be hit. she needs to be careful this time of the year, and play in her yard not the road!” the woman warned sharply before turning on heel and walking away down the front steps, alexia’s head whipping around to look wide eyed in shock.

“qué diablos ha pasado?” your eldest sister asked, eyes darting between the multiple women gathered in the doorway. “dímelo!” alexia demanded, stepping inside as the front door closed, a very uncomfortable and awkward silence echoing through the once boisterous and noisy home.

“fresa was almost hit by a car.” eli answered quietly, barely able to get the words out still stunned near speechless, the possibilities of if the car hadn’t stopped swirling around in her head.

“what? mami where is she? where is she?” alexia shouted, terror written all over her face as guilt set itself into eli’s realising you’d clearly run off without again anyone noticing.

“i-i do not know. fresa? fresa!” eli called out, calls of your name ringing out as everyone began searching frantically, your cousins falling over one another to check outside as the door thumped shut.

“how could you let this happen? how!” your eldest sister shouted angrily, alba’s door opening as she stepped out, confusion written on her and paula’s faces seeing everyone rushing around yelling for you.

“why weren’t you watching her alba! why!” clearing the gap between them in seconds alexia had her younger sisters jumper balled up in her fists, screaming in her face as bodies rushed in to pull them apart.

with a scoff alexia took off, checking in each room and shouting out your name, only pausing for a moment when she noticed a very familiar beanie balled up in the corner of her room.

“fresa? fresita? are you in here?” alexia called out hopefully, hearing a rustle and with two knocks she was sprinting to her closet, sliding open the door right as a tiny body barreled into her legs, knocking her to the ground as you clung onto her for dear life.

“aye dios mío.” alexia breathed out in relief, sitting up and pulling you into her, your face buried in her shoulder as your little body shook with sobs which were muffled by the thick material of her jacket.

“its okay pequeña its okay. you’re okay now, you’re okay.” alexia chanted over and over, mainly to relieve herself of her own worries as she squeezed you tightly, kissing your head repeatedly as you shook and cried in her hold, hands tightly fisting the soft material of her sweater.

“fresa! you-” the moment alba burst in alexia’s head shot up, hand on the back of your neck protectively as she hissed venomously for the younger girl to get out, though it was with words you’d normally remind meant she needed to put money into the curse jar sat on the kitchen bench.

as alba backed away, tears welled up in her eyes and guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders, eli was fast to usher the rest of the family toward the front door, knowing all of this fuss and rush was only going to make things worse as no one even tried to argue, planning to stay elsewhere for the evening.

alexia wasn’t sure how long she sat there holding you tightly, mumbling the same words over and over in an attempt to soothe the pair of you, but no one dared to open her door again after the way she’d snapped.

“you left me! you promised and you left!” you pulled your head back and accused with a broken sob, alexia wincing and holding you tighter as you fought for her to let you go. “let go alexia! let go!” you demanded among your cries, her head shaking and your body pulled even tighter into hers until eventually you gave up, crumpling and clinging onto her again as you sobbed and sobbed.

finally, with your eyes puffy and head pounding your sobs turned to sniffles, alexia not even paying any mind to the way you wiped your nose against her shoulder. her thumb softly wiped away a few stray tears as you sat limp in her lap, sagged against her and hands clinging on tightly to the stretched and faded material of her sweater.

“why were you in the road fresa? why! you know better than that.” alexia asked desperately, shaking you a little and tugging you around so you were facing her, unhooking your fingers which quickly grabbed onto the edges of her coat as if she could disappear at a moments notice.

“i was just following henry! he wanted me around, nobody else did.” you mumbled, bottom lip still trembling as your sister frowned. “what do you mean nobody else did fres?” her tone softened, eyebrows creased with concern.

“mami was busy. everyone was yelling and watching football. alba didn’t want me, she said nobody wanted me around. nobody would play with me or let me help, not even with the tree! and you told me to go away and go bother someone else!” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes again.

“oh hermana. no no i didn’t- i didn’t mean to but-” but you didn’t let her finish, pushing up off of her and running off before she could grab at you. “everyone says i get in the way! i don’t fit.” you sobbed out at her after you’d pulled open her door, racing out and crashing into something hard.

but you softened once you realised who it was, arms up and scooped immediately into your mami’s embrace, body wracked with sobs again as her hand rubbed up and down your back “shhh you fit mija, you fit right here.” your mami murmured firmly, eyes squeezed closed before she moved to take a seat on the couch as you curled up into her.

it was around an hour later when finally you’d settled again, everyone fussing over you and apologising and arguing about who got to do what. but now bathed and wrapped in fluffy christmas pyjamas all you wanted was everyone to be together, the only thing you’d wanted this whole day.

so when asked what it was you needed right now, you answered just that, eli sending off her two eldest to make hot chocolate, refusing to let you out of her sight even for a second as the pair of you looked through which movie to watch despite the fact it was long past when you’d normally go to bed.

meanwhile there was a frosty silence in the kitchen, alexia refusing to even look at alba who was so wracked with guilt she’d barely looked up from the floor. “why?” she looked up at that, finding alexia’s eyes now baring into her.

“why?” “sí. why alba? why would you tell her no one wanted her around? she is a baby!” alexia hissed quietly as the younger girls gaze dropped again. “i didn’t mean it.” she mumbled somewhat pathetically as she measured out the coco powder and alexia scoffed.

“oh sí because a five year old is going to know that, tonta!” alexia shoved her, taking over the hot chocolates as a new emotion filled the younger girl. “well she gets more attention than me! so do you even when you are not here you are the centre of attention!” alba bit, fists balled by her side as alexia looked at her incredulously.

“what?” “it is always oh fresita is so cute, fresa got a new tooth, fresa got a gold star, how adorable is the baby!” alba cooed sarcastically, words bubbling up and out that had festered there for too long.

“and you! everyone talks about you and asks about you and goes on and on about alexia putellas the next big football superestrella, saviour of barcelona and hero of españa!” alba waved her hands about with each word as her older sister watched on with a frown.

“but no one ever asks me how i am, or how my school is, or about my achievements, how anything is! mami skips my parent teacher interviews to go to fresa’s, is at your games every weekend, i got a high distinction on a test and all mami did was move it underneath one of fresa’s drawing, she didn’t even see it. i feel invisible alexia! and-” but her words were cut short, the taller girl pulling her into a tight hug.

“you are not invisible hermana. i see you, and i love you, we all do. this family would not be right without you, i am so sorry we have not shown that.” alexia promised, alba giving in and hugging her back, more apologies exchanged between the two, falling silent in their tight embrace.

until the patter of feet and your voice broke them apart. “do you need help?” you asked with a small frown of concern, the two having been making the hot chocolates for a strangely long time as you were growing a little impatient.

“sí! we need our special marshmallow helper.” alba confirmed, nodding at alexia who slid her the packet with a smile. “nobody puts them in like you fresa. perfect hot chocolate needs perfect marshmallows.” alexia affirmed with a nod, lifting you up onto the counter, softening at the way your face lit up.

very carefully you placed three marshmallows into each cup, no pink for alexia, all pink for you, and a mix for alba and your mami, just the way everyone liked it.

with a hot chocolate in hand and squished on the couch between everyone, it was far from the perfectly normal christmas you were promised, but things finally started to feel okay.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #🍓☀️#woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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judeswhore · 3 days ago

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santa baby

summary: you have an extra special gift for jude this christmas

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+, hints of brothers bsf!jude, grinding, mentions of sex

notes: i Need him!!! you can find my masterlist here. i might make a second part to this

"can i open my eyes yet?" jude asked. he was seated at the very edge of your mattress, legs spread wide and arms behind him as he rested back on his palms, the perfect picture of calm. the barely noticeable tick in his jaw was the only giveaway that he was on edge and it sent a thrill through you knowing just how much you affected him. it boosted your confidence, made this little show feel a lot more exciting despite the slightly nervous tremor in your fingers.

for a few quiet moments you simply admired the man in front of you, basked in the opportunity to drink him in without his eyes on you. he was shirtless, per your request and the sight of his bare chest and that teasing ladder of hair made you a little dry mouthed, filled your head with endless fantasies. dragging your gaze upwards you settled on his face, on the stubble covering his jaw, the soft curve of his lips and his lashes, so unfairly long, they made you jealous. he was stupidly pretty, gorgeous in a way that had landed you in trouble the second your brother had brought him home. jude was supposed to be off limits. yet here he was, half naked in your room and growing slightly impatient with your surprise.

"babe?"

"hmm?" you hummed softly, still caught up in running your eyes over his arms, cheeks growing hot at the bulge of his biceps. you wanted to sink your teeth into them, into his shoulders and chest, to mark and claim him despite all the reasons you shouldn't. jude's huff of laughter brought your attention back to his face.

"can i open my eyes?"

"oh." you coughed quietly to clear your throat and straightened up, prepared to spin as you double checked your outfit was perfect. "yeah, you can open your eyes." you held your breath and watched his lashes flutter open, watched almost in slow motion as his jaw dropped, dark gaze bouncing rapidly over your body. he didn’t seem to know where he wanted to look most, a soft curse falling from his lips as he suddenly sat up straight.

you gave him a slow twirl, felt the tiny skirt you were wearing lift up just slightly and you were rewarded with a low groan from jude at the peak of your ass beneath. the outfit was simple enough, a tiny red skirt, equally as tiny red bra and a santa hat but the boy in front of you was staring as though you were a prized painting. it made your pulse thunder and your skin felt hot and prickly wherever his eyes roamed. goosebumps had risen across your chest because jude’s gaze was suddenly pinned to your boobs.

“merry christmas, jude.”

“holy shit.” he gave a light, breathless laugh, swallowed harshly and twisted his finger in the air. “fuck, gimme another spin.” you did as you were told, twirled for him and then stopped with your hands on your hips. a smile tugged your lips.

“what do you think?”

“what do i- jesus christ.”

“yeah?” you raised your eyebrows at his obvious lack of words, at the dazed look he was wearing and the desire burning in his eyes. jude bit down on his bottom lip, head shaking as he tracked every inch of your body and the heat of his gaze felt like the caress of his fingers over your bare skin. up along your legs, lingering just slightly on your thighs before sliding over your bare stomach, drinking in the way your boobs half spilled from the slightly too small cups and then over your face and to the little hat sitting lopsidedly on your head. he was grinning by that point.

“you’re gorgeous. it’s- i don’t- how do you look so fuckin’ good?” he groaned low in his throat, sounding almost like he was in pain. “that skirt.” a half shy smile was making its way onto your face as you fiddled with the hem of the skirt, hyper aware of the bulge that had appeared in jude’s shorts and even more aware of the way his hand had wandered only inches from it.

“i have something else for you.”

“something else?” jude gaped a little, shifted on your mattress to adjust his shorts but it did nothing to hide his cock. you swallowed, swiped your tongue along your bottom lip before slowly making your way over to him, hips swaying as you tried your hardest not to look ridiculous. the way this boy was looking at you however suggested that wasn’t a possibility. you came to a stop in front of him, tits so close to his face that jude simply couldn’t help himself as he leant forward, nipped softly at the flesh spilling out over the material before soothing the mark with a kiss. he glanced up at you through his lashes, eyes so dark they almost had you gasping for air. “what more could you possibly have?”

with your hands on his shoulders, you pressed your knees into the mattress on either side of his thighs, settled yourself in his lap only inches from his aching cock. you could feel the heat of him and wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him but you wanted jude to see the last part of your little gift. unable to stop yourself from teasing, you lowered your hips, ground down a little so you could drag your pussy over the tent in his shorts and grinned at the low hiss he let out. his hands clamped down on your waist.

“lift the skirt up.” your voice was a low command, silky smooth and you felt him shudder beneath you, watched his eyes fall closed for a moment when you lifted yourself back off his lap and simply hovered.

jude’s hands settled on your thighs and his fingers were soft as they slid up until they rested at the hem of your skirt. he fiddled with it for a second before flipping the material up, revealing your silky red underwear and his jaw ticked when he spotted just what it was you wanted to show him. stitched across the front of your underwear in pretty white thread, was one simple word, jude.

“thought you’d like it.” you whispered, heart thudding in your chest at his silence, heat flooding your cheeks because jude simply couldn’t look away. his throat bobbed on a swallow, lashes fluttering as he blinked once, twice before finally dragging his gaze back up to yours.

“you’re not real.” he didn’t give you chance to reply to that as he tipped his head to kiss you, lips slotting messily over yours as he curled one hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer. his other hand flattened against the top of your thigh, your skirt falling over his fingers as you settled back down into his lap.

for the next few minutes you simply got lost in his kisses, in the slow drag of his tongue over yours and the occasional nip of his teeth against your bottom lip. nothing mattered but jude’s mouth and the feel of his cock beneath you as you rocked slowly against him, unaware of the damp spot that was slowly spreading over the crotch of your new underwear. a startled whine bled past your lips when jude’s hand shifted beneath your skirt and his thumb pressed firmly over your clit. he rubbed it in soft, slow circles that matched the lazy press of his lips.

“want you to keep these on.” he mumbled, words muffled as he started to work his lips and teeth along your jaw. his hand had knocked your hat slightly askew and when he pulled back he helped to fix it for you, grinning dark and dirty at you when you eyed him in confusion.

“hm?” you were a little dazed, rocking into his hand and down onto his cock, fingers sunk deep into his shoulders for purchase. you choked on a quiet moan when his fingers slipped down and pressed against your already soaked hole, pushed against the damp material of the underwear he was now so infatuated with.

“y’gonna ride my cock like a good girl,” he told you, fingers deftly hooking into the material and tugging it to the side. two fingers brushed over your pussy, circled your clit before sliding back down. “but i want you to keep this pretty little outfit on, okay?”

#hey jude :)#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham smut

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lemoncrushh · 9 months ago

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MASTERLIST

>> Learn a little about me and my writing here <<

Everything is in order from oldest to newest. Unfortunately, all of my 2015 blurbs and one-shots got deleted from Wattpad, and I didn't have them saved anywhere else, so we begin with 2016.

The 2016 Blurbs

Taboo You and Harry have a little fun in the bathroom during a party.

Victoria's Secret Harry meets Victoria, a beautiful plus-size woman, at a party and is quite smitten with her.

The One Where Harry Tries to Win You Back When Harry cancels your date again, you decide to go out alone.

Drunk Me Is Like Regular Me You and Harry have a cute and silly evening together. AKA, Harry can’t help being cute, even when he’s drunk.

Happy Place While staying at a cabin with friends, Harry comforts you when you’re feeling down.

You're Never This Quiet Harry has been quiet all evening and you wonder why.

You Said You'd Never Leave You worry that you can no longer handle being Harry’s girlfriend.

Show Me Your Texts, or It's Over Harry finds out you've been in contact with your ex and gives you an ultimatum.

Just for the Record After returning home from a concert with Harry, you share a smoke and a bed.

Scars You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

I Miss You You’ve grown frustrated and lonely because Harry is always busy.

Best Friends You and Harry are best friends, but he would love for it be more.

Rooms On Fire (The Morning After) You meet Harry Styles at a party and have an amazing night.

Slave 4 U 2 Harry is ready to take you home for a little role play.

The Opera You and Harry can’t keep your hands off each other at the opera.

My Home You and Harry visit his family, but you have to stay in Gemma’s room.

A Night Out with Harry You take care of Harry after a drunken night out.

Back For You Harry is in town, and you go visit him at the hotel.

Melt A sexy evening with Harry.

Heartstrings You become One Direction’s new guitarist and you and your best friend Harry realize you have feelings for each other.

What's It Like You can’t sleep and decide to pay Harry a visit in the next room.

The Lucky One Harry is not too pleased when you run into your old high school crush at a restaurant.

Too Long It’s been too long since you and Harry have had sex.

Anniversary Pancakes Harry and his daughter make breakfast for his wife on their anniversary

We're Gonna Have a Baby Telling Harry he’s gonna be a dad.

Lyrics and Melodies: AM A very smitten Harry takes Julia back to his place for drinks and more music.

Claiming His Territory Harry gets jealous when he thinks another guy fancies you, and he decides to claim his territory.

This Is Me You're Talking To You and Harry are divorced, but you both still have feelings for each other.

Meeting Harry Styles After actress Mia Tangelo meets Harry Styles at a One Direction concert, he surprises her by showing up at her film premiere.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? Harry invites Rebecca to his Christmas party, but she overthinks too much, misinterpreting his intentions and nearly missing out on her chance to be with him on New Year’s Eve.

Kiss Me Kiss Me Samantha and Harry’s story of young romance and a first kiss.

Sweat Some post-workout sex.

Saturday Night Harry needs comforting after his performance on SNL.

Live From New York Harry’s on SNL and he gets a little jealous when he thinks you’re not there for him.

Leather and Lace The night Harry sang with Stevie at the Troubadour.

I Wish That It Could Be Like That An affair with Harry has taken its toll and is no longer enough.

Faithfully Harry shares the story of how you two met and fell in love.

Running On Empty An unfortunate incident at the gym.

Sometimes It Be That Way Soon after a breakup, Lilliana met Harry…but their relationship may have been doomed from the start.

Stones T-Shirt Commenting on Harry’s Rolling Stones shirt at a party leads to going to a concert with him.

Carrot Cake Harry has something he’s been wanting to ask Y/N, but the timing is never right.

Kinda Perfect It’s a girls’ night out and Harry shows up, but you decide not to let your new friend Tiffany know that Harry is your boyfriend.

What Happens In Vegas... Your Vegas trip to celebrate your friend’s birthday turns into a night you hadn’t expected when you meet Harry Styles in the casino.

Easy Like Sunday Morning It's your last day with Harry before he leaves.

Connect Not wanting to lose their connection, Lily takes a surprise trip to see Harry.

Comfort Food Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Her Album Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it. [in Harry's POV]

Ruin the Friendship It’s Ella’s birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

You and I Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Rain Rain Lexie is on her way to visit her sister, and she’s taking Harry on the road trip with her, planning to drop him off at his friend’s house for a wedding. But the weather has other plans.

That Sunday, That Summer Kelly’s roommate Bianca talks her into participating in a celebrity charity scavenger hunt that Harry Styles surprisingly attends.

Friends Don't Harry and Gabriella have been good friends for a few years. But neither of them knows the feelings the other has.

Mistletoe & Holly Harry finally reveals to his friend Holly how he feels about her on her birthday…which just happens to be Christmas.

Dressing For Revenge // Part 2 Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him.

Kiss Me Deadly The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

Through the Wall Harry is your handsome neighbour, and you keep hearing him through the wall.

bad idea harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored part 2 of bad idea - after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

Touch You’ve been having a hard time getting yourself off, so your roommate Harry offers a hand.

Filthy Cute You and Harry are in a secret relationship, and you get a little jealous when you think he’s flirting with your friend.

Out of Bounds After a few years of being a housewife, Tisa Jordan decided to go back to school. Hoping to find inspiration and a new direction in life, she didn’t expect to meet Harry Styles, a handsome British twenty-year-old. [39 chapters]

Cubicle I’m Harry. I have a mundane job where I sit in a cubicle all day. But things just got better because the hottest babe just started working here. And I’m determined to make her mine, even if just for one night. I’m Roni. I just started this new job, but all I can think about is the hottie in the corner cubicle. I think he likes me too. [22 chapters]

Fratboy Harry Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything. [10 parts]

The Entertainer Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar. [10 parts]

Too Far From Texas Stacey Barnett is a writer and a single mother. Her hands full with two daughters (one with special needs), a newly published novel, an extroverted best friend and a controlling ex-husband, the last thing she expects is to meet an international pop star. [33 chapters]

Seven Six Five They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again. (Real Harry x Plus Size OC, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

Tattooed Heart You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion. (Tattoo artist!harry x waitress y/n, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

The Entertainer II * Updates will be sporadic * What if it wasn’t the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky’s story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Wild Horses * Updates will be sporadic * Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

Ko-fi (if you're feeling generous and would like to support me)

Inbox (for requests, feedback or general chat)

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saerins · 1 year ago

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[ ೀ pucker up, buttercup | itoshi sae ]

ೀ content: female reader, fluff, sae and reader are adults, pet names (sae’s choice of words are stupid/idiot, calls reader ‘my girl’), alcohol, slightly suggestive at the end. | wc 1.5k | notes: okay did a very quick drabble for sae for christmas !! merry christmas to you guys <3

ೀ summary: being sae’s girlfriend is tough. there’s a lot of things he can’t make time for, and unfortunately this time, it’s you. but somehow, he always pulls through.

it’s christmas eve and you’re at your company function, looking at the fruits of your hard labour.

the event hall is decked with christmas decorations; stockings lining the walls and corresponding to different names for everyone’s secret santa to gift accordingly, christmas lights surrounding every table, everyone getting their fair share of the catering you’d arranged.

“this is amazing,” your boss gushes as she excitedly throws her arms around you. she’s only a few years older than you, so it’s not all too surprising that she’s always super friendly with you.

“relax on the alcohol, okay?” you joke with her, smelling the liquor already.

she pouts at you, batting her eyelashes. “oh c’mon, are you still upset that your boyfriend couldn’t make it for christmas?”

you sigh, though you keep a strong front, smiling through it. being the private girlfriend of an international soccer superstar is tough; he has to miss holidays and special occasions and more often than not you can’t even get your calls through because he’s just that busy. you’d been excited for this year’s christmas though, because he had said he’d be able to fly back home this time.

but as it turns out, his manager—who so happens to love overworking him—has other plans. so all of that excitement just went down the drain. still, what else can you say to him other than good luck with it? you knew being his girlfriend was going to be tough, but it’s starting to take a toll after feeling like you barely exist in his world.

still, you stare at the message he last sent you.

i love you.

and you go soft. soft, because you know he means it. soft, because despite everything, you believe in the man you fell in love with. the one who gave you your first kiss back in high school, the one who’s so awkward that even initiating to hold hands last time had his entire face beet red. the one who never fails to assure you that in spite of the distance, he’s always still thinking of you.

you fiddle with your necklace, the promise ring sae gave you when you were back in high school sitting around your neck like it always has.

in between all the long distance arguments and the time differences and the i miss you, wish you were here with me, you still find yourself hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. even when your friends say they can’t imagine being in your shoes, even when numerous tabloids love to put models or athletes as your competition, you know there’s still no one else you’d rather be with than him.

“i’m fine, really,” you assure your boss, prying her off of you and then adjusting her so her arm is around your shoulder as you lead her to her stocking. “here, why don’t you busy yourself and see what your secret santa got you?”

you really just want to distract your boss so she wouldn’t accidentally end up throwing you a pity party. all you want to do today is to make it through it, spend the first hour of christmas day rounding up the party and then get home and sleep your day away. it’ll distract you from the absence of your boyfriend anyway.

as you watch your boss happily open up whatever’s in her stocking, you wonder if your secret santa got you anything. (of course, some secret santas are dicks and end up not getting their person anything.) so count yourself lucky when you open up your stocking to find both a gift and a card.

amused, you rip the card out of its envelope, your heart skipping a beat when you see that inside of it, there’s a picture of you and sae as high school kids, beside each other, his face deadpan while you’re grinning from ear to ear, resting your head against his shoulder. the message reads: i love you so much it’s stupid.

you’re still in shock but you open up the little gift box, maroon with a green bow on it. when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but chuckle.

holding it above you, under the light, you can see the words hey, stupid engraved on the side of the fake mistletoe before feeling a warm pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, cold lips catching you off guard as they press themselves against yours.

it fills you up inside, takes all the weight off your shoulders. you’ll recognise him anywhere, without having to look or hear, the way his lips feel against yours, how he holds you gently against him, laughing softly against your lips as you pull him closer to you by the collar.

never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see your boyfriend in japan, let alone at your work party of all places, and now here you both are, kissing under the mistletoe.

“woah relax there,” he teases you, pulling away but still holding you close.

he’s here, he’s actually here. his hair’s in a mess, and there are circles under his eyes, but he’s smiling. he’s smiling at you and he’s here with you and you don’t even feel the tears forming in your eyes because you’re too busy relishing in the moment.

“itoshi sae,” you call out to him, your hands patting on his body, his black coat and his scarf are real and he’s here—he’s really here. “i thought you were too busy to come back…”

how long has it been now since you’d last seen him? a year? perhaps longer? he’s been so busy nowadays that you wondered at one point if he would even come back to you at all.

sae sighs, holding your cheeks in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry,” he says tensely, shaking his head slightly. “i was away for so long, and i just…” his teal eyes stare into yours, both your eyelashes dancing against one another. “i missed you, and i just wanted to see you.”

you’re laughing in disbelief, still holding him close because you’re just that afraid that this’ll all be an illusion that might soon slip away. “and they just let you off like that? that simple?”

he presses his lips into a firm line, averting his gaze. “let’s just say that they weren’t happy about it but i’m the important one, so…” he smiles, genuinely, putting an arm around. “they don’t have a choice but to let me come home to see my girl.”

turns out, he’d called in a favour to your boss, asked her about christmas plans because he knew from your texts that you were in charge of putting it all together. and then he asked her to put the gifts in your stocking. and you laugh hearing about it, because you’re thinking of how your life could’ve gone a totally different way. you could’ve gotten into a relationship with someone else who wouldn’t do this much for you, wouldn’t make time for you, wouldn’t travel across the world and put their own things down all in the name of meeting you.

“what’re you thinking about, stupid?”

you look into his eyes, shaking your head. “nothing, it’s nothing, i just- i love you, itoshi sae.” you smile, and sae smiles too because he loves how your smile reaches your eyes. and he loves being the reason you smile so he’s going to keep being that—and he makes a promise to himself to make you happy for life. but maybe that’s a gesture for next time. right now, he just wants to spend the rest of the holidays with you.

the clock strikes twelve, and he steals the mistletoe from you, holding it up between the two of you again, wincing from how cheesy it is after he does it, earning a chuckle from you.

“merry christmas, idiot.” and he kisses you again, long and slow and completely oblivious to everyone else that’s there who are staring and clapping—half of them still in awe that the itoshi sae is here and half of them in shock after putting two and two together that he’s your special guy.

“so, you’re gonna be here till new years’?” you ask in between kisses.

sae nods, “at least, why?”

you grin, pulling him by the belt as you lead him out of the event hall. “think it’s time we get home and just spend it between the two of us, yeah?”

sae laughs, letting you drag him along, wondering whether by this time next year, will he be lucky enough to call you his wife?

but when he sees that promise ring he gifted you still nestling snug around your neck, he has no doubt. you’re each other’s for life. and you’re worth every single risk he has to take.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #sae x you #sae fluff #sae x y/n #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae imagines #sae imagines #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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empty-movement · 3 days ago

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Someday, Shine With Me...

It's Christmas Eve. It's 1997. You actually went to see the AWESOME Utena Musical over the weekend, and you have rewatched your VHS tape recordings of the last episode a dozen times.

You've been jamming out to Internal Clock, Municipal Orrery. You obtained a time machine to pour over episode commentaries by Ikuhara and Saito that cover the last three episodes. You've already stolen the script from be-Papas' office. You've even got a screencap gallery of it!

You've been watching along with some other internetizens, because forums are cool.

You've been staring at the insane art drop by Akemi Hayashi for this month's Animage Magazine:

You've been pouring over the to-be-released creator commentary, transcribed by Vrai Kaiser, whose articles about Utena have been living rent free in your future head all year:

There are two meanings to the Japanese word utena. One is “the calyx of a flower.” That’s also the meaning of the title, of course. The thing that supports the beautiful petals; the one with the noble heart. And the other meaning of utena is “tall tower or pedestal.” We translated this into a visual: the tower at the center of Ohtori Academy, the one with the Chairman’s room on the top floor. And the dueling arena located deep in the woods is the same. In the early stages of production, when the story wasn’t firmly established yet, this was one of the aspects I most wanted to visualize and produce for the screen. A world where demons roam. In its center, a tower called the “Tower of Revolution.” Whosoever can remain victorious in his battles against the demons can reach the pinnacle of the Tower of Revolution, and at the same time receive the power to revolutionize the world; the power that changes the rules of the world. However, when he reaches the pinnacle, he learns the world’s governing laws. He faces the ultimate choice: will he stay nobly, beautifully powerless? Or will he accept ugliness into himself and gain absolute power? He desired both. Or rather, perhaps he couldn’t choose either. His mind in anguish, he divided himself in two. His “noble heart,” and the “adult with absolute power.” And so. With one last wish that the day would come when someone would awaken him, the “noble heart” that had lost its body, in other words the prince, fell into a deep sleep. Early on in the series’s conception, I kicked around the idea of placing something like the above at the heart of the story. Later, after several changes, it became the tale as you know it, but without a doubt, he did reach the pinnacle of the Tower of Revolution. It was a place where “eternity” dwelled. And “eternity” turned out to mean perpetual sleep. The prince (Akio) who became an adult while in perpetual sleep lost something. What he lost was “the power to create an enjoyable future.” Revolution means gaining “the power to imagine the future.” The prince chose to sleep on, and the princess chose to wake up. At the top of that tall tower, the princess bid farewell to the prince. No – she wasn’t the princess any longer. She quit being “a person (thing) ruled by someone.” The victory bells rang, but there was no “tower (rule)” beyond them now. She’d learned where freedom lay. She crossed the threshold of that “Door of Revolution” which had always been closed to her before, and began walking. The “girl’s revolution” lay in the girl’s future. “Wait for me…Utena.” The world (the stage) is free and wide.

You're not ready for Utena to end. Which is good, because it isn't going to. Not for you. Decades from now, Utena will still be here, speaking to you. Challenging you. Changing you.

#revolutionary girl utena #rgu #sku #shoujo kakumei utena #utena #utena tenjou #anthy #empty movement #utena meta #utena resources #i know it's not christmas eve just yet i am in the middle of working six of seven and the cognitive load of scheduling this post is just to

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redeemingvillains · 2 days ago

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tea leaves on christmas eve - mattheo riddle

summary: you and mattheo agree to have your tea leaves read as a joke, not expecting the surprising message they'd reveal.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: merry christmas, my loves! this is the fluffiest, softest thing i have ever written, and that's saying something ♡

The frosty air nipped your cheeks, carrying with it the scents of the holiday that surrounded you: peppermint, pine, and woodfire as you strode through Hogsmeade at eventide. The sky was turning a deep shade of midnight blue and rich violet which made the myriads of strung white lights hanging from the rooftops and doorways appear like stars twinkling around you.

Your boots crunched and crinkled in the packed snow alongside the eager footsteps of your friends who were laughing and joking with one another as you ambled along the annual Christmas market, enjoying the streets lined with vendors selling food, ornaments, and every twinkling bauble and treat you could imagine.

Your eyes dazzled as you took it all in, so idyllic and festive, but despite the enticing sights and sounds you felt your gaze continually drawn to the boy at your side, because it was simply impossible not to stare at him...

...The way his chestnut curls peeked out from underneath his hood, the way his long, dark lashes batted against his cheeks which were rosy from the cold, the way he was smiling, widely, genuinely, in a way that reached his amber eyes.

He was so handsome you felt a tug in your heart, a gravitational pull towards him that trying to defy felt like swimming against a fierce current, but as usual, you stuffed the feeling down, deep within you and tried to appear normal, happy and friendly. Mattheo was one of your closest friends, and even if you did have a raging crush on him, you'd never act on it. You could only imagine what Blaise or Pansy would say if they found out, let alone Theo and the others, you shook your head imperceptibly in an attempt to empty the thought from your mind.

You and Pansy dragged the boys from booth to booth, and despite their mumbles and groaning, you could tell they were enjoying it as they indulged in the endless amount of treats from peppermint sticks to chimney cakes and roasted chestnuts and they passed a flask between themselves to keep warm.

Theo had just taken a long sip from the small metallic container when his face broke into a wide smile and he nodded his head to a booth just ahead of you.

"Oi, look, they dragged the poor old bat out here" he laughed as your gaze followed his to see Professor Trelawney in a booth all her own.

Faded tapestries and multicolored shawls were draped around the booth and tasseled rugs covered the floor, creating a mini replica of the Divination classroom, but the only light coming from within shone from a host of low-burning candles that were dripping wax dramatically onto every available surface.

The sign above the booth announced that she was reading tea leaves, though it was starkly empty unlike the other booths that were crowded with patrons, and she was deeply focused on a crochet that looked an awful lot like an outfit for a cat.

"Gods she's a lunatic" Draco muttered.

"Truly mental" Theo agreed.

"You won't go over there and ask her to read your future" Draco dared, shoving Theo's arm.

Theo got a wicked smile on his face.

"I've got a better idea" he said. "Let's send Riddle instead, she's obsessed with him, always telling him about the dark and miserable ways he's going to die."

"Absolutely not" Mattheo said quickly with a non-humurous laugh.

But the idea was out and running on its own now.

"Ahaha yes mate! Please I need to see this" Blaise chimed in as the guys began to push Mattheo towards the booth, egging him on.

"Fucking not today" Mattheo groaned even as he laughed and swiped the flask from Theo's grasp, chugging it heartily before Theo snagged it back.

Mattheo wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his lips gleaming with the remnants of firewhiskey, you noted, when he caught your eye and grinned mischievously at you.

"Do it with me?" he asked, nearly pleading. "I can't face her alone."

"Fine, fine" you said, smiling at his pout, pushing him along in front of you as your friends followed closely behind.

Your group crowded into the small booth, nearly shoulder to shoulder. The smell of incense and old books overtook you as Trelawney glanced up, surprised to see anyone, let alone seven of you in front of her until her eyes landed on Mattheo and she jumped in excitement, the crochet falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Oh! Come in my dears, yes, yes, let me–" she said, flustered, knocking things over in her haste to situate herself as Draco snickered and Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.

Mattheo moved to sit on one of two large poufs that lined the low table in front of the professor and he yanked you down beside him. You sent him a look of mock defiance, but truthfully you were glad to feel his warmth next to you and your breath caught in your lungs as he pulled his hood down, his playful smile dancing in the candlelight in a way that brought a deep flush to your cheeks that you hoped he couldn't see.

"Here you go" Professor Trelawney said, bringing you back to the present moment as she placed two fragile tea cups in front of you while a matching teapot hovered over the table, pouring warm liquid into both.

"Thank you, Professor" Mattheo said charmingly and she smiled broadly at him, whether completely enamored by his good looks or dark fortune, you couldn't say.

"Drink, drink!" she said encouragingly, gesturing to the tea.

You glanced sidelong at each other and you caught him rolling his eyes subtly as you both leaned forward and you took a long sip of the tea. It was herbal and a little bitter with a lingering taste of peppermint.

"That's quite good, thank you, Professor" you said kindly, as Mattheo nodded in agreement.

You placed your cups down and she cleared the table before pulling them closer to her. She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled vigorously, dramatically several times. You could feel one of the boys behind you shaking with stilted laughter before her eyes flew open, magnified by her glasses, giving her the appearance of a crazed owl as she grasped Mattheo's cup with both hands, staring deeply at the remains of his tea leaves.

"Mmm, yes, yes, just as I feared" she murmured. "Dark and mysterious, Mr. Riddle, very, very dark indeed. You are in grave danger."

Mattheo cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his laughter.

"Oh, wow, of what Professor?" he asked, egging her on.

She turned the cup in her hands, eyes flickering to him and back to the cup again with a nervous smile.

"Well...the leaves...don't say, my dear, just know it's very dark and very grave. There will be misfortunes and hardships–" she carried on and on and you caught Mattheo's eye as he mouthed subtly, silently to you, "So many misfortunes and hardships" and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as he smiled.

"What about Ms. YLN here, Professor?" he interrupted finally, pulling Trelawney out of her stupor.

She smiled awkwardly, placing Mattheo's cup down reluctantly, before she cleared her throat and picked yours up, adjusting her glasses and blinking several times.

"Right, let's see" she said.

She peered into your teacup and her face scrunched almost immediately. "Well, I..." she started, before turning the cup this way and that before setting it gently down on the table, glancing back at Mattheo's cup and then up at the two of you.

Her expression was rather serious, and an unusual quiet settled on the group in a way that sent a small shiver through you, raising the hairs on your arm.

"Professor?" Mattheo asked, nearly a whisper, prompting her.

She reached for his cup, pulling it next to yours, and looked at them closely side by side.

"It's the faithful heart" she said finally, looking up from the cups to the two of you and for once her eyes expression wasn't manic, but calm, reassured.

"Sorry?" you asked, like any of you were supposed to know what that meant.

She slid the cups back to you and you both leaned forward. Immediately, you could see what she had seen: the remnants of the leaves in each cup held half a heart, that when placed side by side formed one.

"The meaning may seem obvious" she said, leaning forward, letting her fingers trace the patterns "but it represents two halves of a whole soul, one not fully complete without the other, two spirits destined for one another, destined to understand each other in a way no one else can or ever will, two hearts destined to beat as one."

You realized suddenly that you had been holding your breath because fuck if that wasn't exactly how you felt about him. You realized, too, that your friends were quiet, stone silent, like you could actually hear the snow that had begun to fall outside.

"It's rare" Professor Trelawney said, sitting back in her chair, smiling as she glanced between the two of you, "extraordinary."

Your cheeks were warm and though you'd remembered how to breath, the air felt heavy, a stifling mix of incense and Mattheo's cologne that when combined with the tea in your veins made you feel like your head was swimming. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering.

"Well, th-thank you, Professor" you said, flushing even deeper at the shake in your voice as you stood to leave and could feel the others come back to life besides you. "I hope you have a happy Christmas" you muttered quickly as you stepped out of the booth and back into the chilly air, grateful for the gust of cool wind to clear your mind.

Pansy came to stand beside you as the boys bustled ahead of you, joking and laughing once again.

Theo waited until they were out of earshot of the girls before he slung an arm around Mattheo's neck, pulling him into his side.

"Mate, I don't know you how did it, but you are a fucking artist at work, let me tell you!"

Mattheo stumbled in Theo's firm grasp, the motion jolting him out of the reverie of the snug booth, of the mint on his lips, the warm tea pulsing through him, and the look on your face in the flickering candlelight as you listened to the professor tell you you were meant for him. He felt excited, nauseous and anxious in equal measures.

"W-what?" he asked Theo.

"I know you've fancied YN for just about as long as you've known her" he said, glancing behind them cautiously before continuing, "but paying Trelawney to tell her you're soulmates? I mean that shit is romantic bro, you almost had me there."

"I didn't—" Mattheo started to say, but was interrupted as Blaise threw his arm around Mattheo from the other side, sandwiching him between them.

"I need a fucking drink after that. Broomsticks?"

"Yes!" Theo chanted in reply and they hauled Mattheo along as his mind continued to swirl, and he desperately tried to catch your eye.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with a loud and jolly crowd seeking solace from the biting cold as night settled over the town.

You miraculously found a curved wooden booth big enough for all of you, and as you slid in you found yourself directly across from Mattheo, though you managed expertly to avoid his gaze.

You could tell he was trying to catch your eye, but you couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge him, because if you didn't look at him, you could pretend for just one moment longer that everything Professor Trelawney had said was true, that he could look at you like your souls were tethered together and not like you were one of his best mates.

You made every effort to focus on the conversation around you as your friends talked about holiday plans and new years parties, but it was proving impossible not to dissect everything the professor had said, to re-evaluate everything you knew about Mattheo, to start to see things in a different light.

You thought about how protective he was of you, even moreso than the other boys which was a feat in itself. He sat next to you at every meal, in every class. It wasn't unusual for him to reach for you if the corridor between classes was crowded or if you were in a public place, like he needed to make sure you were safe and by his side. He wouldn't ever let you walk in the castle alone at night, even if that meant falling asleep in the library besides you. But he always quick with excuses and explanations... "There was a fucking basilisk in here five years ago. Nice try, YLN, I will walk you to your dormitory thank you very much."

You thought about your first Christmas at Hogwarts, how you went home and he stayed here and how awfully you'd missed him, about how when you came back, he'd scooped you into his arms, grasping you tightly, not letting go, about how you resolved to spend every Christmas after that together. It didn't seem weird, it was the way you and Mattheo worked, it was just easier to be together than it was to be apart. But was it easier to be together or simply impossible for you to be separated?

Finally, you thought about how over the last 6 years neither one of you had dated anyone, and not for lack of ample opportunity on both sides, how your friends constantly nagged you about it. You blew it off, you were too busy with your studies, clearly. And Mattheo was too busy with quidditch.... Right?

"—YN, YN!" you focused back on the present as Pansy nudged you urgently at your side. "We're getting another round, do you want one?" she asked.

"Sure" you said blearily, dreamily, but as you slid to follow your friends out of the booth and stand in the crowd, you found yourself face to face with Mattheo who had stayed behind to find you, and suddenly there was no escape from his wide, brown eyes or the small smile on his lips as his gaze traced your face, eagerly drinking in the attention he'd been seeking from you for the last hour.

He said something you couldn't hear, and you stepped closer to him, fingers brushing his chest.

"What?" you asked.

"Do you wanna—?" he asked, tilting his head towards a quiet alcove near a large window at the back of the bar.

You nodded and he pulled you towards him, his large, warm hands resting on your hips in a comforting and protective gesture as he navigated you between the bar's rowdy patrons.

When you broke through the crowd and into the quiet corner, you glanced out the window in a last effort to distract yourself as you watched snow falling earnestly in large flurries.

"Hey" Mattheo said quietly, calmly, garnering your attention as you turned to face him and a smile spreading automatically on your lips at his rich voice, at his proximity.

His eyes were bright and twinkling, searching your face intently, perhaps picking up on your hesitancy, which wouldn't surprise you given that he often knew how you were feeling before you did.

"What I had started to say was... that was... something back there with Trelawney, huh?" he let out a breath, just shy of a laugh as he shook his head and carded his hand through his curls in an effort to hide the fact that his hands were shaking, had been since Trelawney had word for word described exactly how you made him feel. His heart would not stop racing; something about what Trelawney had said struck a chord so deep inside him, it was like his body was still humming with the note.

"Yeah... I don't really know what to think of it, I guess..." you replied nervously, not willing to say anything more, not wanting to make a fool of yourself.

He swallowed, eyes shifting to the snow outside, trying to gather the courage he may never have again.

"It's mad, really, to think about something like soulmates, especially from a pile of tea leaves, but... I don't know, at the same time, it kinda made sense to me" he said.

Your eyes blinked up at him and you could feel your pulse hammering in your neck.

"Did it?" you said quietly, breathlessly.

"With you it did, yeah" he said, meeting your eyes fully. "It made a lot more sense than anything else has between us in a long time. I hadn't had a word for it, for the way I feel when you're with me, calm, assured, happy. I always know where I stand with you, what you're thinking, how you're feeling, you're like an open book to me, like my favorite book that I want to read over and over and over again. And at the same time, it makes sense that when we're apart, I lose my mind YN. I don't think you have any idea what it does to me. I can't focus for shit, I'm worried about you, constantly, I feel unsettled, unmoored, it's why I follow you around the castle at night like a dog for Merlin's sake" he said, shaking his head, embarrassed. "That's not normal" he said before gesturing between the two of you "this isn't normal—"

"—I felt it too" you interrupted, "feel it too, I know exactly what you mean, Mattheo, every single word" you said, stepping closer to him.

"Are we crazy?" you whispered, laughing. This should feel weird, should feel incredibly strange and for the briefest moment you wondered if she'd put something in your tea, but then his fingertips brushed your waist again, pulling you closer to him and it felt like the last piece of a puzzle, a missing part of you sliding into place.

Mattheo was shaking his head and smiling, completely enamored with you, unable to look away.

"Nah, not crazy at all" he whispered back.

The air between you was crackling, electrified like the moment before lightning struck when suddenly small snowflakes began to fall around you. For a moment you thought there was a hole in the ceiling, but then you realized you were standing under an enchanted mistletoe that was jingling quietly and showering you both with snow that sparkled and then faded away.

You both looked up, laughing, before you met his gaze again, realizing he was close enough to brush his nose against yours. His warm hand cupped the side of your face and you leaned it as a feeling like melted honey rushed over your entire body and he brushed the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now" he whispered.

"Please—" you started to say before he stole the word out from behind your lips, capturing it with his own, consuming it with his perfect mouth as he pulled you firmly against him.

Every fiber of your being was a live wire, and you were certain that if anyone had touched the two of you, you'd have let off a spark. But being snug against his chest wasn't enough as you moved to wind your arms around his neck and his hands continued to grab onto you for purchase, carding into your hair, grasping at your sweater, the two of you nearly losing your footing in your attempt to close any remaining distance between you as you giggled, bubbling over with joy.

Pansy tucked her wand back into her boot as she looked on from the crowded bar at the two of you.

"The mistletoe was a nice touch" Draco nodded.

"It would have happened eventually" she defended.

"Inevitable" Enzo agreed as he popped by her side, eyeing the two of you as he sipped his butterbeer.

"Fucking finally!" Theo said heartily as he stepped to Draco's other side.

"Aww, would you look at that!" Blaise acknowledged, joining them as they watched the two of you. "Happy Christmas, guys!" he said, raising his glass.

"Happy Christmas!" they all agreed, raising their glasses together, thrilled to see their friends full of the love they both so deserved.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys

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bucketbueckers · 2 days ago

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LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

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