#i can see the end for each of them very clearly. it's just the middle part i'm stuck on

[sealrock]

realizing I'm creating a bunch of mini AUs/'what-if' scenarios the more I write out these plot bunnies in my head. an AUception going on here

[lcriedlastnight]

five times lando takes the lead + the one time you do | lando norris

○ tw: swearing, lando being cute, someone might find this a little toxic but i don’t so shh○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 5k of me projecting. it was my birthday today so here’s a present!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

1.correcting your posture.

you had told lando way back at the start of the year that your new years resolution was to fix your posture. you didn't expect him to really take in what you were saying because he was swamped with work emails and all the other shit he had to do to get ready for pre-season. it was a simple passing comment, hell you guys weren't even official when you had told him about it. why would he remember something so insignificant about someone he was casually seeing?

well you just assumed that he wouldn't, maybe that was just because you can't really remember anything small thing he had said to you in the very early days of your relationship so it made you feel bad if he did.

it was safe to say you did not do well with your resolution and had almost completely forgotten that you had even made it a resolution in the first place but it seemed like lando hadn't.

it was a race week this week and you had the privilege of joining lando this. before jetting off halfway across the world both lando and oscar had been asked to join zak and andrea at mtc just to go over some things about the car and the upcoming race. to be honest you didn't really know why but lando had asked if you wanted to come and you didn't even think before you accepted.

it was very busy as lando drove you in towards the the car park in his flashy car, it always made you feel like a pop star when lando drove you around and lando did it because he knew you loved pretending the paps were following after you after they discovered you with your new man (lando). he found it cute.

"c'mon then, sweetheart. let's get this over and done so we can get on the plane." lando says as he holds a hand out to help you out of the car. you and lando were heading straight to the airport after this 'meeting' so you were both in clothes more on the comfortable side. both repping some sort of mclaren merch of course. yours was most likey stolen from the driver himself.

you both meet oscar as you walk in. he's by himself so you ask about his own girlfriend and if she was attending the race. oscar shakes his head sadly, telling you she's focusing on her studies and you can't help admire her for that. you have always had a soft spot for lily, just like lando has for oscar you're sure.

a member of staff heards the three of you into a meeting room where zak and andrea are already waiting. seeing them both next to each other always makes you a little nervous for some reason, you never know why and lando loves to make fun of you for it. they both greet the three of you with smiles and you feel lando move himself closer to you, not wanting to show basically any pda in front of his bosses but wanting you to know he was here and still thinking of you. he ends up so close to you that your arms are grazing against each other.

zak starts the meeting off and you can't lie, you aren't listening one bit but you hope to god lando is because oscar is asking questions and nodding his head like it's important. you worry though when his hand comes to the small of your back to rub there slowly. oh there is no way that boy is listening to a word that's being said. god help him.

you try to listen in for lando because he clearly cannot be trusted to do it himself. it's difficult to understand but you have a whole flight to ask your boyfriend what it all means as you catch him up.

you actually feel like you're on a roll and actually taking in what both men are talking about when lando throws you off completely. his hand that was resting on the small of your back comes to lay in the middle of your shoulder blades, ultimately straightening your posture. you already feel it at the bottom of your back and you feel the urge to sag back down again but lando's other hand is forcing you to stay in the position that he wants. it makes you feel warm but you try to push it to the back of your mind as you mentally take notes for the incapable boy.

the meeting wasn't too long, which now made sense in your mind as to why they didn't ask you all to take a seat but lando made you stand like that for the rest of the meeting. zak and andrea wish you both a safe flight before bidding everyone goodbye. oscar turning in his spot to exit the room and lando's hands forcing you to do the same. halfway down the corridor he removes both his hands and grabs your hand with one of his, now free ones. every time you drop your shoulders down you feel a little nudge and you are straightening up right away. lando squeezes your hand every time you do what he silently asks.

once you both are back in the car and lando is driving you both to the airport, that is when you ask him about it.

"what was all of that about?" you ponder, eyes flitting all over his pretty face as he drives like it's his second nature (it one hundred percent is).

"didn't you say you wanted to straighten your posture up?" lando questions, like he actually looks confused on why you would ask him that. he's acting like it was a common occurance but it doesn't piss you off, no instead you just smile. you just can't believe he remembered something so small and boring about you and tried to make it happen when you forgot about it.

the flight was filled with you trying to explain what it was exactly that zak and andrea had told you and oscar in the meeting room at mtc.

2. he keeps you feeling safe.

it was a really good race for lando today, he had begged you to come out clubbing with him which had made no sense to you whatsoever because wasn't going out clubbing a way to de-stress without your girlfriend? well it didn't matter what you thought because lando was literally on his knees in front of you in your hotel begging you to come. of course it was a joke and he was doing it get a laugh out of you so you would accept his offer but it really set you off balance seeing lando like that.

he was supposed to be the one that made you feel like getting to your knees and begging for something, joke or not. getting a taste of the roles being reversed made you wish for the way it usually was with the two of you. you didn't do too well with change.

"okay, okay, if i agree will you get up?" you ask him, the change clearly sends waves of discomfort through your body and because lando knows you too well, he knows this.

lando smirks up and you and replies with a simple, "yeah."

that's how you end up jumping into a quick shower to get yourself ready for the night ahead. lando is also in the hotel bathroom while you're showering. he makes sure to make his presence known as he clatters about, searching through his toiletry bag for his (your) favourite cologne. you love the homely feeling that rushes through you as lando makes conversation with you as a way of staying close to you when you're getting ready. he never fails to make you feel wanted.

you don't know how this is the first time since you had started dating lando that you were both going clubbing together because you were sure it was known worldwide that he loved a good night out. it made you feel special that he wanted you to come with him tonight. and to celebrate an amazing weekend, not just for lando but for the whole team. you hoped oscar and lily would be making an appearance, you had missed spending time the girl and you were both a little more introverted than some of the other wags, so you knew that if she was there you would have someone the entire night. not that you were expecting lando to leave you alone - you were just planning for a worst case senario.

lando walks over to you as you're standing in the bathroom trying to slip in a pair of earrings he had actually gotten you before you had even started dating, in front of the vanity mirror. you were struggling, you couldn't remember the last time you had a reason to wear earrings, never mind ones this fancy.

the brunette's arms snake around your waist as his chin sits on your shoulder, admiring you from the mirror. you looked beautiful to him everyday but in this dress? he remembers picking it out for you when he was at a boutique in japan earlier this year and just imagining you in it made his heart race. this had been the first time you had worn it besides the time you tried it on for him after he brought it home for you.

"look at you. don't know how i'm going to keep my hands off of you tonight, love." lando speaks into your shoulder, leaving soft, gentle kisses in his wake. his words make you flustered but you have no time to respond because lando is talking again.

"osc and lily are outside in a car waiting for us. i'm pretty sure max is coming out too." lando murmurs, a subtle demand for you to hurry up and get downstairs, which you blindly follow.

your eyes light up at the mention of your fellow mclaren wag tagging along. lily, like you, was never one for clubbing and to be honest neither was oscar but you knew how great of a weekend this was for mclaren and weren't too surprised the young australian wanted to join you and your boyfriend in the celebrations. you were surprised that his girlfriend was coming though. surprised and elated.

lando just smiles at the delight in your eyes before giving the back of your dress a light tug to get you moving. minutes later you're clinging to his arm as you are both exiting the fancy hotel lobby and out into the mild evening. you see the car waiting for you as soon as you leave the spinning doors.

the ride to the fancy club was filled with you chatting away to lily, the poor girl couldn't get a word in edgeways but she didn't seem to mind much, just listening to your work stories with a grin on her face, nodding when it was polite to do so. if you didn't know someone you were proper shy and never mustered up more than a simple sentence or two, but if you knew the person? god, let's just hope they brought earplugs because it was almost impossible to shut you up.

the night had been going perfectly and to your knowledge it still was. you were stood up at the bar with lando while you waited on your drinks and lando was talking to some guy, you didn't listen to his name because to be quite frank, you didn't really care what it was.

as much as lando was one for showing you off and wanting to constantly have his hands on you, he was never one for doing it in public, where he couldn't control who see what. it just never sat right with him so he just kept it as minimal as possible with hand holding. you knew this so of course you didn't try and force him to do anymore, even though you were a very clingy drunk.

so when lando comes to stand directly behind you and wrap his arms around you, just like back at the hotel in front of the mirror, it shocks you. you knew lando was barely drunk so you had no clue why he was getting so touchy with you, especially when he was mid conversation with someone. you don't want to interrupt his conversation by asking him why so you just lean into his touch and continue waiting. it isn't long before the bartender slides your drinks across the table, apologising for the wait. you shrug it off and spin in lando's hold to give him his drink.

"thank you, love." lando smiles and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. in your intoxicated state it makes you all blushy and giggly. you're sure you hear lando make up some excuse about having to leave before he's leaving the man at the bar and moving you back to the booth, back to all your friends. as you sit down at the edge, lando stands in between your legs, looking down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes.

"what was all that about?" you ask him, gentle eyes peering up at his. lando's gaze darkens just as touch as you question him about his sudden urge to touch you and hold you close. he shrugs before putting your drink onto the table and pulling your head close to his stomach.

"he was staring at your arse." lando answers simply, voice filled with possessiveness. you don't even respond, just smile into his loose fitting t-shirt. you notice your makeup stains it but lando wears it proudly, wanting everyone to know you are his.

3. he tells you what to do (in a sweet way)

a lot of people thought that lando telling you what to do and basically bossing you about was weird. you didn't think so but apparently almost all of your friends thought so. it wasn't like lando was mean about it, he was so fucking sweet to you all the time it literally made you melt sometimes. the way that anyone thought that lando wasn't head over heels in love with you baffled you to no end.

to explain, lando knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew what you wanted to eat before you had even realised you were hungry. you were so easy to read to him, but that meant that the driver also knew how indecisive you were and how anytime you were faced with a decision that was even mildly difficult your brain, quite literally, short circuited. it was something that up until you met lando and he had gotten to know you, that had caused you major problems. but now with lando here, he made the decisions for you because he knew what you wanted even when you didn't.

neither of you really stopped to think about how it would look to someone outside of your relationship because, well why would you? to you and lando, anyone else's opinion on your relationship didn't matter. at the end of the day it was what made you and your boyfriend happy. and this way just worked for you both.

the first time you noticed other people maybe gave a second thought to what you and lando had was when you were invited to a close friend of your sister's baby shower. you both had grown up together and since your older sister couldn't make it due to being on holiday at the time, she had invited you and told you to bring someone along with you. you didn't really know that men weren't really that common at a baby shower so you, of course, asked lando to accompany you.

you had to ask nicely for lando to take the most normal looking car he had so you two didn't stand out too much, not wanting to be the talk of someone else's baby shower. that would make you feel horrible.

your sister's friend cheers your name as she opens the door after you give a few polite knocks. you stand hand in hand with lando and you will never forget the look on her face when she saw him standing with you. you knew it wasn't because she recognised lando, but because there was a literal man at her baby shower. a man she didn't even know, nonetheless.

"hi. uh come on in?" it's phrased as a question, it's how you know the poor girl is still puzzled. you feel a little bad no matter how funny it is.

she leads both you and lando to a beautifully decorated gazebo, filled with baby pink banners. well at least you now know she's having a girl. you feel bad for lando more and more as you sit down on the free seats by the entrance and realise there are no other males here at all. you had to make it up to him later, you supposed. you told him as much but he shook his head and said he was going to have fun. you doubted that but let him believe it anyway.

a few drinks in and the previous tension that was lingering from not really knowing anyone here had disappeared and you were now chatting away now you had some of that liquid courage.

just as you finish up your conversation with the girl on your right (you know it's horrible but for the life of you, you can't remember her name) lando turns to you and says, "go and get a glass of water." and if that didn't raise a few eyebrows then you doing so without any hesitation whatsoever, would've.

what everyone didn't know though, was that you didn't want to get drunk at a baby shower and although you felt just the appropriate amount of drunk for an event like this, lando knew that anymore would tip you over the edge, hence his instructions. and you follow because why would lando tell you to do something if it wasn't in your best interest? you did have to admit though it was funny watching everyone silently lose their shit when you two did this. you both agreed it would never get old.

4. he helps you through a crisis

it was clear to anyone who knew the both of you that in your relationship, although you were both prone to worrying and panicking, you trumped lando. he had even begun to suspect you had some sort of unknown anxiety disorder from the silly little things you worried about.

the thing that shocked him most though was that you thought it was normal to feel like that, normal to worry about silly little things that don't really matter that much in your day to day life. ever since you had started waking up on your own you had set at least ten alarms on your phone and it annoys the fuck out of lando but he has never mentioned it to you because he knows the reasons behind it and yelling at you will do nothing but make you worry more. why do you set so many alarms for the next morning? well, because you may sleep in of course! lando understands that, of course he does, even though he doesn't really get the whole being worried about being late thing, he understands. it's when you set ten alarms when you both don't have any plans the next day. and when you sleep through every single one of them because he tired you out the night before. it killed him.

so it was safe to say you were a worrier, much more than your other half. even though you worry an abnormal amount, lando knew how to keep a level head and even learned how to talk some sense into your more sillier worries. this one wasn't one of those though.

you were due to start your brand new college course and god if you hadn't gone through every single situation that could go wrong in your mind about a million times until you had made yourself mentally sick. lando, obviously, noticed this and took you out for a day of buying new clothes and supplies that you would need for your course. bless his heart for trying to distract your horrible mind.

"what about here? does this do cute clothes? i liked that outfit they had at the window." lando mentions as he gestures to some store you had never set foot in before.

"not sure." is all you reply with. lando's not quite sure exacly where you are in your mind but he knows your travelling down that horrible, panicking road quite quickly and he needs to find a way to get your mind off of it and onto something else.

unfortunately, he isn't quick enough and you're halfway to a panic attack and right in the middle of the shopping square is the last place you want to have it. lando's thumb is swiping across your hand trying to ground you but it's not enough, you can feel the heavy pressing on your chest, like cement is filling it up.

lando can always tell when you're about to go into a panic attack. you either get quite and shut him out, trying to push him away (for some reason unbeknown to him) or you get mean and say a lot of stuff that you don't meant at all and regret almost as soon as you say it. this time you were quiet so lando tries to lead you somewhere less busy, wanting you away from everyone's eyes.

almost as soon as you're alone your breathing picks up and you just let yourself panic. you sink to the floor as you heave in breaths but lando is quick to follow you down to hold your hands and try and will you back to him.

"hey, c'mon now love. you know what to do. give me five things you can see." lando says, voice all warm and syrupy. it makes your insides melt and weirdly makes you feel better already.

although this way is a lot less demanding and raises a lot less eyebrows it's one you appreciate a ton, maybe even more than the others. it made you feel seen, like he actually knew you and wanted to help you even when you were at your most vulnerable and needed a helping hand into getting back to your normal, bubbly self again.

5. he distracts you without even knowing (he knows)

it's been said by many people many different times throughout the course of yours and lando's realtionship that you both know each other inside and out. it's so easy for people, like his fans who only get a glimpse into your time spent together, to see that you know each other like the back of your hand.

there is one specific moment that goes very viral on tiktok that you have to admit, anytime one comes up on your for you page you give save it to your favourites to watch during those times when you miss lando just a little more than usual.

lando can tell when your mind isn't one hundred per cent focused on something, just like you can tell when he is letting his mind wander to what film he was going to force you to watch later on that evening. the tiktok that had went viral was a prime example of this. lando's best friend, max had went live at the flat you and lando shared. you were supposed to be studying for an assignment you had to complete at the end of the week but instead both boys had ended up distracting you from your studies. it didn't bother you at all, or else you wouldn't have sat in the same room as them. okay maybe you would've but it wasn't your fault you were obsessed with your boyfriend.

max was answering some of the questions that were popping up in the chat as lando sat alongside him, chiming in whenever he felt it necessary. his eyes were focused more on you and what you weren't doing. you could tell by the stern look in his eyes that he was trying to tell you to get back to studying or else he would kick you out of the room so you would actually work, and you didn't want that so you put your head back down and try to focus.

it doesn't last longer than five minutes because max is then making a funny joke about the amount of times lando had tried to fix his toaster and failed and it kept you fairly distracted, much to lando's chagrin.

a few more stern looks were thrown your way and every time you focus back on your work, only to get distracted again minutes later. lando had never seen you so easily distracted before, it was actually quite amusing if he wasn't so bothered about you actually studying so you could pass the class and the assignment.

the next time lando sends you a look over the camera you aren't even watching him, eyes pretending to read whatever was on your own computer as you smile and try to hold a laugh in at whatever max was saying. this pissed lando off to an extreme he knew he shouldn't be at. he was just worried for you, you had told him the night before about how tonight was the only night you could pack this much studying in. he knew he shouldn't have let max stream here tonight. he knew his friend would serve as a great distraction from something you didn't even want to do in the first place.

once max quietens to read the stream you hear three firm taps on the table and although you have never heard anything of the sort before in your life, you just know it's lando telling you silently to get on with your work without saying it in front of the stream and making you both look bad. you wanted to keep some parts of your relationship out of the limelight and this one was one of them.

you shuffle around in your college bag and find your headphones, slipping them on to let yourself fully concentrate. the sight pleases lando and not just because you picked up on his silent gesture and actually listened to him but because you were doing what you said you had to get done today. lando was a firm believer in setting small goals, like studying for an hour, and achieving them. you knew for a fact that once max left, lando would be showering you with praise and kisses.

+1 you tell him what to do

you knew the dynamic in the relationship and you were not big on change at all nor were your instincts anything like your boyfriends. you always wanted to listen and never tell others what to do. you used to do that and you were called bossy, so you vowed never again.

you were quite happy with lando and how your relationship was but there was some times where you had to put a foot down and actually make a decision because this was something that lando maybe had no clue about.

you had just gotten home from what seemed like one of the most gruelling shifts at work and all you wanted was to come home and crash in lando's arms. all the way home your brain kept repeating, thank fuck it's friday and i don't have to anything tomorrow.

once you finally arrive home, it feels like entering the gates of heaven. that is until you notice that lando isn't in any of his usual places when you return home and instead is in front of your vanity mirror, applying some moisturiser on his face. he only does that when he's going out. the thought of him leaving right now makes you want to flip out but instead you keep calm and enter the room.

"hi, love." lando greets as soon as you slump into the room and trape towards him. you quite easily fall into his embrace. it's then that you notice he's wearing his going out clothes and that he was almost definitely going to be leaving you tonight. you nearly tear up just thinking about laying alone in your bed tonight because were you fuck in the mood for joining him tonight, not after the shift you just had.

you mumble back something you're sure can be considered a greeting and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. lando's arms move around your back as he hums all soft and gentle like. it's almost like he's trying to lull you to sleep while you're standing with him. you also catch a whiff of his aftershave and it makes you want to cry, he smells so good and exactly like how lando is supposed to smell. you need him to stay with you tonight.

"you goin' out?" you mumble once more, it's a miracle he can even hear you, but he does as he responds just as nicely as he did before. it almost makes you forget that he is planning on leaving you.

"yeah, it won't be a late one." he tells you.

you don't respond just let yourself rest in his embrace and cling on tighter every time he tries to pull away, telling you that he's going to be late if he doesn't leave right now. as if you actually cared. once it gets to the point where lando is desperately trying to get you off of him, that's when you finally speak up.

"you're not leaving me tonight. i need you here." you don't ask, you demand it. if he left you right now you were so sure that you would cry so hard and not stop until he came home. you were also in no state of mind or just state in general to be taking care or a drunk or even a tipsy lando. as much as you loved that version of your boyfriend, all you wanted tonight was to fall asleep in his arms to some dumb film that was on comedy central.

"i'm not?" lando questions, amused. before he can even say anything more your hands are gripping him harder and in turn that pulls him closer to you.

as it turns out lando isn't too keen on leaving tonight either and you both end up ordering a takeout and getting some snacks to have a cute night in with one another. it was exactly what you needed after this hell of a week. you didn't think you were even being demanding but lando always joked that this night was the most demanding he had ever seen you and he knew for a fact he loved it and wanted to see more of it. one thing lando loved more than anything was learning knew things about you.

[luveline]

hey jadee! How are you??

could you write a next part for the coworker James au?? Maybe something like them going on a date or Sirius and remus suspecting that they are more touchy with each other <33

coworker james | ty for requesting!! fem

Remus Lupin is a long list of things, and nowhere on that list is idiot. Nor gullible, nor unobservant. He sees exactly how you and James are touching one another these days, but he’s decided to keep it to himself for now. 

After all, if James had cottoned on to his first tryst with Sirius there probably wouldn’t have been a second, and then a date; love is vulnerable in the beginning to embarrassment. 

Still, you both must know how ridiculous you’re being where James has taken your hand under the table. You’re struggling to hide the shyness in your smile, and James is all too brash as he pulls your hand further toward him. Your desk chairs squeak in sync. Whenever Remus gets up for a drink, he can see James pressing your hand to his knee as he leans against his desk to hide it. He’s just a second too slow, because Remus is suspicious of you to begin with. 

Remus gets up. Watches in gentle ridicule as his best friend of more than ten years thinks he’s convincing as James yawns and rests his head on the desk, sandwiching your hand between his knees. 

It’s adorable but stupid. Remus turns back as he walks off to watch you laugh in your seat. “Stupid,” Remus thinks you’re saying. Apt. 

Remus abandons James and his new sweetheart to find his own. 

Sirius is a salesperson, a rare role at their water testing company, but he does it well when he’s not messing around. Remus watches from afar as Sirius readies the elastic band-pen catapult with a mento, aimed at the side of their unwitting coworkers head. 

Remus creeps up behind him. “Don’t.”

Sirius flinches, his catapult suddenly aimed in the wrong place and set loose. The mento hits his computer with a thunk and bounces back into a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, turning to him with a frown, “we talked about this.” 

“You talked about this and I listened without accepting the terms. Can we go out for lunch?” 

Sirius’ facade of arrogance disappears. “Well, of course we can. Is there something wrong?”

Remus would like to have Sirius get up and hug him. Like, to grab him tightly and kiss him as he would at home, only both of them might die from embarrassment, and so he’ll have to ferry him to a restaurant for a half an hour of their knees pressed together, enough touch to get him to the end of the day when he can make Sirius climb into bed with him early. 

“You’re making that face,” Sirius says. “Like I’ve done something wrong. What did I do? I feel a distinct sense of injustice about this one considering we haven’t seen each other since I brought you your coffee this morning.” 

Sirius is nice to look at. As they get older, there are some marked changes in their appearances no one was expecting, Remus would wager. Sirius’ hair seems to get finer, his eyes darker, where Remus’ hair is better kept shorter, his middle softer. James has turned to muscle. He’s lean, still, but solid. All these changes, and yet no love is lost. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, gently now, his eyebrows crinkling with confusion. 

“No,” Remus shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything. I’m just thinking about something.” 

“Something important, it looks like.” 

“It might be.” Remus puts his hand to Sirius’ neck. His hand is very familiar with Sirius’ neck and his soft hair, in the same way Sirius’ neck knows every callus of Remus’ fingers. “Lunch now?” 

“Sure, my darling.” Sirius puts on his jacket and takes Remus’ arm. “Let’s grab your coat.” 

“Not sure we should go back my way.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I think something is actually, properly going on with James and Y/N.��� 

“He clearly fancies her.” 

Remus slows their pace as they approach the doorway leading back toward the finance nook. “It’s a bit more than fancying,” Remus says under his breath. 

James is playing with your fingers. It’s hard to see, underneath the desk is dark, but it’s like what Remus tends to do with Sirius’ hands at the cinema, two hands holding your one, twiddling your fingers without purpose. Remus stands extremely still. 

“Can you send that to me?” you’re asking. “I can’t keep track of all these files. Who’s managing the account?” 

“It’s Cory, I think…” 

Mundane conversation, and then, “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing. Maybe it’s my fault. We need better organisation on our end, the shared onedrive is always changing, that’s not easy for you, or anyone.” He hums to himself, a breath. “You have lovely hands.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“You do, you have… They’re really soft.” 

“I think you’ve rubbed the top layer of skin off,” you say, though your voice is lightening, almost thin. 

“If they weren’t so nice I wouldn’t have to.” 

“My fault again.” 

“Isn’t everything?” James asks. 

Sirius turns to Remus with a shake of his head. “What sort of indecent exposure is that?” Sirius whispers. 

Remus yanks him backward just as James’ head turns their direction. They hold their breath, grinning at one another —hiding in alcoves isn’t something they’ve had to do together in years. After a few moments, they peek their heads around at the same time. 

James has gotten up from his chair to stand behind you. They watch as he curls forward, wrapping and arm around your front, his lips at your ear. No clue what he’s said, but Remus can guess. You laugh and move away from James like he’s tickled you. 

“Come on, no one’s here,” James says, pulling you against his chest again with visible tenderness, “Remus must’ve gone to lunch.” 

“Or he’s making tea, and we’re about to be caught.” 

“He left his mug.” 

“But not his jacket.” 

“Oh, so smart,” James croons, his nose dipping into the curve of your neck. 

“And on company time,” Sirius says. “Well, you can wear my coat, handsome. Let’s leave them to it, should we?” 

Remus beams. That’s why he likes his Sirius as much as he does, besides a great many shoulder rubs and gifted first editions. He’s thoughtful, and kind, and not many people suspect it of him. 

Remus looks pointedly away from James where he’s tipping your head back to hold Sirius’ hand. “What do you want for lunch?” he asks. 

Sirius squeezes his fingers. Somewhere in the nook, James kisses you with your face upside down. 

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Demon Children Are Multiplying

This idea is still stuck in my head, and I might even end up writing something out of it, but for now, I just thought of something equally really, really stupid and really, really funny.

What if I combine that idea with Al Ghul Twins. I don't know how. Maybe Talia was cautious about Ra's not wanting to keep two kids for a position of Heir, or maybe she staged Danny's death, or maybe something else entirely happened. But anyway, Danny is Damian's twin.

Then, Dani is the same age as Danny in this AU. And Dan is de-aged to be the same age as both of them.

Now behold an absolute train wreck of a situation where Bruce attends a Gala hosted by Vladimir Masters. Together with Damian, of course, and maybe other batkids are there too. They all part their ways to make their rounds or whatnot. And they all keep seeing Damian wherever they go. Just everywhere.

Dick is talking to someone, and Damian walks past him, not paying him any attention. Which is not surprising, but a little rude, and, wait, wasn't he wearing a red tie? When did he change it to green one?

Tim is just going on the top floor to greet a lady he recognizes from some other event, and Damian all but storms in the opposite direction, only letting Tim catch a glimpse of his face. But when Tim turns around, he is really confused: the person running down the stairs is clearly a girl, albeit she is wearing a suit. Her long hair is up in a complicated braid. Why did he even mistake her for Damian?

But the ultimate confusion happens when Bruce is talking to Vladimir Masters, and a very familiar voice calls, "Father". Because both he and Vladimir turn to face the boy and ask, "Yes?" at the same time.

Damian is standing there, looking between Bruce and Vlad. He looks a little off somehow, but before Bruce can figure out why, the boy blinks and focuses on Vlad.

"We've been looking for you," he tells the man, and, wait, when was Damian looking for Masters? Furthermore, who is we?

But then another child comes closer. And-

That's Damian.

That's two Damians.

Wait, no, none of them are Damians.

"What is it?" Vladimir raises an eyebrow, not paying too much attention to Bruce's blanched expression.

A third child comes towards them, and this one also looks like Damian, only this one is a girl.

"Template's duplicate is here," she says, and Vlad frowns, turning to the Damian lookalike in the middle.

"Have you had another incident that I don't know of?"

Whatever answer the boy wanted to give is cut off by a n o t h e r child who looks like- no, this is real Damian, thank God, Bruce had started to wonder if the champagne was spiked with hallucinogens.

"Father-" he stops in his tracks as the three other children turn to him, and the four of them just stare at each other for a long moment. Then the one in the middle takes a sharp breath in and stage-whispers:

"Quick, do the meme!"

And all three not-Damians start pointing at each other.

Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. Judging by Vladimir's face, he is also not far from one.

Just my ramblings under the cut

I think you all know what meme I'm talking about, but I'm still gonna add it

This is so fucking hilarious to me, I'm sorry, I just can't

Danny is not missing this opportunity of a lifetime, even though Vlad specifically asked all three of them not to cause a scene. And yes, they all call Vlad "father" just for the spite of it or for shits and giggles. I'm going with Bad Fentons idea here, although I'm not sure to which degree they are bad, but anyway, Vlad is their legal guardian, and he is redeemed.

Yes, Dick took a picture. Yes, it's already in the group chat. Yes, other batkids are going wild.

Damian is greatly confused because, first, he thought there was a clone of him at the gala, but apparently, there were three of them, and second, why are they pointing at each other? Should he join them? He is under the assumption his brother is dead (he's not exactly wrong on that account), or he doesn't even know he existed.

This is as far as I got now, feel free to add anything!

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show 3

Masterpost

I got so inspired and had so much fun writing for part 2 I just kept going. I have determined that this 'fic' should be about 7 parts long total. And here's Part 3, because I'm enjoying the nonsense of this so much.

~~~~~

“Congratulations on successfully finishing the first challenge! You can make your way back to the main room to receive your clue.”

The screen changes once Nightwing is on the stage with them. It now shows what looks like a wheel of fortune puzzle. Three words, four letters, four letters, and seven letters.

“For your clue, you can choose a letter for the puzzle!” Danny explains. “Since there are four of you we will give you four letters automatically, and you each have the chance to earn an extra letter. For the freebies! E, the most common vowel in English.”

“Looks like no E’s in this puzzle.” Danny shrugs at the boys with a grin on his face. “For the next three letters, we have the three most common consonants: T, N, and S!”

“Three letters up, two N’s and one T.” Danny turns away from the screen to face Nightwing. “What letter would you like to choose?” Dick turns to look at Red and Jason “This portion is not collaborative.” Danny cuts in with a small frown, making everyone look back at him. “You earned the letter, you choose the letter. They only get to pick a letter after they’ve earned one.”

Nightwing grimaces slightly. “A?” 

“A!” Danny turns back to the screen.

“One A!” Danny turns back. “The next challenge is a sword fight against Fright Knight! Who would like to sword fight?”

Damian very quickly raised his hand. Tim almost wanted to smack him, but as similar as a bo staff can be, and as much as he doesn’t want Damian in danger, Damian does have the most extensive sword training amongst them.

Danny takes Damian to pick out his sword. “I see that you have a sword already, but the fight is to first blood and you can’t harm Fright Knight with that sword, so that’s kind of unfair. We need to get you a weapon that will actually be able to hit your opponent.” They leave through a side door, but they leave it open so everyone can see all the weapon racks and Danny as he shows Damian around.

Tim leans towards Dick and Jason as Dick takes his seat in the middle chair. “Cool, so our weapons can’t actually hurt them, good to know. What exactly are we going to be asking the King at the end of this?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks.

“I think he means that if we want to get back to our dimension we don’t want to piss off everyone here by wasting their time.” Jason spits out, sitting up and turning towards them. “They didn’t seem to take too kindly to that idea earlier.”

Dick winces and nods. “We could ask him to deal with the cult that brought us here.”

“What if he kills all of them?” 

“Well, you clearly have an idea Red, why don’t you tell us instead of making us guess.” Jason complains.

“Diplomatic relations.” Red states. “New dimension, new culture. We’re here to learn, maybe we could ask to set up a meeting between the King and Batman, or the Justice League.”

“The whole point of this is to get a meeting, what do you think he’s going to do if we use this meeting to ask for a different meeting?”

“Jason has a point. Maybe we could just ask to set up a way to communicate between us?” Dick suggests.

“I have obtained a sufficient weapon.” Damian calls out as he and Danny approach. Danny comes up onto the stage, heading back to the podium, but Damian doesn’t waste his time going back up and instead waits by the short stairs for further instructions. He is holding a katana, similar to the one he is used to, but with a different grip and that is glowing.

“So, since you’re using a semi unfamiliar weapon, Fright Knight is not going to be allowed to use his Soul Shredder, just to make it fair. And just in case he draws first blood, we don’t want to accidentally send anybody to their nightmare dimension!” Danny chirps out cheerfully. “You will be fighting in here, just stay on the main floor and away from bystanders. Fight will immediately end at first blood, no maiming, no killing, no excessive force. No use of powers is permitted.”

Danny gestures to where Fright Knight is exiting the armory with a regular looking broadsword. “This is Fright Knight.” Fright Knight waves as he comes over, stopping next to Damian so they’re both standing beneath the stage.

“Are you both ready?” The two swordsmen take a few steps away from each other and take positions before nodding. “Begin!”

[bad268]

Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?

Thank you so much 💗

Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.

Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 1087

Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…

I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.

That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.

So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week. 

I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.

By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”

“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”

“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”

“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.

It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.

“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”

I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.

“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”

“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”

Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us. 

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.

“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces. 

“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”

“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”

“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”

“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[elektramustdie]

dreams do come true

"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good-“

"gerard?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Gee."

“Hm?" the black haired boy suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

“Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Gerard quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about that girl again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Gerard shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, lyn z’s annoying."

"I thought you said that eliza was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said eliza’s obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Gerard shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Gerard’s eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Gerard’s jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs. 

Never had Gerard looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Gee," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the pale boy at this moment. "Damn, Gee, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Gerard shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at you. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Gerard grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Gerard chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the pale boy a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"gee, I was just teasing-"

Gerard’s eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the boy’s surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His hazel eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Gerard-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," gerard sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about lynz or fucking eliza," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly, 

"It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Gerard really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Gee, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Gerard could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves gerard’s throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Gerard’s hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Gerard doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Gerard is eager to swallow.

The boy’s unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Gerard regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Gee-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Gerard’s lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, baby"

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Gee. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his words, Gerard’s lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Gerard’s tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

“Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Gerard’s cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Gerard quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the boy’s jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Gerard’s lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Gee-"

“What, am I too big for you?" Gerard teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while

Gerard continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, dollface I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Gerard-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Gerard’s free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Gerard begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you cry out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning."M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so full.

"Please, Gee-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl”

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Gerard’s hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the boy’s deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Gerard’s eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing this bottom lip, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

“Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Gerard-“

"Say it, baby. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Gerard sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

“Fuck-" you gasp, lips parting. thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the boy’s satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Gerard grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

“Gee, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Gerard decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

“That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

“Fuck," Gerard grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Gerard’s darkened eyes, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Gerard’s thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly. lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Gerard," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Gerard asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Gerard’s lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Gerard playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed eyes blink slowly, watching Gerard smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

[thesummerestsolstice]

How Silm characters would react to meeting their Rings of Power counterparts:

Gil-Galad:

Oh they do not like each other

"I'm sorry, you said what to Elrond?"

RoP!Gil thinks Silm!Gil isn't detached and regal enough

Silm!Gil is trying to figure out the political consequences of decking him

"I'm sorry, you sent Galadriel where??"

At some point RoP!Gil, who can't believe this is another version of him, asks Silm!Gil what his royal lineage is

Silm!Gil gets real quiet after that lmao

If they ended up physically fighting Silm!Gil would win RoP!Gil fights like a normal elf and Silm!Gil bites

I think the Elronds have to pull them apart eventually

Elrond:

The Elronds get along very well I think

Silm!Elrond teaches RoP!Elrond some eldritchry

RoP!Elrond tells Silm!Elrond all about his speech craft

I think Silm!Elrond would be very into animal-carcass-related metaphors, he's a weird little guy

I feel like Silm!Elrond would feel bad for RoP!Elrond, who clearly deals with a lot of disrespect in Lindon, and would try to teach him how to be a bit more assertive

They bond over having to deal with everyone else's bullshit

Galadriel:

See this is bad for Middle-Earth

Silm!Galadriel is less openly angry but just as much of a force of nature as RoP!Galadriel

And Silm!Galadriel is also a lot better at the more subtle conniving stuff so between them they do, in fact, possess all the skills needed to take over Middle-Earth

They're busy scheming up plans to wipe Sauron off the face of the planet and frankly good for them

Celebrimbor:

They also get along very well

They talk for 15 straight hours about forge stuff

Silm!Cel talks about Annatar and RoP!Cel is like "lovely! no red flags here!"

RoP!Cel talks about how the idea for the rings came from some random, very suspicious "human" and Silm!Cel is like "haha yeah inspiration comes from the strangest places sometimes'

They're a little bit stupid but they're also beefy and kind so we can forgive them

Sauron:

Halbrand and Annatar immediatly start viciously insulting each other

They both accuse each other of having terrible taste (in Finweans and incarnate forms)

"Useless sparkly twink!" "Filthy mortal!" "I can't believe you tried to seduce Celebrimbor!" "At least I didn't try and fail to seduce Galadriel!"

Annatar finds out about the situation with Adar and the orcs and bullys Halbrand relentlessly about it

Sauron's ego can't take there being more than one version of him

Hopefully they keep each other busy until the Galadriels smite them

[god-i-hope-so]

Every time I read an anti-Bucktommy take it's like they don't understand what they're watching. Like, no understanding of how fiction works at all and a criminal lack of media literacy. And also unable to follow a simple story.

A tv show like 911 will never be like their favorite friends to lovers fics where everything they want to see on-screen is made into words, every little thought, every gesture is described in a flowery way, every single line is doctored to fit the fandom's expectations, using very specific tropes. This is fanwork, this is our business, we love it, we cherish it but this is our stuff.

911 is a tv show. It'll use many types of tv writing techniques to get to the point while having to deal with budgetary constraints, marketing needs, political restrictions and more. Could they have done a better job with reintroducing Tommy? Absolutely. Does it work as it is? Of course, if we're actually looking at what and how they tell on-screen.

A (long) BuckTommy timeline.

🚁 7x03 - Tommy and Buck meet on the day of the rescue, even before we see Buck, Chim and Eddie in the chopper. They first meet off-screen. We don't know what happened then, we don't know how they looked at each other, if they smiled at each other, if they even talked directly to each other. But they met before we see them in the chopper.

We know by what happens later that Tommy makes a strong impression on Buck (who is already in the middle of a real life crisis). We can also assume that Tommy is attracted to Buck based on his looks (and probably also affinity, they do the same job, never underestimate the homoerotic power of male camaraderie), something we also understand later, so it works (but also, the way he looks at Buck at the end of this episode is a subtle hint.) Don't forget that writers know in advance things we don't, that's why we can go back and find the breadcrumbs we didn't notice before or couldn't make a connection with yet.

🔥 Buck wants to know more about Tommy and his work. This is where you, as the audience, should fill the gap based on what we saw before and what comes next. This is where you should be able to do that instead of wanting everything on-screen the same way you put everything in a fanfic. This gap you fill because you're supposed to understand how average tv storytelling works leads to the following point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck contacts Tommy, he gets to visit Harbor. At this point, we can clearly see Tommy is acting flirty in a very subtle and respectful way, because he doesn't really know what's the deal with Buck, but remember the way he looked at Buck in 7x03? Then there's Buck acting... weird. What's his real purpose here? And this was before he even knew Tommy and Eddie were BFF, so Buck was already attracted to Tommy whatever his connection with the 118 crew, even if the real reason was blurry even to Buck himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy is now someone they interact with regularly. Tommy is now slowly working his way (back) into the 118 group. He finds a good friend in Eddy (strangely I don't see anyone questioning that. How is that easier than having a simple, passive crush?), apparently spends a lot of time with him, and knows Christopher because he went to Eddie's house 3 times. Eddie definitely knows more about Tommy than Buck at this point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck is clearly troubled by Tommy. Then there's this whole jealousy circus going on, Buck is a mess, his insecurities are breaking the roof and he's more troubled than ever. Is he jealous of Eddy or Tommy? Or both? (it's both) He wants to be the center of the attention. If he feels he's losing this, people will discard him. So he does some stupid shit. And you can see his feelings are also all over the place. But there's more than just fighting for attention, and that's probably why he's slowly starting to be angry. Because what he feels is different and he can't put his finger on it.

The discussion with Maddie clearly shows how he's chewing on his own heart. He didn't want what he had to change and he acted like a kid with big feelings and little control of himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy, who's having a passive crush on Buck, takes the matter in hands and kisses him. Tommy having a crush is not less normal than Buck flirting with basically any cute girl showing interest in him. Being more mature, he meets Buck to set things straight, after having talked about it with Eddie. It's not out of nowhere. Eddie and Tommy are not stupid, and Eddie knows Buck. He saw something was wrong. Tommy, being the new addition to their dynamic, thought it was his fault (I think Eddie and Tommy really felt guilty about going to Vegas and leaving Buck just like that lmao That was so bad for Buck's confidence, I felt it in my bones). Excuses turn to clearing the air turn to let's go for it.

Tommy really took a gamble there. If Buck wasn't what he thought he was, it could have been so bad. So, so bad for Tommy and his job. Imagine Buck accusing Tommy of assault? But he took the risk of kissing him because he has more experience and knows how to read the signs. He's not 15, he has experience with men, and closeted men for sure.

And you know, this is a beautiful scene for Buck as a character. The way he realizes why he did all that, what it means about him, for him. I mean, he knew, in a way, but he didn't know. And Tommy was suddenly everywhere in his life, overwhelming while doing nothing. You have to understand that everything is happening in Buck's head and he needed just a little push to open his eyes.

Buck's queer path: unlocked.

🚁 7x05 - First date, first mess but also first lesson. At this point, you can't even doubt about Tommy's intentions anymore. Buck might still be in a blurry phase but Tommy is not sending mixed signals at all (not with that choice of shirt, let me tell you this. My man was set to hit that night). Buck panicked, Tommy even tried to keep him on tracks for the evening, but between meeting Eddie and what it made Buck say... I mean, Tommy could have had a stronger reaction. Why accept the date if you can't deal with it?

But Tommy knows why, he's been there. Buck liked the idea of the date, but once you're there, everything becomes real. So once again, a little push: Tommy is honest and prefers to part ways, but not without saying why. He's not even mad. At this point, Buck really needs to take another step. It's difficult to drag someone else into your own fog. He has all the rights to be troubled, to doubt, to be scared, but you don't drag someone else in this with you. Tommy protected himself from that, also protected Buck from doing something he'd regret, and he did it with guidance.

🔥 7x05 - Buck talks with Maddie about his date and comes out to her, but more importantly: Buck comes out to Eddie. Look. This is canon, and I know we can choose to ignore canon but both scenes are great. And it's still canon. Maddie is obviously accepting and happy for Buck, and we expected no less from her.

With Eddie, I honestly expected at least some discussion like are you sure? or something like that but I think that at this point, everyone at the 118 knows that there's more to Buck than meets the eye. I'd have loved this scene to be longer with more exchange between Eddie and Buck but it is what it is, and Eddie is supportive of his best friend (yes, sorry, their canon relationship is best friends and I love their friendship, even more now that Buck is out).

And yes, this is even more important to show not only a strong friendship between a supposedly cishet man and a bisexual man but also, and we'll see that later, Eddie still trusts Buck around Chris. Nothing changed. So many people associate queer people with predators, we need to see queer people, and especially queer men, being trusted around children, and being safe. This is the right representation.

I know bvddies are trying to find any reason to make this storyline choice look like shit, because they want their ship to sail (and I completely understand wanting that), but accusing the people who like Buck and Tommy together of being homophobes because they cherish the canon beautiful friendship between Buck and Eddie?? We're not talking about headcanons here, about reading between the lines, or being "coded" a certain way (sorry, for me Eddie is not gay-coded. He's a-spec for sure, and I'm going for being demi, but gay? I don't see it anymore at this point of the show). It's about the canon. You know, at this point, things are already moving into place, even if you don't like Buck and Tommy together. This is where canon is at, this is the story. It's not a personal attack against anyone in the fandom.

🚁 7x05 - Buck wants to apologize to Tommy for the failed date, and for his behavior. Oh, accountability, my beloved. We love to see Buck working on himself. This is the real start of whatever will happen from now on between Buck and Tommy. Buck knows he's ready to embrace this new part of himself and he feels like Tommy is the right person to do that with.

Tommy being Tommy, he makes sure Buck knows what all this means. Buck is not a teenager, Tommy treats him as an equal but he also knows how it feels to be in Buck's shoes.

🔥 7x06 - Tommy, a responsible adult, makes time for Buck (and Chim!) even when he clearly could, and maybe should, just decline. This part was used way too often against Tommy by BoBs. Tommy is a fire pilot on call the night of the bachelor party. A FIRE PILOT ON CALL. Do you think his main goal that night is to have fun? Or is it to be a responsible adult who could well be saving lives (while risking his) the same night? Do you know what it means to be on call? You're basically working without being at work, the second your job needs you, you have to be 100% ready. Again, he's a fire pilot (even if he's also sent on ground work that night). His first job would be to pilot a freaking helicopter and accomplish tasks that requires skills, precision and to not be half asleep. You don't play with that responsibility.

So Tommy showing up is indeed huge. He does it for Buck, and for Chim, but definitely for Buck in the first place. He could have stayed home to get some sleep while waiting. Instead of that, not only he doesn't sleep but he ends up fighting a fire for hours. And the first thing people used against him was that he didn't follow the dress code?! No, you guys need to grow up and live a bit more of real life.

And then we have The Kiss (please someone draw them as The Kiss by Klimt, every fandom needs its Kiss fanart). And once again, it's Tommy making time for Buck, and Chim, when he could be home, take a good shower and be in his cozy bed after working on a fire for more than what, 14 hours? This is a man who knows his priorities. And responsible men are sexy as hell, even when it means they can't have fun like everyone else.

Now, if after all this, and mind you, this is all canon, you still think Tommy is a fraud in this storyline, that his budding romance with Buck has no foundation or that he doesn't care about Buck? And don't even get me started on the "but he was a racist and a misogynist before". Yes, he was. And yes, he changed. Like I said: learn to know his character, but also trust Hen. The fact is that at this point of the story, Tommy is great for Buck. He's kind, he's safe, he's trying even when there's no expectations. Be happy for great representation.

Oh, and don't use your hate against the ship or Tommy to be a nasty little shit with the actors and writers. Decency is free.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Touch-Starved (canon)

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

otherwise known as; the part where The Puppetmaster finds out he has THE FEELINGS(™, patent pending) for the Combat Harlequin. lmfao

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

"Almost..." His hand trembled at the last piece required. He carefully slotted the optics in place, and twisted the eye multiple times to stick it in place. Within moments, he steps back, and Bubble flared up alive again, checking out his new, updated vision. “Wow! I can see more colors now!” The Blimp spun in place.

“Those new eyes should allow you to broadcast anything you see to me, if I so wished.” He explains, pulling out a small, thin black screen from one of the the desk’s many compartment. He switches it on, and Bubble’s eyes suddenly have a tiny red dot blinking in the middle of it.

So far, so good. The device was working as intended and he could see the top of his dentures from Bubble’s perspective, making Caine grin proudly.

“You may proceed to do your chores once more, the upgrades are done.” He sends the blimp to his merry way, and Bubble only nods before turning away to make his way out of the office. He leans back with a content sigh and closed eyes, satisfied with the work done for the day.

At that very moment, Pomni also opens the door.

She looked… disheveled, to say the least.

“Oh hey Pomni!” The butler blimp greeted with his usual reply. The Harlequin only sent him a look of acknowledgement, knowing that it’s useless to try to spark up a conversation, as Bubble was already making his way out.

Caine blinked once, and then he blinked twice just to make sure he’s seeing things right.

Was she always this… dazzling? Literally? He could see sparkles forming everywhere.

She flipped her hair in a messy attempt to get rid of the strands currently stuck to the skin of her nape. Her trademark golden ponytail missing, most likely a B.O.S.S.’s doing. She made her way to Caine’s desk and he swears he could feel his heart beat faster and faster with each step she took. The Harlequin’s trademark squinted brows with half-lidded eyes meeting his own wide stare, a gaze that would typically make any person with a still-functioning sanity cower in fear.

She took a seat on his desk with her legs crossed and her back turned against him and leaning on her right arm, as she usually did.

“Here’s the die you asked for. Took me a bit, but still got the job done.” She checked her left arm for damages after she placed the multi-colored puppet heart in front of him, while she flashed her teeth with a victorious, smug smile. His words are caught in his throat and her entirety shines too brightly for him. He couldn’t understand it.

Why… did she seem like a flame, and he felt like an unsuspecting moth, drawn to her light?

He shook his head clear and forced his stare away from her direction, clearing his throat while clutching the die. “I-I see, thank you, Pomni. You-you’ve done… a… wonderful…” Her hand grasped his own and his heart leapt at his own throat. Her synthetic, calloused fingers felt so rough, yet so gentle against his own gloved ones that he considered taking them off.

“...j-job.” His breath hitched as he struggled to finish the end of his sentence, unable to tear his attention away from her eyes. He found himself gawking at her intense, golden eye matched with blue and red pinwheel ones.

“Aren't you forgetting something, Puppetmaster?” Her expression questioning, yet with a slight and subtle undertone of mischief glinted at her optics. 

He couldn’t speak. He struggled to form coherent words. It felt like he was being strangled by an unknown force clutching at his neck, yet there was clearly no malice behind it. 

“Wh… What am I forgetting…?” He asked in such a feeble tone that made her chuckle in such a low rumbling tone, snaring his full attention.

“Well, I think that I deserve a reward for my services. Don’t you think?” She stands up. Warm hands suddenly felt so cold and empty, and already he missed the warmth present just about a second ago. The Harlequin made her way towards him as he spun his chair to meet her halfway. Hand at her hips as she towered over his sitting form. He’s all of a sudden clutching at the armrest so intensely.

“Y-yes, of course! H-how could I forget!” He nervously chuckles, he would pull on his collar right about now. “What is it you wish to be rewarded with?”

He offers her his best smile, and she giggles as she shakes her head. Without any warning, she took a seat on his lap, and he went frozen. As if making one single move would shatter the very fabric of the universe. She leaned her head to his shoulder, fiddling with the collar of his shirt then her fingers trailed onto the underside of his chin to make him look at her. He shivered from the contact.

“You.”

He trembled as his face warmed up to uncontrollable degrees, and produced visible heat waves. Not even his self-installed coolants were helping him tone down the sudden rise in his body temperature in the slightest. He couldn’t control his shakes, making the Harlequin smirk, knowing that she had the Puppetmaster all wrapped around her finger.

He didn’t know what came over him, because now his own hands were making their way onto her thighs to pull her closer to him entirely, the other shakingly placing itself onto her shoulders and he could feel the way she sighs contentedly against his touch. He exhales a shaky breath himself, attempting to steel himself.

“M-my dear, a-are you positive that… that is what you’d like?”

It was better to be safe than sorry. She sits up straight, and for the first time, he regrets ever asking that question in the first place.

“Actually…” Her voice trails off playfully, while she stands up. “... Maybe I’d like something more.”

It only took her a finger underneath his chin to pull him as she leads him to a nearby wall. As if his own body had a mind of it’s own, he pins her in place with both arms adjacent to her head. His face leans in closer and closer to her with eyes closed, and she’s leaning up close to him, fully ready to accept his advances.

Pomni’s soft lips met his teeth, and Caine could smell the faint traces of grass and sweat rolling down from her synthetic skin, evident of her hardships from the recent battle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his loops around her waist to pull her closer, while the other cups at her face intensely. He savored her mouth as their breathing became heavy and fast-paced, only breaking apart for a mere second, gasping for air before delving back in to their desires.

Desire…

Quite the accurate depiction of how Caine truly felt for the Harlequin at this moment. He couldn’t quite decipher when this had started, though.

As if her intentions were to pry him away from his overbearing and unnecessary thoughts, Pomni pushed him away to pin him to the wall this time, continuing the liplock. He grunts from the impact, but gladly returns her enthusiasm with fervor as he loops his arm around her back, pulling her flush to him once more. Her hands made their way to the lower sides of his jaw to caress so gently, and he finds himself melting at every contact their touches made.

Without breaking the teeth-on-lip-lock, he steered their bodies onto the direction of his desk, leaving the Harlequin laying on it as he loomed over her, ravaging her mouth once more like the touch-starved man he was. He adjusted her thighs just enough to make room for him without making the position uncomfortable for the both of them, their heated make out session felt like it could go on forever as he gripped her waist tightly.

It felt like if he let her go, she would disappear all of a sudden. And he didn’t want that.

He made sure to not lean too much of his body weight onto her by propping himself up with his elbows, both hands find themselves cupping her face to keep her in place as her hands trailed all the way up from the lower arms to his shoulders to do the same to him. He broke the kiss to gasp for air, a string of saliva being the clear proof of their heated action, but quickly delved back into the riveting sensations of their activity. 

Her touch against him were like magic; every contact sent shivers and jolts down his spine as she switched from holding his shoulders to holding his chest just above where a collarbone would traditionally be, pushing him away to let herself up. For a nanosecond he thought that maybe he went a little too far with his advances, until she disproved his theory by shoving him to one of the nearby long couches, only a pillow to cushion and soften his landing onto the furniture.

Quickly making up for lost time and contact, she quickly crawls to straddle his waist, clutching the back of his head to make him look at her, and her only. His hand found itself gripping at the back of her waist tightly once more, the other clutching her own head just to make sure she’s still there with him. Both were panting heavily, the room temperature very much heated as a result of their affairs.

His eyes looked at her longingly as he breathed heavily. “Pomni… I… I don’t think I want this to end.”

She flashed him a consoling smile.

The alarm rings, deafening the surroundings as he jolts awake, falling from his chair comically with a loud, slightly high-pitched scream emitting from his throat. He groans from the headache he had received from the impact to the ground, clutching at the top sides of his jaw, as he leans his head onto the desk for support.

His false heart was beating faster than when one would run; His face was flushed and he frustratingly ignores the heat from the rest of his body with a grumble.

He shifts his eyes to look around. Nothing’s changed. Everything was the same since Bubble left to do his daily chores.

He shakes his head and slams his face down onto the elegant desk, groaning depressingly and half-sobbing.

What the fuck? Was… WAS IT ALL JUST A DAMN DREAM!?

Oh, he could scream and cry into a pillow right about now. But the panicked angry screaming of a certain someone being bothered by the recent addition; the Ragdoll Mannequin that was “Ragatha”, suddenly grabs his attention. Now, he’s looking outside into the manor grounds from his office’s windows with a tired and questioning gaze.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

“But Mistress! You still haven’t tried out my trademark cookie recipe!! It’s GUARANTEED to be your instant favorite!”

“STOP CALLING ME MISTRESS! FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON’T CARE, GET THE FUCK AWAY-”

Caine sighed disappointingly to himself, dragging his hand across his eyes.

God fucking dammit. He actually feels something for her.

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

I would say I'm sorry, but we all know I'm not. :)

[cosmal]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.

or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption

note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.

word count — 12.4k

“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.

“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.

“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer. 

“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs. 

You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale. 

“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”

“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long. 

“He’s drinking?” 

“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze. 

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.” 

“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.” 

You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard. 

“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet

“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open. 

The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle. 

James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.

He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.

His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.

He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”

Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.

They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”

“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs. 

His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup. 

“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh. 

“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle. 

“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet. 

“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details. 

“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.” 

“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.” 

Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles. 

“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think. 

“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly. 

“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes. 

“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.” 

You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is. 

“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really. 

You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same. 

“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws. 

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds. 

You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that. 

“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,” 

He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again. 

Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology. 

He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever. 

Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.” 

You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep. 

“You smell good.” 

You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.” 

Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying. 

“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers. 

“You smell nice,” you laugh. 

You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.

Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”

Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”

Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.

He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject. 

You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.” 

He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh. 

The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.” 

He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him. 

“Sirius?” He hiccups. 

“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.” 

There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else. 

“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants. 

“Yes, you.”

His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.  

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.” 

You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?” 

Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same. 

“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume. 

“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp. 

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory. 

“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.

“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly. 

“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?” 

You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober. 

“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired. 

“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his. 

“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” 

Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep. 

“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing. 

His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time. 

He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. 

“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep. 

“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach. 

He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.” 

You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh. 

You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle. 

“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?” 

He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting. 

“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.

When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.” 

“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks. 

“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy. 

You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.” 

Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.” 

“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”

Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks. 

“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.

“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.

You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”

When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.

-

Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly. 

On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do. 

Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.  

Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation. 

In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed. 

He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching. 

Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts. 

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head. 

“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it. 

When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.” 

“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier. 

Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.” 

“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?” 

What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.” 

“You wear boxers?” you grin. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you. 

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.” 

Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much. 

You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking. 

“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room. 

“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room. 

“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?” 

He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.” 

You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter. 

“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.” 

“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window. 

“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk. 

“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.” 

“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn. 

He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows. 

You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once. 

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched. 

“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers. 

“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.” 

You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at. 

“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.” 

He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”

When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius. 

Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way. 

Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads, 

uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx

He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat. 

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you. 

what do U mean nothing happened? 

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home. 

U both stumbled. in her sheets. 

Fuck off. Idiot. 

Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company. 

-

The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since. 

It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.

You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things. 

You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?

“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar. 

“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.” 

And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left. 

And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner. 

You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.

It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.

Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!

Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.

“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is. 

There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked. 

And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.

You’ll make yourself sick.

“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.

“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.

”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.

“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes. 

“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”

“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”

Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask. 

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.

“Great.” 

A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.

-

The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.

You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.

You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.

Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.

James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.

Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.

When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.

When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.

“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.

Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.

“Remus! You’re here.”

Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats

“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.

“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.

“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.

“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.

“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.

“I am now,” he grins.

Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.

“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.

With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.

Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.

“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place. 

Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.

“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side. 

You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.

Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,” 

You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm. 

You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.

“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.

You nod, gleefully.

“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back. 

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.” 

He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.” 

You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!” 

You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”

You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.

“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.

“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.

Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”

You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.

As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you. 

He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat. 

He knows he’s truly done for.

He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business. 

He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.

“Up your ass.” 

Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.” 

He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.

When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.

“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.

-

“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.

Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”

“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.

“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.

Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.

“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.

“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”

He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.

“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”

He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”

He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.

The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”

Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.

“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.

Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine. 

Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.

“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.

“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.

“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose. 

“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.

Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.

You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.

“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.

Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.” 

You frown. 

“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins. 

“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff. 

The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.

He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.

He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.

“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.

“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.

You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.

The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.

You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime.”

You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.

“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.

“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.” 

“It’s a good one.”

“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

-

After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.

Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.

“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm. 

“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.

“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head. 

You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”

Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best. 

You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.

Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin. 

Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy. 

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.” 

Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in. 

Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in. 

“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off. 

Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist. 

“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully. 

“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens. 

“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns. 

“Thank you, Remus.” 

“That’s okay, lovely.” 

-

You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk. 

Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something. 

So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius. 

“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting. 

“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away. 

He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity. 

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh. 

He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah, how are you?” you question. 

Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum. 

Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up. 

“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says, 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?” 

He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt.  “Yeah, I am.” 

You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”

Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal. 

“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.” 

Oh. 

Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you? 

He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity. 

Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.” 

He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!” 

“Bye, sweetheart.” 

Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers. 

“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”

“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.” 

Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.” 

Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?” 

“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago. 

“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out. 

“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies. 

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh. 

“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.” 

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.” 

Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Bye, Sirius.” 

Sirius hangs up before he can. 

-

Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead. 

He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head. 

“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly. 

“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics. 

“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm. 

“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says. 

“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin. 

“From the bus stop.” 

“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.

Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”

You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks. 

“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball. 

Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.” 

You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet. 

Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs. 

You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed. 

“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people. 

“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?” 

“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly. 

“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder. 

“I’m not having any repeats of last week.” 

“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.” 

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.” 

He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.” 

You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be. 

Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid. 

“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar. 

“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people. 

“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully. 

You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.” 

Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.” 

“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.” 

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”

“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”

“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”

“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat. 

By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him. 

Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.

Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.

It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.

As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.

“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.

The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”

“I can tell.” 

“You can?”

You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”

Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”

“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.

Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder. 

Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.

You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.

The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here. 

The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.

The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.

“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.

“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he frowns.

You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.

“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”

“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”

You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”

His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.

The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.

“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”

Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.

“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.

“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles. 

“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.

Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”

Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.

“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.

“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.

Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”

You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”

He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.

You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough. 

His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”

“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,

“No?”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.

“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.

Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”

“Completely,”

It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater. 

He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.

The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.

“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.

“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.

“Yeah.”

“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.

You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”

Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”

“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.

“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How does Minotaur!Konig handle an argument with his wife/his wife being upset with him? He clearly avoids making her upset as much as possible because he loves her and only wants to see her happy, and she loves and accepts him as he is, quirks and all so I don't really see them getting into fights but maybe he gets way too reactive and violent with someone in town over a perceived slight and she gives him the silent treatment on the way home or something. I feel like he'd be so sad even if she only didn't talk to him for like an hour 😞 I can also see his insecurities/abandonment issues coming into play, he starts overthinking and makes it a whole big thing in his head and meanwhile she's already forgetting that she was even upset with him. These are just my thoughts but maybe you have something else in mind/see it playing out differently!

Yes absolutely!!

Minotaur!König cannot cope with this shit at all. The last time he did something “bad” ended in him being thrown into a cold, dark Labyrinth. Even as a grown man he goes straight into survival mode if he sees that he has somehow disappointed his beloved 💔

His wife knows how König is so it would take a lot for her to visibly show she’s upset with him. Our bull tries to avoid chaos as best he can which means arguments between these two are extremely rare — but they do happen! Because one thing you must know about all versions of König is that they think they’re always right. Minotaur!König is just as thick headed as the rest of them so if he thinks that “his cause is just” then he will stand his ground no matter what. He will claim that water is wine if he thinks it’s so!

Some petty perceived insult directed at his wife could get him riled very easily, could get them both into trouble because König won't cool down before he’s drawn blood. He wants to give this poor soul's head to his wife, on a plate if possible, and if he can’t do that the tension just won’t go away. How can life go on if he hasn’t done what’s right??

She has to guide König in social situations and explain later what it was all about, what different phrases mean and how he can’t just kill people if they don’t behave the way he wants them to. In some ways, she knows she is dealing with a child and has to be patient, how could this poor man know how to behave when he lived underground all those years? All he was taught was that he’s evil, unwanted and ugly, so the last thing she wants to do is hurl blame at him and scream. Silent treatment would totally be one of her ways to show him he didn’t get points home this time, but for König even the tiniest distancing looks like she’s abandoning him. Throwing him mentally into a tiny tiny Labyrinth, telling him he’s not wanted, that he’ll never be loved :(

And poor König doesn’t know what to do and how to be, for a while the anxiety threatens to take over. He reaches for her hand, then pulls away fearing she doesn’t want to be touched. He tries to talk, but nothing comes out because he doesn’t entirely understand what he should apologise for. He stands in the middle of the room and watches her blow air on the coals and just go on about her day, thinking that the time has finally come when she tells him to get out of the house.

It takes years before König takes the initiative in reconciling because he simply doesn’t know how to do it. Blunt, pained statements such as “Are you upset with me,” and “You’re disappointed in me” are common before he learns that the world is not going to end even if they’re not happy with each other all the time. His wife is usually the one who comes to him and says that everything is okay and that she was only upset with what he did, not with who he is.

Just imagine this adorable goof being both stubborn in his "I don’t have to say I’m sorry" policy and crippled by his "Are you going to abandon me" fear 💔 How can you even be angry at this man? There’s no chance, especially when he’s a jerk only once or twice a year 🩷🦬

[inbarfink]

I'm pretty sure my very first post about 'Fionna and Cake' was about pointing out this line in "Fionna Campbell"

Is a reference to "I Remember You", where Marceline said that very same line to Ice King

At the time I just took it as another little bit of Foreshadowing for the connection between Fionnaworld and Simon.

But now that we've established a bit more about Cake's plights, and I started thinking more about this... I wonder if this line is meant to highlight the ways in which Simon's struggles under the Curse of the Magic Crown and Cake's struggles after having her Magic taken away from her kinda mirror each other.

You know, turning into Ice King took away Simon's mind and ability to reason (by pumping his brain full of Madness and Sadness) and his ability to communicate (by tanking his already-kinda-awkward communication skills) and even kinda took away his body.

And becoming an ordinary cat did all of these things for Cake as well - took away her mind and ability to reason (by giving her an intelligence closer to a regular housecat) and her ability to communicate (by making her unable to speak or even comprehend human speech)

And taking away her voice and the Stretchy body that is clearly the one she feels most comfortable with.

And ... so what happened in that scene back in IRY is Ice King, in the middle of writing a love song about Princess Bubblegum, suddenly has a moment of Clarity about how lonely and miserable he is. Enough Clarity to know that he's unfathomably sad and that there's something Wrong with him that's sabotaging all of his relationship - but not enough clarity to know what it is. So he just... has a total breakdown

Lashing out and throwing ice magic anywhere. Then Marceline, uncomfortable and worried about Ice King's behavior, tackles him and says the Line.

Meanwhile, in the first episode of 'Fionna and Cake'...

Both Fionna and Cake feel like there's something off about their lives, But Fionna can at least articulate it better as like, general ennui or a quarter-life crisis, rather than Cake's little housecat mind not really comprehending or capable of fully expressing what she's feeling at all.

Leading to concerning behavior such as her apparently not eating for the last three days.

And suddenly, she has her moment of Clarity. She sees these Portal Sparkles and she seems to know on some level that they'll do something good for her. Especially as she tries to shove her head in the ice

And later is shown obsessed with ice in general - even without the sparkles directly being around.

On some level, Cake understands the mechanics of the Portal Sparkles better than Fionna does - but on all other levels she's still a housecat and probably has no idea what is going on with her own mind as well.

And from Fionna's perspective she's just acting weird and spreading ice all over the house and lashing out at her in her confusion over her own feelings.

I think, perhaps whatever part of Simon's subconscious has subtle control over Fionnaworld noticed the similarities between Cake's situation and his own memories of being the Ice King - and thus, Marceline's old words coming out of Fionna's mouth.

The similarities don't end there, either. Cake and Simon both have to go through a lot grief with people still treating them as their old selves. General folks in Ooo treating Simon like Ice King

And Fionna's tendency to be overprotective of Cake even though Cake is now an incredibly OP shapeshifter and Fionna's still just an athletic human

And to speak for her even though she can speak for herself now

And sometimes kinda condescending to her about her own judgement

All make Cake feel, and not unjustifiably so, that Fionna still sees her as her old self, as a Housecat. She literally says so in the same episode where Fionna and Cake's friendship is tested the most.

And Cake's anxious desire to bring Magic into her world even after it was confirmed that she can at least stay as herself in Fionnaworld, I think that's also a mirror of Simon's anxieties. Simon felt like he, an ordinary non-magical man, could never truly fit in within the wacky and magical world of Ooo

And Cake might've been afraid of the same being true in reverse about being a Magical Cat in the least Magical world in the whole multiverse. At the very least she must've been worried about being forced to pretend to be a non-magical cat again like Simon tried to make her do back in Farmworld.

(Remember how her failure to pull this off almost got her eaten?)

And in the end, the resolution to both of these mirror dilemma was... kind of the same? Well, sort of. Fionnaworld now has a bit more of the Magic and Weirdness in it but it's not like Simon made Mainworld Ooo less wacky. But even with that extra bit of Multiverse Wackiness going on in Fionnaworld now... if the Normal Guy can get along among the strange and magical creatures

The Magical Cat can get along with all the normal and mundane people.

[updownlately]

no, you don’t have to hide (the things you feel inside, i feel too)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 1.3k | a/n: heard 'lonely eyes' by lauv for the first time today and i got obsessed. whipped up a tiny little h/c fic based on the song! if you want the full effect of the fic (imo) listen to the song as you read! (it's linked above :)) sorry for slightly depressing content, im in a mood.... but anyways, happy reading!

~~~

"i don’t mean to be rude there’s things in myself that i see in you lonely eyes she had those lonely eyes i only know ‘cause i have them too lonely eyes no, you don’t have to hide the things you feel inside, i feel too ‘cause i’m lonely just like you ‘cause i’m lonely just like you"

-

“Had you not moved your arm a few seconds ago, I swear I would’ve called an ambulance or something…”

The words came from the blonde stood above you, her voice teasing yet cautious, softly testing the waters as she took in your sprawled out state in the middle of the training field.

It was much, much past the time practice had ended, Leah’s rehab session what brought her to stay after, to be there to notice your crumpled form on the pitch. 

You, who was still in your training gear, a light hoodie on you however, limbs sprawled out save for your left arm, which was haphazardly slung across your face, hiding your eyes. 

Your hum of response barely audible, had the midfielder’s eyebrows furrowing in worry, head tilting to the side as she crouched down beside you.

“Hey, you okay?”

The gentle words caused you to smile wryly, bloodshot eyes hidden underneath the protective cover of the crook of your arm as you did your best to make your voice sound normal.

Clearing your throat as nonchalantly as possible, you took a deep breath before speaking out. 

“Yeah….why wouldn’t I be?”

Sighing at how you were clearly not okay, the tear tracks on your cheeks very much visible in the setting rays of the sun, Leah shook her head to herself. 

You were stubborn- she very much knew it from having had the privilege of playing with you for the better part of the past season, and if there was one thing she definitively learned about you, it was that you hesitated to show any excess emotions, much rather choosing to let out whatever it may be on the pitch.

Right now though? Right now you looked utterly exhausted, the lack of games clearly taking its toll on you. 

Stretching her neck, Leah decided to take her chances at getting through to you, at least enough so that whatever it was you were feeling right now disappeared, her only goal at the moment to make you feel better. 

Gently tossing her water bottle a few feet away from where the pair of you were, Leah took a seat beside you, leaving a considerable gap so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Legs extended out as she stretched them, the blonde watched as your chest rose unevenly, almost as if she could hear each shaky breath as it escaped you, you still hellbent on trying to claim you were doing alright. 

“You can tell me you’re fine but it doesn’t mean I have to believe it…”

The words were hushed, just whispered quietly enough to stay between you two, even though no one else was around to hear it. 

The blonde eyed you warily though, her eyes scanning your face as she saw you register the words. 

Watching keenly, she saw you clench your jaw impossibly tight, shoulders tensing, you swallowing hard at the words as your breathing stilled for a second until you realized how you had frozen and quickly picked it back up again. 

“You might be doing a good job of hiding it, at least from the others, but- and I don’t mean to be rude- but there’s things in myself that I see in you…and those things aren’t fun, at least in my experience.”

You didn’t realize it, but you found yourself nodding subconsciously at the words, a part of you relieved that your mind wasn’t the only one this messy. 

Seeing the way your head moved had the Gunner beside you smiling slightly, glad to see your walls crumbling ever so slightly. 

Pausing to see if you would say anything, Leah patiently waited, head turning as she gazed around at the scenery around you two, bathing in the calmness of Mother Nature as she gave you a minute or so to collect yourself. 

So caught up in watching a baby bird as it shakily flew from one branch of a tree to another, Leah was pleasantly jolted out of her reverie by your faint voice, your words lowly mumbled, as your arm came to move down from your eyes, revealing your bloodshot eyes to Leah, your gaze not meeting hers one bit as you looked up into the pinking sky above.

“It- it sometimes gets loud, y’know?”

Your hesitant tone, coupled with the tired words and red eyes had the skipper’s heart quietly breaking, well aware of what you were referring to.

Staying silent to urge you to continue, the blonde leaned back on her elbows, humming near soundlessly, 

“The voices up there, they just don’t stop. I wish they did so bad, but they don’t…”

A bubble of comfort took over the both of you at the words, the breeze blowing between as you basked in the freeing relief of being understood.

It just so happened that the blonde unfortunately knew exactly what you were referring to- the little voice, sometimes voices, that never stopped. Reminding you of each mistake in a game, each misspoke or awkward pause in your conversations. Voices that held the weight of the fans’ emotions, their expectations, their disappointment, each and every criticism ever uttered into existence, all meshed into a voice that followed her everywhere, not a moment of reprieve, as the assault battered her down day by day, no matter how hard she pushed through it. 

Nodding in understanding, breathing deeply as she felt herself feel seen, Leah exhaled softly before speaking.

“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but I can’t promise that…”

Her words hung in the air as you felt another wave of emotions cross you, the sentiment not really what you expected nor wanted to hear at the moment. 

Eyes tearing up at the admission, exhaustive frustration seeping into your bones, you sunk deeper into the grass beneath you, too afraid of the hurricane of emotions within you to speak up. 

Doing your best to hold it together, you willed the tears to not fall, keeping your eyes open for as long as possible so that they’d dry out faster, hoping the unshed tears would disappear. 

You were almost successful too, nearly getting a grasp on your emotions, before you heard shuffling from the girl beside you, feeling your arms brush as you just barely tilted your head to the side, watching from the corner of your eye as Leah settled down beside you, joining you in laying down.

Feeling her body warmth near you, you took a shuddering breath, the heavy weight of being alone earlier slowly rising from your chest as breathing became a tad bit easier. 

“What I can tell you- no, promise- what I can promise you is that I’ll be here beside you through it all if you’ll have me. We don’t even have to talk if you want. If you want someone to sit beside you when your mind gets a little too loud, your heart a little too heavy? I can do that. You don’t have to do it alone…I rather you not, to be honest.”

Lips turning ever so slightly as you closed your eyes, head nodding microscopically, you took in a deep sigh, flexing your jaw as your lungs loosened, the weight not completely off your chest just yet, but just enough that you believed for a second, for a moment, that maybe things could be alright.

“I think I’d like that…”

And when Leah intertwined your hands together, letting them rest between your bodies as you watched as the pink sky slowly molded into orange and then purple as the sun finally set, you took the chance to look over at her, her eyes meeting yours at the sound of your movement, two pairs of lonely eyes recognizing your shared emotions, any differences pushed aside as you stripped down to nothing but understanding and relief- grateful to find someone just like you, to be there for you. 

[libraryofgage]

@holyangelstudentuniverse requested the following: Steve working at Bath & Body Works while Eddie is the mall pianist?

I love it omfg, your brain is fantastic I hope I did the idea justice

(if you see any typos no you didn't <3)

The old food court pianist was...okay. Technically, she was good; she knew how to play and rarely made mistakes. She was also clearly just there for the bi-weekly check (not that Steve can blame her), and her playing reflected that. The piano became the ideal white noise, loud enough to lessen the awkwardness of any silence but not so amazing that people couldn't ignore it in favor of conversing with each other.

The new food court pianist? He's a fucking enigma.

He's very clearly skilled, and he seems to actually enjoy the job. He plays like Billy Joel and Elton John met one night, had a piano contest, and then had a baby to create the perfect pianist. He's great and energetic and can play anything from Mozart to fucking Cardi B, and Steve wishes he'd quit already so he can actually focus on his own shitty mall job instead of getting absorbed in the guy's playing.

"You should just hook up with him," Robin says one day, hip-checking Steve as she passes by with a box of Cherry Blossom products. She restocks the soap bottles first, then the perfume, then the lotions, and finally the tiny hand sanitizers with their shitty little plastic flip-caps that Steve swears break for the fucking fun of it.

Steve, meanwhile, is replacing last week's sales signs with new ones. They're the exact same. They rarely change, actually. The only difference is the "expiration" date at the bottom, which changes if only to continually sell customers that sense of urgency that results in them buying $50 worth of products they'll forget about until the holidays come around and they need white elephant gifts.

He's almost done, too. All that's left are the signs by the metal gate pulled down over the store's entrance. They'll open it in about an hour to prepare for the mall's opening, but for now, it's staying down to discourage the mini-bodega clerk in the middle of the hall from flirting with Robin and trying to sell her shitty perfume like she can't just steal shitty perfume from Bed Bath and Beyond at the end of the day.

He waits until after he's switched the sign to turn around, arms crossed over his chest. His back is to the gate, and Steve would normally be too fucking paranoid about a blind spot to withstand it, but he's in argument mode.

"I barely know the guy," he says.

Robin snorts as she crouches, stocking extra hand sanitizers in the tiny drawers at the bottom of the shelf. "Yeah, but I know you, dingus," she says, her voice light and bouncing. "You hear the guy's muzak version of a Lil Nas X song and you're ready to marry the guy."

"I can just recognize artistic ability! Have you ever tried to make a pop song sound like a classic?" he asks.

"My point," Robin says, pushing some hair out of her face, "is that you should ask him out. Maybe you two can play piano together."

If she hadn't already heard it before, Steve would be immediately launching into an explanation of why that wouldn't work. Steve has never met someone he liked or trusted enough to actually play with them. Sure, he's tried playing with a partner before if only to say he gave it a shot, but it sucks. Especially when you don't like the person. You're squished together on an uncomfortable bench, sharing sheet music, elbows bumping as you both try to reach the proper keys to keep the song from sounding horrendous. It's Steve's personal version of hell on earth.

But Robin has heard that rant before, so Steve graciously spares her from hearing it again. For now. Until he's drunk, probably.

"What, I'm just gonna waltz up to the piano and ask if he's free on Saturday? Or, I don't know, try some dumb pick-up line like asking if he comes here often?"

"I'll be honest, it's not the worst pick-up line I've heard."

Steve and Robin jump, both whipping their head to look at the grate to see the food court pianist grinning at them (well, more specifically, he's grinning at Steve) from the other side. He's wearing a button-down black shirt with ripped skinny jeans, old Converse, and more accessories than Steve can count. There are chains on his jeans and a guitar pick hanging from his neck and an ear cuff and a stud through the edge of his eyebrow and so many chunky rings that Steve could use as an excuse to stare at his hands for an hour.

Robin is the one who breaks out of the shock first. She jumps to her feet and walks over to Steve, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning against him. "But would it work?" she asks.

The guy grins wider, obviously looking Steve up and down to check him out before looking at Robin. "From Stevie here? Yeah. He's really rocking the apron," Eddie replies, winking at Steve.

Steve is about to ask how the guy knows his name, but then he remembers the name badge on his apron. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away to glance down at Robin.

She seems to be having the time of her life right now.

"Well, uh, I'd prefer to know your name before trying any pickup lines," he says.

"Eddie Munson at your service," Eddie says, bowing to Steve with a dramatic flourish that he finds more endearing than anything else.

One look at Robin and her scrunched nose tells him she thinks it's a little over-the-top and, dare he say, cringe. Her opinion doesn't actually matter, though, since she'd be down bad for any girl that curtseyed at her.

Steve looks back at Eddie, noting the now expectant gleam in his eyes. He can't help an amused smile as he says, "Well then, Eddie," Steve says, stressing his name a little just for the fun of it, "come here often?"

Robin groans next to him. "Fucking hell, Steve," she mutters, slapping him upside the head. "I know you suck at flirting but you really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, no," Eddie tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm into it."

"And I'm out of it," Robin says, raising her hands in surrender before scurrying back to her Cherry Blossom products.

She's definitely still listening, though.

Steve rolls his eyes are her reaction and focuses back on Eddie. "So, uh, are you free on Saturday?" he asks.

"Completely free," Eddie says, taking a step closer to the gate and shoving his hands into his pockets. "How about lunch?"

"Yeah, I know a great pizza place."

"It's a date then," Eddie replies, winking at Steve. "By the way, any song requests?"

Steve blinks and thinks for a minute before asking, "Do you know Vienna?"

Eddie's grin tells Steve that he does, in fact, know Vienna. "Vienna it is." With that, he winks at Steve once more before heading back to the food court.

"That was painful," Robin says once he's far away enough.

Steve rolls his eyes and flips her off. "You're just jealous I've got a date and you're still too chicken shit to approach the Nike girl."

Robin practically squawks at him. "Oh, fuck you," she says.

"I'll leave that to Eddie, thanks," Steve says, laughing when Robin gags.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Could you write Male yautja x male reader. I would like for the reader to be very quiet, always has a look of anger on his face etc. a bit aggressive because he grew up alone in a remote place and the Yautja finds him and decides to humor himself and capture the human, but he end up falling for the human because he doesn't back away from a fight. And now the Yautja has to show the human that he actually cares, having some trouble because different romantic gestures, and also kinda begging for forgiveness but very subtly

Ways to Fall

Pairing: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4512

Summary: Everyday is the same. There's no change. In a small town, there's nothing new. If something does magically happen, within the same hour, everyone knows about it. During a normal day of nothing happening… you are snatched out of thin air. When met face to face with your captor, he doesn't kill you. Count your lucky stars.

Author Note: Thinking about this is such a funny idea. He kidnaps a human for entertainment only for it backfire horribly. He falls in love with said human and now he can't get rid of it.

Masterlist

Ao3

With towns in the middle of nowhere, there’s nothing much to see. It’s always the same old, same old stuff you see every single day. Yet, the little money in your bank account doesn’t allow you to strive away from this place you’ve grown up in. You’ve grown to resent your town.

Everyone knows everyone. There’s nothing you can get away with. Mrs. Whittney saw you sneaking out one night and boom, grounded for three months. It taught you how to become incredibly sneaky and how to plan your late night adventures.

Even into your adult age, you had nothing to get you out of here. Your folks and others tell you to cheer up, smile some more, and be happy. How in the hell can you be happy if you’re stuck here? You scowl at everyone who gets within a twenty-foot range of you. Because, how dare they think they can get close to you? Nothing they can do to make you happy unless its to help you escape here.

On your break, you walked out to your car to get away from your coworkers. They were truly pissing you off today. Nothing was going right. Is it so hard just work a simple shift this early in the ass crack of dawn? Clearly, these people can’t even tell left from right, up from down if there was a sign right in front of them.

Before you could reach your beater car, an arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. A huge palm easily covered the lower half of your mouth, preventing you screaming out. You jerked an elbow back only to let out a muffle yelp when it met metal. A hiss sounded from behind the palm from the pain growing. Yet, the adrenaline dumbing into your system had you kicking and throwing elbows despite the discomfort.

Whoever was holding you barely even flinched and took each hit with stride. They began to haul your squirming form away from your car and the building. All you could do despite struggling was watch as your freedom got pulled out from underneath your feet. The last attempt to get this person off of you was to chomp down on their hand as strong as possible. The hand didn’t even flinch as your teeth dug harshly into their flesh. Yet, they didn’t even pierce the thick skin that covered their hands. You could feel a strange, rough texture on your tongue. Nothing natural.

But, you didn’t let go. The last thing you were going to do was give up. You were going to fight until your last breath. The person kept moving with long, powerful strides.

Mechanical hissing hit your ears. It reminded you of a noise you would hear from Star Wars. Your brows furrowed together while attempting to piece together the puzzle with little information.

In the empty parking lot that sat adject to your works lot, you could spot the strange outline of something. It was hidden, camouflaged but the area within this weird shape was wobbled. Then, you noticed a ramp had touched down on the asphalt and led into the hidden object. You screamed louder, bucked harder, kicked wildly.

All attempts came up empty handed. You were carried up this ramp into a space you didn’t know what to call. It was open with a few closed doors to others parts of this… place. A place you were trapped in.

Whatever had you continued to carry you over to a door that opened for them. Once the entrance was sealed shut and effectively trapping you in here. The person finally dropped you down onto your feet. You were unsteady for a moment before spinning around and backing away. As the space was created, you come to notice nothing else stood in the room. Like you had been kidnapped by a ghost.

Your guard didn’t fall. Not when you felt the heavy, sharp gaze of someone watching you, observing from the shadows from where they hide in.

Once looking in front of you for a moment longer, you come notice a shape. Similar to wherever you’ve been dragged to, this thing was camouflage, hiding from you. “Come out and face me, coward!” you shouted with your fists up, name calling the thing. Its head tilted. Lightly tinking of metal hitting metal sounded but that was all you got in reaction.

“Are you too scared to reveal yourself? Afraid you’re going to get your ass whooped by me?” Call it a dumbass move, but you kept talking shit. You didn’t know what you were facing. Nothing you knew on earth could camouflage, not the way this thing in front of you. You didn’t want to call it but this couldn’t be something from earth.

Alien or not, they just kidnapped you. You weren’t going to let that blow over so easily. You kept your fists up in defense and ready to be on the offense.

A scoff sounded from your throat when it didn’t move from its spot. “I can fucking see you. Just show yourself so I can beat your ass and get back to work,” you snarked, irritated that nothing seemed to be getting it to listen. Then, a realizing thought struck you. Maybe it didn’t understand English or any human tongue. Well, that makes this a whole lot better.

“I’m guessing you don’t even understand me.” You rolled your eyes and finally crossed your arms. “So if I ask what you want with me, you’re not going to know what I just said.”

The hidden creature began to make a strange ‘hrr’ like noise repeatedly… Like it was laughing! You bristled and began to march towards the moving blob. One of yours fingers pointed at it. “Are you fucking laughing at me, punk?! You think you can just kidnap me and then laugh about it and get away with it?! Seriously? Come on,” you growled and thumped a fist on your chest. “Come on then. Fight me, bitch.”

Maybe you were digging yourself a grave with each insult thrown at the laughing creature. Who knows. But what you do know, you weren’t going to allow it to continue without doing something about it.

The laughing came to a stop. The silence of the air caused you to tense up. Before your very eyes, the blob began to take form. Its bubble like transparency started to wane into existence. A humanoid form appeared before you yet its head shape wasn’t something you’ve ever seen before.

A mask of metal covered its face, similar to a helmet.  Dark, deep set eyes sockets blankly stared directly at you. Despite the drop of terror that fell down your spine, you stayed defensive with an angry face. Your teeth are bared, arms still crossed over your chest. Its lumbering size didn’t deter you from staring death in the face.

This beast was massive, easily towering over your tense form. Rippling muscles bulged underneath metal armor adorning its red, scaly hide. A fishnet of sorts began at its neck and ran down its torso, out to its limbs, and stopping there at the joints. The thin wire allowed for you to have ample opportunity to peek at its dark red skin, marred with too many scars to count in the little time offered to you.

“It that all y-ack!” you were cut short when a muscular hand secured around your throat and picked you up. Your nails instantly reach to claw at what flesh you could tear at. Their dullness slid over the thicker flesh of the humanoid.

In the face of death, you continue to feel that boiling rage deep inside of you, clawing to be let loose. Anything to show this thing a piece of your mind for kidnapping you. In that moment, you threw any logical thinking to the wind.

One of your feet sprung out and hit your target head on. Bone covered by thin tendons met the bottom of your shoe… but the desired affect failed to occur. The satisfaction of hurting it in a common weak spot melted away when it stayed standing tall. Internal, you cursed yourself out. Whatever it had planned for you it would have no issues of performing them. Not when it took a painful kick to the knee and didn’t even cringe at it.

That enraged you even more.

Laughter bubbled in the back of Ahtaal’s throat He saw the way you tried an old, known trick to injure him. It felt like a youngling had just kicked him! This was just humorous in itself. His mandibles chittered behind his mask. The way you refused to give up, to back down, to submit yourself to someone stronger even every way of the word. He relished in the way you bite back at him, fought him in ever step he made. It made his blood sing with the need to hunt.

All Ahtaal wanted to do was humor himself. A nice way to entertain himself before he prepared for a hunt. Why no capture the clearly unhappy human?! It’s clearly exciting his day by the minute.

The chuckling he created angered the male in his grasp. Even with its throat within his mighty hand, the little thing continued to kick and claw for its freedom. A prey desperate to live. Ahtaal could almost feel pity.

Almost.

Ahtaal set it back down on the ground once he noticed its movement were beginning to slow. He knew it was just a temporary toy for him to mess with. That didn’t mean he wanted to kill it straight off the get go. No, like anything he hunts, he wanted to take his time. Stalk his prey before he pounces. Even if it takes him weeks to find the perfect moment to make the finishing blow.

The ooman back peddled so quickly it nearly tripped over its own two feet. With luck, it stayed upright. Its back met the far side of his trophy room. The only place he thought was best to keep his new pet safe for the time being. His ship small but useful until a moment like this pops up.

From his spot, Ahtaal tilted his head and felt his tresses slid off of his shoulder and free hung. The trinkets he’s decorated the thin strands tapped against one another. A tinking noise echoing in the air. He watched at the ooman kept its back attached to the wall yet a glare set at Ahtaal. As if all this was his fault!

Okay… maybe it was. Who wouldn’t steal an ooman out in the open, needing a form of entertainment before his next hunt. And this male was just stomping along in an empty lot, by itself. Like it was asking to be kidnapped by him. So, Ahtaal wouldn’t just pass up an amazing opportunity thrown at his feet.

He stalked forward, each step silent on the metal floors of his spacecraft. Behind his biomask, he rumbled deeply, a taunting call. He relished the way the ooman’s legs trembled under their own weight. But the steely glare had yet to fall from its alien feature. Another rumble sounded from him while consuming the space between each of them.

Your fists tightened, nails biting into your palms as waited for the perfect moment to strike. Fear may have entered your blood stream but you refused to let it control your actions.

Life has sucked in so many ways. Never having control over anything in your life. This here, was the tipping point of it all. If this beast means to end your life in this very spot, he’s going to learn you won’t go down easily. Until the beat of your heart stops and the air leaves your lungs, it will taste the rage of your childhood.

Met with bloodied fists.

It crowded you into the wall, palms flat against the sturdy metal against your back. Trapped with nowhere to run. As much as you looked like an animal backed into a corner, you were ready to swing at the first sign.

One of its hands peeled off of the metal and grasped the front of its metal, soulless mask. With precise movements, it was pulled free. You choked on the air in your throat and nearly started to keel over and die.

Your mind instantly screamed alien. This was in fact an alien without it or anyone else trying to confirm or deny that fact. You were frozen to the spot and stared directly into dark eyes with a hunters prowess weaved into them. This thing was going to kill you, you knew it by just the single emotion within its gaze.

In an instant, you rocketed your fist and met the underside of its chin. Pain exploded in your fingers at the improper punch and strange angle they struck at.

The humanoid’s head is whipped back at the force of your punch yet it stays in your space. It slowly lowered its face back down towards you with an evil glint in its eyes.

Biting claws dug into your neck, your cheek shoved harshly against the warm steel wall. The fingers secured around a vital airway prevented you from gasp due to their tight grasp. The whites of your eyes blaring evident as you stared at the creature. It lowered down with its mouth next to your ear.

Fangs caressed the shell of your ear in a teasing manner. A whole-body tremble wracks through you. It rumbled once more. The air vibrating with the sound. “You quite are a feisty one, ain’t cha?” A dark voice filtered into your ears. Your mouth dropped for gasp but found yourself unable to suck any air in. “I sure love when they fight me. Makes my blood sing with the hunt.”

There wasn’t even an opportunity to swallow down the lump building between the fingers squeezing you to death. Blood was restricted from reaching your brain. For a moment, you believed the lack of blood and oxygen was making you loopy. That the alien before your very eyes didn’t just speak to you.

Then, the heat of its body trapping you to the wall was ripped away. Your knees bruised on the unforgiving floor underneath. Pain radiated from the newly strained area. Your lungs choked down all the air possible before coughing violently when spit accidently slipped through. For a long time, you gulped down oxygen and tried not to choke.

Once the fit was over, you tilted your head up to look up at the beast. Its metal mask had been attached to its belt, off to the side. This thing had only showed off a hint of its strength, letting you know what it could do to you.

That only increased your anger at not only it but the situation. One thing after another. That’s all it’s been. Nothing new. Nothing has changed.

You wiped the back of your hand against the drool dribbling from your blue lips. “Is that all you got?” you snarked off to death’s face.

The same ‘hrn’ing noise sounded from the beast in a laughing manner. The smirk on your face was wiped off. You snapped to your feet with a fist heading once more to its alien face. Unprotected and vulnerable all over again.

This time, it rose a fist and caught your offending limb. Large, lethal digits curled over your entire hand and bent it slightly backwards. A show of dominance that forced you back down on your knees before it. Only then did it release you and let you stay on the ground. With an amused huff, it spun on its heels and strolled out of the room it left you in.

Despite its flare of dominance over you, it didn’t harm you per se. You stared down at your hand then back to the closed door it had walked through. All you wanted to do was bash in its skull with its own arm.

Without the overbearing kidnapper at your throat, you sat against the wall. Finally, you observed the room it had locked you in. Only for fear to freeze every cell in your body.

Skulls of animals lined the very walls you were trapped in. Each one looking deadlier than the last. Human skulls were within the mix. A trophy room. You gasped and covered your mouth with a sweaty palm. This room will become your resting place.

On the other side of the door, Ahtaal relaxed against the door. Never in all of his years has this happened to him. Not from a creature much smaller than him. One that had to know the dangers of facing off something bigger than it. Someone who was able to pop their head off of their shoulders with little strength used. He purred lightly and took in the ooman’s scent.

Now, he didn’t want to release the creature, let alone kill it. He wanted to keep it. There was untapped, untrained talent buried inside of it. Ahtaal wanted to unleash it, reveal this revelation to the universe. He wanted hunt with this ooman.

When the next rotation started, Ahtaal made his way to the trophy room. A waterskin and bowl of ooman safe foods held in his palm. Over the course of the night where his thoughts rolled around for hours, he came to a conclusion: he wasn’t going to kill you. The potential in you would go to waste. He wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it.

Above the door, the sensors read his presences and promptly opened. At first, he doesn’t spot you and nearly becomes concern. Only to hear the tall tale sign of sprinting feet.

Off to his right, you are bolting towards him with ratchet too big for your hands. Amusement fills him. He simply reaches up and snags the weapon before it could strike him. You grunt and tried to rip it from his grasp but Ahtaal’s strength easily outweighs your own. The red alien laughs his humor in your face and plucks the impromptu weapons from your hands. A reminder he should’ve checked if his cabinets and drawers were locked before locking you in here.

Yet, the Yautja was proud at the fact you had thought of ways of using your surroundings to cause harm. He purred lightly to himself before pushing further into the room.

You stumbled backwards at the advancing alien, raging at the fact your attack failed. It just simply stood the ratchet straight from your hands. Like stealing candy from a baby.

In its hands, you took note of the items it held. A strange bag filled with liquid and a tray… with food. Your stomach took the moment to rumble a hungry cry. Heat blanketed your cheeks, knowing it had been little less than a day since you last ate. Plus, the need for a bathroom was growing stronger. But, your dignity cried at that fact.

The only way out shut behind its lumbering form, head tilted to the side as it observed you. You hastily pulled your glare into place with a burning rage. The beast chittered and offered you the items. Instantly, put up your fists in defense and eyed the beast closely. Any movements towards you would end with a fist heading towards its elongated skull.

It shook the items like that would entice you to reach across a line of danger. You up turned your nose despite the growling hungry in the pit of your belly. Whatever its plan was, you wouldn’t follow. Not when the empty eyes of hunted skulls watch the scene unfold before them.

A huff sounded from the alien before it shrugged and set the items down. It spun on its heel to walk out. You gnawed on your bottom lip for a second before lunging out. “Wait!” Instantly, the beast caught your limb in the blink of an eye. The grasp wasn’t tight but firm. It held your hand high above your head, keeping you on brink of your toes.

“I wasn’t attacking! Dumbass… I just need to use the restroom,” you mumbled into the quiet, tense air. It was a horrible feeling to have to request such a thing yet with no bathroom in sight, you had to suck it up. Anything to stop yourself from pissing your pants.

Hopefully, the creature understood what you were asking. Did they even have a bathroom? Or anything similar? If not, you were plainly screwed down to the bone. For a moment, you prayed to any god that could hear you.

“Hum, there are better ways rather than that,” it chittered to you in a teasing tone before releasing its hold on you. When you thought you were in the clear eating and drinking whatever it brought, the creature jerked its head down. “You must eat and drink beforehand. Then, I shall take you.”

You bristled and pointed a finger at him. “I sweat to god if you don’t take me to a fucking toilet right now, I will piss on the skulls.” Your hands shot out at your sides like a grand display. “Everywhere!” That was a threat you weren’t kidding about. You could care less about whipping it out and peeing on everything. If it worked to get you to the toilet quicker, who were you to complain.

One of its strange mandibles quirked up in an alien smirk if you were reading it correctly. A purr-like sound vibrated from its throat. “Feisty,” it commented then jerked its head to the door behind it. Your gaze hardened, body ready to fulfill your threat at a moments notice.

“Alright, hold back on the reins. I’ll take you.” It stepped to the side and motioned with an arm for you to take lead. The entire time you stomped up to the door, you glared at the creature. Once the metal slid open and revealed part of its home you hadn’t gotten to see before, it motioned over to a door on the other side. This space wasn’t wildly open but was larger than your average hallway, yet empty.

A huff was sent towards the beast before you marched over to the closed door. It refused to acknowledge your presence. Right as you were about to spin about and rage at the creature, you felt its body heat caress against your backside. Your shoulders jerked up.

The door opened and revealed something you were expecting: a bedroom? With a massive bed in the middle of the expansive space. More skulls adorn the walls, filling the room with death. You shuttered yet scuttled into the room in search of the bathroom.

Attached to the room was an en suite bathroom. You immediately raced over. Relief at your fingertips.

What ensued was something you wished never to repeat to another living being. You shuttered while returning to the giving space. The food it had offered to you was still on the ground, lightly steam with heat. You snatched it off of the ground and went to the far side wall. Your butt meets the warm metal of the floor.

It’s lumbering form followed you into here yet stayed a respectful distance away. With one eye on the beast, you worked on opening the bag and obtaining whatever fluid was stored inside. At this point, you could care less what it was. If it was fluids, that’s all that mattered to you.

As you untied the knots, you pulled your attention up to it. “So… what’s your name?” you questioned and broke the semi-peaceful air. The alien sat down against the wall in the same manner as you. An arm thrown on top of its bent knee. “I should at least know that since you decided to kidnap me.”

Dark eyes watched you peacefully. “Ahtaal,” he easily revealed to you. Your eyes narrowed for a moment before you felt the knots give way. The bag was opened. You were swift to gulp down lungsful then swiped the back of your against the droplets that had escaped.

“Ahtaal,” you tested his name on your tongue. “And what’s the reason behind kidnapping me? Since, clearly, its not to kill or else you would’ve ready done that.” During the time he was gone, you had placed the pieces together. If he wanted you dead, you would’ve been so with your skull joining the other humans on the wall.

The red alien filled his lungs with air, chest expanding with the movement. The gears in his large head seemed to move with each thought. “You are… unique. You have talent I wish to tap into. Unusual for ooman to possess such a skill. It would be a waste to kill you,” he answered smoothly. You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes. Talent? Skill? What was this buffoon going on about?

“And are you sure you nabbed the right person? I’m not anything special. I work in fast food and live paycheck to paycheck,” you denied his claim. A sharpness entered his consuming gaze. He jumped to his feet and marched over you. Despite knowing this alien could crush your skull between his fingers, you steeled your glare and even moved towards it.

He stopped and towered straight over you, straddling your extended legs. You refused to back down in the face of danger. The deadly tip of his claw pointed at you. “That. That right there is what I’m talking about. You have to know that I could kill you with little effort and yet here you are, facing me down. Others may call it stupidity, but I call it bravery.”

Your glare faltered for a second. If you didn’t know better, the alien was complimenting you. Yet, you reeled your walls back up. “What happens if I don’t want to be here? Are you going to let me go?” Was there an escape from this?

If you hadn’t been watching Ahtaal so closely, you would’ve missed the way his shoulders drooped just a centimeter. He shook his head. “I cannot. My honor code doesn’t allow those who have seen me to live. I’m not willing to kill such potential.”

“So, we are at a standstill.” The water bag was set down on your lap. Your arms crossed firmly over your chest.

“So it seems,” Ahtaal agreed simply then took a couple of steps away from you. “For now, I will gather you some supplies before we head off. Is there anything you would like, unable to depart with?” The way he offers it would nearly be sweet if the severity of the situation didn’t way heavy on your shoulders.

His words finally hit you. “Depart? Where are you taking me? Where are we going?” you snapped and brushed over his second question.

A grin fell over his features. “Space.” Then, he spun on his heel and left you to the loneliness of the skull filled room. Your jaw dropped, terror entering your veins.

“Space?!”