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capuccinodoll · 1 month ago

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Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter eight ♡

Summary: After being with Joel again, you're back home. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, you're determined to finally talk things through with him. But just as you're ready, life throws more obstacles in your path—and so does Travis, apparently. WC: 15.3k A/N: Well, It’s been two long weeks since I last updated the story, and I can't even begin to tell you how much I wish I could have written this sooner! But the good news is, I’m officially on vacation now, and all my finals went well. So, I’m hoping to update more regularly from here on out <3 Please remember that i no longer use the taglist, so if you want to receive notifications you can follow me on capuccinodollupdates!

When the door clicked shut behind you, the sound felt final, heavy in a way that made your chest tighten. You leaned against the door, the cool wood steadying you as a flood of emotions rushed in, each one colliding with the next. Surprise. Anger. Helplessness. Pain. And somewhere in the tangled mess, something softer—love? Desire? Whatever it was, it caught you off guard, made your knees buckle. You slid down to the floor, your back scraping against the doorframe as you went, until you were sitting there, small and folded into yourself.

The first sob escaped before you even realized it was coming, a fragile sound that cracked in the quiet of the room. Tears followed, slipping hot and fast down your cheeks, and you wiped at them instinctively, as if erasing them would make the moment less real, less unbearable. Your knees came up to your chest, and you buried your face there, trying to make yourself small, trying to disappear.

What were you supposed to do now? How could you fix this?

The first time with Joel had been a mistake—or that’s what he’d called it, anyway. A lapse in judgment, a moment of weakness, a thing that shouldn’t have happened but did. And you’d told yourself to believe him, even though every nerve in your body said otherwise. But tonight, it was different. This time, you had been the one to lean in, your lips the ones that crossed the distance, your hands the ones that sought him out. And he hadn’t stopped you. He hadn’t hesitated. No, he’d kissed you back, fiercely, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

Did he need you as much as you needed him?

The thought spiraled through you, looping and tangling until it became something you couldn’t unravel. You sat there for what felt like forever, unmoving, the weight of everything pressing into you. When you finally pushed yourself to your feet, your body felt heavy, your muscles tight with the ache of holding too much. Your shoulders throbbed as you rubbed at them absently, trying to knead away the tension, but all you could think about was the weight of Joel’s hands there just moments ago.

His touch had been deliberate, slow, like he was memorizing the shape of you. You could still feel it, the way his fingers had mapped your skin, his warmth sinking into you. And his eyes—dark, searching—had felt like they were seeing more of you than you were ready to show.

For a brief, fragile second, it had felt right. Like you were exactly where you were meant to be, like he was meant to be there with you. But the feeling didn’t last. It dissolved into something bitter, something sharp that stabbed at the edges of that fleeting joy.

What was happening to you?

Despair bubbled up in your chest, sharp and consuming. You wanted to run, to escape, to leave this house that suddenly felt too small, too stifling, as if the air itself had turned against you. But running wouldn’t help, would it? No matter where you went, Joel would follow—in your thoughts, in the way your body still hummed with the memory of him.

Names darted through your mind like unwelcome guests: Joel, Travis, Sarah, Sienna, Clara. Each one tugged at you in a different way, their presence reminding you of what you’d done, of what you couldn’t take back, of what had happened during the last few weeks.

You pressed a hand to your chest, where the ache was sharpest, right beneath your ribs. Your breathing was shallow, uneven, your lungs struggling to keep up with the storm inside you. Inhale, exhale. You forced yourself to slow down, to count the breaths until they came easier, but it wasn’t enough. The tension stayed, coiled tight in your body, refusing to let go.

When you caught sight of yourself in the hallway mirror, the reflection startled you. Your eyes were glassy, rimmed red, your face pale and unfamiliar. You looked like someone else—someone fragile, someone lost.

Calm down, you told yourself, the words hollow even in your own head. Just calm down.

In your room, you undressed methodically, peeling off layers that felt heavy with his memory. The air was cool against your skin, but even that wasn’t enough to erase the warmth of his hands, the way they’d lingered like he was afraid to let go. You closed your eyes and exhaled, but all you could see was Joel—his hesitant voice, his uncertain eyes, his body golden in the light spilling through the window.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, and the intensity in his eyes was like a physical touch, hot and almost unbearable. “It’s not my case at all,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Not a single day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Do you have any idea how empty this house feels without you? How empty my life feels?”

He had looked at you like he was waiting for something—waiting for you to leave, maybe. Like he’d already braced himself for the sight of you walking away again. And yet, in his eyes, there had been something else too: fear. Like he wasn’t sure if he could handle it this time.

Joel had hurt you in ways he would never fully understand. Ways you weren’t sure you could articulate, even if you wanted to. What had all of this been for? Why had he done it? Was it out of boredom, selfishness, some unspoken need you couldn’t possibly fulfill? He had a girlfriend. Sienna. He was still dating her, wasn’t he?

And then there was Clara. He’d made you believe there was something there, too. He’d admitted it outright—he’d used her. Said it with a kind of brutal honesty that had stung more than it soothed. The worst part was that you had valued his honesty, that it had felt like a gift even as it tore you apart. You knew him well enough to believe he hadn’t lied, not about that. His words had been sincere, and that sincerity only made it harder to bear.

The truth was a weight in your chest, heavy and immovable: one of the most important friendship of your life was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Even if you and Joel managed to untangle yourselves from this mess, to salvage whatever was left, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing could undo what had happened. His kisses, his sharp words, the way his touch had lingered—they had left marks you couldn’t erase, scars you weren’t sure you wanted to hide.

You stepped into the bathroom, shedding your clothes in silence. The room was cold, the tiles biting at your feet as you turned on the shower. The water sputtered, then poured hot and steady, and you stepped under it, letting the heat soak into your skin. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, imagining the water washing him off of you, carrying away his touch, his scent, the ghost of his hands.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Later, cocooned in a pile of warm blankets on the couch, you finally began to feel your body relax. The ache in your muscles started to fade, but Joel was still there, present. You felt him in the tender bruises on your hips, where his fingers had gripped you too tightly, as if holding on for dear life. You felt him in the hollow ache inside you, the space he seemed to occupy without even trying.

For a moment, you thought you could smell him on your skin—a faint trace of cedar and salt, something earthy and him—but you shook the thought away. It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

You pressed your head deeper into the couch cushions and closed your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on sleep, on anything but the way he had looked at you tonight.

Your body was still. Your mind was anything but.

When you woke, your back ached in protest, the sharp pull of poorly positioned sleep making you wince. The dry taste in your mouth felt like a rebuke, and your eyes were heavy with the kind of exhaustion that lingers even after hours of rest. A dull headache crept in as you pushed yourself upright, the blankets slipping off your shoulders.

The clock on the small side table blinked at you from under the soft glow of the lamp you’d just switched on. 9:23 PM. You’d been asleep for nearly three hours.

You groaned softly, rubbing at your lower back with one hand as you stood, catching a glimpse of yourself in the living room mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, disheveled and weary. Puffy eyes, tangled hair, pajamas that had twisted in your sleep. You looked like the physical embodiment of a bad day. God, you needed a break.

Your thoughts drifted to Cassie, miles away in Rome, likely fast asleep in the early morning hours. Even if she were awake, you weren’t sure you could unload everything on her tonight. You made a mental note to call her tomorrow, when the guilt and exhaustion felt less immediate.

The kitchen was cold and quiet as you opened the fridge, hoping for something—anything—that might resemble comfort. But of course, there was nothing. The emptiness on the shelves felt like a metaphor you didn’t want to unpack. You sighed and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment.

It was times like these when you missed your mother most, her gentle hands brushing your hair back, the way she’d kiss your temple and tell you it would be okay. Living alone meant there was no one to do that for you. No one to soften the edges of your sadness. You had to pick yourself up, take care of yourself, even when it felt impossible.

There had been a time when Joel was that person. And Sarah, with her quick wit and bright smile, had been the distraction you needed. But not anymore. You couldn’t lean on them now. Not after everything. You owed Sarah a make-up evening, though. The memory of her hopeful face when she’d invited you to dinner today made the guilt twist in your chest. Tomorrow, you promised yourself. You’d make it up to her tomorrow.

Resigned, you tied your hair into a loose bun and started chopping vegetables for a salad. The repetitive motion was grounding, if nothing else, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from drifting to darker places. When your phone buzzed on the couch, the sound startled you.

You washed your hands quickly, drying them on your t-shirt as you hurried to pick up the call. Travis’s name lit up the screen, and for a second, you hesitated.

Your chest tightened as guilt surged through you. Ignoring the call wasn’t an option; Travis didn’t deserve that. You swiped to answer, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

He said your name with a kind of warmth that made you pause, like he’d been waiting to hear you for hours.

“Good to find you awake,” he said, his voice gentle but edged with something unsure. “I felt bad leaving your house earlier without saying goodbye properly.”

“You left a note,” you reminded him, sitting back down on the couch and pressing a hand to your forehead. “It’s fine, really.”

“Still,” he said, a faint sigh on the other end. “It felt… a little abrupt. Evasive, maybe?”

You hummed in agreement, not trusting yourself to say more.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern creeping into his tone. “You sound… off.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, covering the microphone as you exhaled shakily. He was right. You did sound off. You felt off. Lately, you felt like you were failing everyone, yourself included.

You and Travis weren’t serious. Nothing had ever been defined. But he’d been kind, patient, more understanding than you probably deserved. And you cared for him, in your way. He’d even told you earlier that he’d wait, that you could take the time you needed to sort things out with Joel. And yet here you were, complicating things further by falling back into Joel’s orbit.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you lied, your voice too even, too practiced. The guilt made your stomach twist.

“Still feeling that hangover, huh?” he teased gently, his laugh light and familiar.

“Probably,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory of last night—his exaggerated grimace as he’d crouched over the toilet, the surreal shade of blue in the bowl.

“Well,” he said after a pause, his tone softening, “tell me you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I was… trying to make a salad or something,” you admitted, glancing at the half-chopped vegetables on the counter. “I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Good,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was thinking about ordering pizza and bringing it over. If you’re up for some company, that is. No pressure. Just friends.”

His voice faltered slightly on the last words, and the sweetness of it made you ache.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Turning him down would feel worse than whatever strange guilt was already weighing on you.

“I like pizza,” you said finally, a smile tugging at your lips. “Definitely better than salad.”

“Way better,” he agreed, laughing softly. “No offense to the salad—or the salad maker.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound lighter than you’d expected.

On the television screen, Vida Boheme radiated elegance, her black-and-white ensemble tailored perfectly, her nails immaculate, and the glint of her pearl necklace catching the soft light. The scene unfolded with Vida sitting at a table surrounded by the women of the village, Noxeema, and Chi Chi, all leaning in as if she were about to reveal a profound secret.

“You know what we should have?” Vida said, her voice lilting with certainty and charm.

The camera cut to Noxeema, dressed in a vibrant orange outfit, her expression deadpan, gesturing as though the answer was obvious.

“A day with the girls,” Noxeema declared, turning to the elderly woman beside her with a conspiratorial smile.

You smiled at the screen mid-bite, the warm glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. Turning to Travis, you shook your head, half-indignant, half-playful, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“I seriously can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie,” you said, your words slightly muffled by the bite of pizza still in your mouth. You quickly swallowed, grabbing your glass of soda for a sip before continuing. “Cassie and I used to watch this one all the time. This or Riding in Cars with Boys. Classic.”

Travis, lounging beside you with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table, gave a casual shrug, glancing at you with a smirk. “Wait, you mean the Drew Barrymore one?”

“Obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes and nudging him with your elbow. “Please tell me you’ve at least seen that one.”

He grinned, as if sensing the trap you’d set for him. “I have,” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching. Then he dropped the bomb. “But it’s kind of a downer, don’t you think?”

You froze mid-reach for another slice of pizza, your head snapping toward him. “A downer?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief. Your eyes narrowed as though he’d just insulted your favorite family member. “Are we talking about the same movie?”

Travis held up his hands defensively, his expression a mix of sheepishness and amusement. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say it was bad! Just… I don’t know, it bums me out.”

He paused to finish chewing a bite of pizza, clearly weighing how to explain himself. You leaned back, arms crossed, waiting.

“Okay, hear me out,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter. “The first time I saw it, I was twenty. It was right after my dad passed away.” He hesitated, glancing down at the pizza in his hand. “Not that I was close to him or anything. Honestly, I barely knew the guy. But my mom… she was wrecked. And watching that movie, seeing all the family stuff, all the pain... It just hit a little too close to home.”

His words hung in the air between you, the weight of them settling quietly in the space you shared. You studied him for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden honesty that had slipped into the conversation. It wasn’t the direction you’d expected things to take, but there was a kind of openness in him now that you couldn’t help but appreciate.

“I had no idea, Trav,” you said softly, your voice gentle as you shifted on the couch to face him more fully. “That makes so much sense.”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a small, self-conscious smile. He seemed almost reluctant to hold your gaze, his fingers idly picking at the edge of the pizza crust in his hand.

“Yeah, well…” he started, his tone lighter now, as if shaking off the vulnerability he’d just shared. “That aside, you gotta admit—the movie’s kinda heavy. All that stuff with the dad? It just plain turns my stomach.”

“With her son’s dad or her dad?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Oh, Lord, her dad,” he groaned, throwing his head back against the couch as if even the memory of the plot exhausted him. “I’d almost forgot ‘bout him. But yeah, both, I reckon. Still, her son’s dad takes the cake. What a piece of work.”

You laughed lightly, the sound bubbling up as you thought back to the first time you’d seen the movie. “I watched it for the first time when I was ten,” you told him, your grin widening as the memory surfaced. “And I’m not kidding when I say it terrified me. I was so scared of getting pregnant as a teenager that I wouldn’t even let my first boyfriend hold my hand.”

Travis let out a warm chuckle, the sound drawing a smile to your lips. He tilted his head toward you, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t how babies happen.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you felt your cheeks flush. “Hey, I was young and ridiculously innocent,” you shot back, holding your hands up in mock defense. “It didn’t matter anyway. The poor guy dumped me before I could even think about trying it.”

Travis laughed again, a deeper, more genuine laugh that sent a pleasant warmth spreading through you. The way his face softened when he laughed, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, it tugged at something deep inside you. You found yourself watching him for a beat too long, taking in the quiet tenderness in his expression. There was something different about him tonight—something that felt steady, comforting.

On the television, the women of the village were parading in colorful dresses, their laughter and movements filling the screen with life. Stockard Channing’s character stepped into the frame in a stunning red gown, her hair slicked back, adorned with a sparkling appliqué.

Travis gestured toward the screen with his pizza slice, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Now, that’s somethin’. She’s got, what, maybe ten minutes of screen time? And she just about steals the whole dang movie. I like Vida too. Amazing."

You smiled at his observation, appreciating the way he could shift gears so seamlessly, from quiet reflection to casual banter. “Right? She’s iconic. Cassie and I used to try to copy her attitude, but, uh, let’s just say it didn’t land.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, his grin crooked. “You? Tryin’ to act all high-and-mighty like that? I’d pay good money to see it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you reached for another slice of pizza. “Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly convincing. Cassie, on the other hand… she nailed it. She had the whole icy glare thing down.”

Travis chuckled, leaning back into the couch with an easy smile. “I can’t picture you doin’ icy. You’re too warm for that.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. There was something so matter-of-fact in the way he said it, like it wasn’t a compliment so much as a simple truth.

“Well,” you said after a pause, your voice quieter now, “I guess I’ll just have to stick to being me.”

“Can’t imagine that’s a bad thing,” Travis said, his soft tone softening the edges of his words. He glanced over at you, his gaze warm, steady.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Travis broke eye contact, reaching for another slice of pizza, and you shifted your attention back to the movie.

“Back up, Virgil,” Carol Ann said, her voice firm, her gaze unwavering as she confronted her husband. “I’m a drag queen.”

Virgil, the abusive husband, looked at her surprised.

“Stupid fucker,” Travis muttered under his breath, the words slipping out almost by accident.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, the sound startling in the quiet room. His comment felt so unfiltered, so distinctly him.

The clock on the wall read almost 11 PM, and as the minutes stretched on, you felt the weight of the day settling over you. Your body ached for rest, your eyelids heavy as you stretched your arms above your head.

Leaning back against the couch, you let your head tilt, the soft warmth of Travis’s shoulder inviting as your body gave in to its exhaustion. He didn’t seem to mind, adjusting slightly to make your position more comfortable.

On screen, the movie carried on, but the details blurred as sleep began to pull at you. For a moment, the day’s worries faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the TV, the soft sound of Travis’s breath, and the steady rhythm of your own heart.

For Travis, this was just as complicated as it was for you—maybe even more so in certain ways. He liked you too much, too deeply for how short a time you’d been together. He’d grown accustomed to the way your presence softened the sharp edges of his days, to the ease of your laughter and the subtle ways you tried to hide how much you cared. He’d started to imagine a version of his life with you in it, a version that didn’t feel as far-fetched as it probably should have.

But Joel.

Joel was the immovable obstacle, the thing he could never quite get around. Not because of just jealousy—although there was a trace of that too—but because Travis knew that whatever existed between you and Joel, it was bigger than him. It was bigger than you, even. And he knew, with a sinking kind of certainty, that no matter what he did, no matter how patient or kind or present he tried to be, he would always be standing in Joel’s shadow.

What made it worse, though, was that he accepted it. He wasn’t proud of that, but he had made his peace with it, or at least he thought he had. If being with you meant living with the ghost of your best friend, then fine. He’d find a way to make it work. And if you decided you couldn’t be with him at all—if all you could offer was friendship—then he’d take that too. Hell, he’d even try to like Joel, which would be an uphill battle considering the guy had never mattered much to him before.

Travis dropped his gaze to you, watching in silence for a moment.

He had noticed right away that you’d been crying—your eyes were still a little red, the skin beneath them slightly swollen despite your attempts to hide it. Whatever had happened earlier, he knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Joel.

But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t.

He had promised you time, space, no pressure. And Travis was a man of his word, even if it hurt to keep it.

Still, the thought of Joel had his jaw tightening. For a guy who usually avoided conflict, the idea of punching Joel square in the face had crossed his mind more than once since you’d told him everything. How could Joel have done that to you? How could he have looked at you—you—and treated you with so little care?

Travis didn’t understand.

He knew Joel was stubborn, strong-willed, the kind of guy who seemed charming and generous until the moment he decided otherwise. Joel could be kind, sure. He could be thoughtful, maybe even sweet when he wanted to be. But he could also be cold, sharp-edged, someone who wielded his words like weapons.

“I don’t think that’s true.” His voice was calm, steady, as if he’d already thought this through. “I think Joel has... feelings for you. And I think it scares him so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. That’s why he’s defensive. That’s why he can’t stand me. That’s why he kept watching us at the barbecue like I was committing some kind of crime.”

“Travis—”

You had looked at him then, your expression unreadable, and Travis had felt a small, selfish flicker of hope. You didn't seem to believe him.

Maybe you wouldn’t go back to Joel. Maybe you’d leave him behind for good this time.

He hated himself for thinking it—for the way relief had bubbled up in the pit of his stomach even as you wiped at your eyes, trying to keep your composure. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t the kind of man Travis wanted to be, but the truth of it was there all the same.

Because as much as he wanted to be the one you chose, he wanted you to be okay even more. And he meant it. Even if it made him feel pathetic. Even if it meant giving up the small, selfish hope he’d been holding onto.

When Travis left your house earlier that day, he entered his own feeling like his chest was a tightly wound spring about to snap. His emotions churned in ways he hadn’t anticipated. First, there was confusion—a sharp, disorienting kind of bewilderment. He hadn’t planned on feeling so strongly about you. He had always liked you, sure, but he never expected it to grow into this. This sharp, aching attachment that felt impossible to let go of. Losing the possibility of discovering what you could be together felt like a quiet kind of devastation, one he wasn’t entirely ready to admit to himself.

And then there was jealousy.

Jealousy that burned hot and ugly, coiling itself tightly around his insides until it became hard to breathe. The thought of Joel—his presence, his history with you—sliced through him in a way he couldn’t rationalize. All the interactions he’d had with Joel over the last few weeks replayed in his mind on an endless loop. The veiled comments, the pointed jabs, the little ways Joel had gone out of his way to provoke him, to make him feel small.

The worst part was the anger that followed. Not just at Joel but at himself. For not saying something. For not standing up for himself, for you, for whatever it was that had been building between the two of you. He should have fired back. He should have said something—anything—to cut Joel down to size. But he hadn’t. He’d swallowed the insults, keeping his composure because that was what he did. Because that was who he was.

By the time he made it to his bedroom, Travis felt drained. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to force the tension out of his shoulders. Getting angry wasn’t worth it, he reminded himself, pacing the length of the room as if he could walk off the weight of his emotions. This wasn’t his fight to have; it was yours. Yours and Joel’s.

Still, the thought brought him little comfort.

In an effort to shake off the heaviness in his chest, he went for a walk, letting the brisk evening air sting his face. Later, he stood under the scalding spray of the shower, letting it beat against his skin as if it could scrub away the swirling thoughts that had taken up permanent residence in his mind. By the time he reached for his phone, hoping for a reply from you, the ache in his chest had dulled but hadn’t disappeared entirely.

Hours later, as your soft breaths fell against his shoulder, Travis felt the tension ease slightly. You were asleep, completely at peace, and he was struck by how delicate you seemed in that moment. How your face, so often animated with sharp wit or quiet determination, had softened in sleep. He thought briefly about staying like that all night, letting you rest against him, but the ache in his neck was becoming impossible to ignore.

Just as he was trying to figure out how to move without waking you, there was a knock at the door. Three sharp, deliberate raps that shattered the quiet of the room.

You didn’t stir, not even a little. Travis glanced down at you, then gently slipped out from under your weight, careful to cover you with the blanket you’d neatly folded on the other couch earlier that day.

The hallway felt darker than it had before as he made his way to the door, his mind spinning. Should he wake you up? Probably. He hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob. Was opening the door himself crossing a line? Maybe. But before he could talk himself out of it, he tugged the door open.

And there, standing on your doorstep, was Joel.

For a split second, Joel’s expression betrayed him. His eyebrows lifted, eyes widening slightly as if he hadn’t been expecting Travis to answer the door. The surprise vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something steadier, harder. His gaze flicked past Travis, scanning the interior of the house before landing back on him.

Travis could feel the storm brewing inside him again, all the resentment and frustration he’d tried to let go of earlier crashing back in full force.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. Neither did Travis. The two men stood there, the silence between them thick and unyielding, charged with everything they weren’t saying.

Travis clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to let Joel get under his skin—not again. Whatever reason Joel had for being here, it wasn’t his business. Not really.

"Travis," Joel said, his voice firm and clipped, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "Can you call—"

"Joel," Travis interrupted, his tone sharp but with a thin veil of politeness that neither man believed. "How's it going?"

Joel’s jaw tightened, the movement barely perceptible. If Travis hadn’t been watching so intently, he might have missed it.

"Fine," Joel replied, his impatience cracking through the surface of his calm demeanor. His dark eyes met Travis's with the kind of intensity that felt like a challenge. "I need to talk—"

"She can't right now," Travis interrupted again, his voice firmer this time, leaving no room for debate.

Joel’s eyebrows flicked upward, just a twitch, but enough to betray his irritation. His mind whirred, questions piling up faster than he could address them.

"Is she okay? Did something happen?" Joel asked, his voice low and measured, but laced with something more—an edge of concern that Travis couldn’t fully place.

Travis leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as though settling into the moment. "Oh, she’s fine," he said, feigning nonchalance. "She just had a long day. A really long day." He tilted his head, letting the words linger. "She’s sleeping now. Needed it."

The knot in Joel’s stomach tightened, a slow burn starting to spread through his chest. Something about Travis’s tone—the deliberate drawl, the smug edge—rubbed him raw. "Was she upset about something?"

"You could say that," Travis replied, completely unaware of Joel's concerns, shrugging as though the details were inconsequential. "She was wound up earlier, but I helped her relax."

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting through the smugness Travis wore like armor.

"You helped her relax," Joel repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yeah," Travis said, straightening a little, his smile sharpening. "She needed someone to be there for her. Lucky for me, I was."

Joel’s nostrils flared, his composure cracking slightly. "What are you trying to say, Dunn?"

"Nothing at all," Travis said, his smile widening. "You know how it is. Just statin’ the obvious, you know? Folks like us—we step up when someone needs us. You’d do the same thing, wouldn’t you?”

The words hit Joel like a punch to the gut, an unanticipated blow that left him reeling. A knot began to form in his stomach, twisting tighter with each second of silence.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, looking at Travis, digesting the words as if they were a meal gone bad. His face felt hot, his pulse heavy in his ears.

"Anyway," Travis continued, his tone light but with an edge of something smug, "it's kind of late, isn't it? She had a long day. Poor thing was so tired she fell asleep on me and everything." He smiled, leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It was a deliberate smile, one Joel recognized instantly for what it was: a taunt.

If this conversation had been happening under different circumstances, Joel might have enjoyed hearing such words. Might have smirked at the irony of some guy bragging about holding his girl, oblivious to the fact that she'd been in Joel’s arms earlier that day. But now, standing there on your porch, the words felt like nails in his chest, sharp and unbearable.

“I see,” Joel said finally, his voice tight, each word sounding like it had been carefully measured before leaving his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the floor for just a second before snapping back up. His eyes locked on Travis with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. “I just think it’s a little strange, that’s all. You answerin’ her door like that.” His tone shifted, gaining a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. “Pretty sure she needs to talk to me too, don’t you think?”

Travis chuckled softly, the sound low and disarming, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Why? Did something happen?"

Joel straightened, squaring his shoulders as he inhaled slowly. The action made him seem bigger somehow, more imposing, as if the weight of his presence alone could force Travis to back down.

"None of your business, Dunn," Joel said, his voice gravelly, the words biting.

"Maybe. But today she told me she wasn’t sure she wanted to see you," Travis added, his voice quieter now but no less pointed. "She seemed pretty certain about it. Said she wanted space, and honestly?" He tilted his head, his expression almost pitying. "I think that’s a good call."

Joel stepped forward, his body tense. "You don’t know a damn thing about what’s between us," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

Travis didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened. "Yeah, maybe," he said, his voice light. "But I know what she wants. And tonight? Certainly not you."

The words hit their mark. Joel flinched, barely, but it was enough for Travis to see. Enough for Travis to know he had scored a point in whatever unspoken battle they were waging.

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure.

"Again, none of your damn business," he said, his voice dropping low, rough with frustration. He stepped forward, just an inch, but the movement carried weight.

Travis met Joel’s gaze head-on, his jaw clenched, his body tense. For a brief moment, he considered saying more—letting loose all the things he’d held back in the past. But something in Joel’s expression stopped him. Something raw and heavy, something that mirrored the storm Travis had felt earlier that day.

"Sure," Travis said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "None of my business. But hey, I’ll let her know you stopped by."

Joel let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he took a step back. "Right," he muttered, his voice laced with derision. "Don’t bother. No need."

He lingered for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Travis, a mixture of disdain and something else—something softer, almost mournful—flickering behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off the porch, his steps quick and purposeful.

Inside, Travis closed the door with a quiet sigh. Leaning against the door for a moment, he let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to shake off the lingering tension. It had been childish, he knew that. But Joel had treated him like this before, made him feel small and insignificant, and for once, Travis had enjoyed turning the tables.

He moved quietly down the hallway, stopping briefly in the bathroom before returning to the living room. You were still lying on the couch, curled under the blanket he’d placed over you earlier. Your face was soft in sleep, peaceful, and he felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name as he looked at you.

Instead of heading to the guest room or leaving altogether, Travis grabbed the remote and settled onto the other end of the couch, careful not to disturb you. He flipped through the channels aimlessly, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering light across the room.

This time, he wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t scribble out a note or disappear before you woke up. Tonight, he’d stay.

Travis leaned against the kitchen island, watching you with quiet amusement as you poured sugar into your coffee cup. The soft hum of the morning settled around you, the slow ache in your back from sleeping on the couch a reminder of how little sleep you'd gotten. You glanced over at him—he was still there, still here, though you hadn't expected him to stay the night. His presence surprised you, though there was a comforting weight in it, one you hadn’t quite prepared for.

The coffee, when you finally tasted it, was perfect—rich, balanced, like it knew exactly what you needed to start the day. You closed your eyes briefly as the warmth spread, savoring the sensation. Travis chuckled softly from behind you. "Is it good?"

You smiled to yourself, the corner of your lips curving slightly. "Like you have no idea," you teased, letting the moment stretch just a little longer before breaking it.

“Well, let’s do this again sometime," he said, pushing himself off the stool. He straightened his coat with an exaggerated gesture, his voice light, almost playful. "Smells good.”

You didn’t respond immediately, just took another sip of coffee and turned to the toaster, waiting for the bread to pop. The quiet felt like a small luxury, one you weren't used to, but savored nonetheless.

“Well, I’m off,” Travis said, his footsteps echoing faintly as he moved toward the door. "I’ll see you later, okay?"

You glanced over your shoulder, the cup still cradled in your hands. "Sure, I’ll text you," you said, as his lips brushed against your cheek in a quick, lingering kiss. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

His eyes softened for a moment, a promise without words. “Of course,” he said, and then he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

Alone, you turned and reached for your phone, which sat untouched on the coffee table. It had been the first thing you'd done when you woke up—texting Cassie. Her response had been as you expected: she was home, curled up in bed, eating ice cream and watching TV. It was 4 pm in Rome.

“Aw, look at you,” Cassie cooed, her smile lighting up the screen. She tilted her head, examining you with playful scrutiny. “How cute do you look this morning? How’d you sleep?”

You exhaled slowly, leaning back in your chair as you tried to find the words to describe the chaotic whirlwind of emotions you’d woken up with. “It was... okay,” you said finally, your voice hesitant. You paused for a moment before adding, “Travis came over last night.”

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up, and her face practically filled the screen as she leaned closer to her phone. “Ooooh, Travis,” she teased, dragging out his name with a knowing grin. “Well, well, well. Did something finally happen? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, albeit nervously, as you reached for your coffee mug. The warmth of the ceramic grounded you, but the bitterness of the coffee didn’t do much to mask the knot tightening in your chest. “No, nothing like that,” you said after a sip, shaking your head as you spoke. “In fact, I don’t think anything is ever going to happen between us.”

Cassie’s playful expression faltered, replaced by a look of concern. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “Wait, what? Why not? Did he do something?” Her tone softened, but her curiosity didn’t waver. “C’mon, tell me.”

You hesitated, staring into your coffee as if the swirling liquid might somehow hold the answer. The truth had been sitting heavily on your chest all morning, and you knew you couldn’t keep it in much longer. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost apologetic. “It’s just... I—”

Cassie leaned in closer, her eyes wide with anticipation. “You what?”

The weight of what you were about to say made your chest tighten. You hadn’t spoken it aloud yet, and the words felt sharp and foreign on your tongue. But there was no other way to get it out than to just... say it.

“I slept with Joel.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and the moment they left your mouth, your heart started pounding like it was trying to break free.

Cassie froze, her jaw dropping as her eyes went wide with shock. For a moment, she just stared at you, her face a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “Wait, wait, wait. What?! When?!”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you set your mug down. “Yesterday,” you admitted in a whisper, avoiding her gaze. “And, um... on his birthday.”

Cassie’s mouth fell open even wider, her hands flying to her face. “No. You are not serious right now.”

“I am,” you said, sighing as you ran a hand through your hair. “It just... happened. I don’t even know how to explain it, Cassie. I should’ve told you sooner, but... everything’s just been so complicated.”

She leaned back, shaking her head slowly as if trying to process the bomb you’d just dropped. Then, without warning, her face lit up with wild excitement.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, her voice rising a few octaves. “I knew this was gonna happen! I totally knew it! Tommy and I used to joke about it all the time—like, ‘When are they gonna stop being so stubborn and finally admit it?’”

You blinked, looking at her with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Wait—What? You guys were talking about us? What, like a whole secret conspiracy or something?”

Cassie burst out laughing, her grin widening. “Oh, honey, it was not a secret. Tommy was basically on a countdown. We’d be sitting there, sipping our beers, and he’d go, ‘Any day now, he’ll cave. We just need to wait for the stars to align.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of it all making your head spin.

“I’m over here thinking I’ve been doing a pretty good job at keeping my feelings in check, and meanwhile, Tommy’s plotting my love life like some kind of matchmaking genius?”

Cassie shot you a teasing look. “Oh, he’s not a genius. More like an overenthusiastic amateur. But he’s not wrong, was he?”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. “This is ridiculous.”

It took a while for her to collect herself, but then she zeroed in on the more important question.

“How was it? Does Travis know?”

“Yeah, he knows... about the first time,” you said, a sigh escaping your lips as you rubbed your forehead, exhausted. “I... Well, it wasn’t planned.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I assumed as much.”

You exhaled slowly, gathering your thoughts. "So, on his birthday... we had this massive argument," you started, your voice a little shaky as you remembered how everything had unfolded. "He’d been hiding this thing from me—he's been dating someone... Sienna, that's her name. He didn't tell me, not even once. I had to find out from Sarah." You paused, shaking your head in disbelief. "And then, he actually asked Tommy not to say anything. Can you even believe that? Like, really? I thought he trusted me."

Cassie’s face tightened as she processed your words, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, the concern in her voice palpable. "What the hell is wrong with him? He couldn't even be honest with you?" Her gaze darkened slightly, her brow furrowing. "I swear, some people... men."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

"Exactly. That's exactly how I felt. He didn’t even tell me, so I confronted him about it. And we fought—big time. He actually told me I was just jealous. Said he knew I had feelings for him, that I liked him. And I—I just snapped. I told him no, I didn’t. That he wasn’t my type. That we were just friends." You rubbed your temples, trying to remember how you felt in that moment. "I was so mad, Cassie. So pissed off that he’d kept something like that from me."

Cassie’s expression softened a little, though there was still a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You totally hit his ego, didn’t you?” she said with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Come on, admit it. That had to have been part of it."

You couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly.

"Yeah, I guess I did," you admitted, rolling your eyes in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help myself. It just came out."

"Well, I’m sure it worked," Cassie mused, leaning back into her chair with a sigh. She paused, her lips curling up into a grin. "So, then... you kissed him, huh?"

You closed your eyes at the thought of it.

"I did," you said, your voice a little more distant as the memory replayed in your mind. "And it was... God, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had. No joke. The best." You let out a breath, feeling the weight of your words. "And the best sex too. Sorry, but it’s true."

Cassie gasped in dramatic disbelief, her hands flying to her face.

"Joel Miller," she whispered, almost in awe, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite process it. "Who would've thought? You’re killin’ me here. This is too much."

You nodded slowly, still lost in the vividness of the moment.

"Yeah, but here’s the kicker," you continued, your voice quieter now, a trace of sadness creeping into your words. "When I woke up, he was gone. Just... gone. No note, nothing. It was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Then, when he came back to talk to me, he said it was a mistake. That we should never have crossed that line. And he... he looked at me like I was the one who’d messed everything up. Like I was the one to blame. And we fought again, Cassie. I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t."

You felt the weight of everything you’d said—the confusion, the regret, the pain—and let it hang in the air. Cassie sat silently, processing it all, her eyes soft but intense, focused on you as she tried to understand your tangled mess of emotions.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you finally took a breath (an hour, maybe?), looking up to find Cassie watching you with a quiet expression, her concern clearly etched in her features. You shifted uncomfortably.

"I don’t know what to do, Cass," you said, your voice small, the heaviness in your chest like a brick pressing down. "I feel like I’m losing my mind over all this. Like I’m... I don’t even know anymore."

Cassie stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed everything you’d told her. Then she let out a soft sigh, sitting up straighter.

“Well,” she said, her tone calm but firm, “it’s pretty clear to me what’s going on.” Her voice softened just a little, but it was certain. "Do you want me to tell you what I think?"

You looked at her, the uncertainty swirling inside you, but you nodded, desperate for some clarity.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice filled with so much tension, you felt like you might snap.

Cassie didn’t hesitate. “You love him. And he loves you,” she said simply, her words hitting you like a wave. “It’s been obvious from the start, hasn’t it? You both tiptoe around it, but the signs are all there. I even asked him once, you know.”

You blinked, caught off guard. "You asked him?"

She nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Yeah. It was a while ago—on your birthday, I think, when you were turning... twenty-eight? I asked him straight out, just to see what he'd say. He denied it, of course. Told me he only saw you as a friend. But, honey, I saw through it. He was nervous as hell. You could practically see the feelings swimming under the surface. It was obvious.”

Your breath caught in your throat. "What do I do, Cass? What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Cassie exhaled slowly, her expression softening as she looked at you with understanding.

“You need to stop running from it,” she said, her voice gentle but full of conviction. “You love him, and he loves you. If there’s nothing standing in your way, you’ve got to go for it. You can’t just keep pretending it isn’t there.”

You swallowed, your heart heavy in your chest. "But what about Travis? He’s... he’s... And Sienna, Joel doesn't even—"

“That woman he’s dating, Sienna, isn’t an obstacle, I mean, it's obviously not serious. He's just going to break up with her and that's it. And Travis, well, that isn’t serious either,” Cassie said, her voice firm with conviction. “So really, what’s stopping you from going to talk to Joel and figuring things out? Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing in your way. Besides, he told you himself, didn’t he? Yesterday, he admitted it—that he misses you, that he’s sorry, and that he feels terrible about everything. I’m not saying you need to forgive him right away or pretend that everything is fine, but—come on, in my opinion, he deserves a chance to show you how sorry he is.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the idea of confronting Joel still sitting heavy in your stomach.

"This makes me nervous," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Cassie asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Talking to him... I don't know, God, it makes me nauseous just thinking about it," you admitted, your hands shaking slightly as you placed them in your lap. The thought of confronting Joel about everything, of peeling back all the layers of confusion and regret, felt like a weight that would crush you.

Cassie’s laughter was soft but genuine, amusement dancing in her voice as she took in your panicked expression.

“Easy,” she said, trying to soothe your nerves. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to Joel first, then you can figure out what you’re going to do with Travis.”

You shook your head, the knot in your stomach tightening. “No, Cassie, I’m telling you, Joel never actually said he wanted to be with me. In fact, he was pretty clear that he was willing to accept Travis... and—”

"Jesus Christ," Cassie cut you off, her voice rising with frustration. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto you, as if trying to break through your fog of doubt. "Are you even listening to yourself right now?" she asked, her tone a mix of exasperation and impatience. "He told you that because he’s terrified, okay? He’s scared of what might happen between you two, but trust me, he wants you. Deep down, he’s desperate to be close to you again. He said all that because he wants to convince you, but it's clear as day. He’s not trying to shut you out; he's trying to gain you back. He needs you, and you need him. That’s the truth."

She let out a breath, her face softening for a second. "You need to stop overthinking everything and just see it for what it is. Trust me."

You exhaled slowly, trying to process her words, but the doubt still clouded your mind.

“Okay, I trust you, Cass, I do, but... what if I go talk to him and he tells me that I’m wrong, that he doesn’t want anything, that I’ve misunderstood everything? What if it’s all just one big mistake on my part? I couldn’t stand the humiliation. I just couldn’t,” you said, your voice rising with the tension. “If that happens... I’ll move out. I’ll leave. I’m serious. I don’t think I could live with myself after that.”

Cassie groaned loudly, her frustration palpable. She covered her face with both hands, groaning again before dropping them dramatically. When she finally looked at you, her eyes were sharp, her gaze unwavering.

“You’re being way too dramatic,” she said, her voice tinged with exasperation. “That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to shut you down like that. But if you’re really that insecure about it, then just... take it slow. Go talk to him. See what he says. Don’t try to rush it, okay? You’ve already done the hardest part, just by being honest with yourself.”

You rubbed your eyes, a mix of frustration and exhaustion settling in.

“Okay,” you said after a long pause, your voice quieter. “I’ll do that. I wanted to invite Sarah over anyway, so I might as well start there. I’ll take it one step at a time.”

Cassie’s face softened with approval, her lips curving into a smile. “Sounds perfect to me. You’ll do fine.”

The conversation shifted then, easing into lighter topics as you both chatted aimlessly for the next couple of hours. It was around noon when Cassie started telling you about the small chaos in her life. She vented about a fight she’d gotten into with the guy who lived below her, the constant tension over thin apartment walls. Then, there was her boyfriend—how he’d been acting strange, how she’d found some unsettling things on his phone that made her question everything. You listened, nodding along as she vented her frustrations.

Then, she shared something that took you by surprise.

“I really need to get away from Rome,” she confessed, her tone suddenly more serious. “I’m thinking about coming to Austin for a bit. A change of scenery... I just need a break from everything, from the stress. I need to recharge.”

You grinned at her, feeling a sense of relief and excitement bubble inside you. The idea of seeing her, of having her nearby again, was like a lifeline. You wanted her here, now more than ever. And you couldn’t help but celebrate inwardly that her need to escape Rome stemmed from conflict—something that meant you’d have her to yourself, even if just for a little while.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, you heard the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck engine, a sound that seemed to make your heart skip a beat. You hurried over to the window, your pulse quickening as you pressed your hand against the cool glass, watching him. Joel’s truck backed out of the driveway, and there she was, Sarah—her smile wide and easy as she climbed into the passenger seat. They drove off together, the sound of the engine fading as they disappeared down the street.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to watch so closely. Maybe it was just to reassure yourself that he wasn’t avoiding you or that whatever had happened between you the night before wasn’t as messy as it seemed in your head. But there they were, together, and you couldn’t shake the knot tightening in your stomach.

Half an hour later, the engine rumbled back into your consciousness. You pressed your ear to the window, straining to catch the sound of his truck once more. When you saw them return, your anxiety flared up again. They weren’t gone long, and that gnawing feeling of uncertainty crept back in, latching itself onto your chest. You knew what you had to do. You couldn’t wait any longer, or it would just get harder to face him. To face this. To face everything.

Taking a deep breath, you rushed upstairs. You threw on a thick white sweater over your T-shirt, pulling it down quickly over your hips, the fabric brushing against your skin. You stood in front of the mirror for a moment, running your fingers through your hair. It was wild, messy—just like everything else—but you managed to smooth it into something presentable. A little makeup, just enough to make you feel like you weren’t about to crack under the weight of this conversation. You didn’t want to look like you were out of control. You needed to feel in control.

When you went back downstairs, your heart raced, and a part of you wanted to turn back. To hide. To not deal with any of it. But then you remembered. He came looking for you yesterday, right? He wanted to talk, and he had been honest with you. You could do this. You just had to go to him. No more games, no more hesitation. You had to find out where you stood. You couldn’t keep putting it off, not without making everything feel even more tangled and complicated.

The door swung open in front of you as if the universe was pushing you forward, or maybe it was just the weight of your own feet propelling you. The cool air slapped at your cheeks as you stepped outside, the breeze sharp against your skin. The sun, bright but low, kissed your face in a way that should’ve been comforting, but instead, it made everything feel more vivid. You walked quickly, every step pulsing with nervous energy, your body moving faster than your thoughts.

When you reached Joel’s door, you stopped for a moment, staring at the old, worn wood. Your fist trembled as it hovered over the surface, then you knocked, three quick, tentative raps.

Silence stretched for a few seconds—seconds that felt like hours. You almost knocked again, your resolve faltering, but just as your fist was about to make contact, the door opened.

There he was. Joel.

His figure filled the doorway, leaning slightly, the faintest hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He was dressed simply—black pants, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, Converse shoes. Casual, effortless. His hair was the usual mess, tousled and rebellious, little spikes jutting out as if the world had no business asking him to tame it. It should have been familiar, comforting, but something about the way he stood there, looking at you—neutral, unreadable—shifted the air around you.

Your heart stuttered. His eyes weren’t soft like they had been the night before. They were guarded, intense, fixed on your face, as though he were waiting for you to speak first. There was something in that expression, something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the uncertainty or the confusion or the way his jaw was set, like he was preparing for whatever was about to happen.

"Hi, Joel," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, flooding your cheeks. It was ridiculous, how shy you suddenly felt in front of him, but you couldn’t help it. "How are you?"

He let out a sharp sigh, as if the sound itself was an effort, and his gaze shifted past you, looking out into the distance like something on the other side of the street had become suddenly fascinating. His eyes briefly flickered back to you, and for a split second, they dropped to your neck, then to your lips—lingering there a moment too long before quickly darting back to your face, as if he was consciously avoiding something. A pang of disappointment struck you, sharp and immediate. You swallowed, your pulse quickening, suddenly aware of the closeness between you both. You just wanted him to look at you the way he used to, to see something familiar in his eyes again.

"I'm kinda busy, actually," Joel muttered, his voice colder than you'd ever heard it, the words clipped and distant.

“Oh… what are you doing?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your curiosity slipping out before your thoughts could catch up.

Joel shifted his weight against the doorframe, making the subtle move of pulling himself back, like he was creating even more space between you. His eyes flicked to you, briefly scanning you from head to toe, before he looked away again, almost as if the idea of meeting your gaze was something he wanted to avoid.

"Need somethin'?" he asked, his tone flat, almost uninterested.

The words hit you like a slap. The detachment in his voice was like ice water thrown in your face, and the coldness of it left you reeling. You felt a tightness in your stomach, your heart stuttering in your chest, as you tried to steady yourself. Something had shifted—something was off, and you could feel it, heavy in the air between you.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," you said, shifting nervously on your feet. Your voice was quiet, but firm, the question you’d been holding back finally slipping out. “Can we talk about what happened?”

He raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable, cold.

"What for?" he asked, his voice clipped, hard. His gaze flickered over you again, and it almost felt like he was sizing you up—like you were nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

You stood there, completely thrown off by his coldness, the harshness of his words catching you off guard.

“What for?" you repeated, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "Well, to… to clear the air, Joel,” you added, the words barely coming out, as though saying them made the weight of the situation even heavier.

Joel shifted, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, his posture defensive. His eyes roamed over you briefly, then locked onto your face. The movement was so subtle, but it felt like a barrier being put up between you both. Your chest tightened as his presence seemed to grow colder, more distant. You felt a knot twist deeper in your stomach.

“There’s nothing to clear up,” Joel said, his voice now cutting through the silence, blunt and sharp.

You inhaled sharply, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and you took a small step forward, your body moving without thinking. But even as you did, you could feel it—the growing chasm between you, the space he’d created between you that seemed impossible to cross. His arms remained firmly crossed, his body language locked tight.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked, your voice softer now, laced with confusion and hurt. You could feel your heart aching, the raw emotion creeping into your words despite yourself. “Why are you acting like this?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, the tension in his face so palpable that it almost felt like a physical barrier between you. His eyes darted to the side, catching the fading light of the afternoon, and his profile was so perfect, so effortless in its intensity, that it made your chest ache with something you couldn’t name. He didn’t have to look so goddamn beautiful when he was angry, when he was pulling away like this.

“I ain’t actin’ in any way,” he finally muttered, his voice low, rough, and weary. It was as if the words didn’t even belong to him, like they were just something he was forced to say. “I’m just tellin’ you that you and I ain’t got nothin’ to talk about.”

The words hit you like a slap. The frustration bubbled up from your chest, burning in your throat, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You exhaled sharply, trying to control the tremble in your voice.

“God, Joel,” you muttered, your words heavy with exasperation, frustration, and the kind of confusion that felt like it was cracking your heart open. “Why do you always do that? What the hell happened yesterday? What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you just stop confusing me for one damn second?”

Joel scoffed, the sound like a knife scraping against stone, a sharp, sarcastic laugh that didn’t even reach his eyes. He turned his head, looking past you, anywhere but at you, as if trying to escape the weight of the moment, as if you were somehow the one making this harder than it had to be.

You stood there, watching him, your heart racing in your chest, trying to understand what was going on in his mind. But the more you tried, the more it felt like the pieces just wouldn’t fit. When he finally looked back at you, there was something in his expression—a cold amusement, a bitterness that didn’t belong. It made the pit in your stomach twist painfully.

“I confuse you?” he asked, his voice now laced with amusement, as he pointed at your chest with his index finger. His eyes glinted, but the expression didn’t reach his face, not really.

You crossed your arms, mimicking his stance, as if somehow it would make you feel less vulnerable.

“Yes, Joel, you confuse me.”

He shook his head slowly, still smiling that bitter little smile.

“I’m done with this conversation, darlin’,” he said, his voice colder now. “And with all of this.”

Frustration bubbled up again, and you took a step back, feeling the familiar sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You tried to hold it together, but the pressure in your chest was too much.

“What the fuck is wrong with your head, Joel?” you asked, quieter now, but the words still packed a punch. “Seriously, because it’s not normal to act this way.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, that same unreadable expression on his face, the silence stretching between you like a thick wall.

“Can you say something, at least?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them, desperate for something, anything, to break through.

“I think I was pretty clear,” he said after a long pause, his voice clipped. “I’m done with this conversation.”

You laughed, incredulous, the sound bitter on your tongue. “It’s ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself.

Joel’s gaze turned hard again, like stone.

“And if I recall correctly,” he continued, “I expressed myself quite well yesterday. I don’t intend to waste breath repeating somethin' that serves no purpose.”

You stared at him, stunned, the realization sinking in.

“You’re mad because I didn’t come to dinner last night, is that it?” The words came out before you could stop them, and part of you hated yourself for asking it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

Joel paused, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Ah, no,” he clarified, shaking his head, his tone sharper now. “I think you had other plans, didn’t you?”

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what he was saying, of what this all meant. But as he stood there, waiting for you to speak, you realized there was no clear answer coming. You didn’t know what to say anymore.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Joel replied, his voice tight, as he pushed away from the doorframe. His hand waved dismissively toward the door handle, an almost casual gesture that only made your frustration grow. "But it's all good, don't worry."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his tone.

"Is this about Travis?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, a bemused smile starting to form as you processed what might be happening. Was Joel really making some kind of jealous scene?

Joel sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in that familiar way you knew meant he was worn out, defeated even. He took a half step back, gesturing toward the door like he was dismissing the whole conversation with a simple movement. The air between you was thick, and you could feel your neck heating with the anger that had begun to coil tightly in your chest.

"No," you said, your voice low but heavy with irritation. "You're not gonna do this."

You didn't back down, not this time. You stepped closer, closer than you ever had before, your body moving almost instinctively. Your hand found his, gently but firmly pushing it away from the door handle.

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, surprised, but there was a hardness in his expression that only deepened the tension between you. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, and it made something inside of you feel a little less afraid.

“Stop acting like that and talk to me,” you said, your voice quiet but urgent, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. You were so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, see the subtle flicker of something—anger, maybe, or something deeper—behind his guarded eyes. You almost wished he’d let it out. Anything, just to break this suffocating silence.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp breath, as if trying to calm the storm inside him. He turned his face away briefly, looking out into the distance like the world outside was more important than what was standing right in front of him. When he finally met your eyes again, it was like a wall had been erected between you, the tension in his gaze so thick it made the air feel heavier.

“What’s the use?” he shot back, his voice rising, rough with frustration. "What’s the use of me talkin’ to you? Tell me, what’s the fucking point of it?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You had no idea what was happening between you anymore.

He didn’t wait for you to speak. “I was clear with you yesterday,” Joel continued, his voice growing more intense with every word. "I told you everything. Everything. What do you want to talk about now? What fucking sense does it make?”

His words stung, but they didn’t scare you. You took a step closer, your chest tight with both anger and desperation.

"Yes, you did," you replied, your voice steady now, despite the pounding in your chest. "But we didn’t solve anything, did we?"

The laugh that left Joel's lips was harsh, bitter. It echoed in your ears, making your stomach drop.

“I confuse you," he muttered, sarcasm lacing his tone. "You say I confuse you, don’t you?" He shook his head, an empty laugh leaving him. "But I’m not the one who throws himself on top of you, takes you to bed, and hours later spends the night with someone else.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The words hit you like a physical blow, and you stepped back, your pulse racing in your ears. You stared at him, unable to form a sentence, your mind struggling to process the accusation.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling as the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The space between you felt like it was closing in, thick and suffocating, every breath becoming harder to take. You wanted to step back, but your feet wouldn’t move.

Joel stood frozen, his posture rigid, eyes dark with frustration and something deeper—something raw—that you couldn’t quite name. The tension hung between you like a heavy fog, and every second that passed felt like an eternity. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, and it was like he was trying to see right through you, into everything you’d tried to keep hidden.

“You say you can’t be my friend,” he started, his voice rough, like every word was being dragged out of him. “That you want me gone.” He paused, his breath hitching, and you could see the weight of it in his chest, in the way his fists clenched. “I... I had to sit there. Day after day. Watching you walk around with him—watching you laugh, watching you pretend like it was all fine, like none of it mattered.” His voice cracked, the emotion too much for him to contain. His eyes darkened, and the hurt in them felt like a punch to the gut. “But it wasn’t fine, was it? It never was.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the words slicing through you. You wanted to say something, anything, but the truth was, you didn’t know how to answer. How could you explain the mess that had been brewing inside you for so long? The confusion, the guilt, the longing, the fear.

Joel’s breath quickened as he continued, his words gaining momentum, each one a little sharper, a little more painful.

“And then, when I finally decide to take control of my feelings—when I finally decide to be honest with you, to lay everything out, to tell you how I feel—you just shut me down. Just like that.” He gestured sharply with his hand, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of his frustration. “And then you sleep with me again. For what? Was it even real? Did you even think about it, or was it just another damn impulse?”

“Joel—” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The rawness in his voice, the way it trembled with pain, made it impossible to breathe.

“And I don’t give a damn that you didn’t come to dinner,” he cut you off, his tone now biting, hard like steel. “That’s not the problem. Not really.” He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. They were searching, desperate, like he was trying to find something in you that made sense—something he could hold on to. “You kissed me. You kissed me and made me think maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel the same way. But I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I? I guess that meant nothing to you.” His voice wavered, breaking on the last word, and you could see the pain written all over his face. “So why the hell did we do it?”

The words hit you like a blow, sharp and heavy, but it didn’t stop something inside you from snapping. The frustration, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to hold in anymore. You opened your mouth, and the words rushed out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, it was an impulse,” you shot back, your voice thick with frustration, raw and unfiltered. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it, or that I regret it. You, of all people, should know that.” The words were sharp, but they were true. You weren’t going to apologize for wanting him. For needing him. For feeling something real that couldn’t just be swept away. “Don’t you dare be a hypocrite.”

Joel’s eyes flared, and he took a step closer, his body tense with rage. His face was a mask of fury, and the air between you seemed to crackle with the force of it.

“I don’t give a shit,” he spat, his words bitter, venomous. They landed between you like daggers, each one cutting deeper. His gaze burned into you, dark and endless, and you could feel the heat of it searing through you. “You think you can just walk away from this without any consequences? You think I’m just some damn fool you can toy with?”

You didn’t back down. You couldn’t. Every part of you ached, but there was something inside you that refused to let him see how much he was breaking you.

“No,” you whispered, your voice quieter now but filled with a quiet strength. “But I’m not the one who’s been playing games here.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything left unsaid. Joel’s breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting to stay in control, to hold onto something, anything. But you couldn’t hold onto anything anymore, not when he was looking at you like this. Not when you both knew everything was falling apart.

Finally, Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell you want from me no more,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “I really don’t. I’m done. You can go on and tell that to your doorman.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” you shot back, your voice sharp, cutting through the tension in the air.

Joel’s expression twisted with anger, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m talkin’ about that damn idiot you like,” he snapped. “Stop actin’ like you don’t know a damn thing.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, your vision blurred, the sting of his anger biting into you. But you weren’t about to let him see you break. You bit down on your lip, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall.

You glared at him, your hands balled into fists, trembling with the effort to control yourself. Stepping forward, you shoved the door open, the force of it leaving a crack in the silence.

“You’re full of shit, Joel,” you shot back, your voice low but fierce, the tremble in it only adding to the weight of your words. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Determined, you turned and walked quickly, your steps carrying you away from him, away from everything that had gone wrong between you. But you didn’t get far. As if by some cruel twist of fate, you heard him behind you—his long strides eating up the distance in seconds.

“I’m not doing this again,” you said, your voice shaking now, but you kept your back to him, gripping the door handle with white knuckles, holding on like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

You didn’t want him inside. You didn’t want to face him, not like this, not with everything so broken between you. You opened the door wide and turned, positioning yourself between him and your entrance like a wall.

Joel stopped at the edge of your space, standing there for a moment, silent. His eyes—his entire face—betrayed a chaos of emotions. He looked at you like he was struggling to breathe. Slowly, carefully, he moved a step closer, his face so close to yours now that you could feel his breath, the warmth of it. His voice cracked when he spoke again.

“I was honest with you,” Joel whispered, his voice barely above a breath, thick with emotion. His words trembled as if they carried the weight of something unbearable. “I told you everything, every damn thing I’d been holding inside for so long. I didn’t wanna do that—hell, it’s damn near impossible for me. But I did it. I laid it all out for you. For you, damn it.” His voice cracked, the rawness of it hitting you harder than anything. “I was ready for anything, anything you wanted. I’d do whatever it took, even if it meant beggin’. I'd take whatever you threw at me, no matter how much it hurt. But then..." He paused, and you could feel the weight of his words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. “Then you kissed me. You fucking kissed me. And for just a minute, I thought maybe... maybe you didn’t hate me that much. Maybe this could be somethin’. Maybe we could be somethin'. More than just... whatever the hell we’ve been lately, you know?”

His voice faltered, cracking at the edges, and you could see the pain behind his eyes, raw and real.

"But what was it for?" he asked, the words bitter on his tongue, as if they had burned him just to speak them. “What was it all for?”

The tears started to fall before you could stop them, hot against your cold skin. You stood there, silent, the air heavy between you two. His anger was palpable, the frustration, the hurt, everything he’d been holding back pouring out in waves. You didn’t know what to say, you were terribly confused, but you didn't have the strength to ask the reason for his discomfort, for this sudden anger.

Joel took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a kind of desperation that made your heart ache.

“You tell me,” he said, his voice rising now, tinged with something like pleading, something you hadn’t expected. His teary eyes were glowing in the daylight. "What was it for? So you could turn around, go back to him, and not even wait a damn day before you’re back in his arms? Gettin' his fuckin' dick wet like nothing happened? Is that what this was all for?”

His words were harsh, cutting into the quiet, and you could hear the anger, but also the heartbreak in them, in him.

You opened your mouth in disbelief, a gasp escaping your throat as if the words he’d just thrown at you had physically wounded you. The pain in your chest was sudden, sharp—like something had cracked open inside you. Your hands trembled as you raised them, and with whatever strength you could muster, you shoved him away, hard. Joel staggered back, his breath coming quick, his chest heaving in frustration. But before he could say anything, you took a step toward him, your palms pushing against his chest again, this time with even more force.

“I never slept with Travis, you fucking asshole,” you choked out through your tears, the words tumbling out like you were trying to expel something suffocating. “Never. Not once.”

The change in Joel’s face was instant, a shift so sudden it was almost imperceptible. His expression softened, confusion flickering behind his eyes, his mouth opening slightly, as if he was about to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. But you weren’t done.

“I can't fucking believe it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The hurt in your chest felt like it was pressing down on your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

He took a step back, eyes searching yours, almost like he was looking for some sort of explanation, but you didn’t have one.

“That's ridiculous, you were pretty obvious at the barbecue, right?” he started, his voice strained.

“I fucking lied to you, Joel,” you said, your voice cracking. The admission felt like it tore something open inside you. “I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you. I… I don’t know, I just wanted to make you feel bad. So I fucking lied about it, just like you did with Clara, remember?"

His face twisted in disbelief, his eyes narrowing as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you rushed on, the anger bubbling up in your chest again, the pain mixing with something else—something darker.

“You really think I’m capable of sleeping with you, and then doing it with him?” You shook your head, unable to believe the distance between what he was thinking and what had actually happened. “What kind of person do you think I am? You don't know me at all.”

His jaw clenched, muscles tightening like a coil ready to snap, and his eyes—God, his eyes—flashed with something so intense you couldn’t quite place it. Anger, maybe? Or was it something deeper, something darker? Fear? Desperation? You couldn’t tell, but the way his gaze hardened, like steel being forged in fire, made you want to crawl out of your own skin. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“And what the fuck do you want me to believe?” Joel demanded, his voice rough and jagged, cracking like a man at the end of his rope. It was raw—like he hadn’t just been hurt, but betrayed. “When I came to see you last night, he—he was pretty damn clear with me.” His words punched the air, heavy with the weight of something he’d been holding back, but his frustration was impossible to ignore. "How the hell can I believe a damn thing you tell me now?"

“How?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief. “How the hell? I’m your damn best friend. Have I ever lied to you? You act like you don’t even fucking know me anymore.”

“Well, I don’t know,” he started, his voice strained with a false calm. “According to Dunn, he seems to know you better than I do. Maybe he's right. And clearly, you didn’t wanna see me last night, did you?”

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. You froze, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of emotions swirling inside you. His words didn’t fit together in your mind. What was he talking about? Your pulse quickened, but your throat tightened, like you were choking on your own confusion.

“What... what are you talking about?” The words slipped out in a whisper, barely more than a breath. You wanted to understand, but nothing made sense anymore. Everything felt like it was collapsing in on itself. "Please explain it to me."

Joel exhaled sharply, his breath heavy with exhaustion, like the very air was too thick for him to breathe. He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down slowly, as if trying to wake himself up from some twisted nightmare he couldn’t escape. The frustration, the hurt—he was wearing it on his skin now, like a second layer.

"Ask him," Joel muttered, his voice tight, strained. "I’m done. I’m fuckin’ tired of all of this. I can’t do it anymore, damn it." His shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was on them.

And then, as if the final shred of strength he had left had finally snapped, he let his hands fall to his sides, defeated. A short, bitter laugh broke from him, harsh and empty, echoing in the silence. It cut through you, making your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain. His eyes, filled with unshed tears, glistened in the light filtering through the leaves above, the sunlight casting shadows that seemed to mirror the pain in his expression.

“Apparently, I can’t get anything right,” he said, his voice thick with defeat. The words were coated with the kind of resignation that made your stomach twist. He looked at you for a moment, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t name—pain, maybe? Or was it the last flicker of hope slowly fading away? You could feel your chest tighten with every passing second, and that damn ache in your throat started to burn. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Your mind raced, but you couldn’t make sense of any of it. What did Travis have to do with this? What the hell was going on? Everything felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and the harder you tried to hold onto it, the faster it seemed to unravel.

“I think you should go,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible. The words felt like they were being ripped from your chest. You didn’t want to be cold. You didn’t want to hurt him more. But you didn’t know what else to say. Every word felt like a betrayal, and you were drowning in the confusion, in the pain of it all. You needed space. Distance. You needed to breathe without feeling like your heart was being crushed. "I just... I need some time."

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Joel didn’t move. He stood there for a long moment, just looking at you, his face a mixture of hurt, frustration, and something else you couldn’t place. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came out. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded once, his eyes still locked on yours, and without another word, he turned away. Each step he took felt like it was pulling him farther from you, and you hated how much you wished he would just stop. But he didn’t.

You watched him walk away, feeling like you were watching the last thread between you snap. He disappeared inside his house, and you stood there, staring after him, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You didn’t even realize you were still standing there until you felt the cold air on your face, and then you moved into the house, slowly, mechanically.

Inside, the silence was overwhelming. It felt like everything had shifted, like the ground beneath you was unsteady. Your heart was still racing, your chest tight with all the words you hadn’t said. You couldn’t make sense of it. You couldn’t understand why things had gone the way they did, why everything always felt like it was about to fall apart. And now, there was Travis—what did he have to do with any of this? Why did Joel keep bringing him up?

That night, as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, sleep was as distant as it had ever been. Despair clung to you like a second skin, making it impossible to close your eyes for even a second. You tossed and turned, but it was useless. The weight of everything was too much, too heavy to ignore. You couldn’t keep carrying it.

Your phone sat on the nightstand, and after a while, you reached for it, fingers trembling as you unlocked it. You opened the chat with Cassie, the words spilling out in a hurried, frantic rush. You couldn’t think too much about it. You just needed to get out of here, to escape, to breathe.

“I need to get out of here. Now.”

You hit send without a second thought, then stared at the screen, waiting for her reply. The silence in the room was deafening, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

276 notes · View notes

resident-gay-bitch · 10 months ago

Text

Defiance & Desire

18+ wolfstar drabble

James and Sirius sit cross legged on the floor of their dormitory, quill and parchment between them, and lolly wrappers scattered around.

Sirius taps his chin, listening as James reads out everything on the list so far; all things that would absolutely piss his mother off and have her rolling into an early grave if she ever found out about them.

There are a lot of things on this list so far.

“How about… mooning the crowd at the next quidditch match?” Sirius suggests.

James bursts out laughing, “Merlin, Sirius. That will have Dumbledore rolling into an early grave.”

“Good.” Sirius grinned.

“What would Minnie say?”

“Erm, probably… detention for the rest of my life.” He chuckled, “Oh, Minnie…. Love her.”

James cracked a bright smile and wrote it down.

“What else?” Sirius hummed, “I need as many as possible. It betters the chances of them getting back to her.”

“Erm…” James thought for a moment, fixing his glasses, “You could… oh, shag a muggle born… or like, a halfblood or something?”

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, that’s good… I mean, I’ve done it, but I suppose I could do it a few more times.”

“Oh, yeah…” James grumbled, forgetting about Sirius’ history with girls, “Ooh, you could shag a bloke. That would really send her.”

Sirius’ eyes widened, “A bloke?”

James nodded, “Yeah, like, ya know…” He shrugged, “I’d offer but I’m a happily committed man, Sirius.”

“Hmm.” Sirius bit his lip, thinking about it for a moment, “Add it to the list, I’ll consider it.”

James grinned and hurried to scribble it down, “Shagging… a criminal would work too… that also goes under the category of becoming a criminal. Because, you know, conspiring with them and all that.”

“Ooh, yeah, I’d shag a criminal.”

“Or like… a creature or something.”

“I’m not shagging an animal, James.”

James laughed, “No! Like… like a vampire or something, you know? Or a werewolf.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sirius nodded, “That could be cool.”

“Yeah… hot, right?”

Sirius shrugged, “Erm, I suppose. I like the muggle vampire romance books, so…”

James sighed and wrote it down, “Oh, look at that.” He hummed to himself, his tone a little playful, a little curious, “A halfblood, criminal… a creature, a bloke…” He chuckled, “You could just shag Moony.”

“Moony?” Sirius asked, looking down at the parchment.

James shrugged, “You’d be killing like, four birds with one stone. Your mother would be beside herself.” He laughed, “Ah, I’m just playing fun, Sirius. Obviously you’re not gonna go shag Moony. It’s not like you’re both gay or anything.”

Sirius nodded his head, “Yeah, it would be funny though.”

“Yeah.” James sighed, looking back at the parchment, “Ooh! Let the girls do your makeup and go have dinner in the Great Hall in a dress.”

Sirius gasped, “Oh, James, you’re brilliant!”

☆ ★ ☆

Sirius swings lazily on his chair, one leg propped up on his bedside table and the other just his toes touching the ground. His hair is tied back all messily, and he’s got his tie loose around his neck and a few buttons on his shirt undone. He’s humming to himself, watching the record spin and spin and spin on the table until it comes to a scratchy stop.

With an effortless swish of his wand, the record lifts itself up and slots itself away into the Ziggy Stardust sleeve on the shelf. And then he groans, throwing his head back and exposing his long pale neck.

Remus is going insane.

“I’m so bored.” He whines, “Why’d she have to make my detention so late?”

“To further punish you, I suppose.” James shrugged.

“You know, you should be thanking me. If I didn’t take the fall for you, Prongsie Boy, you’d be the bored one right now.”

“And I’ll forever be greatful for it, shnookums.” James laughs, bouncing over to kiss Sirius sloppily on his forehead.

Sirius yelps and nearly falls out of his chair, swatting James away, “You’re disgusting.”

“No, you are.” James says, tapping Sirius on the end of his nose like a sappy couple would, going back and forth about who’s cuter.

Sirius rolls his eyes and smiles anyway.

“I’ll see ya later.” James calls, “Gotta go do my rounds with Lily.”

“Bye.” Sirius waves, and goes back to his chair swinging.

Remus barely mutters his goodbye as he watches, and James laughs to himself as he leaves.

It’s just them two now. Alone. In their dorm. James out for the next few hours, Peter no doubt distractedly talking with the girls for hours on end. Remus should go down and join them, he said he would, but… well, right now he’d rather watch Sirius swing on his chair.

Besides, Sirius has to leave for his detention soon, so he can join them later.

Sirius huffs and a shiny strand of hair flies up out of his face. It slowly settles back down, and then Sirius blows it back up into the air again. He does this a few more times, until it falls off the side of his face and out of reach, and Remus watches, entranced the whole time.

“Moonshine?” Sirius asks, eyes squinting as he looks out the window. He’s tracking a bird as it loops around the sky.

“Yes?” Remus squeaks out, then clears his throat and deepens his voice, “Uh, I mean, yes?”

Sirius shrugs, “Would you ever be interested in shagging?”

Remus feels his cheeks go red, “What?”

“Shagging?” Sirius asks, turning to look at Remus, and it’s mortifying, “Like, sex… fucking… you know?”

“Ah… yes?” Remus nods, “Yes, I’d be… I mean, who isn’t interested in sex?” He laughs nervously.

“Erm… me, I suppose.” Sirius sighs, looking back up at the roof, “I mean, I do it a lot I suppose- or, well, not that much. But, you know, more than you or Pete and the girls and stuff.”

“Right.” Remus nods.

“But I mean, it’s not that great. You know, if I never shagged again, I wouldn’t care.”

“Really?” He asks, curious.

“Yeah, I mean, sure, girls are gorgeous and all but… eh, you know?”

Remus swallows, “Eh?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, “It’s just… slimey down there. And like… I don’t understand the whole boob thing. I guess… I ‘spose it’s not really normal, so I just ignore it. But I don’t go out of my way to shag a girl unless she asks, you know?”

“Sure…” Remus says, because he very much knows- or, well, not really. He knows he wouldn’t shag a girl no matter what, because he doesn’t like girls. So he gets that, but he doesn’t really understand if Sirius is implying the same circumstance or not.

“Have you ever shagged anyone, Remus?”

“No.” He swallows, “Never.”

“Oh…” Sirius nods, “But you want to?”

“Yes.” Remus nods back.

Sirius seems to think about this for a moment, humming to himself in quiet contemplation, and Remus just watches. He has no idea what he’s feeling right now, other than downright confused and so fucking intrigued.

“Would you ever shag me?”

Remus chokes. He starts coughing and spluttering, cheeks red and eyes wide, “Sorry?”

Sirius shrugs, “Sorry.” He laughs, “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard like that. But would you ever shag me?”

“I… I mean…” Remus rubs his forehead, “I’m… I don’t…”

“Just, you know how James and I are finding things to piss my mother off?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, we thought it would be good if I shagged a bloke, and a creature… a criminal, and like… a halfblood.” Sirius smiled, “You’re an unregistered half blood werewolf with a cock, so-“

“Bloody hell, Sirius.” Remus looks at him, absolutely gobsmacked. Lily will go crazy when he tells her about this conversation. “I mean… what?”

Sirius shrugged, “I mean, it’s not like I’m gay or anything. I just know it would piss her off.”

Well, that’s disappointing.

“So yeah, do you wanna shag?”

“Are you serious?”

Sirius smirked.

“I- no.” He scoffed, laughing into his hands as he hid behind them, “Are you genuinely asking me to fuck, right now, Sirius?”

“Yeah…” Sirius smiled, “Just a bit of fooling around. It doesn’t have to mean anything, and I know we’re both not gay so it’s cool. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

“Right.” Remus nods, because he’s not gay, no, not at all.

“Besides, imagine the bragging rights.”

“Sorry?” Remus hummed.

“Well, I can say I’ve fucked a werewolf, and a criminal, which is… pretty cool.” He grinned, “And you can say you’ve fucked Sirius Black.”

“Oh, you cocky bastard.” Remus groaned.

Sirius laughed, “Imagine it, one of those girls in the halls bragging to their friends about how I’ve been inside them- and what, you’d just be able to say you’ve been inside me! Something they’d never be able to say.”

Remus’ eyebrows furrowed, “I’d be inside you?”

“Well, yeah.” Sirius shrugged, “Oh, unless you prefer it the other way around. I just think I’d prefer if you fucked me, is all.”

Remus’ brain is short circuiting. He’s beginning to question whether or not Sirius is as straight as he claims.

“When you said shag, I assumed you mean handjobs.”

“Oh…” Sirius nodded, looking a little disappointed actually, “Oh, yeah, we can… we can just do handjobs if you want.”

“Erm, no that’s okay.” Remus cleared his throat, “I can… I can, erm, do that, if you’d like.”

“Oh, Moons, you don’t have to just do it if you don’t want. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” Sirius smiled, so, so prettily.

“No, it’s okay, yeah, I’d…” Remus looked away for a moment, unable to believe he was actually having this conversation, “I’ll fuck you.”

“Oh, brilliant.” Sirius grinned, “You’re really the best, Remus. Like, my favorite person in the world. Mother will be so pissed if she ever found out- and don’t worry, I’m not just gonna go tell her. It’s just the idea of it.”

“Right.” Remus nods.

“So, erm… I’ve got detention, so we can’t do it now… how about tonight?”

“To-“ Remus stops himself mid sentence and looks at Sirius aghast, “You’re just… yeah, okay, yeah.”

Sirius hummed, “James will have his date thing in the astronomy tower by the time I get back from detention so… we just have to get Peter out of the room somehow.”

“Leave it to me!” Remus says, “I’ve got… I’ll figure it out. I’m… yeah, we’re good mates so I’ll sort it.”

“Oh, Moonbeam, you really are the best.” Sirius smiles, hopping up out of his chair and bouncing over to pet Remus on the top of his head, “Really, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah.” Remus blushed and ducked his head, watching Sirius waltz out of the room, humming a happy tune.

☆ ★ ☆

“Holy shit guys, I just…” Remus plops himself down on the couch between Mary and Marlene. Lily is sitting on the floor against Mary’s legs and Pete’s sitting across from her, they’re playing snap. “I… I think I’m gonna have sex with Sirius.”

All four of them went dead silent, turning slowly to look at him.

Remus swallows and looks up, “He wants to piss of his parents and… apparently secretly having sex with me is the perfect way to do that?”

“What?” Peter gasps.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly, Wormy.” Remus muttered, “Erm, we’re gonna shag tonight… he wants… he wants me to shag him, tonight.”

“Merlin…” Lily grins looking up at him, “Oh, Remus!”

Remus bites his lip, blushing, “Pete… you reckon you can clear the room tonight?”

“Trust me, I’m staying as far away as possible.” Peter laughed, “Bloody hell, I owe James ten galleons. I really didn’t think that would work.”

“You planned this?” Remus asked, “Wait, you bet on this?”

Peter looked at him deadpan, “I’ve already made fifty galleons from winning bets on Sirius, he’s so predictable. Obviously I bet on this.”

Remus sighs and sinks down into the sofa, “I’m going to have sex with Sirius tonight…” He looks around at them all, “How do you have sex?”

“Oh, Remus.” Lily mused.

☆ ★ ☆

It’s just them. Just Remus and Sirius. The moment he got back from detention James was waltzing out of the room with a cheerful grin, off to his date, and Pete was following right after in hopes of finding Marlene.

So they’re alone already, which makes things so much easier for Sirius.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “For sorting Pete out.”

“No problem.” Remus nodded, “He was gonna hang out with Marlene anyway.”

“Oh, cool.” Sirius said, starting to feel a little awkward, “Erm, so, I don’t really know how this works.”

“Me either, I suppose.” Remus swallowed, “I did some research, though. Figured out some stuff.”

“Oh, Moons…” Sirius smiled, he really is the most grateful for Remus. He really is the best. He just feels so much admiration for him all the time. “You’re such a good friend.”

“Yep.” Remus nods, “Such a good friend.”

“So like… are we just doing the sex bit, or foreplay too?” Sirius asked, hoping Remus votes for foreplay. Sirius is good at foreplay, it’s his strong suit. It’s the part he likes the best of sex, so he doesn’t want to make it weird by not enjoying any of this.

But foreplay is what people do when they like each other, most of the time. So Sirius would understand if Remus says no to it. Like, it would be extra disappointing, but he’d get it.

“Forplay?” Remus’ eyes widen.

“Yeah, like… kissing and all that.” He shrugs, “Undressing each other .”

Remus swallows, “Sure.” He says, and for some reason his voice just got higher. Sirius likes when Remus’ voice does that, it’s funny and it makes him feel kinda good, like, proud in a way, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh, cool.” Sirius nods, acting all nonchalant when really he’s feeling very happy inside.

“Uhm… we have to use lube.”

“Oh…” Sirius furrowed his brow. Girls don’t need lube. He really knows less about this sex stuff than he thought. “Right, well, I think we have some of that butter left from the prank-“

“Not butter.” Remus cuts in, laughing at him, “Definitely not butter, Sirius. It’s going inside you-“

“Oh, yuck. I don’t want butter in my arse.” He grimaced.

“Yeah, I don’t really want it on me either.” Remus laughed, “Like, sex lube.”

“Oh…” Sirius nodded, “What’s that? Can we make it?”

“No.” Remus smiled, turning to his bedside draw, “It’s just gel stuff, I guess. Erm, here…” He tossed a little tube over to Sirius.

It’s see through and has a transparent slime inside, “Oh, where'd you get this on such short notice? It’s half empty.”

Remus went red again. Sirius likes when he makes Remus go red. “Erm… cause I use it.”

“I thought you didn’t have sex?”

“I don’t.” Remus splutters, “It’s for… wanking”.

Sirius looked down at the tube, then over at Remus’ crotch, “Oh… really? I don’t need lube when I wank- I mean, not that I wank very often, but it’s always wet enough when I do.”

Remus’ eyes widened and he just stared at Sirius for a moment, “Right…”

Sirius shrugged, “This sex stuff is interesting.”

“Erm, you’ll also have to be… fingered.” Remus gritted out.

“Can you finger blokes?” He asks, genuinely baffled as he flips the bottle of lube around in his hand absentmindedly.

Remus nods.

“Oh, I didn’t know that… why?”

“To make it like… big enough.” Remus nods, “You know… for…” He waved his hands wearily around his crotch.

“Oh, yeah, I suppose it’s kinda a small hole, hey?” Sirius hummed, the pieces slotting into place now, “Cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

“So… like, I haven’t kissed a bloke before, but I’ve kissed girls.” Sirius smiled, “Have you kissed a bloke before? I know you’ve kissed a couple girls.”

Remus nods, “I kissed Peter once.”

Sirius immediately does not like that. He doesn’t know why, but that’s just weird. It’s just so, so weird. Peter? Remus has kissed Peter? What the fuck.

“What?”

“Yeah, we made out once-“ Remus cuts himself off, giving Sirius an unsure look.

Sirius knows it’s because he’s scowling. He’s not even ashamed of it. Remus and Peter made out, how fucking weird. That’s just fucking weird. That’s so gross, that so- oh, is Sirius homophobic? Oh, Sirius really doesn’t want to be homophobic. A lot of his friends are gay, that would be really bad if he was homophobic.

He huffs and looks at the ground, “Did it mean anything-“

“No.” Remus says immediately, “The girls just dared us one day, since they’ve all kissed each other- it was just stupid. Didn’t mean anything. Never will. Never has.”

“Oh, cool.” Sirius nods, some of the weight lifting off of his shoulders. The thought still makes him a little queasy, but less so now.

Perhaps shagging a bloke will make him less homophobic. He really hopes it will. He feels really terrible. His whole life he’s been running from the man his parents tried to shape him into, and yet, the shadow lingers.

It’s terrifying.

“Erm, so… do we just… kiss?”

Remus is still for a moment, and he’s looking at Sirius kind of strangely. Sirius doesn’t know what to do with himself in all honesty, he never does under Remus’ gaze. It’s always so intense, it makes him nervous, fiddley… giggly.

Oh yeah, Remus makes him so giggly. He’s fighting the urge to giggle like a child now. Remus is just… he’s looking at him, like really looking. Sirius feels so special when Remus looks at him, because he knows Remus doesn’t look at anyone else like this. No, this look is reserved especially for Sirius and that’s just… well, isn’t that just delightful?

But he really doesn’t want to giggle right now. He’s trying so hard not too, because that would be embarrassing. He feels like a girl, which is so weird, and so dumb, because why would he ever feel like that?

“Do you want to kiss?” Remus asked back eventually.

“Yes.” Sirius says, without a thought, mouth on autopilot apparently. And that’s probably a good thing, because his brain is kind of a bit useless at the moment. So much is going on up there, yet there are no thoughts at all. He nods his head for assurance, “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Okay.” Remus smiled and took a couple of steps closer.

Sirius looked at the gap between them, there wasn’t much of one, but he certainly wasn’t close enough to comfortably kiss. So Sirius took the final step, the baggy wool of Remus’ sweater brushing up against the buttons of Sirius’ shirt.

“Hi there.” Sirius murmured into the small space between them. If he leant forward, just a smidgen, their noses would bump together.

“Hi.” Remus smiles, his cheeks flushing a really adorable pink colour, flushed under freckles and scars.

Sirius really doesn’t know how Remus doesn’t get girls, because he thinks Remus is quite attractive. Well, sure, he’s not dashing in the way Sirius effortlessly is, and he’s not cute in the way Peter is, and he’s certainly not stoically handsome like James. But he’s attractive in his own little way, in the Remus way, the way that he’s just really handsome because he simply is and everyone should just agree because Sirius knows.

Besides, he looks really cute when he’s about to get kissed. All up close and personal, honey-golden eyes barely visible behind the dilation in his pupils, flushed cheeks smattered under a galaxy of freckles, silver scars that are just so intrinsically Remus, pert lips that look so… so… uhm, Sirius can’t think. He’s too distracted to think.

Point is, Remus is damned attractive and it’s appalling that not more people think so.

Remus huffs and bites his lip, and Sirius can feel his eyes searching all over Sirius’ face. But he can’t help but stare at the place between Remus’ front teeth, the plush skin, it’s so pink and shiny. He’s just so… so cute.

Sirius boops their noses together.

Remus almost giggles.

Sirius kisses him.

It’s… well, it’s so much better than kissing girls. Honestly, Remus must have been practising because he’s just really good at this whole kissing thing. Maybe there’s a spell or something that makes you really good.

Whatever it is, Remus is it. They’re not even making out and it’s just so much better than every girl he’s ever kissed, ever.

Remus is really just such a good mate, isn’t he? Gosh, Sirius really thinks so.

Remus shuffles a little closer and tips his head to the side slightly, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue along the seam of Sirius’ own lips.

It’s so well done, his smoothness, that Sirius breaks out in goosebumps. Once this is all over, Sirius will have to tell Remus that he really is just so good at all this kissing stuff.

He’s really that good that Sirius kinda just wants to keep him to himself. Like a little trophy that only he gets to have. No one else should be allowed to be graced with such good kissing skills because honestly, Sirius doesn’t think any girl out there would be able to properly appreciate it.

It’s so good, when Remus slips some tongue into Sirius’ mouth and reaches up to tug Sirius in by the belt loops, that he moans. He actually moaned, and he’s not even embarrassed because Remus needs to know just how good at this he is.

Remus tugs him closer and Sirius lifts his hands to grab at the back of Remus’ neck and tug at the jumper over his shoulder because something has just come over him. Something wild. Some primal need or something to just tear Remus’ clothes off and have him. He blames Padfoot.

They shuffle back to Sirius’ bed until Remus’ knees buckle and he flops down onto it. Sirius shoves himself into Remus’ lap, straddling him and pressing close which just feels… so good. Like, Remus really doesn’t know how good he is.

He must be some sex god or something. How Remus hasn’t had sex yet, Sirius doesn’t know. But what he does know, is that Remus is so fucking wonderful and Sirius doesn’t want to share.

How strange is that?

Remus’ bony fingers reach up to undo the buttons on Sirius’ shirt, but before he can even get halfway, Sirius is yanking Remus’ jumper up and off his body in a rush.

“So good.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss Remus again. He starts shoving off his own shirt before Remus can do the last button. “Oh, you’re really good at this, Moony.”

Remus moans against his mouth and wow, holy Godrick, that’s really a wonderful sound. How are his moans even that brilliant? This really isn’t fair. How is Sirius ever supposed to be so good in bed? He really hopes he doesn’t let Remus down.

“Fuck.” Remus mumbles, latching his lip onto Sirius’ throat and groaning when Sirius digs his nails into Remus’ shoulders, “You- oh, you’re really- you’re so hot.”

Sirius flushes all over, and he dips back down to kiss Remus again. He can’t help but giggle.

☆ ★ ☆

“Please, please, please, please.” Sirius is mumbling, actually completely naked underneath Remus which is just… it’s really a sight to behold. It’s an image which will be imprinted in Remus’ mind for the rest of eternity.

Remus can’t help but duck down to kiss him, right on the lips, because Sirius seems to actually really love that. He actually seems to really love a lot of things involving Remus sexually.

Remus moans, his hips pressing down against Sirius’. The friction from that alone is far better than anything he conjures up in his mind and creates with his own right hand at night.

“Yeah.” He nods, “Yeah, erm… do… do you wanna do it yourself?”

“Do what?” Sirius gasps, bucking his hips up when Remus doesn’t grind down again.

“Finger yourself.” Remus says bluntly, because there’s really no other way to say it.

“Oh, uhm…” Sirius’ eyes fly open, and they flick around Remus’ face for a bit before he flushes more than he already has and smiles, “Can you do it? I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I’ll just probably like it more if you did… you’re like… really bloody good at this sex stuff.”

Remus knows for a fact that he is not really bloody good at this sex stuff. He’s never even done it before, and he’s being really awkward as he always is. The first kiss they shared he was so stiff for, and he literally opened his mouth and shoved his tongue out really weirdly because he was just so shocked by Sirius actually doing this. He knows that was a terrible kiss, but Sirius just kept kissing him anyway. And then Sirius kinda took the lead there a little and gave Remus some time to figure it out, thankfully.

So yeah, Remus knows he’s so fucking bad at this. He knows Sirius has been with a good handful of girls who are confident, and experienced, and way nicer to look at. And yet, Sirius won’t stop banging on about how fucking good Remus is at all of this, how his mouth is fucking magic, and how he’s making Sirius all tingly.

It’s like a dream. A real dream brought to life or something. Remus really pinched himself at one moment to make sure he wasn’t actually dreaming it up.

But no. It’s real. And Sirius’ is enjoying it. And Sirius wants Remus to finger him. And Sirius wants to have sex with Remus.

Remus is almost certain that Sirius just… isn’t actually into girls at this point. Or at the very least, is into guys in one way or another.

Remus grabs the lube from under Sirius’ back, where he’d landed on it a while ago when taking off his trousers. He pops the cap and squeezes a big glob of lube onto his fingers before spreading it around a little.

Sirius gazes up at him, his legs are slightly open, spread around Remus’ own knees, all just… naked for him. His gaze is heavy lidded, and Remus fights the urge to look further downward.

“Just be nice, yeah?” Sirius asks, a finger reaching out to draw over a scar on Remus’ middle. “I haven’t been fingered or anything before, so… do you think it will hurt?”

Remus shakes his head, “Ah… I did it to myself once. If you go slow it doesn’t… I’ll go slow.”

“Okay.” Sirius blushes again, “You really are the best, Moonshine.”

Merlin, that name? Oh, Remus is starting to lose it. He’s actually going to lose his mind about it. It’s bad enough as is, when Sirius calls him that just out and about. It makes his heart race and his stomach fill with butterflies.

But here? Now? Well, Remus is going to implode. He’s so, so fucking into Sirius it’s sickening.

“Thanks.” Remus mutters, reaching a sticky finger down between Sirius’ legs, “Erm, is that… are you…. Can I?”

“Yeah.” Sirius breathes, his eyes falling shut, “O-oh, fuck, yeah. Oh, Moony, you’re so… mhm, you’re so good at this.”

Remus’ brain melts a little more, because he hasn’t actually done anything. Really, his finger is just sitting there, only the very tip of it has pushed inside and Sirius is there acting like Remus is just about to make him cum.

Sirius really can’t be straight. He’s either really good at faking it, or really, really gay.

Remus hopes for the latter.

“What about that? Hurt?”

“No.” Sirius hums, smiling to himself as he turns his head into the pillows, his hands gripping the sheets, “No, s’good. Oh, Moonbeam, you’re- oh, you’d never… never hurt me. Never hurt me, baby. S’good.”

Remus has suddenly lost all coherent thought.

☆ ★ ☆

Sirius feels euphoric.

Really, he wishes he had sex with Remus earlier because this is just fucking brilliant. Remus is really just so good.

When Sirius has sex with girls, he feels kinda good physically a lot. Like, his cock likes it, he supposed. But it’s usually really boring. It’s just not all that great, he doesn’t get why James likes sex so much.

But like, with Moony? Well, everything is great. He’s just really good at it, and he must know exactly what he’s doing because no matter what it just makes Sirius feel so amazing.

Physically and emotionally. Like, everywhere. He feels like a live wire.

“R-Remus.” He stutters out, because he’s not very good at talking anymore. He’s mostly just loudly moaning and stuff. Like, it’s so loud that Remus actually stopped midway through to cast a silencing charm so people outside the dorm wouldn’t hear. “Oh, fuck, Remus. Please, can you just fuck me?”

“Shit.” Remus moans, “F-fuck, yeah. You… you sure? You sure you want that?”

Sirius nods, because if Remus fingering him is this good, then he really wants to find out about the rest of it.

“Yeah, please.” Sirius said, “Really, really, please, Moonybaby. Oh, fuck- you’re so- you’re so good at- uh.”

“Fucking- okay, yeah.” Remus chokes out, pulling his hand away from Sirius.

He can’t help but whine about it, feeling so cold and empty. He reaches out to cling to Remus, but all he gets are glorious, sweaty, scarred thighs.

He lifts his head when he hears a wet sound, and watches Remus smear some lube over himself, quite entranced by it. He watches the slick glide of Remus’ wonderful hands and wishes it was himself between those magical fingers.

Remus comes closer, and Sirius immediately grabs for him. His arms sling around Remus’ neck, fingers sifting in through hair and clawing at his back.

“Oh, Moony.” Sirius moans, kissing him as much as Remus will let him, “Please. Oh, you’re so… oh, R-Remus.”

“Bloody hell, Sirius.” Remus grunts, pressing in as close as he can. His whole body shivers as he slowly sinks down, Sirius whining helplessly in his ear. He can’t help it, it feels so fucking good, just like he thought. “Oh, fuck, you’re so- so hot. So fucking… oh, fuck.”

Sirius can’t stop kissing, everywhere. Anywhere his lips can reach he’s attaching himself to Remus. It really is quite delightful, getting fucked by his sex god best friend.

He thinks about recommending it to James, but thankfully James is a committed man. Then perhaps Peter, but- no, they’ve already kissed, they’ve done enough. Besides, Sirius is apparently homophobic about that so he probably shouldn’t suggest it.

Maybe he’ll just tell everyone Remus is really bad, so no one else goes and fucks him- yeah, that sounds good. No one else gets to have him, only Sirius.

He’s probably a really bad friend for that, but, well, he doesn’t really care right now because Remus is just making him feel so, so good. Like, really lucky.

☆ ★ ☆

Sirius is clinging to Remus like he’s his life line. It’s probably the best feeling in the world. And yes, that includes the feeling of been balls deep inside Sirius.

Both are fucking amazing, but being clung too by Sirius beats it by just a smidgen.

He’s shaking, actually, so much to the point that Remus had thought he’d done something wrong. But no, Sirius has assured him it’s purely because he just feels fucking amazing. That Remus is doing a bang on job.

Really, Remus isn’t sure why Sirius keeps saying such things. Like, sure, now it’s fine because Remus has found a rhythm and gotten more comfortable doing this, but he was so awkward those first few thrusts. They were miscalculated, and kinda desperate, and just not very good, he could tell. But still, Sirius had said it’s the best feeling ever.

Remus doesn’t know what to do with himself. So he just lets his body do whatever the hell it needs. And what it needs is to make Sirius finish, and apparently, to say dumb shit he’s going to regret later.

“You’re so… so fucking pretty, baby.” He mutters, kissing Sirius between each few words, “So good, so gorgeous. Feels so good- so good. Oh you’re just so good, so-“

Remus reels back, because Sirius is thrashing almost violently, and is getting louder and- Remus looks down to find white smeared all over Sirius’ stomach.

Sirius doesn’t give Remus time to process that before he’s pulling him down into a deep kiss and thrusting his own hips up to meet Remus’.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sirius is muttering on repeat, smattering kisses everywhere on Remus’ face as he chases his own. “Oh, so- so good, Moonshine. You’re so good, too good to me.”

Remus presses their foreheads together as he cums and kisses Sirius midway through. When he pulls away, Sirius is dazed.

He has a faraway, dreamy look in his eyes and a relaxed smile on his lips. His cheeks are bright pink, a stark contrast to his pale complexion, and his skin shimmers with sweat.

Oh, he really is just so fucking pretty.

“Fuck.” Remus grunts, shifting until he’s laying down beside Sirius, both on their backs, shoulders overlapped.

Sirius whines as Remus slips away, and shivers slightly. Remus grabs his jumper off the pillow and lays it over Sirius’ chest like a blanket.

“Hmm.” He hums, and closes his eyes.

Remus cleans them both up, reaching the end of the box of tissues on Sirius’ bedside. But they’re clean, so it’s fine.

They lie there in silence for a while. Remus feels the moment Sirius comes too again, stiffening beside him. It’s awkward, tense. Slowly, Sirius shucks Remus’ jumper off his chest and they both lie there, completely naked, staring at the roof.

They hear James and Peter come into the room, “Told you.”

“Don’t believe you.” James muttered back, “Pads, mate, you in here?”

“James, they’re probably having a meaningful conversation.” Peter huffs, “Look at the curtains.”

“Well, I want to see him.”

“You can later.” Peter offers, “Sirius, if you want James to come in, say something back.”

“Don’t come in!” Sirius shouts, and silence lingers outside.

“See, he doesn’t want you too.” Peter says after a while, “Completely silent.”

“The charm must still be on.” Remus muttered.

“Oh.” Sirius nodded.

“Fine.” James groaned, “Come to my bed later, Sirius. I’m going to sleep.”

Sirius and Remus lie there for a while, listening to James and Peter get ready for bed. Honestly, Remus is glad Peter didn’t say anything to James about them having sex.

Or, well, he doesn’t think he said anything.

Not that he’d be mad if James found out Remus is gay. He’s pretty sure James already knows. But, he’s sure Sirius would want to tell him about that. Sirius would probably have some strange things to say about it, so, it’s best if Sirius is the one to lay it all out there.

Once the room goes silent again, and the lights are all turned out, they dare a glance over at each other. Just as quickly, they look away.

Remus starts to feel a little guilty. He knows how he feels about Sirius, and Sirius clearly hadn’t felt the same way. At least not prior to now. So, he decides to bite the fucking bullet, despite his own judgments, and confessess.

“I liked that.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sirius nodded, eyes fixed on the roof, “Felt good. You made me cum really hard.”

Merlin, he really doesn’t make anything easy for Remus, does he?

“Yeah.” Remus nods, “But like… I liked it in a gay way.”

Sirius tenses beside him again.

“Erm, cause I’m gay.” Remus fills in, refusing to look anywhere but the stupid poster of a half naked motorbike girl on Sirius’ ceiling. “And I like you.”

“You… like me?” Sirius mumbles.

“Yeah.” Remus breathes, “A lot… I think you’re… brilliant. You’re really, really, fucking brilliant. And also really good at sex.”

Sirius swallowed, “So, do you think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah.” Remus nodded, “I said it, before.”

“I thought you might have just been doing sex talk.”

“Oh…” Remus swallows, “Were you just doing sex talk?”

“No.” Sirius shakes his head, “I just… no, it was all honest. But, girls often make up sex talk, so-“

“I’m not a girl.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sirius swallowed, “So you… you fancy me, for real?”

“Yeah.” Remus nods, “A lot.”

“Oh.”

Remus chewed on his lip.

“Excuse me.” Sirius muttered, and then climbed out of bed.

He didn’t even stop to put trousers on or anything. Remus listened as he walked over and pulled back the curtains of James’ bed.

“Oh, Sirius, hey, I- Merlin! Where are your clothes?”

“Over there. Remus and I had sex.”

There was silence for a while before James said back, “What?”

“Remus and I had sex.”

“When?” James asked, fucking gobsmacked.

“Just then.” Sirius said, “Before you came into the room.”

“Wh- why?”

“It was your idea!” He said defensively, “You said I should just fuck Remus, so I did. I fucked Remus- or, rather, he fucked me.”

“And you just decided to come tell me this, still very naked?”

“Yeah.” Sirius said, “I think I can still feel his cum inside-“

“Bloody hell, Sirius. You know he can- just, get in.”

“Do you want me to put clothes on?”

“Merlin, I don’t care, just…”

“He’s gay, you know?” Remus heard Sirius shuffle into the bed, “Said he likes me.”

“Wow, really?” James gasped, “I had no fucking idea. It’s not like he stares at you longingly or anything.”

“Oh…” Sirius mumbled, “I think I’m homophobic, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“Yeah, he said he kissed Pete and that made me feel kind of nauseous.”

There was another long stretch of silence, and then from his own bed, Peter muttered, “You owe me twenty gallons, James.”

“Fuck.” James muttered, drawing the curtains around them, “Look, Sirius, you’re not homophobic.”

“Erm, yes I am.” Sirius said in defence, “Why else would I get mad about Remus getting involved with other blokes?”

“Oh, Sirius.” James sighed, and cast a silencing charm around them.

☆ ★ ☆

Remus is startled awake by the curtains swishing back. Not that he slept very deeply, just a little nap. He’s still in Sirius’ bed. He was too anxious to move.

Now that he sees Sirius standing there, still very naked, he feels like he should have left.

Sirius lifts up the corner of his blanket and slides under, closing the curtain around them before casting another silencing charm.

He tugs at the sheet and gestures for Remus to get under. And then they both lie there again, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the roof.

“You okay?” Remus asks after a long silence. He feels so awkward about it.

“Yep.” Sirius nods, “Just… trying to figure out the least scary way to ask you to be my boyfriend.”

Remus’ heart falls out from under him, “What?”

“Oh.” Sirius mutters, “I guess I just did, didn’t I?”

“Are you serious?” Remus gasps, turning to look at him.

Sirius smirks and turns his head slowly to look back at Remus.

“Don’t answer that.” He mutters, “I’m…”

“Yeah.” Sirius nods, genuinity behind his pretty, pale eyes, “Erm, yeah, James told me I’m gay.”

“What?” Remus gaped, “What do you mean he told you you were gay?”

Sirius shrugged, “Like, I’ve been gay this whole time, and I really like you. I just didn’t know it, is all. I thought I was homophobic, can you believe that? James just made me realise I was jealous.”

“Jealous… of Peter?”

“Yes. Never look at him again, please.” Sirius said sternly.

Remus furrowed his brow, looking at Sirius in shock.

Sirius broke into a grin, “I’m kidding. But really, I did get jealous. I’m jealous about you a lot. It’s why I get so angry at you sometimes.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, “That…”

“Yeah.” Sirius smiled, laughing at himself softly, “It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not.” Remus corrects, “You’re really smart. You’re the smartest person I know. Sometimes this stuff is just really hard, I get it. I know.”

He blushes, and it’s fucking adorable. It’s always adorable.

“You’re so sweet, Moony.” Sirius hums, kissing Remus’ shoulder, “So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Be mine?” He asks.

“Oh…” Remus’ heart is racing. It’s going so fast, beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, “Yes. Fuck, yes please.”

Sirius breaks out into the most brilliant smile before rolling over and wrapping himself around Remus, “Yay.”

Remus hugs him back, entangling their legs together and hoping they never have to untangle, “You really mean it?”

“Yeah.” Sirius hums, pressing his lips to Remus’ skin a few times, “Oh, I was so crazy for not knowing it, Moonshine. I’m mental about you.”

Remus feels extatic, “I’m mental about you too, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I really like that.” Sirius mused, “I really like you.”

Remus chuckled, “Okay, sweetheart.”

Sirius hums, content, snuggling closer into Remus’ side, “God, imagine my mother now. Not just shagging an unregistered werewolf bloke, but now he’s my boyfriend?”

“She’d have a heart attack.”

“Good.” Sirius smiled, “Oh, I love when everything just comes together like this. James is so exited. He owes Pete a lot of money, they’ve been betting on us for ages.”

Remus snorts, “I think Pete’s been cheating then. He’s known I’m into you for ages.”

Sirius snorts, “Of course he is.” He lifts his head to kiss Remus sweetly, “Let me take you out on a date, Moonybaby?”

Remus melted, sighing against Sirius’ lips, “Yeah, please.”

“Oh, I’m gonna woo you so hard, you won’t even know what hit you.” Sirius smiled, “And then we’re gonna shag so much again, because I didn’t know shagging was actually fun.”

Remus snorts and kissed Sirius some more, “I did, I was just waiting for you to prove it.”

The way that Sirius swooned made Remus feel like he was on top of the fucking world.

⋅⋆ ☼ ☆ ☾ ☆ ☼ ⋆⋅

HAPPY HORNY SATURDAY! i hope you enjoyed this one, it was very fun to write. just a silly little bit of smut because why the hell not, i say?!

don't forget to reblog and commentary is ALWAYS welcome here. thankies!

Since you guys were interested I’m just tagging you here :)) hope you enjoyed!! <3 @stranger200-blog @addsalwayssick

#jay writes #defiance & desire #smut #wolfstar #sirius does not know he’s gay and in love with Remus #remus also does not know sirius is gay and in love with Remus #they fuck about it anyway #james is a menace #Peter is a cheater #but they all win in the end #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #the marauders #dead gay wizards #james potter #platonic prongsfoot

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irishmammonagenda · 11 months ago

Text

How I Think The Obey Me Boys Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: haha great question Content Warnings: probably just swearing tbh Disclamer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[dateables & co version]

post dividers by @cafekitsune their post dividers r really cool check them out! (also sorry for the tag!!)

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💙LUCIFER💙💙

When Lucifer heard the news from Beel, he was in the student council room, he turnt his D.D.D off and just placed his head in his hands.

Was this some elaborate scheme by Solomon to gain a pact with him?

Lucifer wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

Sighing; he pulled on his coat and traversed to Purgatory Hall where Michael was staying.

"Michael." The Avatar of Pride stood leaning against the kitchen counter, everyone else in Purgatory Hall was at RAD, so the Angel and Demon were alone. "Oh Jesus Christ!" The Angel in question brings a hand to his heart in mock dramatics, "Warn a guy next time Lucikins!" "..." The Silence was palpable. "...Lucikins?" Lucifer gritted out, his eye twitching. "Michael. This is not the time for your games. I am the Avatar of Pride and a Prince of Hell, show me some respect." Michael merely raised an arched eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face as he quickly closed the distance between them, pulling the Avatar of Pride into an ironclad headlock, bringing his other arm over with a clenched fist and messing up Lucifer's hair. "I'm sure you are Lucikins, but you're still my adorable little brother." Lucifer pushes his hands out in an attempt to get away, but even he had to admit, Michael had always been stronger than him. "Michael." The younger protests, "I swear to Lord Diavolo if you do not let me go, I will-" Michael interrupts him, pausing his brotherly tormenting to wipe a tear from his ruby red eyes. "-Ahh! You must've missed me so much, poor Wittle Wucifer! Always so heavy on the teenage angst!" Lucifer growled in a way too similar to Satan when he first fell. Like father, like son. "I don't have teenage angst. Now unhand me you bastard!" "Oh please! The amount of times I caught you in the Celestial Realm listening to My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco on repeat speaks for itself! And the eyeliner! Just because the others were too young to remember doesn't mean I was baby brother! Don't think I don't remember the wolf-cut!" Lucifer's eye twitches so hard he worries for his socket. He cab't even refute it. "You are two minutes older than me! And besides! I came here to talk about the rumours of you dating Solomon!" "The What." Michael immediately ceases all noogie-ing, his grip loose enough for Lucifer to slip through his arm. He scowls, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit and beginning to fix his hair. He moves a safe distance away from his older (estranged) brother. "The rumours of you showing up during a Sorcerers' Society meeting and making out with Solomon on his lap. Ring a bell?" Michael, for the love of him, just looks confused. "But I've never even-" He blinks slowly a few times. "I am going to kill MC." Lucifer, even with the ego bruising he had just endured, laughs, partly out of sheer relief, he doesn't want to imagine what a Solomon Michael duo could be capable of. But of course it was you. It always was.

💛💛MAMMON💛💛

HUH???!!!

This poor man's confusion is so strong.

He doesn't want to think about Michael's lovelife. Or Solomon's for that matter.

He immediately rushes to tell you.

"Oi! MC!" Mammon shoves his way into your room like he was auditioning for the walking dead, as per usual, he wasn't aware of the marvellous invention of knocking yet. You quickly closed you laptop lid, and placed the device down beside you on the bed, lest he saw the Archangel Michael/King Solomon 100k, Slowburn, Angst with a Happy Ending you were writing on HellO3. “Hi Mams!” Mammon scurries onto your bed like the floor is lava, resting his chin on your thigh and looking up at you with his usual puppy eyes. “Yer not gonna believe this MC.” He says seriously. "What's up?" You tilt your head, bringing a one of your hands to ruffle your First Man's hair, he leans into the touch happily before jumping up and acting like he wasn't. "Well, 'pparently Michael's after starting te date Solomon. Can ye believe it?" Mammon makes a face. "Michael...wi' Solomon...I don' wanna believe it...just...its mingin'..." You laugh nervously, "I don't think Michael's dating Solomon, Mams....someone must've uhh..." You hold in a laugh. "It's probably just a succubi or someone looking for chaos." Mammon nods seriously, laying his head back on your lap. "Yer prolly righ' MC." You pet his hair again, "Wanna watch a movie or something, Mams?" "Pffft- Of course ya would wanna watch a movie wi' the Great Mammon...alrigh' huma-...Angel...I'll allow it...!" He says with his usual bravado, it was almost convincing, if he hadn't nuzzled further into your hand, and he wasn't looking at you like you were the one reason his pulse was still going.

🧡🧡LEVIATHAN🧡🧡

He finds out after the first chapter to a certain Archangel Michael/King Solomon fanfic was published. Yes he is subscribed to your HellO3 account, and yes! he has emails turnt on.

What kind of person would he be if he didn't read his Henry's fanfics?!

He throws his phone across the room.

When he finally wills himself to get up and retrieve it, he takes a screenshot and starts texting you frantically.

You're lazing about on your bed dong nothing, you'd just posted the first chapter of THE FORBIDDEN FRUITS: A GAY ROMANCE STORY THAT TRANSCENDS REALMS five minutes previous when your DDD began vibrating at such a speed you almost made a very unfunny sex joke. You pick up your DDD and sure enough, its Levi, heh; so he is subscribed to your HellO3 account! Leviachan <3: MC WHAT IS THIS NDVNRO DID YOU WRIT E FNAFICTION AOBOUT MCIAHEL AND SOLOMOMN You grinned. You: Fnaf fiction? Good idea for an AU! Leviachan <3: VFIBNODNORNGVNO MC IM LOOKING ON FORUMS WDYM THERES A RUMOU R ABORUT SOLOMON AND MICHAEL DATING You: In my defense, it was Solomon's fault. There's no response for 10 minutes, until your DDD pings again. Leviachan <3: Why is the fanfic good Leviachan <3: I MEAN OFC ITD BE GOOD, YOU WROTE IT BUT Leviachan <3: ITS SO Leviachan <3: THE CHARACTERS ARE SO COMPELLING AND THE PLOT IS SO GOOD RJRGNVDON Leviachan <3: AND THE TENSION??!! You grinned, you could always count on your Lord of Shadows to hype up your degenerate fanfics. You: thanks <3 satan's helping me write it, wanna help? Leviachan <3: I don't think I could write as good as you guys, im just a stinky smelly worthless otaku :( You: nuhuh. >:( Leviachan <3: But if you wanted... I could maybe beta-read??? You: OFC YOU CAN LEVI TANK YOU <33333 Leviachan <3: Haha tank LMAO ROFL You: I can never mispell anything around anyone in this house You kicked your feet like a catholic school girl holding hands with a boy for the first time in her life, knowing Levi probably was too.

💚💚SATAN💚💚

This man has a web of connections.

He found out almost as soon as the rumour started.

Like Mammon, he immediately finds you to tell you

Unlike Mammon, he actually knocks

granted he knocks for a second before just opening your door so he could've just not knocked and it would've had the same affect.

"Hello MC" "Mornin' Satie...What time's it?" You rub your eyes tiredly, having just woken up from a nap, you sit up and blink at him slowly with sleepy eyes. Satan can't stop himself from cooing, he movies towards your bed and ruffles your hair like you're a cat, you lean into the touch. "Sorry for waking you, dear..." You yawn. "You're fine Satie...what'd you need?" "Have you heard the rumours that Michael and Solomon are secret lovers-" Suddenly you're wide awake. "Oh no. Oh no no no." Satan raises a brow, "What's wrong, MC?" You grin sheepishly, "I maybe might've accidentally not on purpose started that rumour?..." Satan laughs in your face. Handsome bastard. "It's not funny!" "It is a little funny..." You gasp, eyes lighting up mischievously, "We should write a fanfic!" Satan tilts his head, "And why would we do that?" "Because the world deserves a Slowburn Michael x Solomon fic?" "Nope." "Pleaseee Satan! I'll pay you!" "Nope." "It'll annoy Luci?" "Tempting..." "I'll give you a kiss?" "I'm in. Let's write the best Michael x Solomon the Devildom's ever seen." You shake Satan's hand. Maybe you should've been reincarnated as a demon.

🩷🩷ASMODEUS 🩷🩷

Finds out through one of his gossip circles relatively fast.

He wants to get more details so he can tell you later! <3

By far one of the more supportive brothers

So he finds Solomon, who knows maybe he could give some advice!

Michael was strange, but he was always nice to Asmo growing up in the celestial realm, he might as well make sure one of his best friends is treating his former brother right <3

"Hiya Sol!~" Asmo smiles excitedly, pulling the sorcerer in for a hug, pouting when he pulled away again. "I cant believe you never told me! Ugh~...you must've been scared I wouldn't accept you!~ Poor thing...~" Solomon blinks slowly, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with pure confusion, lost in his own rant, Asmo doesn't notice. "Well! You have my blessing!~" "For what?" "For your relationship with Michael, silly!~" Asmo giggles, Solomon takes a deep breath. "For my what." A pause pauses all sound for a moment, only for a moment, before like all other moments, they begin the cycle of movemnt again. Solomon nods rather calmly, "Maybe I shouldn't have turnt MC into a sheep....or maybe I should do it again as payback...." He says to himself Asmo sighs, so it was just a rumour then....

He does still post a link to your fanfic on his Devilgram story, because he's so supportive! <3

No one tell Michael, or Lucifer pretty please

❤️❤️BEELZEBUB❤️❤️ & 💜💜BELPHEGOR💜💜

Being a member of the Anti-Lucifer League, Satan told Belphie who told Beel after taking a nap.

Beel, being the absolute legend that he is didn't really have any opinions on it. As long as they're happy :)

Belphie sits in on the fanfic plot planning sessions you and Satan host, with Beel sometimes joining and giving surprisingly interesting plot twists.

Belphie cackles when Beel tells Lucifer of the rumours, shortly before the first chapter of Forbidden Fruits is published.

Satan and You stand by the whiteboard in the attic, various spider diagrams and bullet points are written messily upon it, only this time, it's not a plan to 'prank' Lucifer. (Are they really pranks if they never succeed?) The sound of munching can be heard as Beel works away happily on a bag of crisps, offering everyone some as you work. "What if we made Solomon run after Michael in the rain." Belphie drawls out lazily, not even looking up from where he lies beside Beel. You stare at Belphie, "What is with you and the people chasing after people in the rain trope?" Belphie sticks his tongue out at you in response. Beel shakes his head. "That wouldn't be accurate. Michael hates getting his hair wet." Belphie smiles, "Good point Beel." Satan makes a sound of contemplation. "What if...we had Michael chase Solomon in the rain instead? The fact he hates getting his hair wet could show just how much he loves Solomon..." You laugh, imagining the scene in your head. "But why is Michael chasing Solomon?" Belphie smirks, "Because Michael said something bad about humans during a fight, Solomon got upset and ran like a maiden." Beel stops munching on his snacks, looking down approvingly at his twin. "That's really smart Belphie." "Thanks Beel." Belphie grins. "Yeah Belph, your angstiness is really paying off." You tease. "Oh shut up MC." He glares at you, but there's no real weight behind it. "Theyre right you know." Satan smirks. "I heard you blasting Paramore and MCR earlier." "Its good music!"Belphie says definsively. "Besides, it keeps me awake. Goodnight." He mutters, laying his head on his twins lap before closing his eyes. Five minutes of silence later, Beel opens his mouth, "He does wear eyeliner a lot when he's in our room y'know?" "Beel!" You and Satan laugh, Beel just smiles happily at everyone getting along. Belphie devises a plan to make you dream pigeons are going to take over the world tonight as payback.

im on a Lucifer being bullied by Michael spree rn 🧍‍♂️ also you can't convince me that Satan and Belphie aren't soso similar to Lucifer bc at the end of the day they're all just angsty emo teens <3

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ponderingsoflife · 19 days ago

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I love this… I have my own minecraft ghost fic where the ghosts are connected to an item instead of a place.

That being said I’m curious… If you had to choose an item to be connected with the ghosts in your au what would they be?

That’s a really good question!

Grian would be attached to the sword that killed him, the most basic of options but I find it really fitting for him.

Pearl would be attached to a stuffed animal, like the ghost of a small Victorian child. I feel like adding a small stuffed bear in her hands changes her whole image and makes it so much more devastating cause Pearl was still a child when she died by our modern day standards.

Martyn would be attached to a crown. I figure he stole it at some point and he was wearing it when he died. The crown could be repaired, but Martyn’s body never could be.

Joel would not be linked to a car despite the obvious connection. He would be linked to an old rusty bike, maybe one that the protagonist (if it’s not Jimmy) fixes up over the course of the story. As an alternate, it would also be really cool for Joel to be tied to a trophy, being passed around from person to person with no say in the matter.

Cleo would be bound to a camera, it’s fitting that the last thing to see her alive should be what carries her to the afterlife. I also think it would be really sweet if Scar carried the camera around during his life, not knowing they were watching, and allowing Cleo to watch him grow up. (When Scar dies, the camera gets shoved in a drawer and locked away, but the reason why would likely veer too far into spoiler territory so I won’t get into that right now).

Scar is a bit different, already being somewhat linked to an object in my au. He would be bound to the green silk scarf (which is really more of an ascot but I refuse to say ascot) he wore in life that Bdubs then started to use to tie back his hair so he could keep his brother with him.

In my mind, Scott would not be bound to something so simple. Either what he’s bound to is unknown causing him to spend day after day in endless torment, or he is bound to the house itself like he is in my au. Never allowed to leave.

And as a little bonus, I think Jimmy as a ghost would be bound to a glass sculpture. You can say it’s a canary, but I won’t go that far. With the risk of shattering the bird also creating the risk of shattering his soul with it.

#losing ghosts au #life series #jimmy solidarity #grian #pearlescentmoon #martyn inthelittlewood #joel smallishbeans #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #alternate universe

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karoochui · 1 year ago

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What im hearing is:

Little crow feet outside my window bcs im feeding them- that’s besides the point!

Is there magic??? His shovel looks magic and they look magic

And do give me every detail you are thinking of for the series even if its in the distant future or not that relevant but you want to share

Crows!! Cute!! Also sorry i didnt get to this sooner my laptop BROKE (still broken but usable) and my mom and i have been looking for someone to fix it. Ive been drawing with it sparingly to be careful.

YES there is magic. Of course im still working on this storywise but im getting characters designs n whatnot done right now. Dynamics n stuff. BUT i do have some refs i made before my laptop broke.

I like to draw out certain stuff so that it helps with descriptions in the future; i have the worst memory so it helps to be able to do so. (More beneath cut)

Im so excited for moon's shadow form. Oh my god. Its probably my favorite thing right now.

Fun thing about it is that in this form he can touch you but you cant touch him. Something something you can be cast in shadow but you cant take it off yk? He's still light sensitive like this though, so if the area hes in isn't dark enough or he's hit with anything too bright he just reverts back. At that point he'd just have to rely on normal hand to hand stuff and his sand lol. The shadow form is just better for sneaking and speed. Really, he's some amalgamative idea of the sandman and boogieman. I thought it fit well with his whole "naptime attendant gone wrong" thing.

Sun's design, however, is more like if you mixed a cowboy, wizard, and gravedigger together. I made it a while ago on a whim with no intention behind it but then i ended up thinking "ykw would be so awesome".

The hat dips to cover the crescent side of his face (not intentional on his part) to symbolize his resentment towards moon and how he basically damned him to an hourglass. His eyes are easier to see bc of this which could seem more trusting (eyes are the window to the soul or whatever), but the thing is thats not normal for him (as we know) so it's meant to make him look suspicious and looming to 4th wall viewers. There's also the fact that i just thought it was cool too.

He also doesn't get a second form. Moon's sneaky and weird so i thought it would fit to give him some freaky thing iykwim. Sun, however, is a pretty "in your face" kinda guy, so his look and fight style is more extravagant and boisterous. Lots of swinging amd yelling and boom bang zap! Despite the showiness he's actually a longer range fighter. Mainly because unlike moon, thousands of years ago, he wasn't often one to get violent with his hands. His weapon is just obnoxiously large too though.

They are still one animatronic and their transformation is still triggered by light. Instead of an AI chip though (which is still in there but long dead), they live through the work of a soul. They're still physically inorganic but as far as spiritually they're as close as they're gonna get to being human. Their life and functionailty is derived from the magic itself, not the machinery. Like if for some reason they lost all their magic they'd just drop dead from a battery life long since drained.

The hourglass has a carousel-like design to it purely as reference to moon's level in Help Wanted 2.

Sorry for rambling so much but this is what i've got for you so far! I have a general idea for the plot but im tryna to make it more than what it is rn, so i dont wanna share too much of that just yet in case i change or completely toss away an idea.

#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf security breach #sundrop #fnaf moon #moondrop #binary resurgence: round 2 au #binary resurgence #my asks #mikas stuff #dca x reader #dca x y/n #sun x reader #moon x reader

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mrchiipchrome · 1 year ago

Text

The Drunk Dial

W.C.- 3.8 k

a/n; i know that this is extremely shitty

------

Alessia Russo hated you. You would go as far as to say that she despised you. You don’t know when it started, but it’s been one of the only constants in your life ever since. Your parents divorce? Meh, she couldn’t give a damn. You break your arm? Good going trying to get her to sign your cast. You get called up? Ugh tell someone who cares.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try to become friends with the blonde, it was just that she rejected your every advance. In fact that’s all you did the first year or so, until you realized it was futile of you to even try. Ever since the two of you had been living in disharmony, arguing with the other every chance you got.

That’s why you’re so confused when you hear the voicemail she left you the night before as you’re walking to training. The slurred words quickly makes the confused look disappear, a smirk replacing it rapidly as you realize the ammunition you now have.

The girls look on in confusion as you basically skip your way into the meeting room, eyes scanning for the blonde head of hair you’d gotten used to seeing daily over the last few weeks. When you inevitably don’t see her, you take a seat closer to the door than you usually would.

“Oi, Y/n you’re in my seat!” Katie whisper shouts as she takes the seat right beside you, wanting her favorite seat back.

“Tough luck Katie, come earlier next time” You tease, adding an overdramatic wink at the end of the sentence to emphasize. You’re not even mad when the older girl pushes harshly at your shoulder, in too good of a mood to have it be dampened by anyone.

The meeting finishes as quickly as it had started, Alessia not appearing until the meeting itself had concluded and people had started to file out the door. Not you though, you stayed right where you’d taken your seat 20 minutes before.

Your humorous glare didn’t even falter as you felt the harsh one coming from the girl with baby blue eyes, who’d coincidentally thrown herself into the seat opposite of you. Jonas looks at Alessia expectedly as the blonde girl slowly lowers her sunglasses, the tall man expecting an apology from the obviously hungover girl.

“I’m so sorry for being late Jonas” The gaffer looks on in slight disbelief before sighing loudly.

“It’s okay, just don’t let it happen again” He fixes her with a pointed look, quickly disappearing from the enclosed space with Alessia nodding vigorously.

“Can I get you anything Russo? Water? Smelling salts? An alibi for why you’re late?” The teasing tone in your voice is almost as prominent as the striker's headache, the headache that makes her feel like her head is splitting.

“No but you could fuck right off!” Alessia rests her forehead on the cool surface of the table in an attempt at easing her pounding headache. She runs her hands over her sloppily tied hair, the bun she’d hastily thrown her golden locks into quickly falling apart.

“Ooohh, that stings.” Your hand comes up to cover your heart, like the women in those renaissance paintings. “Not the words, but the cloud of vodka that accompanies them” Your teasing continues even after she gives you the finger.

“Fuck you!” Alessia groans out through clenched teeth. With a response as quick as light, you counter.

“Oh you wish” You’re able to see the disgusted expression on her face from miles away, but strangely you also see the slight rosiness of her cheeks.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I went out with some old UNC friends last night” Your eyebrows furrow at her explanation, she doesn’t owe you one.

“Yeah, then you thought ‘Oh, I should call Y/n at 3 am’” The smirk on your face widens exponentially as Alessia lifts her face from the table, confusion on every corner of her expression.

“Really, yeah cause the first thing I do when I’m having fun is think abou-” Her sweet accented voice is cut off by her own, only the latter is slurred and barely audible.

“Y/n Y/l/n I’m ringing you because…what was it?” Alessia’s giggle on the recording of her voice cuts off her next words, “You’re probably asleep but you’re pretty…I don’t even know” The recording is cut off with the sound of someone shouting for shots. Alessia’s face is beet red by now, expressing every horrified thought running through her pretty head.

“The drunk dial. So much subtext. So much intrigue. So much booty call implication.” You’re oh so satisfied with yourself as Alessia opens her mouth to respond, but ultimately doesn’t. The chair bounces off the floor as the blonde legs it out the door, your laughter providing a back track.

The loud clicking of cleats against the floor catches your attention, and when Gio’s head pops into the room from the doorway.

“What happened with Less?” The younger girl questions, having seen Alessia running to the locker room only moments before.

“Russo drunk dialed me! After years of hating me, she called me drunk last night and I got the voicemail to prove it.” Gio’s expression turns from neutral to worried faster than a lightswitch turns a lamp on.

“The drunk dial?! Ohhhh this can’t be good!” Now it’s your turn to be confused, the girl in front of you extremely worried.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. We tease each other all the time, she hates me” You explain apprehensively, not wanting to make the girl more worried.

“That’s the point! What can she do when you hold all the cards? It’s like when two people see each other naked in sitcoms, the balance shifts.” The girl in front of you grabs your shoulder wildly, as to implicate exactly how important it is that you understand.

“So you’re telling me I need to show Russo the lady parts?” Your smile indicates that you’re joking, and Gio shoves your shoulder telling you to go and get ready for training. Still, the talk with the younger woman sticks in your mind throughout practice, especially when Alessia can’t look you in the eyes and when she doesn’t tackle you as hard as usual.

Eventually when practice ends you all file into the cafeteria for lunch, and you end up in line right behind the blue eyed beauty. The blonde avoids your every attempt at meeting her eyes and starting a conversation, not giving you her usual snide remarks. You’re worried now, her snide remarks usually hurting you but in a good way.

“Russo, once when I was out at the pub with the team I hit on a dude who I thought was a chick.” Her sky blue eyes meet yours for the first time since that morning, tens of different emotions swirling around in them.

“Why are you telling me this?” She questions.

“Well it’s to tell you that no one acts like themself when they’re drunk, I wouldn’t think about flirting with a dude sober. Sooo…” You answer her confidently, that confidence disappearing when she gives you a dirty look.

“Fuck off Y/l/n” Her voice is more venomous than a black mamba, and you have to hide the slightly shocked expression from your teammates who all look on in confusion at the interaction.

After getting your food, you make your way to where Gio is sitting in a conversation with Kathrine. The chair thuds as you drop down into it and you effectively pull Gio’s attention away from her best friend, the girl looking at you with a knowing smile.

“You were right, it’s all awkward now and she won’t even insult me.” You throw your hands up into the air as Kathrine looks on in confusion.

“Wait, let’s hear that first part again” Gio demands with a satisfied smile. You sigh, knowing that this was the only way for you to get her to help you.

“You were right.”

“And just one more time for good measure” You fix the brunette with a slight glare before once again telling her that she was right. “Oh it’s like music to my ears, now the only way to get everything back to normal is for you to even the score.” Gio tells you, Kathrine giving up on trying to understand what you were talking about.

“I have to show Russo my bits?” This time, unlike the other, you’re completely serious. Gio slaps her hand on her forehead at you as she tries to explain what she means to you.

“No, you have to drunk dial her! Have you ever acted drunk before?” The girl questions curiously, looking at you expectantly.

“No I’m not drunk, seriously I’m not drunk.” You slur your words painfully, swaying slightly in your seat to give it a realer look. Gio winces at the horrid performance, knowing that she would have to get you drunk for her plan to work.

“That was horrible, I’ll go home with you after the weight session and we’ll practice, okay?” You nod in response before digging into your food.

—-

After another rather awkward training session with the blue eyed girl, you find yourself in your apartment with your young companion who’s trying to coach you on how to act drunker than you are.

As Gio pours you another shot of the clear alcoholic beverage, you can’t help but wince slightly at the burning sensation at the back of your throat from previous shots.

“Bottoms up” The girl tells you playfully as you throw the liquid courage down the back of your throat. “Now, try again. Let’s see your drunk impression.” You imitate an old phone as you make beeping noises.

“Wassup Russo, your call was a nice surprise so I decided to give you a ring to thank you for it” The slurring words don’t help you in the slightest as Gio once again looks on in disgust.

“No, not like that, come on!” The young girl explains.

“Gio, I love you and all, but to be honest you’re a horrible drinking buddy.” You can see the girl's expression change drastically as she picks up the bottle of alcohol. Looking on in shock, you see how the brunette chugs the alcohol directly from the bottle.

“I thought you didn’t drink” You express, Gio looking at you like you’re crazy.

“I don’t, but it’s all for the plot. The things I do for you my friend, the things I do for you” Gio pours two shots for you both to take.

What follows is a night full of drinking with one of your best friends, and one very long very detailed call to your nemesis…

—-

The rude beeping of your alarm going off for the tenth time makes you groan, your head pounding viciously in protest of the light coming in through the blinds and directly into your eyes. Your back aches dully as you feel the hard floor beneath you, looking up to the couch you see Gio’s sleeping form resting all over it.

Crawling over to the girl, you slap her leg hard to wake her up from slumber. The girl wakes with a slight yell as she sees you lying on the floor, questioning where she was.

“What happened last night?” You ask, running your hand over your face, the apartment in shambles with empty bottles strewn around like it would after a high school rager. The young girl shakes her pounding head before perking up again.

“Did you call Less last night?!” You pick your phone up with a rapid pace, looking at your outgoing calls.

“One outgoing call to Russo, and one outgoing call to Kimmy…oh fuck me, that’s not good” You tell the girl, who nods with wide eyes nearly bursting out in laughter at your terrified expression.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, look at the time! We’re so fucked!” You scrambled up from your place on the floor, rushing into your bedroom to gather some new, not alcohol drenched clothes for you and Gio. Throwing the clothes on the youngster, you tell her to hurry up and put them on before you’re even later than needed.

You’re both out the door in record time, slipping the pairs of sunglasses you always kept with you over your eyes to block out the light even more.

Pulling up to training, the two of you rush out of the car and into the building. The locker room is nearly empty by the time you reach it, the only people there being the only two in the whole world that you didn’t want to see at that moment. Kim raises her brow at the door slamming open and as you look into her eyes, you see the disapproving look that’s settled there. When Gio runs into your back only moments later, it only becomes worse.

You rush to your cubby, located only meters away from Alessia’s, Alessia who looks at you with a satisfied smirk on her face. The stupid smirk entices you, and you wonder what you possibly could have said to get her to look at you like that.

Pulling your shirt off, you don’t notice her Alessia’s eyes follow the movement, her eyes locking onto the shaped abs and the ridges that appear on your arms as you struggle to get the shirt off. Just because you don’t notice doesn’t mean that Gio doesn’t, she smirks at the obvious attraction Alessia holds for you.

After getting your training clothes on, you make your way to the door where your skipper is waiting for you. She holds the door open for you before slinging her arm around your waist, you bringing your arm up and around her shoulders.

“Did you have fun last night?” The older woman asks you, your eyes widening slightly in surprise at her question.

“If I’m honest, I can’t even remember most of last night.” Your free hand comes up to rub at the back of your neck, the door behind you opening up yet again.

“Well, next time you and Gio decide to have a night full of drinking, please make sure that you dial Alessia’s number right away instead of calling me, okay?” Your cheeks darken exponentially at the blondes words, the woman a mentor to you.

“I’m so sorry Kimmy.” She smiles up at you in response, patting your stomach lightly before breaking away from you.

Back in the locker room Alessia is getting ready to get out of the locker room, that is before she hears Gio call her name.

“Alessia, I can see the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching you.” The shorter girl keeps her voice low, like she’s talking to a scared animal.

“What are you talking about?” The blonde questions, her eyes betraying her real feelings as the love shines through the apparent hatred.

“I’m talking about you and Y/n, listen I know that you hate her or whatever but the eyes never lie chica, the eyes never lie” And with that, Gio walks out of the room, leaving a stunned Alessia Russo behind.

—-

Only days later, it’s time for an away game and as you settle into your seat on the bus you can’t help but think about your blue eyed teammate. Staring out the window, you get startled out of your thoughts by a body flopping into the seat beside you. Looking to your left, you see the person you least expected to sit beside you.

Her ocean-like eyes look into your own for a second before she stares back towards the front of the bus. When she starts to talk, she does so in a whisper that barely gets heard over the bustle of the bus.

“So, you think I’m pretty huh?” She leans into your body slightly, her minty breath wafting over the side of your face. The cool mint contrasts the hot nature of your tomato red face, wide eyes scanning her side profile nervously.

“What? I’ve never said that!” Your voice comes out shaky and unsure as your eyes flit around the bus, now it’s Alessia’s turn to study you.

“Oh, so you don’t deny that I’m pretty?” She teases, your face becoming even more red than before if that was possible. The sputtering coming from your throat doesn’t help your case as you choke on your spit.

Alessia pulls up her phone to play the voicemail you’d left her only days before, the slurred voice on the recording obviously yours as it was your turn to be embarrassed.

“Hey Ruse-Cruise, I was just calling to tell you that you're so pretty. I can’t believe that you’re real, you always look like a fucking goddess and I’m so jealous that I can’t call you mine. Yeah, sober me is gonna hate myself for that but I don’t care. Kiss Kiss!” If you could, you would throw yourself off a cliff.

Pulling your hoodie up and over your cartoonishly red face, you wish for the ground to swallow you whole or at least get Alessia to move away from you. And after a bit, it seems like your prayers are answered because Alessia moves over to sit beside Lotte and Gio moves into the spot Alessia had occupied only moments before.

“Gio, kill me” You plead to the younger girl, who looks on in part amusement and part concern.

“That bad, huh?” Your head drops down onto her shoulder and you hum in agreement. “It’ll be alright, don’t you worry.” The younger girl strokes your back to comfort you, catching the eye of her partner in crime and nodding. The plan had to be set in motion.

—-

Ever since you had heard that godforsaken voicemail, you had been ignoring the older girl who it had been sent to. The only time you actually gave her any semblance of attention was during training or games, and even then it was only a second of eye contact or a quick word.

The striker's friends had even started to notice the effect your absence had on her, the girl much more frustrated and closed off than normal. It had gotten so bad that her performance on the pitch was worsening slightly. Something had to be done, and fast.

Just to their luck, the two matchmakers had created a plan that was sure to work.

When Gio comes running for you after training one day, her worried expression fools you just the right amount and as she runs away in the opposite direction you were going in, you just had to follow her.

What you didn’t expect was to be pushed into a storage closet only moments after arriving to where Gio had stopped, another body being pushed into you seconds later before the telltale sound of the lock clicking shut sounds throughout the cramped space.

The person leaning against you soon jumps away from you, a voice sounding from the other side of the door.

“I don’t care how you do it, but the two of you need to make up. Only then will you be let out.” The scowl on your face widens at the smugness in Gio’s voice and your fist pounds at the door viciously as you scream and yell for them to open the damn door.

In your attempts to get the girls on the other side to open the door for you, you don’t notice how Alessia starts to panic nor do you notice how she’s now on the ground.

“Y/n shut up!” Her tone is harsh as you continue to bang your fist on the door. “No seriously Y/n, shut up!” The way Alessia speaks has you looking towards her, seeing the dark silhouette of her body sitting on the floor.

“I don’t like tight spaces” She whispers into your ear after you’ve dropped down beside her, taking her hand in your own, you don’t have the stomach to tell her that her death grip is cutting off all your circulation.

“Hey, Russo, how can I help you? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how” The free hand caresses her shin in what’s supposed to be a comforting action. All the years of supposed hate disappears when she looks up at you with tearfilled eyes, begging you to do something.

“I don’t care what you do, just distract me please” She begs. The idea that pops into your head will probably make her hate you even more, but alas it’s the only way to distract her.

“Fuck it” You lean in closer to her, the fact that she isn’t pushing you away is definitely a good sign.

“Can I kiss you?” You whisper against her lips, in place of a response she leans in slightly and presses her soft lips against your own.

The only way to describe her lips was that they were heavenly, and definitely distracting. They move slowly, testing the waters before diving in. Without breaking the seal of your lips, the forward slowly moves over into your lap, her hands tasseling in your locks whilst yours settle comfortably on her hips. The bruising grip of your fingers doesn’t let up even after the blonde pulls away from the kiss.

She twirls your hair between her long, perfectly manicured fingers and her intense gaze settles on your face, eyes flitting over it like she’s trying to commit it to memory. Your thumbs find their way under the hem of her shirt, stroking the skin softly.

“I’m sorry” She speaks up quietly.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, pretty girl?”

“The way I’ve treated you, I couldn’t even tell you why I did it.” Alessia explains, her fingers caressing your cheek sweetly. You lean into her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm before speaking.

“Eh, that’s all in the past, how about we make some positive memories to replace the old ones huh?” You whisper back, pulling the shorter girl in for another kiss.

“Hey, Gio! Can we come out now? We’ve made up” Alessia’s cheeks darken slightly at the particular choice of words. You two stand up as the door gets unlocked and opened, letting Alessia exit first, you soon lunge at the brazilian who’d locked you in. Pulling her into a headlock, you hear the sweet sound of Alessia’s laughter and you can’t help but laugh yourself.

Let’s just say, Alessia Russo doesn’t hate you anymore, the kisses you share deep into the night a sure indication of that…

#alessia russo x reader #woso #woso x reader #unc soccer #alessia russo

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saintslewis · 1 year ago

Text

“𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑”

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

˖ ࣪⭑ - pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

˖ ࣪⭑ - summary: first date with the world’s newest married couple!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cursing, brand names, outfits descriptions, smau, typos.

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: aaannnnndddd we’re back! have quite a few wips so that took my time mainly lol. i truly love these two and i hope you guys do too 🥹. like i said, maybe i should make a schedule for this. hope you enjoy and let me know if you wanna be tagged 🤭.

pls do like, reblog and comment!

Tell me your thoughts guys!!!

masterlist

previous chapter

"what the fuck did we just do?" Nadia blurted out as she held the small but extremely expensive red bag in her shaking hand, her other hand over her mouth as she stared at it.

The man in question closed the car door to the backseats, making sure the two other shopping bags were secure. Climbing into the car, he looked at the frightened woman and desperately tried to hide his smile as she took small breaths. Eventually calming down with him typing on his phone, she reached into the deep red bag that read 'Cartier' and carefully took out the delicately wrapped boxes that held their respective wedding rings.

Walking into the luxurious store was a mission in itself as the newly married 'couple' had to pretend for the first time. With Lewis assuring her that it was usually empty during that specific time of day, Nadia tried to keep her cool together by entering the store she would only window shop from. Immediately when entering the private entrance, she could already feel the difference in the atmosphere, the quiet music through the hallways became a bit too overwhelming for her. What Nadia couldn't do was to understand what life she would be living from here on out, each step dragging the next as she watched the Harrods' security guards stand firm in their positions, guarding the gold elevator. Keeping within close proximity of each other, their arms would brush against each others from time to time and everytime she would glance at Lewis, he looked so unphased it was scary. It looked like he's been doing this for years.

As the two turned the corner and the jewellery store came into view, Nadia looked around at the other stores forming what seemed like a cul de sac within the store. The red and gold exterior of Cartier caught her eye and she and the man she was with gathered the workers and the customers attention. Giving a subtle nod and smile to both security guards standing on guard at the entrance, they opened the large Oakwood doors and a strong scent captivated her.

"Could I hold your hand?" Lewis asked quietly, holding his hand out for the younger woman to surprisingly grab onto in lightning speed. "My hands are really sweaty right now, I'm sorry." Nadia stressed. With their fingers intertwined and Lewis' cold rings managing to cool down her hand, he led into the shop where a sales associate was waiting patiently, gasping when she saw Lewis without his sunglasses and a woman standing next to him. Displaying a selling smile, the sales associate fixed her blazer and signaled to the security guards to close the doors.

"Mr Hamilton, what a pleasure to have you join us this afternoon. Greetings to the both of you. My name is Kim and I will be helping you today." Kim had said with a professional voice, leading them to her work desk near a counter showcasing diamonds and emeralds. "What brings you in today?" She asked, sitting on her desk chair and clearly directing the question towards Lewis. Before saying his words, Lewis knew that nothing he could say would be out these doors as the employees sign NDAs almost every week.

"Well, my wife couldn't find her ring at all for the past two weeks and rather decided to get a new one." He explained as he pulled out the chair for Nadia to sit before he did. The pure shock on the sales associate's face was borderline comedic, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "O-oh! Well, we definitely have a lovely range of wedding rings that would be suitable for the both of you, seeing as you guys are such a beautiful couple." Kim said with a shaky laugh, reaching to give them a look book for their purchase.

"I'll give you guys a couple of minutes to decide." And with that, the ever so young sales associate stood up from her assigned desk and left Nadia and Lewis to make their decision. Releasing a sigh she had kept in her from the moment they walked through the door, she looked at Lewis who just picked up the catalog and flipped through the pages.

"How are you so calm right now? My hands can't stop sweating, what the fuck." Nadia whisper-yelled, trying not to wipe her hands on anything near her whilst breathing through her nose. "I'm just used to this but it would've been nice if she wasn't so nervous." He shrugged his shoulders, leaning comfortably into the seat and his eyes scanning into the catalog. "Do you want to leave? Because we can. I really don't want you to be uncomfortable." Lewis suggested, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow making her face him. Studying his face, she looked into his eyes as the sincerity poured out. He was worried, the fear literally showing through her but as she shifted her eyes to Kim who looked like she was coming over, a switch flipped in her.

Quickly grabbing the open catalog from the table, Nadia scanned the pages and landed on a ring that screamed at her with its luxury and simplicity. "Oh this is just stunning." She grinned, pointing at the picture of the ring. To say Lewis was surprised was an understatement but he could see what she was doing and it was smart. "It really is. Is this the one you want?" He asked, leaning close to her and noticed she didn't even move. Oh, she was really selling this.

"It's perfect." Nadia smiled so much so that her eyes closed.

"Wait so what do I say? Like happy 2 years or something?" Nadia asked, turning her body in the car seat to face Lewis. The two hadn't even put the rings on yet but they already were planning what to post on instagram.

"No clue. Did you choose what to post? Tia is bugging me about that." He said, sighing out for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Snapping her eyes at the man, he caught the look she sent him then clarified that she was his main pr manager. "I think I'll go with the flow when I choose the pictures." Awkwardly enough, Lewis and Nadia exchanged phone numbers and had to share a few photos with each other to have something to post for the world.

"You know, your dad mentioned that we should tell our friends before we tell the world." She said, slumping her head back into the surprisingly soft headrest. "Yeah. Uh my friends are in town so we could probably do something with them and announce it there." Lewis said, scratching at his hair out of nerves. He never was someone who got nervous often but this entire situation kept playing on his mind.

"Alright then. Home time?" He suggested, watching her nod before he even finished his sentence. He soon drove off with her address already on the car display, watching her as she admired the streets of London. They both knew this was going to be a long journey but it was worth helping each other out as their friendship began to bloom.

"Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you actually do for work? I feel like we've been talking about my job so much that I haven't taken the chance to know what you do. Y'know, besides shopping at Cartier so much that the workers recognise you." She asked, facing the car window and looking out as they passed through Central London. "Well um, I work in Formula One and it's been my..thing for the past 30 years." He revealed as he stopped at the red light, people from outside most definitely couldn't see inside the car even they tried.

"30? Oh my god, they had you working at 2?!" For this, Nadia sat up and looked at Lewis in astonishment, making him burst out laughing. "How old do you think I am?" He could barely get the question before giggling once again. "I thought you were at least 32. How are you older than 32?" Fully facing him now, Nadia couldn't believe what she was hearing because in her eyes, his features were very youthful (similar to hers but she didn't want to brag). "I'm 38, January 7th." Lewis said, giving her a closed smile.

Racking everything that she just learned about him, it all came back to her. Most Fridays when her students (whoever had History that time) would request to watch anything F1 related whilst she focused on something else or when the name 'Hamilton' was constantly thrown around between the last few minutes of classes almost every week. Even the 4 years she's been teaching at the same school, they would make a big deal every July before schools closed for the race in Silverstone and constantly cheer on the same British driver, Hamilton. Her new last name.

"Are you good? you went quiet on me for a second." Lewis glanced at Nadia as she had a slight pout on her face as she looked straight ahead, clearly her concentration face. "Just realised that most of my students adore you, borderline obsessed with you." She muttered but he heard her loud and clear. "And I don't know shit about you except that you drive super fast cars on weekends." She began clicking her nails as a way to distract her from her busy mind. "Okay, how about we go on a fake date after we tell the world about our marriage to get to know one another so we can understand our new lives now. Is that okay with you?" Lewis suggested and truly, Nadia's heart swelled a little.

"Can I dress up or will I be judged for that?"

"Anything you want."

The next day.

"Wait. I'm confused. Your PR lady wants to have a meeting with me when? After we launch? Because I'm gonna be really busy with my students tomorrow." Nadia was extremely stressed and rightfully so. After everything happened yesterday, it was time to worry about the logistics of this 'relationship.'

"Tia said she's around London now so maybe you two could meet at a café somewhere in case you're not uncomfortable with her being at your place but she preferred to do it before everything gets crazy." Lewis spoke over the phone. Nadia kept quiet for a few moments as she skimmed over a few facts about Lewis on her laptop. "Wait, you were knighted?" She asked, seeing the photo of Lewis with the badge she recognise as the one that knights usually get. "Are you looking me up right now?" The laugh threatened to come out as he slowed down on the treadmill. "What? I wouldn't." Nadia closed the laptop with speed as if he could see what she was doing.

"Uh huh... anyways, should I forward her number to you or should I make the call?" Lewis pretended as if the biggest smile didn't paint his face at that very moment. "Just send it to me and I'll probs invite her over. We'll talk later then." The two said their goodbyes and went back to whatever it was they were doing.

Placing her phone down next to her on the couch, she sat in silence as it all dawned on her. The man she is legally married to is one of the world's most famous athletes with millions and millions of supporters. Spending almost the whole morning researching anything she needed to know, her chest wanted to close in as she looked at everything from stats from his long ass F1 career to his businesses and social life and they didn't call him the busiest driver for nothing. Lewis never seemed like the type of person to relax and chill from the number of things he does in a day. From Fashion weeks to visiting labs for one of his many projects, it was going to be tough to adjust to his lifestyle whilst still being a full time high school teacher but she was willing to do so, to help a friend.

"Again, I'm so sorry for this sudden ambush on you. You're so lovely." Tia apologised once again, making Nadia hold her hand as she shook her head.

The dandelions that Tia brought over were sitting pretty in an empty vase on the living room table, making the room smell so fresh. Tia was definitely a few years younger than Nadia, shown by her enthusiastic energy as soon as she stepped into the apartment.

"So to just get to the gist of it all, you're entering the world of fame without knowing what exactly goes into it. You're gonna need a team, security intel, a refurbished social media look, probably a new bank account and a new address." Tia said, pulling out a notebook from her tote bag. "For now, I'll be your pr manager along with Lewis'. Please just know that this fake marriage idea was a collective decision by the rest of our team because of the scandals that have just been coming our way. I hope I'm not scaring you?"

"Girl, I'm scared as shit right now. What do you mean new address?" Nadia vocalised as her right leg bounced repeatedly. "So in order to make this believable, you'll have to move in with him and we've proposed that you say that you've been secretly married for 2 years. I know that you're going to meet with his friends soon and y'know that date? It has to be tonight because I know you have work tomorrow." Tia flipped her silk press over her shoulder as she placed her hands on the now closed notebook.

Nadia's jaw wanted to drop to the floor but she tried to seem calm as her eyes darted anywhere from Tia.

"So you and I can get ready for this date like we can go shopping, hair and nails then in the evening, he picks you up. How does that sound?" Tia smiled, already packing up her bag.

"Uh-"

"Perfect! Let's go."

"Breathe in and out, Nads. In and out." She quietly told herself as she paced up and down her room, the uncomfortable ysl heels clacked against the floor. Constantly checking if the little black dress wasn’t showing anything that didn’t need to shown.

The Cartier box sat perfectly on her dresser, staring at her and waiting to be opened. Eventually gaining the courage to open it, she gently picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger, feeling its weight slightly. Lifting her hand to the lamp, she watched as the diamond glistened, matching the charms and rhinestones on her fresh nails.

Even music couldn’t help her calm down as she anxiously waited for Lewis to say that he’s outside, palms becoming clammy at the thought of going on a ‘date’ with someone as famous as Lewis. The research she did on him was one similar to someone entering a fandom as she tried to remember basic information about her husband.

Walking over to her full length mirror, she scanned over her outfit once more and did quick breathing exercises to calm her down. She did a quick smile and walked out of her room, not forgetting her trusty fluffy slides in case she got tired of her heels.

Whilst taking a few pictures, the knock on her door startled her. Rushing to open up, she carried her new purse and touched her hair a little bit as she reached for the door handle.

The smell of roses mixed with the scent of Lewis’ cologne greeted first as the big bouquet of flowers blocked his face.

“Oh wow…” Nadia muttered as she reached to take the sunset orange roses out of his tattooed arms. Securely holding the bouquet, she looked up to observe the man and his look nearly took her breath away. The soft pastel colours of his sweater vest were matching quite well with the lilac slacks he had on, going casual with the air force ones and not to mention the jewellery that somehow emphasised the cozy yet fashionable style he was going for. It genuinely looked like he was going on a date and so did Nadia. His braids were tied back into a low ponytail and his diamond earrings sparkled quite nicely, the wedding ring he bought himself making an appearance as he lifted his hand to scratch his neck a little.

“Well good evening, Mrs.” Lewis greeted with the slyest smile on his face once he realised that Nadia was indeed checking him out. “Don’t give me that smile, Mr.” She rolled her eyes before turning around and placing the flowers in the kitchen. Seeing as she had everything she needed on her, she walked right back to the front door where he was patiently waiting for her. “Let me hold these for you.” He offered, opening his large hands to take her purse and slippers.

“You sure?”

“We’ve got quite a few flights of stairs to get through. Also, where are your neighbours? It seems like such a quiet building.” Lewis asked, curious as he looked at the closed doors they passed in the hallways towards the stairs.

“It’s mainly small families or students who just always mind their business and close themselves in by this time. It only really get noisy during sports weekends and spontaneous fights.” Nadia said, telling him a bit more about her odd neighbours as they eventually reached the same G wagon she saw yesterday.

He could listen to her talk about literally anything for hours, he told himself as he opened the car door for her, placing her stuff next to her. “Just so you know, there’s going to be some media where we’re headed, thanks to Tia so we just walk quickly whilst waving a little then we enter. Is that okay?” He asked, leaning against the open car door and his right arm caged her in a little. As much as she was distracted by how he was looking at her whilst standing like that, she nodded, somehow losing the voice that was there literally there a few minutes before.

“I have to compete with Nicki Minaj?!” She whisper-yelled as she leaned closer to him in the private booth that faced the rest of the restaurant. Already, the two had caused quite a stir as soon as they exited the car with the paparazzi rapidly throwing questions at each of them, barely giving them a chance to smile and wave as they planned. The security (both Lewis’ and the restaurants) helped them in and to the customers surprise, they entered in with confidence. Them holding hands really sold for everyone, the two waving to fans using their left hands before being escorted to the private booth.

“Well no you don’t have to anymore. It was just a…thing a few years ago.” Lewis said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back against his chair. “But still! Like your fans literally know you with well known women so what are they even going to do with me?” Rightfully so, Nadia was stressed. This was a big commitment and already she was regretting it.

“I have a feeling that they will love you. As long as you aren’t a complete weirdo then they’ll most likely accept you. Well that’s what someone on Twitter said after hearing about a supposed fling I had with someone.” He assured. He seemed so calm about this and it freaked her out.

“Supposed?”

“Yup. Plus I’m now married to you so everything will swept up under a rug, y’know? Remove any bullshit rumours going on.” He said, sipping his drink once again.

“Again, how are you so calm about this, bruv? Feel like i’m sweating bullets here.” She breathed out, slightly fanning herself even though there was air conditioning in their booth.

“Is that who I am now? Bruv?” He asked, giggling as he looked at her amusingly.

“That is definitely your contact name. Oh! You have to meet my kids, that’s where I get it from.” Nadia spoke, taking a fry from her plate, the food the waiter brought over a while ago.

“Year 8?”

“Nope. Only Year 11 and 12. It was part of the ‘promotion’ but I only studied further to teach Year 8 so right now I’m winging it with my kids and it seems to be going pretty good. They’re excelling.” Nadia chatted, proudly talking about her students.

“You were meant to be a teacher, I swear. The glint in your eyes was so adorable when you spoke about them.” Lewis smiled, also eating his meal.

“Okay, don’t make me blush old man.” She scoffed with a little chuckle making Lewis laugh fully.

“Anyways, where am I gonna live? Tia was very adamant about me moving out to make it look super real.” Nadia changed the subject so quickly, as if it was lightning.

“My main residence is in Monaco but because of what I do, I tend to travel for two months at a time so I’ve got a few houses in another countries. So you can choose where you want to live really. Personally though, I can tell you love your job so this will be a bit tough for you but I get where she’s coming from.” Lewis informed, eating his pesto as if he didn’t just shake up her life a little.

“Oh. I’m gonna have to speak to my higher ups about this. Obvie, I won’t tell them the whole thing but can you give me a week to figure it out? Because it’s also salary that’s no longer gonna be there once I start travelling with you.” Nadia brought up, pinching her leg as thoughts raced through her mind.

“Sure, take as much time as you need because I get that this is a lot. I have a house near Wembley, that’s where I’ve been staying since I arrived so that’s my proposal to you.” He informed, watching her slowly eat her food.

“Well, there wasn’t a proposal to begin with, pookie bear.” Nadia joked, biting down on the fork as she giggled.

“That nickname, Nads.” Lewis giggled at her joke, knowing that she was going to be a joy to be around.

nadiahamilton

liked by randomstudent, tia.henderson and 538 others

nadiahamilton 2 years down, a lifetime to go 🤍

tagged: lewishamilton

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randomstudent MISS???? HELLOO???

user oh history is gonna be FUN tmr

lewishamilton my love 💗

nadiahamilton mwah!! 😚

user ma’am you’re joking????? WHAT

nella_rose yo, i leave for a bit and you’re married??? congrats babe omg 😭

user yo miss, what is a 8x world champion doing in your post?

nadiahamilton being my husband :)

randomuser whatever you manifested, GIVE IT

fanpage HE’S MARRIED

15 minutes ago

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, badgalriri and 10,828,929 others

lewishamilton forever and then some with you 🤍

tagged: nadiahamilton

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user NO FUCKING WAY

user well that’s one way to hard launch!

charles_leclerc 😧

lewishamilton 🤣

fencer congratulations on two years brother! 🩷

lewishamilton thank you bro 🫂

nadiahamilton it’s bruv to you 🤨

lewishamilton happy 2 years with my bruv 🫡

nadiahamilton much better 😚

user SHE’S HOT AND FUNNY???? WE’RE SO DOOMED

user and she’s not famous like at all

gigihadid where’s this beautiful woman you’ve been hiding????

nadiahamilton hello Gigi 🤭

gigihadid oh we’re so grabbing lunch soon

user wait so no one knew of her?? not even the drivers ???😭

landonorris MOM?

nadiahamilton hi son?

danielricciardo you don’t just hard launch on us on a random Sunday 😭

lewishamilton oh well, meet my wife! :)

user he really said no more rumours lol

user OMG THATS MY TEACHER HELLO?!

user WHAT

user YEAH THATS MY HISTORY TEACHER

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes? 🥹

mercedesamgf1 boss man says hi and congratulations! 🥳

fanpage noooo you can’t be married ☹️

user girl get a GRIP

badgalriri oh she’s SEXY

lewishamilton ri, pls don’t steal my wife

nadiahamilton TOO LATE

user the next media day is going to have a BLAST when he shows up 😭

10 minutes ago

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @folkloresthings @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting

(if your acc is blank, that means that tumblr didn’t allow me to tag you/show your account)

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

all pic creds go to pinterest and insta!

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #formula one x black reader #f1 x reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #formula one x reader #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 x black!reader #fake dating #f1 fic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black reader

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justkpopjokes · 3 months ago

Text

SKZ’s reaction to being Trapped in an elevator with you

A/N: An idea from ummm 2020? Lmao I got trapped in an elevator once. Requests open :D

gender-neutral!reader, mix of romantic + platonic!

Bang Chan: “It’s okay, baby, stay calm. This is why there’s a call button built into the elevator.”

Waits a moment to see if the elevator will fix itself

Hugs you and rubs your back if you get scared

Then he presses the alert and/or call button in the elevator and handles the whole conversation until maintenance comes

Prioritizes you and does his best to keep the situation under control

Lee Know: “I can’t die now! I have three cats to raise!”

Startled but isn’t surprised; the elevator has been having issues all week and he’s been thinking about it every time he steps in

Kinda scared the elevator will fall—he’s definitely the type of person to plan on jumping as the elevator falls to supposedly minimize damage

Tries to distract himself while you handle the distress call

Suggests lifting you up to the top of the elevator like in spy movies until you remind him that there’s another set of doors on each floor of the elevator shaft

Changbin: “YO…yohhhh…sorry, sorry, where’s the distress button?”

Freaks out for a bit at first but quickly toughens up because he doesn’t want to worry you

Tries to distract you both from panicking with humour

Acts cool on call with maintenance to impress you 😎

The elevator is stuck near a floor, so he’s able to help push the door open and help you out!

Hyunjin: “AOUGH are we gonna die?? Okay, nevermind, we won’t…at least we brought food, right?”

Was returning from a snack run with you when the elevator crapped out and the lights started flickering

Is a drama queen until you open a bag of chips so he’ll stop yelling

You’re gonna have to handle the distress call simply because his mouth is full of snacks

Suggests making out to pass the time (he’s trying to distract himself)

Han: “Did you hear—WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Would panic before he even knows what’s happening! Thank goodness you’re there to calm him down

Latches onto you for comfort

You’d have to figure out which button to press and the call because he’s too stressed

Hugs you tightly even after you escape the elevator because “my life flashed before my eyes! I need to cherish you more!”

Felix: “Woah WOAH woah. Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Don’t worry, let’s handle this together.”

Pretends not to panic but spams whatever assist buttons they have and the “open door” one even though it doesn’t work

Clears his throat and makes sure to use his deep voice when on call to show you he isn’t scared. He isn’t! Not worried at all!!

Holds your hand and does deep breathing exercises with you to keep you both calm

Will massage your head for you to help you relax

Seungmin: “Ugh, I hate when this happens. Give it a minute.”

This is the guy who had a helicopter crash into his building and was unphased… unbothered king™️ could not give a crap about the elevator

Is two minutes away from lock picking a control panel to try and fix it himself (he can’t. He’s just bored)

The elevator is trapped between floors even though the door opens—he’s ready to help lift you up through the gap just to get help quicker

You refuse because you don’t want to leave him behind, so you play a game with him to pass the time

I.N: “Um…we’re supposed to call someone, right? But my phone is dead!”

Is honestly unsure what to do…Is praying in his head that the elevator fixes itself first so you don’t need to call for help

His finger hesitates over the alarm/call button while his other hand holds yours tightly

Asks if you have snacks so he can stress eat while you wait for help

Immediately searches up “what to do when trapped in an elevator” the moment you’re out in order to prepare for the future

#stray kids reactions #skz reactions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #jkj fics #.txt

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mah-t-wordblog · 5 months ago

Note

maybe lee muichiro and ler obanai/ and snake???????? THANK U

What are you laughing at?

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Obanai Igoru, Kaburamaru

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Muichiro and Obanai were just about to train, they weren't at the usual meeting place, but at Obanai's house, the same place where the hashira trained Tanjiro and the other hunters

"Shinazugawa isn't coming?" Obanai asked

"No, him crow told me”

"Then it'll just be the two of us, I have a training idea"

The two entered the room where Obanai was teaching agility techniques to the hunters

"Do you want to train a little of agility?" The snake hashira proposed

"What do you mean?"

“This is where I train, but there are usually hunters trapped here,” Obanai said, pointing to the large wooden bars that are spread around the room. “These pieces of wood are used to simulate trees, for fighting in places full of obstacles.”

Muichiro was still processing the fact that Obanai traps weaker hunters on stakes, poor Tanjiro.

“What do you say?”

“Sounds great.” Muichiro got into a fighting stance and stood in front of Obanai, with a wooden bar between the two of them. “Let’s go!”

Obanai did the same stance.

The two jumped at the same time. Obanai’s sword certainly had a considerable advantage because he could distort it, but Muichiro wouldn’t let himself be defeated easily.

The younger boy jumped over the man and ended up stabbing him in the shoulder. Of course, it was a light attack so as not to really hurt him, but Obanai didn’t expect that he would be defeated by the boy in his own space.

“I won! Haha!” The teenager celebrated

Obanai was irritated, but kept his cool

But then Muichiro, like anyone his age, started celebrating

“I beat you in your own training center! I won!”

“Stop talking like it’s impressive” Obanai rolled his eyes

The little boy laughed “What’s wrong, Igoru? Are you mad~?”

The snake hashira started staring at the other with a dark look

“Yeah… Igoru? It was just a joke” Muichiro was starting to get nervous

“Five”

“Five? Five what?”

“Five seconds for you to run”

There was no need to say it twice, the younger boy took off running as if his life depended on it

And soon the count, and Obanai’s patience, ran out

The man ran after the other, the two dodging the wooden beams, playing cat and mouse

“Please Igoru!”

“Run”

It was harder than expected for Obanai to catch young Muichiro, but he didn’t give up

Extending his arm, he slid his snake, Kaburamaru, and made it jump towards Muichiro, and the serpent reached the boy before the hashira

Kaburamaru found a hole in Muichiro’s clothes, which were quite loose because of his fighting style, and began to circle the boy under his shirt

“What?! Nohohoho!” Muichiro fell, he couldn’t run anymore, because the scales of that snake incredibly tickled his body

“You caught him, huh, Kaburamaru?” Obanai laughed

“Pleheheashehe nohohoho” Muichiro writhed as the snake moved wherever it wanted on his body

“Ah Tokito” the snake’s hashira sat down next to the other “but this has only just begun”

Obanai joined his snake, crouching on the ground and tickling Muichiro’s belly area

“AHAHAHA OK OK I’M SOHOHOHORRY”

“You’re too arrogant for someone with so many tickle spots”

Muichiro tried to grab Kaburamaru to at least make him stop, but the snake was too fast

“I wasn’t even going to get mad at you for beating me, but when you started teasing me, it seemed like you were begging for it”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP”

Obanai laughed “where did you learn that dirty language? Did Shinazugawa teach you?”

“PLEHEHEHAHASEHE IGOHORUHU”

“Do you think he’s had enough, Kaburamaru?”

The snake came out of Muichiro’s clothes and climbed up Obanai’s arm until it wrapped itself around his neck as usual

“Okay then, if you think so” the snake’s hashira stopped

Muichiro sighed and calmed down

“I’m sorry” he laughed “it’s just that you get so funny when you’re angry”

Obanai rolled his eyes “want another round?” He said making a move to get closer again

“NO! No! I’m fine!” Muichiro ran away, standing up

“Let’s go, kid, sitting here won’t help us train” Obanai said, standing up and walking towards the same place where they started training

“Ok!” Muichiro followed him

And they continued with the hard training until sunrise

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

#tickle fic #demon slayer tickle #demon slayer tickling #kny tickling #lee!muichiro #ler!obanai

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incognit0slut · 2 years ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (7)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder case. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

Part Summary: She finds herself in a compromising position.

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: this is my first time writing suspense and crime-mystery, so bear with me if you find any inaccuracy

IF THERE WAS ONE THING SPENCER WAS SURE OF, IT WAS BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. Fatigue, like an invisible shroud, draped itself around his shoulders, draining all of his energy while his mind stumbled through a labyrinth of exhaustion.

He stifled a yawn, his mind trying to focus on the situation at hand and not the lack amount of sleep he was having. When was the last time he actually slept on his bed? When was the last time he went through his days without constantly refilling his cup with too much caffeine? The muscles around his eyes were starting to twitch with restless energy, a sign of a restless mind faltered under the weight of weariness.

Yet amidst it all, a strange resilience emerged within him. He still managed to focus his blurred vision, scanning his eyes around the room as he pushed away any fatigue and the desire to be somewhere else.

His gaze finally ceased on Garcia, engrossed in her own digital world, a sleek laptop perched on the round table before her. She leaned in, her eyes fixed on the vibrant screen which illuminated her face with a soft, cool glow. "Alright, so, I did more digging onto our recent victim, and let me tell you this, Jamison Lynch wasn't exactly the boss of the year."

Jennifer Jareau—who most of them regarded as JJ—looked up from the document in her hand, sitting across from Garcia. "What do you mean?"

"Jamison Lynch was somebody you wouldn't want as a boss. There were a lot of complaints coming from his subordinates—which surprisingly, most came from female workers."

Spencer's eyes scanned the large board in front of him adorned with a labyrinth of interconnected information. Photographs of the two crime scenes were pinned up, highlighting key details, while strings of marks and drawings crossed the board. "He was very different from the first victim."

"Exactly. Kevin Marshall was the epitome of boss of the year, and everybody just loved the guy, which was why no one could guess how something terrible could happen to him."

"There's a chance what happened to him isn't related to his job," JJ offered.

"Maybe not," Garcia muttered, throwing Spencer a curious look. "But the question is still unanswered, how are the two victims linked to one another?"

"The Unsub's memo is clearly done to punish them," Spencer explained, his attention started to gather all the information gripped onto his brain. "The verse written on Jamison Lynch's body was Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in our Lord."

JJ leaned over the desk with a pointed stare. "One thing for sure, the Unsub has a strong religious background."

Spencer nodded. "All the verse they used highlights the notion that sin carries consequences, and death is described as the 'wage' or payment for those transgressions. In his mind, they may interpret these verses as a justification for his vigilante actions, believing that he's carrying out divine punishment on behalf of God."

"A religious upbringing," JJ suggested. "The Unsub could have grown up in a deeply religious environment, where strict interpretations of scripture might be emphasized."

"Most likely a distorted belief system." Spencer's hands were all over the place as he continued with his elucidation. "Over time, the Unsub's religious beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading him to believe that he possesses a unique calling to carry out punishment on behalf of a higher power."

He then studied the picture of the first crime scene, his eyes raking over the lifeless body covered in a pool of blood. "Kevin Marshall might seem like the golden citizen, but he must be involved in something that could be illegal..." He suddenly looked over to Garcia. "Did Jamison Lynch start his career as a journalist?"

Her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yes, he published a lot of his work since 2004."

"Search any articles he wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, or maybe the company he worked for. "

"Or legal cases that he was assigned with," JJ added.

"That could be a start, although it might take a while because sleuthing without much lead is difficult." Garcia peered at the two of them by the rim of her eccentric, colorful glasses. "But do not fret, I am known to be the best."

Footsteps suddenly emerged into the room as Aaron Hotchner glanced around the three of them. "Garcia," he mentioned, standing behind her. "Did you find any old cases that might be involved in the victims?"

"Ah, yes, the system was searching through the database based on your queries this morning and it took me a while before—" A sudden ping echoed from her device. “Well, that was perfect timing."

Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as her eyes scanned the dimly lit screen. Everyone in the room stood frozen in their tracks, their faces etched with a curious mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Garcia's eyes widened, revealing the turmoil that echoed the collective sentiment of the room. "Whoa."

JJ stood up and circled her way around the table, standing close to her. "What is it?"

"I started looking through the database for any similar crimes in surrounding areas this morning." Her attention shifted between the other three people in the room. "There have been enucleations in other cases, but none recently, and none close by. No similar murder case was shown, but suicide on the other hand..."

"Harvey Webb," JJ read, looking at the photo of the deceased man. "Suicidal death?"

"Thirty-nine-year-old landlord took a tumble off a sixth-floor balcony two years ago, exactly on the apartment complex he rented out."

"Why are we looking at a suicidal case?"

"That's the thing, the local authorities ruled out that he might've not jumped on his own accord, although his wife at that time determined that he had been having suicidal thoughts for a long time and decided to close the case." Garcia did more tapping on her keyboard and somehow pictures of the crime scene were plastered across the screen in front of the room. "Harvey went through depression and a lot of suicidal attempts, there were always cuts along his arm except—"

"There was a writing on his body?" Hotch guessed.

Garcia nodded as she clicked on a clearer picture of the victim's arm. "His autopsy came in that while there were definite signs of attempt self-hurt, this was written between the cuts."

"Galatians 6:7," Spencer read, his eyes fixated on the screen as he recited, "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Definitely a vigilante on the loose," JJ remarked.

Spencer hummed a positive response and walked over to the board, a marker in his hand as he wrote down the verse. "This verse underscores the concept of reaping the consequences of one's actions, which could further justify the Unsub's belief that his victims deserve punishment for his perceived sins or mistakes."

Hotch studied the pictures of the recent victims and the one shown on the screen. "The way the words are carved across the skin is definitely done by the same person," he noted.

JJ looked between the three pictures before nodding. "I agree." She then glanced up at her co-workers. "So why the different MO? Something connects these three victims, and yet this one"—she pointed to the photo of Harvey Webb—"died in a completely different manner. He either jumped or was pushed. We don't even know if it was a murder, just that he was branded the same as the other two victims."

"The timeline doesn't add up," Spencer claimed, his brows furrowed deeper. "There's too much of a gap between the first victim and the second victim, we're looking at two different stressors that triggered the Unsub."

Hotch stood beside him, crossing his arms as he studied the evidence they had collected these past few days. "If this was his first victim and the two men were his second and third, it's possible he's advancing, that his fantasy is developing."

Spencer looked back at the three pictures. What connected these three dead people, two murdered in violent, heinous ways, the third a potential suicide victim? What wrongdoings might they possibly sin? And now he couldn't help but feel the weight of Hotch's words and how revolting one could act in this series of crimes, proclaiming them as fantasies, his skill, and determination more distinguished than ever before.

"If that's the case..." he pointed out, a certain tension hanging in the air. "He's only getting started."

Y/n must be mad—utterly, completely out of her mind.

She always considered herself a very sensible person characterized by an ability to think critically, or make rational decisions on logical reasoning. But her thoughts, once orderly and coherent, twisted into bewildering shapes because here she was, perched right in front of an apartment door she once closed behind and never looked back.

Why did she think it was a good idea to come here uninvited at this time of hour? How did she end up being here when she was lying in her bed a few hours ago?

She recalled turning around in her sleep, or perhaps, her attempt to rest her eyes, because she found herself staring into the dark with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Maybe all the turmoil of emotions piled up in her chest had her going into a panic frenzy, relentlessly moving in her bed when she should've been fast asleep.

Somehow amidst dwelling on her anxiety, she was suddenly on her feet, putting on a jacket before calling a cab. Her mind was too tangled to be driving on her own, and when the driver asked her where she was heading, she recited the area she was familiar with. Did she remember the building she wanted to go to? Yes. Did she know the exact address? Apparently not.

Although it was easy to spot the building. The old but clean apartment was recognizable, the sturdy wooden door, adorned with vintage brass fixtures, welcomed her after she tipped the driver her fair. The cool air hit her face, her hair flying around her shoulders as she spotted a residence walking out of the building. She quickly slipped in, seeking a very much-needed warmth, yet now she was starting to question her common sense.

But it was too late to turn back because her hand was already curling into a fist as she knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. When there was no answer, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. She knocked once again, and when she was met with silence, she decided it was a sign that she was indeed making the wrong decision.

So she exhaled a breath she wasn't even aware of holding, turned around, and completely froze when she was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes. There he was, almost a week since the last time she saw him, standing on the last step of stairs.

Time seemed to stand still. Her heart skipped a beat, his presence exuded a captivating charm. His chiseled features were accentuated by a sculpted jawline, leading up to a pair of intense, deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a hefty amount of fatigue. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, hinting at nights spent wrestling with restless thoughts.

He was dressed in a rumpled shirt and loosely fitted trousers, his attire mirrored the fatigue he wore upon his face. The fabric seemed to hang upon his frame, lacking the crispness that usually accompanied his wardrobe. But despite his weariness, there was an undeniable pull emanating from his presence. It should be illegal how handsome he still looked even when he looked like he needed some rest.

Spencer took a tentative step closer, looking reminiscent of a puppy with his eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic either confusion or concentration. "Y/n?"

"Hi," she awkwardly greeted, suddenly feeling out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"I..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed as she tried to find a reasonable answer. But somehow she found herself telling him the truth. "I honestly don't know."

His eyes fixed upon her, silently studying her figure. A cascade of lustrous hair framed her face, falling gracefully upon her shoulders.

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to impose on you—" she stepped aside, letting him unlock his door. "Or disturb your much-needed rest."

A ghost of a smile curled on the corner of his lips as he fished out his keys. "I look terrible, don't I?"

"I wouldn't say terrible, just... you look very tired."

"I haven't had proper sleep in days." With a steady hand, he inserted the key into the lock before a satisfying click echoed in the air. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and he gestured to her with a nod.

She looked between him and his apartment. "Are you sure?"

"Come in," he offered. He walked inside his home and pulled the door ajar. "Please."

She studied him for a while before nodding. The floor creaked as she stepped into his household, and as the door swung shut behind her, she scanned the room that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. A sense of warmth enveloped her despite the predominantly dark colors that adorned the space. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from placed lamps, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

She walked past him and noticed the chessboard splayed across the coffee table. "I didn't know you play chess." She sat down on his couch. "Looks like you were in the middle of a game… was someone else here?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard a note of jealousy in her voice, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Actually, I was in a game with myself," he answered sheepishly, shrugging off his suit jacket before placing it over his couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, it's alright." She leaned forward, her gaze fixed upon the chessboard. Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the board with a keen interest before moving a chess piece, placed with precision and purpose.

Genuine surprise crossed his face as he settled beside her. "You know how to play chess?"

"A little. I used to play with my father growing up."

"You don't play with him anymore?"

She shook her head. "He passed away when I was young. Both of my parents did."

"I'm sorry," he gently spoke. He leaned back and turned his body toward her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just me."

"I'm an only child too." Then he assessed her carefully while her eyes wandered beyond her striking features, a subtle tension betrayed a deeper complexity lurking beneath the surface. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He noticed the subtle language of her body where uncertainty weaved on her face. It was in the way she looked between him and her hands, a balance between wonder and reservation that hinted at the lingering doubt within. Then she took a deep breath, her brows furrowed as her voice filled in the silence.

"Does it make me a bad person that I didn't cry after everything that happened?"

He frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"There was a memorial service for Jamison a few days ago, and while everyone mourned, I just... stood there." She looked down at her hands. "What happened to him was very unfortunate, it just happened that, apparently, I have no emotions.”

His head fell back onto the couch as he watched her. "It doesn't make you a bad person. Grief is a deeply personal and individual experience, and people respond to loss in different ways. Crying is just one expression of grief, but it isn't the only definitive indicator of how much someone cared for or was impacted by the loss of a person, especially given how you saw what had happened."

"But it makes me feel kind of heartless." She glanced back at him. "I mean, he wasn't exactly the greatest boss, and I should've felt a certain kind of sadness, but I... I don't know how I feel, to be honest."

"Y/n," he gently called, his expression softening. "It's important to remember that everyone grieves in their own way. What matters most is that you find healthy ways to navigate and process your emotions surrounding the loss, whether it involves crying or not."

She hummed in response. "I guess you do have a point."

"I do, and I'm right most of the time." Spencer smiled when she rolled her eyes and a comfortable silence settled between them. "Now tell me the truth."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"You obviously have a lot on your mind right now and I'm trying to wrap my head around why you chose to be here."

"Do I need to have a reason?"

As his gaze lingered, he found himself drawn to her eyes—a delicate blend of curiosity and trepidation. They shimmered with a gentle vulnerability, revealing the depths of her longing to be seen and understood.

"I would like to know your reason."

She weighed her words carefully. "I couldn't sleep,” she decided to say. “My mind was constantly turning its gear, then it got too overwhelming?” She shook her head. “I-I guess I needed the comfort..."

As she tried to find her voice, her words become entangled in the turmoil of her emotions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. The words spilled forth, unfiltered and vulnerable, resonating with a sincerity that echoed through the room.

"And somehow you were the first person that came to mind."

Spencer felt an unfamiliar intensity washing over him—a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that tugged at his heartstrings. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, the desire to embrace her consumed him, both thrilling and terrifying. It was such a baffling thought because he found hugs to be overwhelmingly intimate for his liking, yet there was this urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his.

The weight of uncertainty pressed upon him, urging caution and restraint. But logic lost its battle with instinct, and caution lost its wrestle with impulsive longing as he found himself asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Her body tensed, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. But as he kept staring at her, she realized that he was being serious. And she found herself nodding, yearning for the warmth radiating from his body.

He carefully drew closer and a magnetic force guided her movements, gently pushing her into his arms. Nervous excitement coursed through her veins, infusing a sense of vulnerability.

Bodies entwined, they breathe in unison, inhaling the essence of closeness as senses unfold—the warmth of skin against skin, the familiar scent that filled the air, the weight of the world momentarily faded away as they surrendered to the pure simplicity of human touch.

His head was spinning with longing and somehow he managed to pull her body gently onto his lap. She silently accepted his tug, placing her legs on either side of his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amidst her relishing the gentle press of his body against hers, she couldn't help but find amusement in this new position.

He felt the subtle shake of her shoulder as a burst of soft laughter escaped her mouth. He suddenly tensed. "Is there something funny?"

The confusion etched in his voice had her pulling away, a small smile lingering on her face. "Yes," she answered. "It's amusing how you like having me on your lap so much.”

A slight warmth spread along his face as he became aware of her weight settling on top of him. "I didn’t notice."

She wasn't sure whether it was the glimmer in his eyes, the bashful smile on his lips, or the way he didn't pull his gaze away from her, but before it could register in her mind, she drew herself closer to him. The sudden shift of her movement caused a friction underneath her, and it was at that moment she realized how compromising of a position they were in.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, and an electric current surged through her veins, awakening a longing she had not anticipated. Her eyes flickered with a newfound intensity—a hunger that shimmered in the depths of her gaze as she could only focus on the pulse settling between her thighs.

As her longing deepened, she became acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him enveloped her, intoxicating her senses, and her mind was consumed by allowing herself to surrender in this newfound need.

So she slowly rolled her hips, feeling his body beneath her, and suppressed a moan when she felt the outline of his bulge stroking against her core. Her breath hitched, betraying the innocent intentions that had initially brought them together.

She felt him tense from the friction and his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, her heart beating to the same rhythm. "Stop doing that," he suddenly said, eyes darkening as he stared at her, voice deep and raspy.

"Why?" She whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. His heart ached to offer solace, yet primal longing tugged at his core, igniting an undeniable urge to keep her closer, to indulge in the sudden pull of desire.

"Because if you don't," he grunted, his hand sliding up her neck, burying it in her thick hair as he tilted her face. He pulled her closer, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. The heat of her presence lingered on his fingertips, tempting him to pull her into an embrace that transcends mere comfort. "I won't be able to stop myself."

His gaze then traced the contours of her form. The subtle curve of a hip, the graceful arch of a back, the gentle swell of a chest—all become objects of fascination. He watched as her tongue wiped along her bottom lip while she slid her hands across his shoulders, stopping right on his chest, hovering above his heart.

"Then don't," she softly pleaded, moving her hips once again, igniting a moan deep within his chest. “I don't want you to stop."

It was the only push he needed as he closed the distance between them, finally crushing his lips to hers.

>> NEXT PART

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