#it was just a small hiccup anyways.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmal · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

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

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

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

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

word count — 12.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s drinking?”

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

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You smell good.”

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

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

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

“You smell nice,” you laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sirius?” He hiccups.

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

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

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

“Yes, you.”

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

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wear boxers?” you grin.

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

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you.

what do U mean nothing happened?

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home.

U both stumbled. in her sheets.

Fuck off. Idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll make yourself sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask.

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

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

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

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

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

“Great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remus! You’re here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am now,” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, gleefully.

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

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows he’s truly done for.

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

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

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

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

“Up your ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

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

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

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

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

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

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

“It’s a good one.”

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

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

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

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

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

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

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, sweetheart.”

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

“Thank you, Remus.”

“That’s okay, lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh.

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

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

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, how are you?” you question.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

“Bye, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.”

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

“Shut up.”

“Bye, Sirius.”

Sirius hangs up before he can.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From the bus stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can tell.”

“You can?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” he frowns.

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

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

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

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

“Sorry,” you apologise.

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

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

“You’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

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

“Completely,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader

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chaepink · 2 years ago

Text

Shocking! | sub!kaminari denki

wc: 570+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, shocking, pain kink, edging, crying, praising, reader plays with his cock (sorry but I forgot the phrase for it 😭)

note : reader has a quirk that can steal other quirks for a short period of time

idk if this is even realistic/safe 💀 but this is fanfiction so we ignore that

You thought your boyfriend's quirk was pretty awesome. Though you didn't like it when he uses it too much and became... well dumb (you much preferred when you were the cause of that) or when he tickles you using a little of it which causes you to yelp in shock and throw something at him.

But overall, you really like his quirk.

Now, think how shocking it was for you when you found out you could somehow use his own quirk against him.

"T-too much [name]..." A grin makes its way on your face as you watch your boyfriend writhe underneath you. Your finger trails down his chest all the way down to his stomach and back up to his nipples, all while sending ripples of electricity through kaminari which makes him moan and whine.

He tries to cover his mouth using one of his hands but you quickly swat it away, giving him a glare. One that sends shivers down his spine.

“I want to hear your pretty voice and especially the pretty noises you make so don't try to silence them, alright?" He nods obediently.

You latch your fingers onto one of his nipples and squeeze it harshly, sending a small bolt of electricity through his body. "Ah! AH!"

"You're being so good for me right now, baby. I bet you want a reward, don't you?"

Kaminari nods and bites his lip to the point that you thought he was going to draw blood. Without saying anything else, you slowly bring your hands down to the waistband of his underwear and pull it down, exposing his red cock. You quickly grab it with one of your hands, causing a yelp to escape your boyfriend.

Your other hand went back to his nipples, playing with them and sending small bolts of electricity down his spine while the one on his cock went on to play with it. You spare a look at his face and can't help but snicker. He looks as if he was fucked dumb. Drool is escaping his lips, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are rolled back.

Kaminari couldn't even think properly anymore. The pleasure of your hand on his cock with the electricity and pain of you squeezing his nipples was too much for him. Soon enough, he felt as if he was about to cum. His fists grab the sheets underneath him and multiple noises leave him, specifically begging.

"[N-Name] i'm c-close- please!" You stop completely and your boyfriend sobs and begins squirming and thrashing. "W-why did hiccup! y-you stop?" You wipe a tear from kaminari's face and give him a peck on his tear-stained cheek. He looks so adorable yet pathetic right this moment and you secretly wish you could take a picture of him. Though if you did, he would probably make you delete it anyways out of embarassment.

"Well we only just started, didn't we?" That was a complete lie, you had no idea how long it's been since you started. You quickly take a look at his alarm clock on the nightstand. Perhaps your quirk would run out soon but right now, your mind is too focused on teasing your sweet, sweet kaminari who was a red mess.

Looking back at your boyfriend who stopped squirming and looks up at you with dazed eyes, you smile again.

"We still have more time, i bet you want to continue, yeah?"

"Y-yes..."

"Good boy"

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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dragondingus · 7 years ago

Photo

It begins..

The final stretch. The last wait.

I’m doing a 365 day countdown leading up to the U.S. release of HTTYD 3. I didn’t think I was actually do it when having the idea in January, but here we are Ayanna (viking oc) kicking it off at day 0.

As an ode to the films that have inspired me, and to the franchise that touched my heart I am committed to following through with this self-challenge. It’s not going to be easy, with college classes going on and time managing but I’m going to give it my best shot. Better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all.

The longest art challenge I’ve done up to this point was inktober last year and that was the first time I had participated. At the end of it I felt a little drained but a strong sense of accomplishment. I have little experience with drawing all the HTTYD characters (outside of Hiccup and Astrid), especially the dragons, so the drawings aren’t going to be perfect but I hope to learn from my mistakes as I go and perhaps over the course of the countdown you’ll see improvement. (I think I might make it into a small art/sketch book at the end as well, that might be cool).

Anyway.

I’m not just doing this for myself but for all that the films has taught me, for the rad people and fellow fans I’ve met online/offline because of it, the artists who’ve poured their hearts into the films, and for the artist, writer, and inspiring storyteller of it all, Dean DeBlois.

HTTYD is what inspired me to pursue animation, it is what got me into being so passionate about it. I just want to give back in some way for the last time before the films’ final conclusion.

This should be fun, I’m excited.

Bring on the boy and his dragon.

#I have started a small queue but not quite enough.. i've fallen into a pattern of sorts to complete them in a timely manner but as always #just bear with me #this sounds super deep and dramatic but its just got the hiccup dramatic flair thrown in lol #anyway #IM GOING TO TRY MY BEST !! I MAY GET BEHIND. I HOPE NOT BUT IM A BUSY PERSON AND COLLEGE AINT NO JOKE SO THERE SOME RISK #BUT I KNOW THAT IF I SET MY MIND TO IT I CAN GO FAR #dwa #httyd #httyd2 #httyd3 #my art #dingus doodles #ayanna #day 0 #httyd3 countdown

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years ago

Text

stay

pairings: pervy!older!natasha x babysitter!reader

warnings: dub-con, natasha being a pervert, non-consensual kiss, anal sex, strap-on (r receiving), mommy kink (n receiving), breeding kink, biting, pet names, dirty talking, praise kink, and more 18+ MINORS DNI

notes: a universe where natasha could actually feel reader with her strap? LMAO? ENJOY??

masterlist | navigation

“How is she?”

I was startled by the sound of Ms. Romanoff’s voice that I had hoped that she wouldn’t have seen me flinching. Turning around, I replied quietly: "She's doing well, Aliana just got into bed.”

She smiled and walked to her room, probably kissing her goodnight. Since Ms. Romanoff prefers to be alone at times, this was my cue to get up and leave. I’ve always been her babysitter ever since I started senior year, and she once admitted that I was her favorite. Knowing how I have parental issues, that information brightened me up like a sunflower. I grabbed my sling bag and stepped outside when I heard a faint call from her, saying: “Why don’t you stay for a bit? It’s raining outside.”

“Oh, I can manage. My house is just–”

She interrupts me, shaking her head, insisting me to stay. “No, please, stay. I think I’d like some company.”

I was taken aback by this. Did she want to spend time with me? Why? I was younger than her by two decades, and the only conversation we would create is about Aliana and how she is such a good child – which I don’t mind. I gave her a small nod and walked back inside, hearing the door shut firmly behind me.

Natasha led me to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses that were meant for drinking alcohol. She took a looking expensive whiskey bottle and poured herself a drink. One thing I know about Natasha is that she loves drinking her favorite alcohol: whiskey. Sometimes vodka, but, that would depend on the feel of her day.

“H-How was the convention?” I asked with my tippy-toes.

“It was great,” she answered, her voice getting deeper as the night aroused. “Do you want a drink?”

“I-I’m eighteen.”

“Right,” she mumbles under her breath, almost cursing that she forgot that I was just a minor. Well, technically an adult who isn’t legally allowed to drink. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough day. You know… all these clients and stuff. Why don’t we sit on the couch?’

I followed her all the way back to the living room and sat down beside her, but we were inches apart. I’d say a good amount of gap between us. I pressed my knees together and started playing with the skin of my nails, wondering and thinking in my head about what else I could talk about with her. Possibly, she’ll be bored if I talk about my school, right? It was hard. It’s writing an essay that you don’t even like.

She pushes her hair away from her forehead and inhales through her nose, I could hear her breathing pretty well from the distance. She asked, “Got a boyfriend or something?”

I shook my head, dismissing the fact that I was never in a relationship.

“No.”

She chuckles, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips as she takes a long sip; smacking her plump lips afterward, tasting the sensational feeling of the alcohol on the tip of her tongue.

“Boys are dumb anyway.”

“I never had a girlfriend either.”

She looks at me with bewildered eyes. “Seriously?” she was trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself but chuckle lightly at my confession – it almost made me want to cover my face. “Well, I assumed you were into girls as well.”

“H-How?”

“The way you dress,” she said with a long deep hum. “Maybe the way you would stare at me whenever you’re here.”

“Oh,” I let out a hiccup, taking my eyes away from the woman as I felt my cheeks heating up from the statement," she has said. Did she seriously see me staring at her?! “I-I’m sorry, I have a staring problem.”

“Me too.”

I looked at her and noticed that she was gazing into my eyes, then into my lips. But that briefly happened when she took another sip from her glass, and her eyes were removed from mine – as much as to my disappointment. Natasha said, “My daughter really likes you, she’s never been like this with any nannies.”

I giggled, covering my mouth. “I’m glad that I get to be her nanny, Aliana is a great kid.”

She nods, smiling to herself while drinking from her glass once more. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “She’s my only baby.”

“W-what happened to her dad?” my mouth didn’t stop me from speaking out of my mind, and I sincerely regret saying it out loud. She turns her head slowly and gives me a look that I don’t recognize from her. It’s a different look, and I knew I’ve crossed the line. “I’m sorry! I-I shouldn’t have said that, I was just curious–”

“Gone,” she responded, her voice on edge, but her eyes were soft like a petal of a rose. “He’s gone. He’s a fuck-up.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, rather deeply, and finishes her glass with a form of red seeping out of her eyebags. “Shit, it’s late. Why don’t you stay for the night? I have a spare room.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied kindly, rubbing my forearm in response to my anxiety. She tilts her head and smiles, shaking her head. “N-No, I’m sorry. My mom must be expecting me to come home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go tell your mom that you’re staying with me.”

It wasn’t because I was scared of her, it was more like I was trespassing into her home since I’m not a family member nor a friend in her eyes. I was just a babysitter, a good little babysitter for her kid. It was getting colder outside, and the windows started to fog up due to the coolness. So maybe staying at her place wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

But I couldn’t, knowing my infatuation for the older woman will increase like a gas pedal. I said quietly, “I have to go home, Ms. Romanoff. It is rather late and I have school tomorrow–”

“Please,” she asked, almost in a begging matter as she intertwined her hands with mine, holding it close to her stomach. “Stay with me, just for the night.”

Natasha sits closer and slips her hand into my shorts, touching my crotch through the cloth of my panties. I gasped loudly, knowing that this scene could go somewhere else and that it might as well be sinful to sight. I shake my head, trying to push her hand away, but she puts on more pressure and kisses the shell of my ear like a predator insatiable for its prey. “Natasha!”

“Please,” she begs again, kissing my neck with wet lips. “Let me touch you, just stay still for me…”

She palms my arousing core, breathing hard on my neck with whimpering noises that sounded too lewd for my ears. I turned my head away but her other hand pulled my chin to her side and sloppily gave me a kiss on the mouth, moaning with a cry cracking inside her throat. This felt surreal to me, the kiss made the uncomfortable silence slip away but I was in my head too much. I needed to slip away from her mouth, this wasn’t making me feel very good. She was sweet but rough, hard but also soft. And when she groped my left breast, I knew that was my last straw.

“Stay away from me!” I bolted up, padding my shorts away as I walked to the front door with my feet thudding on the ground. Natasha chases after me and tries to pull me closer to her, but I slapped her the face of her cheek hard. We both gasped, knowing that I’d just laid my hands on her, and I knew that I’d regret it the day I woke up. She rubbed her reddening face but kept her eyes on the ground.

“Y-You touched me,” I whimpered, holding my bag close to my private area. She only gave me a sad look and scratched the back of her neck, almost feeling ashamed for what she had done. “I always had a crush on you but I never thought you’d be a pervert!”

“Y/n–”

The truth is, I liked the way she touched me down there. I most certainly loved the way she kissed my neck, how she was desperate for me and only me. It’s almost as if I was important – validated. But knowing that she was in her drunken state and the sense of infidelity, I couldn’t bear myself to ruin a relationship between us that seemed fragile at this point.

“Touch someone of your own age,” I didn’t realize how vocal I was when I suddenly become so… aroused from what happened recently on the couch. “B-But don’t ever do that on me.”

“Admit that you liked the way I touched you,” she smugged, chuckling from the side as she got closer, which I immediately backed up. “Come on, you know you liked it.”

“No, I didn’t.” I lied.

She grabbed my wrist, but I wrestled away as I pushed her chest. I gave her one last look before storming out of her house, not caring if my bag gets wet from the rain, not caring if I cry throughout my walk back to the house. I debated to myself whether I should still babysit for her daughter or not, but I realized that if I did leave, Aliana would be devastated. But if I stay; Natasha will keep touching me, and I would end up having sex with her.

I got back to my room safely and took a warm shower with the previous incident that had happened not even thirty minutes ago.

—

Once again, I found myself in Natasha’s home, much to my surprise. But this time, she was here with me and Aliana. I had hoped that at least she would be away again from work, but she was here the minute I rang the doorbell. The only difference is: she had a friend over, I think her name was Wanda… or something. I don’t know, why would I need to know? It’s not like I’m her girlfriend.

I knew she had guilt in her eyes the moment I walked in, I could barely even look up at her with my pearling eyes. The atmosphere has gotten thick as well as our relationship, I don’t know how I would respond to her if she ever talked to me again; somehow wishing that she would.

“Is mama mad at you?”

I was taken by surprise by Aliana’s question, which clenches my heart with the thought of us not having an interaction. Though, I shook my head in response, pretending that everything was okay between me and Natasha. Even just for the little girl in front of me.

“No,” I whispered, patting her head with my hand. “What makes you say that, honey?”

“Because I saw mama crying before you came by,” she said sadly. “She looked really sad, Y/n. I didn’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what to do either – I felt bad when I remember speaking to her like that. Calling her a pervert, and hitting her on the chest, is something that I regret deeply. I could’ve just spoken to her in a calm way, I could’ve just done that.

“Your mama and I are okay hon,” I smiled at her, gently pinching her cheek as I received a huge smile on her face. “Listen, why don’t you play with your dollies? I’ll go check it out on your mama.”

The little one went back to the living room as I cleaned the kitchen area, sighing to myself. If I speak to her now, I will get a paycheck and might never see her again. Because if I tell her that I wouldn’t want what she wanted, the only reason for us to depart is me going away first. But deep inside, I wanted what she wanted. I wanted her to touch me, to lick me, to kiss me as if I’d lost my breath.

It’s a treacherous feeling; something magical yet devious.

“Y/n?”

In front of me, Natasha held a glass of whiskey and a cigarette in between her fingers. I looked at her briefly, then kept my eyes on the stove instead. I could hear the other woman, Wanda, having a conversation with Aliana while Natasha was in the same area as me. I wish that she could just walk away and never talk about what happened that night. Because if we did – this time, I’d let her kiss me.

“Is there anything you need, Ms. Romanoff?”

“You know we have passed formalities, Y/n.”

I sighed, nodding at her answer. I turned my back on her when I felt her hand gripping my wrist – gently this time – and looked at me firmly with her watering eyes. I know she was about to cry, and I didn’t want to see any of it. After all, she did touch me that night without my permission; even though it was a great turn-on for me.

“I-I think you shouldn’t touch me,” I whispered, my lips trembling as I spoke. “We still haven’t talked about what happened that night.”

“I know,” she said, whispering to me in the same tone as mine. “Can we talk? Please? Maybe when Wanda leaves?”

“I have exams tomorrow,” A pause. “I-I think you should let go now, I have to go soon anyway.”

“But I want you to stay…”

“Please,” she asked, almost in a begging matter as she intertwined her hands with mine, holding it close to her stomach. “Stay with me, just for the night.”

No–stop. You can’t feel like this, she’s literally your mother at this point. Get over it.

“I…” I hesitated for a moment, trying to form the words in my hand as I think about other sentences that wouldn’t offend the woman before me. I realized how she was gently gripping me this time, and I could only whimper in the slightest way. “Okay, w-we can talk.”

As soon as Wanda left, it was alright nighttime. At around 9 pm, Aliana went to bed with Natasha’s Russian lullaby; which I find greatly amusing. I was waiting in the living room once again, holding a glass of water between my hands. I watch the clock tick, which represents my heartbeat. Tick tock, tick tock, I hear from afar – and I could admit that I was feeling nauseous each time it ticks.

What if we kiss again? What if I push her away? This doesn’t feel right, yet it’s something exciting like a burning passion of desire.

As soon as I felt tired, Natasha came by the scene. She sat down beside me with tired green eyes and pried her legs open as she sat down with a hunched back. She groans, rubbing her face softly with her hands, and murmurs: “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh.” I breathed out, not sure how to reply to that.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “Fuck–I’m so sorry, Y/n. I knew I touched you too far, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m so fucking attracted to you and I only knew that since the day I met you.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know that she was attracted to me, or so I thought. I cracked my knuckles in the quiet air as silence was abrupt in the scene. I could almost hear the wind swooshing from outside; it was getting too quiet. Then, I felt the couch dip. I sensed that she was sitting closer to me, and I didn’t move. I just let it happen, almost as if I let her touch me that night.

She rests her hand on my thigh and squeezed my skin, making me let out a sharp breath. Her face was so close to mine that you think we might kiss, but I was damned to even think like that. She whispered with her breath trickling on the corner of my mouth, “Kotenok, look at me. Please, just look at me.”

“I can’t.”

I could feel her hand creeping closer to my core, and I made no effort to close my legs. Instead, I let her do it, I let her do whatever she wanted to do with me. She kisses the bare skin of my shoulder as she finally touches my covered core, her mouth letting out a victorious moan.

“Are you a virgin?”

I shake my head. I remember losing my virginity to a girl once, I wouldn’t say it felt amazing but I’d say it felt nice. I think.

“N-No, Ms–”

“It’s okay,” she whimpers, turning me around as she puts me into a hand-and-knee position on the couch. Except, when that happened, she pushed me down on the cushion until the side of my face collided with the soft leather that was on the couch. Natasha kisses my neck while her hands are on my waist, going up and down from time to time. “Please don’t be scared, ‘M not going to hurt you…”

“You’re touching me too far–”

“No it’s not too far,” she whines, shaking her head in exasperation. “Please just be good, I promise it won’t hurt. Has anyone fucked you in the ass?”

If my innocence was obvious, then she would know that. But it wasn’t obvious, so I shook my head in response. I could feel her smiling a bit, and I wish that I would’ve seen that instead of being pressed against this couch.

“Can I fuck you in the ass?”

“I–”

“Please?” she pleaded with whimpering, her hands squeezing the roundness of my ass. As much as I wanted to say no, I also had this firing feeling that I wanted it to happen. I can admit that I needed her to fuck me in the ass if it means to stay connected with her. If she didn’t kiss me that night, I don’t think I’d ever let her do this to me.

“Won’t Aliana hear us?” I asked, moaning quietly when she pulls up my skirt, gasping to herself when she sees me in my tiny panties that could barely cover my buttocks. “T-Tasha–”

“No,” she said as she kissed my nape once more. “She won’t, it’s just you and me, pretty baby. I’m going to take my strap out, okay?”

That’s why there was a bulge in her pants, I thought to myself. I can hear her pants zipping and a ruffling sound, knowing that she’s taking off her pants along with her underwear. As soon as I was about to close my eyes, I felt her strap grazing against my inner thighs, I let out a tiny whimper.

“I-Is it going to hurt?” I asked shyly, clenching both of my fists together as I feel my panties dragging down all the way to my ankles – until it was discarded.

“A little bit,” Natasha admitted, palming my left cheek. “Lift your butt, little girl. I’m going to spit on your hole.”

The knot in my stomach tightens, I could feel her breath trickling on the skin of my ass and I knew that this was bound to happen. I belonged to her, I just simply belonged to this woman who I merely don’t know of other than taking care of her child.

She spits on my hole and spreads the liquid around the tight ring of my ass, as she spits again and again – lubing it up. I was grateful enough that she was working me open, or I could have had serious injury if she just pushed inside of me. Nothing would be enjoyable if that would’ve happened.

“You’re my favorite babysitter,” she murmured to my neck as she wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me up slightly as she gave my collarbone open-mouth kisses. Wet kisses, to be exact. I let out a sharp moan and she chuckles from that. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? You like it when Mommy is about to fuck you in the ass?”

“Yes,” I said urgently, giving myself to her, as I should be doing in the first place. “Please, just do it…”

I want her, I want her cock, I want everything that she can give to me. I want it all.

She presses her lips against mine and kisses me like no other, holding my body close as she kisses me with full of her tongue. Natasha pulls away with our lips creating a soft wet smack and spits on her hand, lathering her faux cock with her thick saliva all around it. She looks back at me and starts humping me from the back, moaning each time her cock slips in between my buttocks. It was a pretty sight for her, especially when I’m fully submitted to her glory.

“No one else could touch you, okay? No one,” she said, almost in a demanding voice, but you could hear a tinge of sweetness in her tone. She kisses my nape again and leaves a nail trail mark on my ass. “Open up for me, it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.”

On the first push, I screamed from my throat. She quickly covered my mouth and shushes me by the ear, whispering: “You can’t be loud little one! You’re going to wake my daughter up.” and kept pushing her length inside of me, I couldn’t help but whimper and cry at the same time. It felt good, too good for my liking. I never thought I’d be such an… anal whore, as they say on the internet. It’s like she’s opening me like it was the last time; I was on top of the hill.

Natasha breathes heavily on my collarbone as her eyes stare at her cock pushing inside of my asshole, her other hand on my hips to hold me back up. “God,” she cries out, resting her forehead against the back of my head. “You’re so tight, I can feel you… I can feel your ass wrapping around my dick.”

“W-what?”

“That’s right sweetie,” she coos, pulling out a bit and pushing back in with the couch squeaking underneath me. “Oh yeah–that’s fucking it, you feel so good around me.”

She brings my face closer to hers as we kiss once again, our tongues battling for dominance. But I simply let her take the lead as I’m too dazed by the feeling of my asshole being fucked with her enormous dildo inside of me, almost as if she’s pounding into me this quick. Natasha pulls out again and snaps her hips back into me until my ass hits her pelvis.

“We’re connected,” she said, cracking a tearful smile. “You’re squeezing my cock too good, I can’t believe I’m fucking my daughter’s babysitter…”

Natasha begins peppering lingering kisses on my shoulder as she thrusts in an upward motion, both of our hips moving in sync. The couch squeaks more, as the slapping of our skin fills up the entire apartment, knowing for the fact that people might as well hear us. But she didn’t care, and neither did I. You could say that I was a cock whore, a cock slut. But I wouldn’t broadcast that aloud, because then – I’d lose my innocence.

“Feels good,” I breathed out, clutching the arm of the couch tightly as she grunts above me each time the tip of her cock hits my spot. “D-Don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” she reassures, giving my ear a brief kiss before bringing both of her hands to grope my breasts, mounding and pressing them together while thrusting inside of my gaping hole as if it was my vagina. She removed her mouth from my skin, and muttered: “Is this what you wanted?”

I nodded. “Mhm…”

“You wanted this big fat cock didn’t you, pretty baby?”

“Yes–yes!”

“You make me so happy,” she moans in a high-pitched tone, closing her eyes tightly as she feels herself having an orgasm. “You wanted this… you’ve always wanted this.”

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted it or not. Either way, I never thought it would feel this good. Because, in my defense, I was only a babysitter for Natasha’s daughter. And now, I’m a total cock sucking whore for her that would do anything for her will. Whatever she wanted, I’ll let her do it, I was hers anyway.

“I’m close,” she murmurs into my neck, grunting quietly as she gets deeper. While trying to have my climax, I felt her thumb pressing against my clit – rubbing the bud furiously to have an orgasm with her. “Hump my cock, baby. Just push back.”

I did what she told me to do, I pushed back. And boy, she loved it. She was moaning about how delicious my asshole felt around her dildo, praising and kissing me with our bodies pressed together even though we couldn’t feel each other in the way we wanted to. She slowly humps my ass, dragging the length in and out while moaning with whimpers and cries.

“Gonna cum in your fucking ass,” she cries out, biting softly on my neck. “Want me to get you pregnant? Huh? Wanna give me a baby?”

“Mommy, no…” I pleaded, sobbing out loud in the area. What if she has the power to get me pregnant? What if, whatever is in that dildo, does it get me pregnant? I wasn’t ready, I don’t think I was. “W-Wait, no! Don’t cum inside of me, please don’t–”

“It’s only in the ass baby,” she whispers in my ear, slowly thrusting inside of me. Too slow. “Just let me get you pregnant, sweetie… shh, it’s okay! It’s okay…”

Her words were starting to slur, as her hand gripped my waist – surely enough that my skin would be imprinted by her nails. She drags her wet lips all the way to my nape and shoots her fake load inside of me with staggering moans, mixed with her whimpers. She humps my ass twice and holds me down on the couch. “Take it, baby! Take all of my fucking cum in your ass…”

While having an orgasm in my absent cunt, she was still fucking me from behind with her loud lewd moans and deep cries that would ring in my ear forever. She kisses my lips sloppily and whispers with a hazed look, “You’re amazing, you’re just fucking amazing…”

After we were done, she pulled out of me and placed the strap-on on the coffee table, not caring if it would stain my ass cum. She gets behind me and hugs me close, our bare legs intertwined as well as her pelvis pressed against my ass. She rakes her fingers through my hair, and smells it deeply; satisfied with herself.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, and she received a shake of my head. She smiled. “Good, I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

After a long while of silence, I asked in the cold middle of the air: “Are you going to dump me now?”

Natasha lifts her head a little and scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

“W-What?”

“You’ve used my body,” I replied, cracking a sob between my lips. “The first time I had, s-she left me! She went away and now you’ve taken me you’re going to go–”

“No, no, no…” she shushes, cupping my face as she kisses me deeply with her tongue slipping into my mouth. Natasha pulled away and pecked my wet lower lip, and continued. “I won’t ever leave you, okay? I want you to stay with me.”

Maybe staying with her wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, maybe everything would feel better with her if I did stay. I can hear her in the back of my mind, saying: please, stay. Just stay and I remember being so stubborn about it too. But now as I look at her, I can feel the sincerity in her eyes.

I wanted to stay.

“I’ll stay,” I whispered as I felt her head cradling my head. “I’ll stay.”

“Okay, my little girl. You’ll stay, you’ll always stay.”

i want pervy!natasha to touch me in the-

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #mommy natasha #black widow x reader #black widow x you #a's oneshots!#enjoy lmao

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evansbby · 3 years ago

Note

Would you ever write anything with major obvious size kink? like Steve is so big he barely fits inside you? Or it hurts when he fucks you but he does it anyways? Sorry, i just love the idea of Steve being so much bigger than reader.

OKAY BUT THAT SUPER SOLDIER DICK WOULD MURDER ANY POOR INNOCENT SOUL HE TRIES FUCKING PLS

i definitely wanna incorporate this in future fics, but here's a little something bC I CAN'T HELP MYSELF AND UGH

WARNING: DARK STEVE, DADDY KINK, NON CON UNDER THE CUT. ALSO STEVE HAS A CRYING KINK. IDEK. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Steve never wants to hurt you. You're his delicate flower - so opposite to him in every single way. With how tiny, dainty, soft-spoken and innocent you are. It awakens something in him - he wants to keep you safe, protect you, take care of you.

Which is why it surprises him how much he's turned on by the image of you beneath him, crying in pain as he tries to coax his big dick into you.

"It's... It's so big, Steve." You weep, and he knows you feel ashamed, disappointed in yourself for not being able to take him. But he can't possibly blame you - he knows he's a lot bigger than average, and he's been through this with other girls he's fucked. It's always a tight fit - but none of those other girls have been as innocent and lovely as you.

"It's okay, princess. I know you can take it." Steve encourages you softly, trying to ease his dick into your tight, wet pussy. God, you're so slick, it's almost like you're weeping down there. And he's trying so hard to focus on your comfort, but your tight warmth is so deliciously inviting, so fucking tempting. "C'mon, baby. Just relax."

"I-I'm trying. I p-promise I'm trying!" You hiccup, looking up at him with bright, wet eyes. He's got you caged between the bed and his body, pinned down by his sheer size advantage over you - not to mention his power. Your tiny hands are clutching against his biceps and you're breathing hard, so obviously scared of how big he is compared to you.

"You're so beautiful, baby. So fucking perfect for daddy," Steve says to you softly, hoping maybe a bit of praise and dirty talk might get you to focus on anything apart from the pain. "You're gonna take daddy's dick like a good girl, aren't you? It's gonna feel so fucking good when I'm inside you, baby. Don't you want that?"

His dick is barely half way into you by this point, and Steve doesn't want to admit it but he doesn't know how much longer he can take this. You're so fucking perfect in every way, it's agonising to be so gentle, so slow, so coaxing. And one look down at your tear-stained face and it only gets him harder.

You're shaking your head, the burn of being stretched out by his sheer girth making you dig your nails deep into his skin. "N-No, Steve! D-Daddy, I don't think I can... OH! OH FUCK!"

And okay, so Steve doesn't completely mean to lose his patience. He doesn't mean to forget all about how big he is for you, how tiny and tight you are. He doesn't mean to snap his hips sharply, and with one hard thrust, completely impale you with his huge cock. He doesn't mean to make you scream bloody murder. He doesn't mean any of it - but it just feels so fucking good.

"Shh, shh, baby, it's okay." He says through gritted teeth, grabbing both your wrists in one of his hands and pinning you in place as you writhe desperately underneath him, your body instinctively trying to get away from him. But there's no escape - he's too big, too strong as he holds you down. "It's okay, princess. Just be a good girl and take it."

"P-Please, it hurts! Hurts so much! You're too big!" You cry, feeling like your body is being ripped in half by him.

"You can take it, princess, you can take it." Steve repeats, most of his focus is on how fucking good it feels to finally be inside you, how velvety soft and tight you are, practically constricting around his dick, squeezing him so tight and good like no other pussy has ever before.

"S-Steve..." You're so dainty and small in his eyes, like a perfect, fuckable little doll. You sound faint, like you're about to pass out from his sheer size and force of his dick - and the pleasure too, considering how you squeeze around him. And a small part of Steve is wondering why he won't stop: You're hurting her, Steve. Pull out. Slow down.

But he can't.

"I can't stop, baby. Your pussy feels too fucking good," He practically growls, increasing his pace, getting into this almost frenzied state because shit, this is the best pussy he's ever had and he can't believe he's waited this long to fuck you. He almost loses it all over again when he glances down to see the shape of his dick protruding at the bottom of your tummy. Fuck. He knows you won't be able to walk for a while after this.

He reaches down to roughly brush the tears from your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, I'll make it up to you. I promise daddy will make it up to you."

He has all night to stretch you out. And that's exactly what he intends to do.

(a/n: LISTEN IDEK OKAY. idk what to say. i literally wanted to keep writing but i had to stop myself. anyways. um. ->requests are open<- lmao.)

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #dark steve rogers #chris evans #anon #drabble #chris evans x reader

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wonwoonlight · 2 years ago

Text

shiny star / choi seungcheol

➝ Seungcheol x Reader

➝ shiny star!au // university!au // non idol!au // strangers to lovers // fluff // hurt comfort // tiny bit angsty i guess

➝ word count: 6.9k~

➝ inspired by: Shiny Star (2020) - KyoungSeo

➝ Shiny Star masterlist (can be read as standalone)

Seungcheol // Jeonghan // Joshua // Junhui // Soonyoung // Wonwoo // Jihoon // Seokmin // Mingyu // Minghao // Seungkwan // Hansol // Chan

➝warning: curses, food, description of toxic parents i suppose, seungcheol being too unreal bc thats just him, that's about it? not proofread bc i finished this like 2 hrs ago sdjfhbdjhg

➝A/N: happy birthday, cheol!!! am glad i found you in this life time🧡🧡🧡

많고 많은 사람 중에 너를 만나서

Meeting you among thousands of people

행복하고 싶어 두 번 다시 울지 않을래

Makes me want to be happy, I wish I won’t cry again

The first time Seungcheol sees you, you’re crying in front of Professor Jung’s office.

It’s not an unusual sight, if he’s being honest. Being Professor Han’s TA whose office is right beside Professor Jung’s, Seungcheol is used to seeing students crying after a session because Professor Jung is just unreasonably strict with his grade and assignment. He’d be surprised if anyone came out of his office with a grin on their face.

If he’s to be frank, he doesn’t understand how come no one has reported the professor to the higher ups. Isn’t this some kind of abuse? But, then again, maybe they simply don’t care because Professor Jung is one of the smartest people in the entire campus and he’s achieved a lot for the university.

Anyway, despite the usual occurrence, Seungcheol feels particularly bad that day seeing a student cry like that. You’re probably a junior, too. He thinks it’s the way you’re trying hard to swallow your sob as you cover your face in the otherwise empty hallway, like you can’t help crying even though you don’t want to. He’s usually the type of person to mind his own business, but your hiccups tug something in his consciousness (heart?) that he feels the need to reenter Professor Han’s office just to get some tissue for you.

You look up when you feel another presence in front of you, and you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed because it’s already too late at that point. You probably look like a mess, but the guy simply gives you a small smile and offers you some tissues.

“No problem, I was his student too,” he says when you thank him. “I know he can be a bit difficult–”

He chuckles at your pointed look, your red eyes unbelieving. “Okay, not a bit. He’s very difficult; but his class is worth it, I promise.”

“I know.” Your voice is very soft, Seungcheol decides, and he’s not talking about the volume of your voice. There’s just something comforting about it even though you’ve just finished crying. “It just… frustrates me because I thought I’d ace this particular assignment, but I got a B minus.”

Seungcheol blinks at your words, a B minus and you’re crying…? He passed with a C and he celebrated. Do you even know the average score of Professor Jung’s class? Did you… go to his office and ask about your score? At least you didn’t sound uptight.

But he holds back the judgement before he goes too far, maybe you’re one of those straight A’s students that holds academic scores above your head (which is cool, he’s always wondered how some people can take academics that seriously).

Whatever it is, it’s not his place to judge. You’re not saying it in a condescending way too. You sound genuinely upset and he’s here to comfort some poor student because it’s one of those impulsive days, not judge them.

“It’s pretty good for Professor Jung’s class. You know how strict he is with his grade,” he says anyway, hoping that his tone wouldn’t sound mocking. “And, hey, you can always ask for an extra assignment if you think you need it?”

You sigh, exhaling a deep breath and wiping the last of your tears before you offer him a small smile. “Yeah. This would sound annoying but… I just… I don’t actually know how to deal with bad grades. I’ve never gotten a B too, even for an assignment, and I know my GPA would still be pretty good as long as I ace the exams but…”

“Anyway,” you shake your head suddenly, your smile more genuine than earlier that Seungcheol catches himself staring. “I’m sorry for unloading on you. And… uh… thank you for listening.”

You’re already long gone when Seungcheol realizes he didn’t ask for your name.

Seungcheol curses as he gets out of his class, starting to wonder if taking Masters is even worth it. (Of course it is, he’s just in a whiny mood today.) Being a postgraduate student can be very tiring at times; yes, he doesn’t have classes everyday and he’s mostly on campus because of his TA works.

But, with that in mind, it means his class would go for three hours when he does have a schedule. He should’ve listened to Jisoo and took a job in her dad’s company instead of doing post-grad, but Joshua Hong and Yoon Jeonghan just had to rile him up and now he’s here out of spite to prove them wrong.

So much for being an adult.

It’s fifteen minutes past lunch time already and he’s sure the cafetaria is way too crowded if he wants a quick lunch. Perhaps going to the convenience store just outside the campus gate would be better. Also, Hanbin, his fellow TA, isn’t on campus today and he’s much too annoyed to deal with rowdy freshmen without his friend.

Much to his luck, the convenience store is pretty empty today considering it’s lunch time. There’s still a line in front of the cashier, but nothing he can’t handle. The few tables outside are filled with who he assumed to be students too (He thinks he recognizes one of them; Boo Seungkwan, was it?), but it’s too hot outside and he’d rather sit inside with the air conditioner system blasted on.

Hmm. Maybe he should get some fruit soda too now that he’s here. He’s been craving for something sweet anyway.

“Oh, hi!” The cashier greets him with a wave before he starts scanning his items. “Long time no see. Is this all?”

“Hi Bam.” Seungcheol grins at the younger guy. He used to mentor Bambam a few semesters back, and he’s pretty sure he’s only seen the tall guy pass by the corridor from time to time since then. “Didn’t know you work here. And, yeah, that should be all.”

They talk for a bit after that because there’s no one else behind him on the line, and it’s only when another customer comes in five minutes later that Seungcheol excuses himself to find a seat. The table by the window is already full, so he figures he should walk to the back and see if there’s any free seat inside.

He presses his lips together when he notices one of the tables is broken, the other occupied by a couple, and the last one by a girl whose face he can’t even see because she’s slumped forward. He never minds sharing a table, but will the girl think he’s some kinda creepy flirt if he tries to take a seat?

He’s about to just leave when she sits up and takes a deep breath, realization colors his face. It’s you. Your eyes find his too, and it’s your small smile and your small nod of acknowledgement that encourage him to make his way to you.

“Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full,” he asks just in case, thanking you when you tell him he’s free to do so.

It’s silent for a bit after that; you with your own thoughts, and Seungcheol simply glad that he doesn’t have to walk back to uni to eat some kimbap and drink some soda. And it’s when you sigh again that he asks if you’re okay.

“I make a good listener, if you remember,” he jokes, which makes you laugh a little in return.

“Just… one of those days.” You scrunch your nose before sipping on your lemonade, and it’s only then that he realizes you have a drink in front of you. Of course, you wouldn’t just be here chilling without buying anything. “You’re Professor Han’s TA, right? I’ve seen you around with Hanbin.”

He accepts the change of topic, perhaps you simply don’t want to talk about whatever it is bothering you. He is a stranger, after all.

“Yep,” he nods, munching some more before it dawns on him. “You know Hanbin?”

“He’s friends with Taehyung.”

“You know Taehyung?” Seungcheol blinks, not expecting his usual groupmate to be friends with you. Is he ignorant or he simply never sees you with him? But, then again, he doesn’t really hang out with the guy outside class, either.

“He’s my neighbor. My mom is close with his mom so he’s like an older brother to me, to be honest,” you shrug. “I’m actually here waiting for him, my class got cancelled and his won't end until… an hour from now.”

He laughs when he sees you sigh after checking your watch, and then proceeds to talk about Taehyung because that’s the only mutual ground you have with him at that point.

“Why are you waiting for him though? Going somewhere?”

“Oh, he takes me home, usually,” you suddenly avert your eyes to avoid his, looking embarrassed when you continue, hesitation colors your tone before you say your next words. “Because our house is actually an hour away from uni and I’m… uh, not familiar with public transportation because my parents don’t allow me to go anywhere by myself.”

You’ve expected Seungcheol to snort or mock you with the mask of joking, but he simply hums as he nods, still focused on his food like your words don’t weird him out. You know people see you like you’re some kind of princess because of that, even more because it’s Taehyung, of all people; the guy has girls (and guys) lining up for confession, and he brushes them off because he needs to cater for you first.

You always wonder why they can’t see that Taehyung simply takes care of you because it’s already a habit for him at this point. You practically grew up together, and you always cringe at the thought that people mistake you both for a couple. He’s basically a sibling–you really don’t need that image in your head.

“Taehyung must’ve really treasured you then. He’s very impatient with us during group assignments.” He grins after you say Taehyung waits up for you a lot, and tells you about how your brother lashed out once during Philosophy class because they were fooling around instead of getting right into it.

“Sounds like him.” You chuckle despite the doubt in your heart. It’s way too good to be true that someone isn’t judging you from what you’ve just said. Did this guy really just accept that you have Taehyung taking care of you to that extent? He must’ve grimaced on the inside at the very least, you wince at the thought. “I usually just tell people he’s my brother because that’s how he introduces me to people too.”

Seungcheol hums, squinting his eyes as he rakes his brain. “Oh, I think I remember Taehyung mentioning a sister a few times. I don’t think he’s ever mentioned your name, though?”

“Oh!” you exclaim, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself to him at last. Seungcheol waves his hand at your apology, assuring you it’s fine and tells you his name. Something seems to click in your mind, your lips turning into an ‘O’. “Oh? I think Tae mentioned you a few times too.”

Your conversation flows from there, and Seungcheol is pleased to know you’re into the same movies you’re into. He doesn’t even realize that his food is finished and it’s only when Taehyung’s familiar voice greets you both that you realize it's been an hour since you've both started talking.

"Oh?" His voice is confused, but is laced with warmth and it welcomes you nevertheless. "You… know each other?"

Your eyes meet Seungcheol's, and Taehyung is more than surprised to see you both sharing a knowing look before Seungcheol grins and you press your lips together to hide one. Apparently you two have an inside joke already.

Interesting.

"I didn't know he was friends with you," you say instead, and then gets up from your seat without really saying anything the moment Taehyung makes himself comfortable at the small table. Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow at that, and Taehyung helpfully informs that you're probably getting him bread or something.

"She's the sister you've mentioned before?" He makes sure, slurping the last of his drink.

"Yuppp." The younger guy nods, distracted, before taking a sip of your drink and grimaces at the taste. "Should've known she's drinking this again. That's basically sugar with water."

Seungcheol chuckles at that, but didn't get to comment on that because you've returned with some bread and some soda, placing them in front of Taehyung then proceeds to sit down next to him and just lays your head on his shoulder when he thanks you and pats your head.

He decides to keep his thoughts to himself as he watches you both; weirdly enough, you do look like a pair of siblings even though he's never seen siblings quite as affectionate as you two. Even if your cheek is pressed against Taehyung's shoulder and there's basically no space between your bodies, Seungcheol can tell that there's nothing romantic between the two of you. Whoever is accusing you of being romantically involved with his friend probably didn't even actually try to look or is too jealous to even care.

Wait.

Does Taehyung know you're having those problems?

He feels like it's not something that Taehyung wouldn't know–what, with his popularity and all that–but he doubts you're completely transparent about it.

Not that he actually knows if it's that bad. But by the looks of it, Seungcheol can imagine you really have no one but Taehyung if you went as far as waiting for him by yourself here instead of with other friends even though you knew he'd take at least an hour to be done.

Or maybe you enjoy your solitude.

Who knows? It's not his place to pry. He's spoken to you a total of two times anyway.

"Anyway. Did you finish that assignment? From Professor Jung?"

“Kinda. Just need to review it again and see if there’s anything I can revise.” You scrunch your nose in distaste. “I don’t even know why I took his class for electives.”

“I told you not to take it.” Taehyung snickers, and then turns to Seungcheol to make a point. “I told her the only person I know who’s passed his class with flying colors is Kim Jisoo, so she took the class to prove me wrong.”

Seungcheol blinks at that, not expecting you to be that kinda person though, really, he doesn’t have anything but groundless assumptions for now. He’s intrigued though, and he totally forgot Jisoo took that class because she did take it a semester early.

“Which reminds me, aren’t you close with her?” Taehyung continues, nudging his shoulder upwards to annoy you, to which you simply pinch his waist that gets Taehyung yelping before he stops real quick. “This nerd here would probably be kissing the ground you walk on if you get Jisoo to tutor her–or at least review her assignments.”

“Kim Taehyung!”

“What? It’s true–ouch, stop pinching me, woman! You’re so violent.”

“Then stop saying nonsense!”

“But you said–Ow! Stop!”

“Actually.” Seungcheol cuts the bickering even though it’s entertaining him to no end; as much as he knows Taehyung is friendly, he’s sure he’s never seen the guy this carefree before. Plus, there’s just something about you that pulls him in though he can’t exactly pinpoint what it exactly is. “Jisoo is looking for something to do. I think she mentioned her schedule is too empty because her internship wouldn’t start until next month. I know she’d be happy to tutor you for free if you want? She’s always liked tutoring. She doesn’t need the credits anymore.”

You gape at him, which Seungcheol doesn’t quite know how to translate; are you in disbelief or what? But he doesn’t really need to do that because Taehyung does it for him, shaking his head as he informs the guy that you’re malfunctioning.

“She has a crush on Jisoo, I think.”

“I told you to stop saying nonsense!” You snap out of it and smacks his shoulder so hard that Taehyung actually groans because it hurts. “I just admire her. She graduated undergrad as a valedictorian, no? And she’s so pretty and friendly. I’m sure she’ll graduate post grad with the highest GPA too.”

Seungcheol shares a look with his friend and nods. “Yeah. That’s a crush.”

You pout at him, not yet close enough to be able to smack him in the head like you would’ve with Taehyung. Seungcheol presses his lips together to mask a fond smile; what kind of person are you, really? He initially thought you’re just some straight A student who does nothing but study and doesn’t know how to have fun (yes, he was judgemental. But, come on, you were crying in front of Professor Jung’s office crying over a B minus on an assignment. At least you sounded nice enough, though), but after an hour with you and looking at you and Taehyung, he’s not so sure anymore.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” He hears Taehyung say affectionately, catching the sight of the older guy messing with your hair before poking your cheek playfully. “But, will you ask her, Cheol?”

“Taehyung!”

Seungcheol shrugs with a smile, telling you once again that Jisoo would love tutoring you because that friend of his has always liked teaching other people (“Helps me with my patience,” she once told him.) and if you really want it, he’d even call her right this moment.

You don’t answer immediately, though the way you’re looking at him with wide eyes that seem to gleam with giddiness is enough answer for him already. How can a university student look like a kid in front of a toy store’s window?

He shakes his head with a laugh–how cuter can you be?–before taking out his phone and putting it on the table, dialing Jisoo’s number. The girl picks up at the second ring, a sassy ‘What?’ ringing through your little table.

“Jeez, you in a bad mood?” he retorts at her tone, and you hear Jisoo grumble before she asks once again what he’s calling her for. “Taehyung’s sister is taking Professor Jung’s class and needs a tutor. Do you think you can help?”

“Taehyung? Kim Taehyung?”

“Hi!” The guy in question chimes in, and Jisoo greets him back before saying she doesn’t know his sister attends their university. “Will tell you sometime. But yeah, she’s a nerd and I was talking to Cheol earlier and thought, why not?”

“Professor Jung, huh? Introduction to Philosophy?” you hear her faint voice from the phone, gripping Taehyung’s arm for some reason. Perhaps you do have a crush on her. “Who’s her name again?”

Seungcheol holds back a laugh when you bite down a squeal the moment Jisoo says ‘aha! I’ve heard of her! I think Professor Choi praised her a few times when I was her TA last year. She wasn’t my student though–Jongin’s I think?’. Taehyung looks at you pointedly when you bury your face into his shoulder, shaking his head as Jisoo starts talking instead about her last year as Professor Choi’s TA.

“Anyway! Yes, I’d love to tutor her. Just give me her number? Or give her mine, either way’s fine,” she closes the discussion before telling them she needs to hang up because someone else is calling. You’re practically hogging Taehyung’s arm the moment the call ends, both men looking at each other with amused grins.

“So you want her number, or…?” Seungcheol teases you, weirdly already comfortable enough to do so, laughing when you simply stare at him with eyes even wider than before. “Alright let me send it to you.”

It’s a second later that he realizes.

“Oh. I don’t have your number.”

So you quickly recite your number and Seungcheol texted you immediately, sending Jisoo’s contact to you with the name “Jichuuu👑”. You ask him about it, and he scrunches his nose before telling you that the girl has changed it herself and he’s too bothered to change it up until now even though he keeps on looking up “Jisoo” when he needs to call her and finding her contact nonexistent.

It’s later that night that you find yourself texting with Seungcheol. You meant to text Taehyung to ask about the new dessert shop near campus, but accidentally texted him because his text was on the very top after the exchange earlier–though Seungcheol happily supplied you with the information you needed nevertheless.

The conversation spiraled from there; because, apparently, even if your interests pretty much clash with each other’s, Seungcheol is happy to instead ask about those differences instead of questioning your taste.

Taehyung asks why you seem so sleepy when he picks you up the next morning, but you shake your head and simply tell him that you found something interesting last night that you ended up sleeping at 2 in the morning.

He does not need to know you spent all night talking to a certain Choi Seungcheol, heart giddy because you’ve found a new friend after so long.

It’s been about two months since you started talking to Seungcheol and your relationship has upgraded to sending each other random memes at just about anytime. Taehyung doesn’t even ask why you’re giggling at your phone anymore, simply shakes his head when he sees you laughing because he’s accepted that his humor code differs from yours and Seungcheol’s.

He’s glad though, because it’s been so long since you’re this open to someone new. The last time was already about a year ago and he’s since been wary of people trying to befriend you because the last one simply did it thinking they could leech off your study.

It’s a fact that he considers you a sister, and he’s probably more protective of you than of his own siblings–but it’s because he knows they’re able to fend for themselves and they don’t need him to be that protective.

But you… You’re an only child, grown up in a protective bubble because your parents are weirdly strict except when it comes to him. Perhaps it helps that your parents and his have always been close; but there’s a reason why you’ve grown to be the person that you are: much too careful and much too afraid.

You’ve been told your whole life to be careful, to not make mistakes, and to always be mindful of what you show to people. It’s not something that Taehyung agrees on, and perhaps he’s at fault too because he, too, becomes too protective of you and that leaves you almost no place to do things on your own.

But he doesn’t have it in him to let you be.

Because he’s seen how cruel people can be to those they consider kind, and you’re easily the kindest person Taehyung has ever laid his eyes on. He doesn’t want you to be taken advantage of. He’s given the benefit of doubts to too many people throughout school, and you always end up feeling betrayed because they either get close to you because they want to be close to him, or they want you to help them with assignments.

He’s had enough.

But Seungcheol obviously doesn’t have those agendas and it's only now that he’s started to realize that, perhaps, he should’ve brought you to his circle instead. His friends would have no business asking for your academic assistance, and it’s pretty clear that he knows which ones are good enough to be close to you.

Then again, you’re often burdened by a group interaction.

“Kay, I need to go to the library now,” you tell him after getting out of the cafeteria, having just finished your late lunch. “Jisoo can’t tutor me this Friday so she asked to reschedule.”

“Oh?” He stops in his track and blinks, as if he’s just heard an information he deems questionable. “Did you tell me about this already?”

“Nope. I just okay-ed her this morning. Why?”

“I… have a date.”

It’s your turn to blink, a little confused. “And?”

“I won’t be able to take you home, kid.”

Your mouth turns into a small ‘o’ as his words sink in. It’s embarrassing, to be honest, that you’re someone in your 20s and have only ridden the bus by yourself for a total of three times. You find fun in riding them, and perhaps you do so simply because you don’t ride it often enough to think of it as a part of your daily life. That said, while you’re a little concerned that you’d need to suddenly go home by yourself, you’re also excited to finally be riding the bus on your own after so long.

“I can take the bus!” You shrug almost nonchalantly, but Taehyung knows you and you pout when he gives you a pointed look. “I’ll make sure of the route and not get lost again, I promise.”

“Alright,” He huffs and continues walking towards the library with you beside him. He can’t possibly cancel this date, because he has already done it two times already and he’s sure Hanbin would kill him if he asked to postpone once more. This is his cousin, after all, and Taehyung wouldn’t have gone to this date if he didn’t owe Hanbin for covering his closing shift twice in the cafe last month.

You wave your hand and tell him ‘bye’ once you arrive in the library, but Taehyung grasps your wrist and looks at you worriedly. “Call me when you’re going home? Maybe my date would be finished by then.”

“Tae, your movie starts in two hours and my session usually lasts that long too,” you remind him. He can be a little overbearing sometimes, but you understand that it’s out of the goodness of his heart and you’re honestly glad you have him as a friend. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll share you my live location.”

It’s obvious that he’s not convinced, but he also knows you’ve always liked taking the bus by yourself, so he simply nods and tells you once again to at least text him once you’re done.

You greet Jisoo once you see her on your usual table, finding a couple on the other end of the table. You don’t mind them though, and apologize that you keep her waiting because Taehyung wouldn’t shut up.

“It’s fine. Sorry for the sudden notice,” she smiles kindly and you almost swoon at the sight of it. Gosh, Seungcheol would’ve teased you if he knew. He’s been teasing you about it for some time now, sending you memes of lovestruck high school girls looking at ‘senpais’, as he likes to call it, captioning it ‘you @ jisoo’.

You bite down your lip at the sudden memory, a smile threatening to bloom on your face.

“Good day?” Jisoo asks, noticing your smile no matter how much you try to hide it. “You seem giddier these days.”

“Really?” You tilt your head in question. You? Giddy?

“Yup. It’s good to see though. You were so shy the first time we met,” she grins teasingly, and you can feel your ears getting warm because Seungcheol actually told you what Jisoo said about that first meeting.

She found you very cute, he’s said, and apparently she told him you’re adorable which he also successfully delivered to you a few weeks ago during lunch when Taehyung went to the restroom. You can still hear his laughter clear in your ears because you immediately went red after that.

The both of you start your study session after that, and Jisoo has kindly brought her old essay for you to use as a reference. You hold on to it like a holy grail, and the older girl simply laughs when you tell her you won’t let it wrinkle even the slightest bit.

You’re reading over a passage about Renaissance when your phone buzzes, Seungcheol’s name popping up in your notification. Jisoo looks at your phone placed between the two of you out of reflex, raising an eyebrow when she sees her friend’s name though she doesn’t comment on it.

Somehow, you don’t seem to realize Jisoo is watching you, and you also don’t realize the way she smirks openly when you bite your lip to hold back a grin as you type back a reply to her friend. Now that she thinks about it, hasn’t Seungcheol also been more attentive to his phone these days?

She doesn’t really see him a lot, but the few times she does meet him with the guys, it’s pretty clear that Seungcheol has been looking at his phone considerably more often than he used to. She didn’t think much of it, because she’s never been the kinda friend to confront little things like that. But this? She might be wrong, but it seems that he’s been getting comfortable with you and vice versa.

“Boyfriend?” She pretends to ask, almost laughing at the way you jump in your seat nervously. “I told you you seem very giddy these days.”

You tilt your head in question.

What? You? Giddy because of his texts?

You’re unsure why you’re not keen on disclosing that it’s Seungcheol you’re texting, so you shake your head and say instead, “Just a friend.”

“For now?” She teases just to see if you’d relent. But you simply smile and deny her with a wave of your hand, telling her it’s nothing like that. Jisoo is surprised to find your tone nothing sort of denial–almost like you actually believe that there’s nothing going on between you and her friend. Did she assume wrong? “Well, just know that you seem to… glow these days.”

Sending a shy grin towards her, you thank her in a whisper before going back to your study. As usual, you share small talk from time to time, because Jisoo deems just working for two hours straight can’t be effective if you don’t have small breaks in between (and, no, she doesn’t mean a few 10 minutes breaks. Just 2 or 3 minutes every now and then at most); and that’s how she found out you’d be going home alone today because Taehyung has a date.

She knows of your situation from Seungcheol, something that Taehyung has asked him to forward the gist of to Jisoo just in case. She doesn’t really get it, if she’s being completely honest, but she’s never one to judge others and has simply stored the information in mind for when it’s necessary. She considers offering to go home with you, but your places are in different directions and she’s promised her mom they’d have movie night later.

While it’s true that she’s not that close to you, she already sees why Taehyung (and Seungcheol) takes such good care of you. There’s just something about you that makes her want to coddle you, blanket you in layers and layers of bubblewrap to make sure you’re safe and sound.

Perhaps it’s you innocence, the way you dangerously trust people because you believe the good in them. Even though she doesn’t agree with the way Taehyung is protective over you because, considerably, it can be a little too much; she also understands why he does it.

But looking at you talk about how it’s been a long time since you go on a bus by yourself and you’re kinda excited for it, she softens at your childlike excitement, also glad that you seem to be comfortable enough to talk about this with her. She asks if you’re sure about the lines you’re supposed to take, and she feels the weight easening a little when you show her a screenshot of your bus route you’ve found off the internet.

Your phone buzzes again, and Jisoo doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the notification and how you take a deep breath before clicking something on your phone. She frowns in worry when she sees your face falls, and she can tell that you’re gritting your teeth in an attempt to calm down whatever’s bubbling up in your chest.

The question gets stuck in her throat, not wanting to seem like she’s prying and she feels like it’s not her comfort that you need. It turns out she doesn’t need to ask though, because you do it first by asking if you can cut the session short for the day because something came up and you need to go. You send her a forced smile when she asks if you’re okay, and you quickly tidy up your stuff before apologizing once again for the sudden turn of event.

Jisoo doesn’t even get to bid you goodbye because you’re already gone in a blink of an eye, her worried eyes following you out of the library until you go out of her vision.

The second time Seungcheol sees you crying, you’re by yourself in a random bench behind the engineering building.

It’s a place people usually go to find peace, because, for some reason, the park behind the engineering building has been the designated place for students to just cry or zone out without anyone questioning anything.

He’s almost panting when he gets there, and you don’t even look up at the presence of another person–simply buries your face more into your palms as you try to contain your sob.

“Cheol, are you at the university? I’m a little worried…” Jisoo has said over the phone, telling him she was tutoring you when that happened, not forgetting to tell him you’d be going home by yourself today and that worries her even more after what she’s witnessed earlier. “I’m not sure where she went though. She didn’t tell me anything. But I don’t think she’s gone out of the university.”

This park wasn’t his first choice, quite obviously, hence his heavy breath after running here and there. But that’s not important, what’s important is you; crying by yourself like some kinda tragedy has befallen you.

It hurts, to be honest. The first time he hears you cry, it was just impulse that made him comfort you. But now, after knowing you and spending time with you, he really just wishes he can comfort you somehow no matter how.

Seungcheol decides he doesn’t like nor hear seeing you cry.

“Hey.” Seungcheol feels bad at the way you jump because of his voice, and his heart clenches at how sad you look right now when you look up at him. He’s not even thinking when he moves forward to wipe your tears that still continue falling anyway.

You don’t even question why he’s here or what he’s doing, simply accept the way his fingers are gently wiping your tears from your face. His presence helps though, for whatever reason, because you find your sob dying down into hiccups though your eyes are still blurry from tears.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks after you seem to calm down a bit, watches the way you dig your fingers into the tissue you’re holding in your palm. He doesn’t expect you to lay your head on his shoulder, but the feeling is pleasant despite the worry in his heart.

You don’t answer him for a bit, seemingly to be deep in your thoughts; wondering if you should tell him or not. He’s about to tell you it’s okay if you don’t want to, but you beat him to it and start talking albeit hesitantly.

“I applied for this scholarship for a summer course. It’s abroad and my mom has always wanted me to go so I studied hard for the test.” Your voice is small, and he wouldn’t have heard it if not because you’re literally pressed against him. “I… I was so sure I would get in. That I aced the qualifications. But I didn’t and–”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassures you, wondering if it’s okay to put his arm around you–if you’d appreciate the physical comfort he wants to give you. “It’s not the end of the world and there are other courses–”

“No, Cheol. You don’t understand.” You shake your head, voice resigned. You sound like you’re about to cry again, and it’s reflex when Seungcheol wraps his arm around you. Fortunately, you either don’t realize or you don’t really mind it, so he keeps it there because you even bury yourself further into him, your forehead meeting his collarbone. “My mom… It’s her dream to go into that school. But… my dad doesn’t allow me to study abroad so she thought… it’d be okay if I can go even only for a short time?”

He bites his lips as you continue to talk about your parents; how you don’t want to disappoint them and you hate to imagine how your mom would feel when you tell her the news. You’ve told him a glimpse of your parents before, what they expect of you and how you always wish to meet those expectations.

But he’s never thought it was to this extent.

His soft voice whispers your name, and you pull away to look at him because he urges you to do so.

“I know your academics matter to you, I really do,” he starts carefully, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. “But… it’s not everything, okay? I promise it’s not. And this is just one door closed for you. Who knows how many more are open?”

“No, Cheol…” you repeat, biting your trembling lip so hard that Seungcheol almost puts his thumb there so you’ll let go. “I… I’m nothing without them.”

Wait.

What?

“It’s the only thing I’m good at; studying and doing assignments. I can’t offer anything but. And if I screw up those things…”

“Wait. No–Stop.” Seungcheol immediately stops you, his voice firm though he’s shaking his head like he’s confused beyond measure. Because he is. Did you really think you have nothing to offer but your scores? Your academic accomplishment? “Are you being real right now?”

He might sound harsh, he admits, but it seems to go past you because you simply repeat your words. And it hurts so fucking much because you sound so convinced, like it’s something you’ve believed your whole life and there’s no room to amend that.

“Y/N, I promise you’re more than that,” he grasps your hands and says firmly, his eyes piercing into yours so you’ll see that he means it. “You’re not made of your academic score. You’re your own person and you're worth more than your accomplishments–whatever they are.”

Your vision gets blurry again as Seungcheol starts listing down why he thinks you’re such a wonderful person, how he’s grateful that you let him into your life and he’s glad that he gets to know you as you.

He’s hugging you by the time he’s finished, because you burst into tears once more, overwhelmed by how sincere Seungcheol sounds. Truth is, Taehyung has told you all those things Seungcheol did just now–though you’ve always thought he’s just doing his brother duty and you choose to not trust him because it’s his job to make you feel better.

But Seungcheol sounds so sure, so firm, and so true that you actually believe him. Maybe not wholefully, but it's already more than you can ever imagine. You’re so used to having only Taehyung with you, but Seungcheol comes in and he’s changing things in your life that you don’t think possible. He makes you comfortable with yourself, makes you think that it’s okay to be rebellious once in a while even if it’s just skipping a class for the first time in your life and though you promise you’d never do it again because it made you too anxious, makes you think that… yeah, maybe you should be selfish sometimes and put yourself first even though those always appear as fleeting thoughts up until now.

Still, it’s only after meeting him that those thoughts appear.

“You’re okay,” he whispers to your hair, and you can vividly feel his plump lips on top of your head. “I promise you’re okay.”

The third time Seungcheol sees you cry (not counting the times you cry watching movies), it’s four years later as you clutch his fingers and try your best to hold back the tears even if you’ve failed already.

“They look so happy, don’t they?” He whispers against your ears, the way his lips grazed your ear still bring shivers down your spine despite the familiarity of it.

You nod as you sniffle, watching Taehyung dance with his bride on the dance floor. You’ve never thought your dumb best friend slash brother will be settling down this early, but you can’t help the happiness that blooms in your heart as you see how much love is reflected in his eyes as he looks at the love of his life.

“They do. I’m glad they found each other,” you whisper as you gently wipe your tears. Perhaps you should be more thankful Taehyung’s wife has forced you to use her makeup artist even though you refused at first, you’d hate to imagine how you’d look with mascara and cheap eyeliner rolling down your face with your tears otherwise. “He deserves it, you know? He’s always the happiest when he’s with her.”

You look up to your boyfriend when he brings up your joined hand and kisses the back of your palm, a soft, happy smile gracing your face when you feel the warmth of his lips despite the tears still running down your face.

And that’s when he promises he’d do anything he could to never let you cry again unless it’s paired with that smile.

A/N 2: your feedback will always be appreciated mwah

#caratwritersclub #ficscafe #scoups fluff #scoups scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imaginse #scoups fanfic #scoups imagines #seungcheol scenario #seungcheol fluff #seventeen au #seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #svt fic #seventeen angst #scoups angst

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xiaowhore · 3 years ago

Text

how he carries you.

includes: luke, artem, marius & vyn !

pronouns: gender neutral

a/n: this post was buried six feet under my drafts for so long

piggyback ride !

as a child, luke carried you on his back fairly often. scraping your knees during play time was a common occurrence, and he was a total worrywart even then. after all, it's okay, it doesn't hurt at all didn't make a very convincing argument when tears were trickling down your cheeks, lips bitten red by your stubborn refusal to let out pained sobs.

he had panicked immensely. there was no way he was going to force you to walk home with bleeding wounds, so he struggled, his small weak body barely able to withstand your weight, but he persistently trudged on, comforting words spilling from his lips to hush your cries.

but of course, the piggyback rides stopped when you grew up. it was far too humiliating to allow luke to carry you all the way to the infirmary each time you gained trivial injuries in gym class.

then eight years later, you found yourself carried on his back once more.

“i'm not drunk,” you slurred, clearly inebriated. you had intentions to say more but a hiccup cut your sentence short, and you settled for burying your face in the crook of his neck instead. “you don't have to carry me.”

“yeah, right,” luke agreed sarcastically, throwing you a disapproving look you can't see. “hang on tight, we're near your apartment.”

you groaned as a response, looping your arms around his neck. as you shuffled in position, you felt the firm muscles beneath his shirt, but you chose not to comment on it.

still, there was an obvious difference compared to back then. his arms were stable, carrying your weight with ease. he no longer staggered, his hold on your body firm and strong.

ah, but his ears still turned red. how cute.

“...you've become strong, haven't you...”

“hm? did you say something?” he glanced at you, a question in his gaze.

you nuzzled your face to his neck, causing him to flush deeper. “no, it's nothing...”

princess carry !

“you should speak up when this happens.”

“yes, i apologize for this, mr. wing.”

you looked particularly glum while artem examined the wound on your feet caused by a new pair of shoes. you thought you hid it well; you endured for the duration of the party, too busy discussing with potential clients to slip away and seek treatment, but it wasn't anything urgent.

at least by your standards. artem didn't seem to share the same opinion.

“you should stay seated. the party is almost finished,” he said with an air of finality, leaving no room for argument. he stood up from his crouched position, immediately holding you down when you attempt to walk. “don't move. it hurts, doesn't it?”

“i can walk to a sofa. it's not very far.” plus it had already gotten this bad so does it really matter?

a crease formed between his brows as artem frowned. “excuse me.”

for what, you barely had time to think before he literally swept you off your feet, hooking an arm beneath your knees and placing a hand on your back. a stranged noise escaped you but he didn't seem bothered, continuing to carry you towards the nearest sofa.

thankfully, there weren't much guests on this part of the venue. small mercies.

he knelt by your feet, carefully taking off your ill-fitting shoes. you made an effort not to wince, but he saw through it anyway. “i'll ask the staff for slippers. stay here, okay?”

“it... it really is fine...”

his face took on a sterner expression.

“i-i got it. thank you.”

potato sack carry !

“i'm fairly certain i can press sexual harassment charges on you for this.”

helplessly, you dangled from marius's shoulder, desperately covering your face from view. the passersby gave the pair of you odd looks but marius seemed amused more than anything.

“it can't be helped, right? those reporters were so adamant on chasing us,” he reasoned, laughing at your grumbles.

“i can walk just fine. i'll have you know, i'm a fast runner!”

“mhm, not with these shoes, you're not. you almost tripped if i didn't catch you first, didn't you?”

aggrieved, you murmured a few more complaints before patting his back. “alright, fine. they're not tailing us anymore, so could you let me go now, marius von hagen?”

“hmm...” he pondered for a moment, deep in thought. then cheekily, “no. this is fun.”

“in what way?!”

the sound of his laughter answered you, and you began to squirm. “woah there, be careful. what if i drop you?”

“better than you holding me hostage.”

“hostage? how mean.” you felt him shift positions, moving you away from his shoulder to face him instead as he secured his hold on your hips. “i treat you better than anyone else.”

red colored your cheeks, but you masked your blush with anger. pinching his face, you indignantly cried, “marius. von. hagen!”

princess carry !

“dr. richter, it's really fine! you don't have to carry me!”

opposed to his usual gentle demeanor, vyn appeared to be strict. “you're burning up with a fever. it was my fault for not noticing earlier, and you nearly collapsed. you are in no state to walk on your own.”

you grimaced at the memory. it was a disgraceful sight, and you certainly did not want to worry vyn because you almost fainted. “i can make it to the car, at least. you can just drop me off at a clinic. i'd hate to bother you when you have work to do.”

“i can spare some time,” vyn insisted, his eyes almost like molten gold in the sun. “even if i can't, i'd make time for you. always.”

your heartbeat stuttered, your face beginning to turn red for a different reason than just the cold. “i see... thank you.”

he opened the door to his car with some difficulty, but he safely settled you inside. brushing away the hair matted to your forehead, he tenderly smoothed the furrow between your brows.

“are you sleepy? get some rest. i'll wake you up when we arrive.”

you wanted to refuse, but the offer of sleep was too tempting. you nodded weakly, lashes fluttering shut, and he curled his lips to a small smile when your expression eased to a state of relaxation.

“silly. you speak like i won't do anything for you.”

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot #tot x reader #tears of themis imagines #tears of themis headcanons #tears of themis scenarios #tot imagines #tot headcanons #tot scenarios #luke pearce x reader #artem wing x reader #marius von hagen x reader #vyn richter x reader #luke x reader #artem x reader #marius x reader #vyn x reader

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aehyei · 2 years ago

Note

Do a jeno ver pls?🥺🥺🥺🥺

[11:58 AM] “This is messed up shit.” Brother’s best friend!Jeno groaned but climbed with you at the backseat of his car anyways. You straddled his waist and licked your lips, feeling the excitement bubbling on the pit of your stomach.

“But I can be messier,” you giggle, sucking on his fingers when he tapped your chin.

The boy uncomfortably shifted on his seat, his dick hardening at how you suck on his fingers so messily, saliva coating his skin. “You really are a slut, huh? What’s your step-brother gonna think of you seeing his little baby sister all messy like this, hmm?”

Nothing has happened yet but you were already moaning in pleasure. Jeno let out a mocking laugh, thrusting up to hit your clothed clit with his obvious hard on.

“J-Jeno, p-please, fuck me. Please, please.” You begged, hiccuping with every thrust. It hurt your feelings when he only snickered, appearing to be not as affected as you are. “I’ll be so good for you, please, please.”

Jeno licked his lips, his hand gripping tightly on your waist, pulling you down until you pressed down on him. He ignored the dirty glare you gave him, clicking on his tongue as he shamelessly checked you out. “Mhm? Baby, don’t give me that look, only bad girls do that. You aren’t my bad girl, are you?”

You whinnied loudly, wiggling against his lap to feel any friction to cure the ache in between your thighs. Jeno didn’t look happy from how impatient you were acting, tightening his hold on your hips that you were sure would bruise in the morning.

“J-Jeno…” You squirm, suddenly feeling small from his stare.

“Are you a bad girl, Y/n?” He hisses, fingers going down to ghost your clothed slit. His ego was sure fed well when he felt how wet you were even if he barely did anything.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes in frustration, biting your lip so hard that you tasted blood. Jeno’s eyes might’ve darken that he leaned in and licked the blood, making you moan out loud in surprise.

Fuck, that was hot.

“Answer the fucking question, slut. Or are you just that stupid?” Jeno snapped, one hand gripping your ass too tightly and the other now stuffed inside your panties, rubbing quick circles on your clit.

“N-No! N-Not—s-stupid!” You manage to let out, hips moving on its own accord. His movements were so fast that it felt like vibrations. Your legs start to shake as you continuously gasp at the feeling.

“Hm? Really? Not stupid. Well then, you must be a very, very bad girl,” Jeno licked his lips, harshly tapping your clit before withdrawing his fingers, his chest shaking with laughter when you frustratedly cried out, “Wanna call your brother and show him how bad you are? How much of a cockslut you are, huh?”

At this point, you were very much desperate for anything. So not thinking much of it, you nodded your head and blabbered “yes” all over again and again.

“Hello? Jeno?”

Your eyes shot open hearing your step-brother’s voice from the phone, pure shock freezing you. You looked at the cocky smirk dancing around Jeno’s lips, his eyebrow raised before entering a finger right into you, settling in a pace so quick you were sure you were starting to get lucid.

“Hi Jaem,” Jeno inhaled sharply when you moaned silently, “guess which slut came for a good fucking.”

Step-brother!Jaemin’s eyes widened to hear your voice, pleading for Jeno to touch you more. Then a huge smirk left his lips before letting out a deep chuckle, running his fingers through his hair, “Fuck her really well, Jen. Make sure she screams, wanna hear it all.”

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

baby blurb for rockstar!remus :3

maybe a rainy day stuck in the hotel in bed.

its raining where i live right now so this is kinda self indulgent. hope ur day/night is going well jade <3

this one didn't win the poll i just wanted to do it rly bad ty for ur request ilysm. tw really weak dirty joke ♡ gn!reader

You're staying in a hotel in the middle of the city, and Remus can't really leave without getting mobbed by fans these days anyways, so the rain isn't a bad thing after all. You crack the window enough to hear the sound, and Remus turns the thermostat up really, really high to fight the chill.

"C'mere, loverboy," you demand, hands reaching down the length of the bed for him.

He rolls his eyes at your position, your socked feet held up by the headboard and your head in the middle of the sheets, and flops down next to you. The two of you look like interlocked commas, heads bent together.

"Remus," you say softly, because demanding isn't working. "Lay down with me."

"I am."

You implore him to do as you do with a very gentle gaze. Eventually, reluctantly, he does what you're hedging for and puts his feet up on the headboard beside yours. When he lays back, his hair spreads out over the sheets in a small, silky wave.

"Happy?" he asks.

You grab one of his hands and bring it to your mouth, kissing his callused fingers one at a time rather than answer. You lay like that for a while, longer than you should, murmuring to each other until Remus makes a dirty innuendo and his lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. You laugh, sudden and hard, chest aching as you drop your feet from the headboard and curl toward him.

He pulls you into his chest, breath warm in your hair and on your skin as he asks, "What's so funny?"

"Don't play dumb," you protest, shaking with laughter still on top of him.

He rubs your hairline with his pinky finger distractedly. "Don't see what's so humorous about my big affliction-"

"Huge," you interject.

"Charmer."

You turn into his hold and needle your arms behind his back, hugging him so tight that the sound of his heart rivals the pittering rain. "You mean your heart."

"Obviously. What else do I have that's big, warm and throbbing?"

You gasp, scandalised and offended. "That's awful!" You giggle like a hiccup, the facade slipping very quickly. "Throbbing. Ew. Nobody would ever believe that you just said that to me, you know?"

"I know."

You like the insinuation, that you're the only person in the world who knows Remus like this, and who gets to hear his stupid, gross jokes. He must be thinking the same thing. His fingertips slip down your spine until you shudder, and then he takes a big handful of your waist and squeezes.

"Love you," he says quietly.

"Love you. And your huge, warm-"

He kisses you before you can say it.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #marauders #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #rockstar!au #rockstar!remus #bassist!remus

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kxxkiecxre · 2 years ago

Text

ʚ✟⃛ɞ Like a Moth to a Flame || J.J.K ʚ✟⃛ɞ

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader/x jimin.

SUMMARY: Your best friends older brother meant more to you than just a friend, unfortunately it’s a little too late now.

WARNINGS: smut implied on multiple occasions.

GENRE: best friends brother au.

WC: 5.4K

//unedited, y’all should get the gist by now :’)\

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PERHAPS **the most **important part of being someone’s best friend is being honest, truthful and sharing everything you can. And if you can’t share a secret with your best friend, then it most be something she can never find out. Right?

Exactly.

Which is why you’re currently biting your nails, sitting like a duck on your own egg shells. Hoping to god that your reddened cheeks can be blamed for the spicy jalapeño pizza you just shared between each other as well as the many soju bottles. However you cannot be 100% sure everyone is buying your little gimmick, seeing as he’s staring at you with an amused smirk, pretending he’s all too interested in making himself a cup of tea.

Why does he have to be like that? Besides he wasn’t even suppose to be in the house in the first place, Yeji explicitly told him to leave the house since she’s going to throw a small birthday party for her 20th. Doesn’t seem like he got the memo from what you can see.

“Anyway,” yeji, cuts herself short, “what’s the dirtiest place you have had sex in y/n”.

Cheeks reddening to a beetroot red, you clear your throat slightly, looking around the table before choosing your words carefully, “back of his car”.

“Just back of his car?”

“At the rear parking lot of 7/11, at midnight”, you finish.

“Risky, wouldn’t of said such an innocent little Angel like you would actually commit such a heinous crime huh” he voiced his opinion without missing a beat, watching as the death glare formed on your face.

“Don’t act like you’d even know what having a bit of fun means,” you scoff, Yeji oblivious to your little game.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself y/n,” he warns with a slight smirk, sipping his tea.

“Don’t project your insecurities on me cause you can’t get bitches Jungkook” you roll your eyes, clearly not amused by his obvious teasing.

“I’m sure you’d know” he chuckles, exiting the kitchen and leaving your almost growling at the kitchen table, where everyone’s eyes are on you.

“What… was that?” Sujin asks.

“What was what!” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but with Jungkook’s teasing and shit eating grin engraved in your mind you felt like popping.

“That roast battle?” Yeji asks, “by the way you ate him up”.

“He had it coming” you slumped back into your chair, sipping your sweet old whiskey mix.

Yeji brings her hands up in surrender, letting the subject drop faster than a needle to the ground. It’s not that there was much she could ask. You never made it super clear that her brother angers you so much that you wish he’d rearrange your guts on more than one occasion. But like mentioned, not everything can be shared, somethings are just better left unsaid.

After a few more hours of drinking past your limit and eating way too many spicy foods, you felt like you’ve had your fun. Ready to leave the party right after everyone has gone and dusted. But Yeji was too good of a friend, too sweet and protective. And who were you to give up an immediate soft place to crash on?

“Yeah but where would I stay, it’s not like,” you hiccuped past your slurred sentences, Jungkook right behind you and Yeji, chuckling to himself as he watched both of your try to speak in your slurred states like two toddlers trying to learn to speak for the first time, “we could fit on the same bed, because let’s me be honest ji, I’ve got a fat ass and your single bed will not handle me”

She pondered for a second, lips formed in a cute pout and eyes wide despite the droop from the alcohol in her system. She was the spitting image of her brother, except in female form and a lot more daintier, “take Jungkook’s bed, he’s been an asshole anyway”

You snort unattractively, hand covering your mouth as you and Yeji fall into a fit of drunken giggles, almost falling over while leaning on each other for support, “okay, I’ll leave a bunch of cockroaches behind too”

“No I’m serious,” she whines slightly, “it’s not safe to go home now, and Uber drivers are perverts.”

“I’ll just walk I’ll be fine Ji,” you grabbed her shoulders, confident in your remark but before you could even take the slightest step to the door, Yeji has other plans.

In the process of trying to grab your shoulder, she accidentally grabs your boob, rather harshly at that, and because of the slight pain that you still have in your freshly pierced nipple, you almost fall over in pain, “ow my boob!”

“Oh shit sorry!” She chuckles, “hey, at least the piercing feels nice!”

You smirk at her, keeping eye contact as you stumble closer to her, “it looks even better in real life”.

“I know,” she giggles, “because I’m the one that put it there”

Once again falling into a pit of giggles with a traumatised Jungkook behind you, you finally reach your end stage of being drunk, a small sob leaving your lips, “can I actually sleep in his stinky room?, what if I get kidnapped on the way home”

“Of course you can,” Yejis lower lip trembles, finally reaching that stage with you, “can’t she Jungkook”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, not quiet sure how you guys got to this stage since he left with his tea and what’s worse is he hasn’t realised that to your drunken eyes it looks like he just said no, so now you’re not sobbing, you’re practically wailing together, grabbing each other’s hands like it’s the end of the world.

“He really is an asshole” she wipes her eyes, “all the times Y/N, bought you banana milk and you won’t let her sleep in your room!”

“I-“ the poor man tries to defend himself.

“And all the times I’ve got you gimbap!”

He sighs in defeat, muttering incoherent words to himself as he finally leans off of the wall and stalks over to both of you very gently and slowly, “first off, I did not shake my head-NO- and second of all, please stop staring at me like that I feel threatened-“

“As you should” his younger sister practically growls.

“Anyway, y/n, why don’t you go and make yourself comfortable in my roo-“

“I’m sorry if I obliterate your bathroom with vomit, I really don’t mean to” you sniffle, right nostril blocked from crying.

He blinks, mentally counting down from 10 and begging god for patience because not only is there a possibility he’ll have to clean your vomit up and be there for you because his sister will be sleeping like she’s dead, but she’s currently pss’pssing as if there was a cat in the house… which there isn’t.

“It’s okay, just please, go to sleep”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Maybe the smarter idea would of been to stay at home after literally burning your entire digestive system with alcohol not even a four days ago, but despite that, and the lack of a boyfriend, somehow, you have found yourself immersed by yet another tequila drink and music booming around your entire aura. Hips swaying side to side and hair absolutely going wild after you have successfully lost your hair tie around two hours ago.

Yeji was no better, screaming down the phone to her annoying and hot brother, who apparently is very pissed and worried because he’s had a tough training with his coach today, and now his night is going to be filled with yet again taking care of two drunk messes. She keeps yelling at him, telling him she’s absolutely not giving him the name of the bar you’re currently trashed in. You vaguely hear her scream a bunch of curses at him before your attention is diverted to a pair of hands on your hips.

Turning around to meet this gaze you find probably one of the hottest creatures of man kind. With hooded dark eyes, and pink floppy hair and luscious plump lips he looks like a sinning Angel. His pearl white teeth sink into his plump bottom lip, the cross necklace on his dark shirt stealing your attention as you start dancing with this handsome stranger, absolutely perfect.

Without much thought to your current situation, you signal to Yeji that you are leaving with, Jimin, as you learned his name is. Right the second Jungkook enters, expression clearly not amused by your little escapade with his sister. You giggled to yourself as Jimin chuckled, helping you into the taxi.

And by the time you could really think about what you’re doing, his cross is swinging by your face as he hovers above you, kissing his way down your body right after giving you the best orgasm you’ve experienced, eyes sultry and lips coated in your essence. You were on cloud nine as he left marks on your neck and chest, rubbing his thick cock along your folds, before sliding in with ease, gasping as you clench around him, watching as his expression twists into ecstasy, he was gorgeous. Railing you like there was no tomorrow, and you know for fact you will not regret this night, not even in a million years.

Waking up the next morning was a daze, finding yourself nausea but not throwing up, and laying down next to a extraterrestrial being, you got out of bed in a rush, realising you promised Yeji to grab hungover brunch together. The man beside you groans, stirring awake, “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up”.

“You don’t have to do the walk of shame babe,” he chuckled, voice incredibly arousing, stirring something deep inside your stomach.

“No-“ maybe that was too quick of a reaction, “it’s- I meant to be meeting my friend in ten minutes for brunch, and I don’t want to be late.”

He gets out of his bed, watching you as you put your clothes on deciding to do the same, “maybe I could drop you?..”.

Your lips part in thought, “Uhm are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you don’t owe me anything actually yesterday night was amazing-“.

“Do you really not remember me?” He asks with a soft chuckle.

Your brain stirs, realising the familiar gaze, voice and eyes. He definitely changed, but good god did he even get hotter, and maybe you were to drunk to realise yesterday that his name was literally the same as your ex friends with benefits partner.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, to which he laughs gently, now dressed in grey sweats and a black shirt.

“I see time did you good y/n”

“Fuck me did it do you good” you laughed, slipping your red dress back on, cringing a little.

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?” He asks, already going to his drawer full of hoodies and sweats.

“I mean if you’re okay with it-“

“Come on don’t act like we didn’t use to do all the time” he hands you a brown hoodie and black sweats.

Smiling a little, you slipped the clothes on he gave you, watching as his eyes gleamed with a certain twinkle, “so? You disappeared for five years Park, where have you been?”

“Studying in Canada, I came back because I got a good job offer here” he mutters as you head out of his apartment, and straight down into the underground parking lot.

“Oh, damn. That’s nice, I’ve still another year of studying to do unfortunately” you chuckle a little, buckling your seat belt as he starts his car.

Within small talk you get to the small cafe by Jungkook’s place, being met with the man himself and his younger sister. Jungkook does not look pleased at all, a prominent scowl on his face while he glares at his whining sister, but in all fairness, he looked absolutely ravishing. In blue ripped jeans, and a white polo shirt. Hair slightly messy but never the less he looks gorgeous, just like always. With your stare on him and voice more clear he whips his head up, noticing you with a man is quite the strange sight for him, and he’s not really sure why he all of a sudden feels even angrier than he was during training.

Sitting down next to Jungkook and Jimin next to Yeji, you sigh, the crispy breeze of autumn absolutely devouring your lungs, “remind me to never drink again hm?”.

Jimin chuckles before you realise you never actually introduced him, “oh right, guys this is Jimin my friend, Jimin Jungkook and Yeji my best friend”.

“Ah the famous Yeji”

“Famous?” Your best friend managed even though her voice was ragged just like a cat being dragged through her vocal chords.

jimin chuckles a little, rearranging the cap ingulfing his hair, “yeah, Y/N wouldn’t shut up about you yesterday night, kept complaining saying you’ll be concerned, but to be honest you didn’t seem all too worried yesterday night’’

Yeji hums, squinting while the sun shines in her eyes. you on the other hand whine, hand covering your stomach while you pout a little, clearly very hungry with your hungover. Jimin picks up on that, smiling a little before ordering you a smoothie and an acai bowl. how sweet. seemingly, though, Jungkook doesn’t quite like the picture in front of his eyes, muttering something incoherent under his breath, and while you notice you choose to blame his sour mood on his training.

‘‘so kook, how was training’‘, you ask, nibbling on your paper straw.

‘‘good’‘ is all he answers, clearly not excited to overindulge you.

‘‘when’s the upcoming fight’‘, you say, trying to make it clear you’re devoting your entire attention on him.

he sits up in his chair, still slacking but not as bad as before, one hand under his chin as he looks into the small cafe, “friday week” he answers.

“are you excited”

he scoffs a little, “you could say that”

Confused and slightly baffled at why he’s giving you the cold shoulder you sigh, closing the menu you were scanning for no apparent reason and stand up of your chair, “kook, would you mind going in with me for some water?”

He looks at you with minimal hesitation, “for.. water?”

“Yeah,” you mutter softly tilting your head trying to make it obvious to him that you are trying to to talk to him in private, “water”.

He licks his lips swiftly, clearing his throat and following your lead, watching your back with intent, wondering why the hell you’re dressed in oversized mens clothing, when suddenly, like a lighting strike just hit him, he realises.

Once at a small corner at the cafe away from others he looks you dead in the eyes, clearly some type of emotion swarming his head as he suddenly looks slightly pissed off, body tense and brows stern, “you slept with him”.

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Like he was there last night and saw all the things Jimin did to you. Shocked and maybe a little shy, you gulp, “well… it’s my life. I can choose who I sleep with..”.

He scoffs with a slight smirk, no, not the type of smirk where you want to kiss it right of his lips or the type you want to smack away because he’s cocky, no, the type were he’s clearly pissed.. beyond pissed, “why him?”

Now you were getting agitated, foxy gaze hardening and cheeks warming to a serene pink, “why not him!”

“Because!” He controls his voice, looking around to Make sure he hasn’t captured any unwanted attention.

“Because?” You questioned, clearly baffled now at where this man has gotten his audacity.

“Goddamnit y/n” he sighs rubbing his face with his hands.

“What’s so wrong with him that I can’t sleep with-“

“He is my fucking opponent this Friday.”

“Oh”

He stares at you, tight lipped and fuming, and all though you know better than to continue egging him on. You still open your big mouth, “well I don’t know how that affects the fight since it’s my vagina and not yours he fucked”.

Blinking about a hundred times in one second he literally just stands there for a solid minute trying to decipher what you had just said to him, “I don’t have a vagina”.

“Sucks for you I guess” you shrug your shoulders with a straight face.

He bites into his lower lip, clearly not amused by your little shenanigans, inching closer to you, he has a certain glimmer in his usually brown eyes, with just a little sheen of cloudy darkness, “I promise when I win that fight, I will prove to you that no other man will *ever *compare to me… physically…mentally” he moves in closer, just an inch away from your ear, “stamina wise,” his hot breath on your delicate skin was exciting, hairs rising on your neck and goosebumps forming, “and bed wise”

With his final words he moved away from you slowly, before tucking your hair behind your ear all while you’re sure someone has electrocuted your insides. Maybe this man is trying to kill you, maybes he trying to tease you or perhaps, he means what he says.

But two can always play the same game, “well,” you give him your best innocent look, “I hope you’re a man of your words, good luck.. Kookie” swiftly moving around him, you shoot straight for the door, heart racing and insides melting. what . the . actual . fuck.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Fuming… that’s what you are right now. Angrily stomping your way to the familiar building you dig your nails further into the palm of your hand, cheeks blushed with the anger coursing through your blood and face stern. Not quite concerned with the people, most of them already know you.. and who you are coming to see, it’s pretty obvious.

Coming up straight to the punching bag the tall man is apparently taking his frustration out on, you bit into your lip. Calming your breathes and trying your best to not pop, “I will personally take a rope, put it round your neck and choke you. Who the fuck do you think you are”.

Not really paying attention to you, or more so being bothered by your outrage because he’s expected this, he throws a mere glance your way before speaking up again, “do you have anyone else to bother but me?”.

Rolling your eyes so far back into your skull that it physically hurts, you give him a sarcastic laugh, “you’re so funny don’t you think? Stay out of my business Jungkook. I’m serious”.

He stops punching the bag, holding it in place with his gloved hands, “you, got into, my, business, first.”

At this stage you will need all mighty gods strength to stop yourself from absolutely obliterating his face right this second, “fuck you Jungkook, you’re so fucking annoying. YOU are not my brother, YOU are not my father or my boyfriend. YOU do not dictate who I can fuck and who I can’t. Stay in your own lane”.

Suddenly angry, deep frustration taking over his eyes, darkening his orbs to a colour almost unrecognisable, “do you know what he says about you?” He stalks towards you, almost like a prey to its victim, “do you know how he tells everyone of his friends he fucks your everyday? That you’re desperate? Choking on his fucking dick? My entire friend group has been bombarding me, telling me my sisters best friend is getting railed by my opponent, never mind that actually, it’s the fact he has so little respect for you. I promise you, when I’ll be in the ring, he won’t come out of my hands alive”.

Throwing the gloves off his hands to the floor, he walks to the locker room with one last look at you, but you’re stupid, and not at all listening to your rational brain telling you to let him cool down, “well I just think it’s stupid you’re so willing to risk disqualification over me”

He chuckles emptily, “so I’m stupid because I care?”

“No, you’re stupid because you’re risking the biggest fight of your career.”

“So help me god Y/N,” he stands up off the bench, sweaty figure close to your body to the point you can feel his heat radiating warmth onto your skin, “I’ll do it all again and again and again, if it means you get the respect you deserve.”

Because you absolutely have no self control and curiosity always gets the best of you, you look into his eyes and ask, “why do you care so much?”

His expression turns soft, eyes melting every worry, anxiety and pain away, “because you’re my friend too, and my friends mean a lot to me.”

Understandable, but despite the feeling that there’s more to this words than he lets on, you nod in slight agreement, “fine, I’ll stop seeing him”.

He says nothing, simply turns around and begins to take his shirt off, “you might wanna wait outside unless you want coach to explode with anger”.

The hardest part about being alone is… being alone. Simply put. There is only so much a person can do by themselves, and sure it’s relaxing to be alone sometimes, but not all the time. It gets lonely, dark… soulless. Not only in the caged four walls of your home, but generally speaking. A human needs another human, it’s instinctual, it’s inevitable. Just like any other creature, a soul needs a partner. Surely, by now you’d have found someone if you were interesting enough, but in all fairness, you seem to be probably the most general, imperfect and boring person alive.

Staring at the ceiling for what feels like a decade, which in reality was an hour, your mind sinks deeper into your feelings, into the depth of your heart. It almost feelings like your brain is rummaging around, throwing things randomly while accidentally continuously hitting that one spot, that one spot that hurts. And since it’s busy, it doesn’t help you find out why exactly it hurts. It makes no sense. Being in pain, without a source. Without a reason, without pain.

Most people like to believe that their one and true love will come by, wether that be in five minutes or twenty odd years, you choose to not be foolish. You don’t believe in falling in love instantly, you don’t believe in love at first sight. Call it depressing, but you like to believe you’re quite the optimist. Just not in this scenario.

Any sane person would probably avoid walking in lashing rain to ease said -pain without pain- situation, but that’s exactly it. You’re not sane enough right now. You��re not exactly functioning properly, is it because of the lack of humanly touch? Or because the last time you saw another human being was when Jungkook almost killed Jimin in the boxing ring? Sighing you shrug your coat on and leave your apartment. Forgoing your umbrella.

What happened that day? What got into him? That despite the fact you begged him hours before to not hurt him too much, he went further of your plea and obliterated Jimin. The screaming and roaring in his apartment didn’t help his busted lip, but during that heated fight were Yeji stood in the hallway door silently crying as both you and him swore to never even look each other’s way again, you left a tiny yet crucial part of your being with them.

What the fuck happened that day.

To put it short, Jungkook wasn’t handling everything well, and when you pushed through into his place, he scoffed, asking you to leave. Maybe you should have, but you weren’t just pissed that he hurt Jimin, no, you were pissed that despite everything you begged him for, you especially begged for him to not get this disqualified. And sure it’s not the end of his career, but it was not needed. It was not necessary. Yet he’d gone and did it, which is why you started yelling, and from one word to another, both of you started cussing each other out, the entire argument was pathetic but it thought you many things, and it’s only been a month since that said fight, yet all of you is slowly dying and you don’t know why.

Maybe ignoring Yeji was not necessary, but if you talked to her, you knew it would blow up in your face. It’s too soon, too soon to be even near him.

*“Are you crazy” he yelled, anger at a boiling point. *

“*Maybe I am, but fuck Jungkook you got yourself disqualified!” *

*“So what?” He scoffed bitterly, “stop pretending like you give a shit about me” *

“*Oh that’s just pathetic” you sighed rubbing your forehead. *

“*So now I’m pathetic too?” *

“Yeah as a matter of fact you are! You’re pathetic, pathetic for throwing away your chance like that” you yelled, sure you face was getting red.

“*And you’re just a naive little girl, grow up Y/N, open your fucking eyes, stop trying to find good in everyone, stop believing everyone, stop trusting everyone! Stop sleeping around with everyone!” He yelled back, equally as pissed. *

Your face dropped, a needle to your heart, that’s what his words felt like, “oh that’s just low Jungkook, that’s just low even for you. Fuck. You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to call me a whore or whatever else because what I do with my body is none of your business. You’re so low for that Jungkook, that was a douche bag move”.

“*It’s the truth!” He countered, not looking in your eyes. *

“*Yeah,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting the tears back from your eyes, “you’re right, I’ll stop being naive, I’ll stop trusting people, as a matter of fact Jungkook, I swear I will never look your way again, I promise you’ll never hear from me again and I’ll make sure that the last you’ll see of me is if I were to die. I swear on everything that is dear to me in this world”. *

“*So do I” he shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. *

*Without looking back, you stormed out of his apartment. Desperately trying to stop the tears flowing from your eyes, but your efforts were just that, efforts. *

Crazy is what it was, it was a spurt of dumb non meaningful words. It was like spinning in a tunnel of webs, with absolutely no way out. Like sitting in four walls painted black with no escape. Like sitting ducks waiting to be eaten by their prey. It was in the heat of the moment. Yet it hurts like hell, maybe because you’re crazy in love with him, or maybe because it’s just that. Love.

*Not sure when he’s arrived at your house or how he got in, but he stumbled in regardless, holding a bag of snacks, drinks and a bottle of red wine with a small smile on his pouty lips, “horror marathon?” *

*Giggling you nod, watching him slip of his shoes and coat, neatly placing them beside yours. He practically skips his way to your small living room, cozying himself up beside you and nuzzling his nose into your arm like a dog would to get head rubs. *

*within half an hour into the movie you find yourself running your fingers through his silky hair as his head laid on your stomach, sleeping peacefully. He was beautiful, serene and too cute for his own good as he breathed in softly. He was as lovely as he could be, kind yet teasing but he always took care of you, even when you wouldn’t realise it, and you’re not exactly sure why, but it didn’t matter. *

It was hard to look back at the memories, it’s like knowing a stranger who knew all your secrets, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be. How incredulous. How generic, the girl who doesn’t believe in true love, falling so hard and so quick, it’s honestly laughable. A joke. Maybe even a whole circus.

*“Okay, but under the condition that I get to braid your hair?” He bargains. *

*What was there to bargain? Well you wanted to put mascara on his lashes since they’re so curly and long, but of course he has to bargain, “wait really?” *

*You couldn’t careless that he’d braid your hair if you’re honest but rather you couldn’t believe he actually agreed at all, “mmm only because I love you so much” he said, holding your waist as you sat on his lap on your bed. *

“That’s literally unbelievable!” You gasped after generously applying the mascara to his lashes, “can I please take a picture?” You begged.

*“what- no absolutely no” he shook his head *

*“oh but please kook!” You whined, pouting a little to make sure your charm was working, *

*he squirmed a little before mumbling, “fine but you have to put it as your screen lock for three months and you have to pinky promise it!” *

Staring at your lock screen, you feel your heart break just a little more, you can feel it get squeezed and beg to be let go off, but despite its efforts the band tightens a little more when you remember where you are, and where you’re sitting.

*sitting beside you on the dirty old bench He looked absolutely adorable as he sipped softly on your pumpkin spice latte, face lighting up as his taste buds responded well, and you could swear his eyes had little stars splattered around his pupils. He was incredible, in every sense of the word. *

“It’s amazing wow” he says after awhile, the snow beneath your feet melting at the sight of his adorable pink cheeks.

*“it is isn’t it?” You hummed, smiling softly. *

“*No like it’s literally beautiful Y/N” *

*you giggled at that, taking the sip he offers you so kindly, his upper half covered in the mustard color puffered coat you bought him for his birthday. *

You hated reminiscing, because it’s not snowing right now, and he’s not sitting beside you melting you down with his soft gaze and what became his pumpkin spiced latte, instead it’s pouring rain, with thunder rumbling the skies and your soaked and absolutely freezing.

*Giggling you begged him to stop, but instead he continued tickling your sides demanding an apology and a kiss to his cheek, “I promise I won’t slap your butt again!” *

*His attacks stopped, “now the kiss” and as obedient as ever you did as he asked. *

You were sort of thankful for the rain as it disguised the stream of tears running down your face, hiding the entire pain your body was engulfed in as you watched the deserted streets.

“Yeji would absolutely kill you for being here right now”

Which was your bed, doing something he absolutely hated, cuddling. “Yeah well she can suck it because it’s her fault, she threw a goddamn party”.

“*I know, I was suppose to be there” *

“awww sucks for you I guess, besides I am the party”.

In dire need of warmth you finally got up from the bench, heading back towards your apartment like you should have done a long time ago. What you thought would of been a source of stress relief was instead the opposite. Barely feeling your hands you stuff them in the pockets of your coat, that did absolutely nothing to keep you warm.

And as you stare ahead, you see him. You see him strolling ahead under dressed for this weather just like you, he noticed you too, and for a second you thought everything that happened within that month, was just a fever dream, but you realise it’s just wishful thinking.

And just as promised,

You walked by each other, without looking each other’s way.

**A/N: I’m sorry if it’s rushed I’ve literally wrote this in under an hour while at the ER lol. I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment or request if you have any! **

MASTERLIST

NO REPOSTING, EDITING, TRANSLATION OR COPYING OF ANY OF MY WORKS!

#bts drabble #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #bts #fiction #kpop #boxer jungkook #boxing au #bts jeon jungkook #jeon junkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook drabble

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foxilayde · 2 years ago

Text

Half of You (part 5) [Santiago x Fem!Reader]

Summary: the Baby Daddy Santi chronicles are back, baybee!

Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff.

Rating: 18+ ONLY. minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER (see: "definition of "forever"", meaning: 107 days). thank you for being so patient. As always reblogs are rewarded with a virtual hug if you're into that sorta thing. And if you're not on the taglist and you distinctly remember asking me to add you to the taglist, pls lmk, I'm dreadful at keeping that stuff organized. Much love to you all.

Fish disembarks with a playful nudge of your woodpile with the toe of his boot. “Good luck with your project, hermosa.”

“You can come check it out on Thrusday, bring me a little housewarming plant for it, huh? Something pretty.”

He gives you a lazy salute and wink. You don’t watch as he pulls out of Santi’s driveway. You zone out, staring at the clean vertical lines of your freshly shorn lawn. You can hear Santi still wrenching and clanking around in the kitchen. You didn’t hear their whole conversation, just bits and pieces, the fucking window was open and it wasn’t like you were trying to give them privacy anyway. You feel a bout of nausea swell in your throat and you can’t tell if its guilt, or if it’s morning sickness, or if its from the ungodly heat or a bodily reaction to the fertility hormones, but you feel on the edge of vomiting. You rest a palm over your lower abdomen. It could be in there right now. Jay’s face pops into your head and you want to cry. You take a deep breath and rest your head against the slatted outer wall of your craftsman home. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring out at the lawn with the echos of Fish’s words humming against the insides of your skull when the clanking stops and Santi comes to join you on the porch.

“Filters all set up, I’m letting the water run. The booklet said it has to go for an hour until it’s good to drink.”

You don’t respond, so he continues,

“I put the five gal under it though, so it catches all the water… I googled it and it said that the filtration test water is safe for plants, so maybe you can use it on some—“

You cover your face with your hands to hide the tears that well up in your eyes.

“Hey!” Santi crouches down to your level quickly with his popping knees and puts a reassuring arm around your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head, still hiding your eyes and you laugh incredulously.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Thank you, Santi.” You sniff a sob and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Could’ve fooled me with the waterworks, I— what’s this pile of… stickers?”

You wipe your eyes to see that Santi’s brow is scrunched, investigating the clump of alphabet’d small stickers in between his fingers.

“It’s… I thought…” you hiccup. Dammit.

Santi laughs. “Don’t tell me, Vin. Did the little earthquake I caused make the stickers fall off?”

You sniff the snot back into your nose and you nod. “You know what? That’s exactly how it happened.”

“And then they all banded together in a pile to hide from the aftershocks?”

“Nailed it. Two for two. You’re on a roll.”

You take a deep breath, hiccuping despite your best composed efforts, and Santi fully lowers himself beside you, arm still around your shoulders. He squeezes you close to his side. He smells like sweat and basil, lemons and lawn clippings.

Santi follows your line of vision to the freshly manicured lawn. “Are you crying about the hedges? I know I did them a little bit short this time, but—“

“I heard Fish.”

Santi’s grip loosens almost imperceptibly and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Vin. Love the guy to death but he’s been a martyr since recovery. ”

You nod in reluctant agreement.

“Hey….People are going to think what they’re going to think. It won’t stop with Frank.”

“Yeah I know it’s…”

The lawn is pretty. You hone in on a bee writhing on a violet blossom.

“It’s the hormones, I think.”

You know its a lie, even as it leaves your mouth. It doesn’t convince you and you sure as shit know it doesn’t convince Santiago.

“Hormones, huh? Sorry about that.”

You hiccup and laugh, “not your fault. No need to apologize.”

Santi stretches his legs out from under himself and sighs. “Well if the turkey basting did it’s job, I think it’s only fair I share partial blame, don’t you think?” His grip tightens on you once more and you laugh through a fresh bout of tears, you rest your head on his sweat dampened cotton shirt, wriggling your nose to alleviate the itch.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as a fresh flood of tears escape.

“C’mon, Vin. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” He kisses the top of your forehead casually and rubs your shoulder, letting you shift closer to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“But I do. I really really do.” You bury your face into his cotton clothed chest. “Even fucking now, I can help myself… I cosign you to all my bullshit. You’ve been picking up my broken pieces, letting me cry into your t-shirts since day one, since ground zero. It’s not fair to you.”

“This shirt is filthy anyway.”

You shake your head against his chest.

“This is the hormones talking. That ovulation injection is no joke.”

“Maybe you should go lie down.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Delusional and stubborn, huh?”

You smack his chest lightly.

“Go take a nap, Vin. Lie down. I’ll get you some water… some fresh reverse osmosis water… in an hour.”

It’s hard to move, to leave this spot on the sweltering porch, it’s not exactly comfortable on the floor, but your face is resting on the soft cotton of Santi’s t-shirt. He’s content to let you, just like he’s always been; content to let you call the shots, to dictate the direction, no matter what fucking storm you decide to steer the ship towards.

You eventually concede to a nap and Santi walks you upstairs. He takes off your shoes, and tucks you into your bed, clothes and all. He leaves for a while and in your in-between-states-of-consciousness, Santi sets a glass of water on your nightstand. He’s certainly thinking you’re fast asleep as he pulls your duvet snugly to your ears. You fall asleep totally after he softly closes your bedroom door and when you wake up two hours later, there’s a fully constructed plant shelf on your front porch.

The next few days pass like any other. Every morning you arise to bake something new, forgoing the oven on Tuesday’s sweltering morning temperatures to concoct some no-bake oatmeal cookies that cause Santiago to outright hoard the batch in his fridge, making you promise not to give them out. You’re too cranky and tired on a novel lack of caffeine to put up much of a fight.

You never mention the plant shelf to Santiago, but on Wednesday morning there’s a large pot of vibrant green basil on the shelf which you’re certain is his doing.

On Thursday morning you head to the fertility clinic to test to see if the initial ‘turkey basting’ was successful. They take your urine sample and you twiddle your thumbs, seated with your bare ass on the butcher paper in the empty exam room… they tell you it has.

You’re pregnant. Pregnant. Your heart rate picks up and you have to lie down, the paper crinkling under your back and behind your hair as you cup your mouth with your hands and begin to cry… again. Fucking hormones.

The usual surly nurse congratulates you and tells you to come back in eight weeks for the ultrasound. Ultrasound.

You don’t trust yourself to drive home straight away. You wonder around the neighboring shopping complex and people-watch families. Families on evening walks, families out to dinner, families smiling, families bickering… You hold your abdomen and laugh to yourself. And cry. Again.

By the time you get home, the sun has already gone down. Santi’s driveway holds additional cars, like most Thursday evenings. the boys are over to watch the game. You quietly exit your car, you sit in the dark on your porch swing and watch Santi, Will, Benny, Frank, and Tom through Santi’s dining room window. They clap shoulders, hold cans of beer and shout playfully at one another. The noises are an unintelligible hum that swells in your heart. After about 30 minutes, Fish drags Santi to the front window and points to the street. Santiago cups his hands against the blaring light of his living room to peer out into the darkness. He’s looking at your car.

In a matter of moments, Santiago is walking down his driveway and up yours. (he never jumps the hedges. Fastidious, that one.) you smile to yourself as he fixes he hair and squares his shoulders, preparing to ring your doorbell when he spots you in the dark on the swing.

“Vin!” He takes a step towards you and pauses.

“Hey” You don’t know if he can see your face in the shadows or not, but something keeps him from advancing, from joining you on the two-person swing.

“Why aren’t you over there? You didn’t even tell me where you were going today, but, that’s, that’s okay. Everyone’s been asking about you. Ben brought that dip you like and Fish swore up and down that he hasn’t told anyone, besides Rach, obviously. So it’s not as if you have to explain anything. If you don’t want to.”

Santi scratches the back of his neck and takes one more shuffling step closer to the swing. Hesitant. “Vin?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Even in the dim lighting you can see Santi’s demeanor sobering up. He crosses his arms and immediately responds, “Okay, yeah, I have to tell you something too.”

“I— huh?” You weren’t expecting any new information.

“You first.” You can’t see his face but you know him so well that you know by his tone of voice the exact face he’s making. That defensive clenched jaw thing that he does with the upwards chin tilt. You’d bet a million dollars that his chin is high in the air.

“Come sit.”

It takes a few beats before Santiago joins you on the porch swing, but he eventually does. The chains creak, his knees pop and he exhales expectantly.

You don’t want to keep him from the game, god only knows what important plays he might be missing, so you decide to come out with it.

“I went to the clinic today and—“

“You did?! Why didn’t you tell me? I could have—“

“I wanted to go alone, just in case, I—“

“What’d they—“

“I’m pregnant.”

You’re grateful for the darkness of the porch which keeps Santiago’s expression a mystery. Beyond the hedges, through the glow of Santiago’s living room window, a muffled cheer erupts. Shouting, clapping. Must’ve been an impressive score.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been crying like crazy. Not sad crying. Just lots of crying. Crying for no reason. At sunsets. At families holding hands. At life insurance commercials… At my best friends watching a football game one house away…”

Santi sits there in silence. You can’t even hear him breathing. You continue.

“Other than that, I’m good, I— it still feels unreal, you know? But I feel good about it. It was so quick, too. Wasn’t it? I don’t know why, but for some reason because of all the rigamarole the clinic put me through I thought this process was going to take months or years or something. But, first try, and bam. Which sounds about right when I think about it. It’s you, after all. Mister tactical soap. Of course your swimmers would get into formation and attack at dawn. No survivors.”

“Those ovaries didn’t stand a chance.”

“No they did not.”

“You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to— I can give you some space.”

“No. I want to. I want to see everyone. I know its only been a few weeks but I miss those idiots.”

“Lets do it then.” Santi rises and you hook your arm through his offered elbow. Once you step out into the illuminating glow of the street lamps you see the way his mouth is quirked up in an easy smile. His eyes are slightly glassy from the lagers and the texture of his stubble, the way it folds in at his barely visible smile line… without thinking you run the tip of your finger from the corner of his mouth, up to his ear.

“I like it when you smile, old man.”

The lines deepen around his mouth when his smile expands.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

- - - - - - - - -

The get together is a typical Thursday evening fare. The only difference being your abstinence from alcohol and general lack of interest in football has relegated you to maidly duties of replenishing drinks and snacks while the testosterone crew shouts at Santiago’s flatscreen.

The boys are invested the game, but you enjoy watching them watch the game. Benny is by far the most into it, which makes him the star player of the crew. He throws his poor worn ball cap to the ground when the play doesn’t go his way, stands up when he shouts. He claps and hollers when his preferred team scores and paces around during time outs. You might blame his passion on his proximal youth, but you don’t believe time will be capable of stripping him of his fervent fanaticism.

By the time you get there it’s past halftime and the “games a dead horse anyway” according to Will (Benny disagrees). You collect your hugs from each of the boys. The hug from Frankie is longer and tighter than usual.

After the game is over, the boys play some low-stakes poker and one by one each of the crew retreats to the living room to ‘rest their eyes’, the place is a mess, the boys are sloshed and and passed out on the various soft surfaces of Santiago’s living room. You help Santiago clear away the detritus of a night well spent and just before midnight Santiago offers to walk you back home.

“Would you? I wouldn’t want to get lost on my way in the dark, and this sure is a bad neighborhood. Just last week someone stole the Grossman kid’s skateboard off the front lawn. These streets are dangerous.”

“Pipe down, you’ll wake up Tom.”

You glance down at a particular patch of cozy carpet on the living room floor where Tom’s long body is splayed out, snoring like a logging factory. You roll your eyes and stage whisper to Santiago, “Yeah seems like a real Princess and The Pea situation. Better slip out quietly.” You exaggeratedly tiptoe out of the front door and put your finger up to your lips and whisper-yell at Santiago, “Close the door GENTLY!!”

Santiago shakes his head, shuts the door, and joins you on the driveway.

“Oh! Look at the moon!” Its a full one, slightly yellow and impossibly big this evening. “So pretty.”

You don’t know it but Santiago isn’t looking at the moon. He’s looking at you look at the moon. The way your eyes are all big and glittery. That awestruck smile you have. At something as simple and as constant as the fucking moon. ‘Look at the moon she says, how could I possibly look at the fucking moon when she’s so… So what, Yago? What is she?’

Santiago stuffs his hands in is pockets and looks up at the moon. It is pretty.

You grab him by the elbow. “Lets lay on the driveway and look at the sky for a little bit?”

“What? Right now?”

“No. Not right now. How horribly convenient would that be? Lets meet back here at oh three-hundred hours when we’re too sleepy to enjoy it.”

“Fine, wait here.”

Santiago turns to go back in the house.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m not laying on the driveway without a blanket.”

“Good idea… oh, Santi, while you’re in there can you make me a cup of tea?”

Santi raises his eyebrows. “Herbal tea?”

“Yes. I’ve come around. Matured. One herbal tea please.”

“Coming right up.”

You lay out on the driveway in the warm summer evening, stretching out with your hands behind your head. You get lost in time for a bit, staring at the beautiful clear sky.

Santiago stares at you from the porch. Blanket and tea in hand and admires you quietly, bathed in moonlight. Content. Pregnant. Pregnant with his child. Not his. Yours. Dios.

Santiago spreads out the blanket next to you after handing you the steaming mug. You set it down and scoot over till you’re on the flannel fabric. He lays down next to you, mimicking your hands-behind-head position.

You don’t turn your head to look at him when he speaks. You continue to stare up at the full moon, the clear sky, terrified that he might not be looking up at all.

“You hoping for a boy, or a girl?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know… I guess I’ve always wanted a girl. But after taking care of these dopes for so long, I feel finely attuned to caring for dudes… I’ll be happy either way. How about you Santi, do you have a preference?”

“Do I have a preference? No… no.. I mean. I know you’ll be great no matter what.”

“Yeah, thats a given.” You laugh and nudge his elbow with your own, “but have you had your heart set on either?”

Santi shakes his head, staring at the sky, “I haven’t had my heart set on anything, Vin.”

“I think the gender is the least of my concerns anyway.”

“What’s the most of your concerns?”

“Raising it as a single parent… if I’m co-signing them to a doomed life…”

“You’re gunna do great Vin. Don’t be nervous. I’m here for you.”

“I know. I know you are. You don’t have to be.”

“I know I don’t HAVE to be but I want t—“

“Why though? Why do you feel endebted to me? Why did you do this, let me walk all over your life without a fight? Is it guilt? Guilt I can understand. I’m well acquainted with guilt. Is that what it is? Or is it pity?”

“Pity? For what?”

“For the Widow next door that you have to entertain, the sad girl you invite to your get togethers. The crazy plant lady who can’t hold a screwdriver.” Your hands drift to your stomach.

Santi huffs with incredulity and shakes his head. “It’s not pity. I want to help because… that’s just who I am. I don’t know Vin, I see you, you’re there, you need help, I help. It’s not that complicated.”

“Not that complicated? You’d call this ‘not that complicated’?” Hot tears betray you, you hardly even try to stop them. Not here, in the open blanket of night, Santiago tilting his head in concern towards you.

“Don’t cry. Please Vin. You’ve been crying to much lately, what’s wrong?”

“I miss him. I miss Jay every fucking day. I wake up and his photo is right fucking there. I think about putting it away… I did put it away for a while, but I even missed THAT… so I put it back. On the nightstand.”

“What would you say to him?”

“Huh?”

“If Jay was here…. Not alive, but a spirit or ghost or something… what would you say to him? If he materialized right now?”

You wipe your eyes. “I’d ask if he was happy. If he was safe… I’d probably ask him if heaven is real. If he’s in heaven. If he met Elvis…” You laugh.

“And what else?”

“And then I’d say… I… I needed you Jay. I needed you. I’d say that sometimes I’m still so angry that you’re not here that it makes me scream. I’m angry that we never went to that stupid ‘Party Time Taco’ restaurant we kept getting flyers for, just to see how bad it was. I’m angry that you didn’t have a fucking last will and testament, so it was on me to guess at everything you would have wanted. I’m angry that you left me alone. And I think sometimes I get so angry, because if I felt sad instead, I’d fall apart.”

You don’t know at what point in your sobbing rant that Santiago’s arm came over your shoulders, but you’re grateful for his steadying embrace as your tears slow down to faint hiccups.

“You wanna know what I’d think he’d say?”

“What?”

“That he’s proud of you. He’s proud of how strong you are. He’s proud of you for getting out of bed every morning. He knows how hard it must be. And that he couldn’t imagine anyone being a better mother… and how badass he thinks it is that you’re doing this on your own.”

“Thanks, Santi.”

“He also says you shouldn’t be watering the backyard for fifteen minutes in the evening. Do five in the morning and 10 at night”

“Oh he said all that did he?”

“Yep. don’t shoot the messenger.”

“What was the thing you had to tell me?”

“Hmm?”

“The thing. When you were on the porch you said you had something…”

“Yeah. I… I’m taking a job in South America.”

“Where at?”

“Can’t say.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I know.”

“Ohhh… one of those.”

“Yep.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t know at all?”

“Not really.”

“Not even a guess?”

“Vin. C’mon you know I can’t tell you.”

“A week? A month?… longer? Blink twice if it’s longer than a month.”

“I don’t know.”

Your hand drifts to your stomach.

Santi breathes out, “Are you upset?”

“No! Why would I be upset?” Your voice squeaks defensively.

“Because I won’t be around while you’re…”

“I said I’m fine! I’m doing this alone and I meant that!”

“Yeah I know. I’m just worried.”

“About?”

“Oh I don’t know Vin, If something happens to you and you can’t get in contact with me.”

“If I were you I’d be much more concerned with doing some sort of clandestine mission in a foreign country.”

Santi is silent.

“Will you call?” You ask softly.

“If I can.” He replies at the same quiet level.

“Send a postcard?”

Santi barks out a laugh, “Yeah I’ll send you a postcard. Greetings from redacted! With all incriminating details blacked out in sharpie.”

“You going alone?”

“No. The guys are going with me.”

“All of them?”

“The whole gang.”

“Must be a big job.”

“You could say that.”

“When do you leave?”

Santi takes a deep breath. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! As in, like, today-tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m all packed. Tonight was a last hurrah stateside.”

“How long have you known about this job??”

“A while.”

"And when the fuck pray tell were you planning on telling me?"

“Fuck I don’t know Vin, I didn’t want to stress you out. I kept trying to find the right moment to tell you but, I don’t know, I didn’t want you to worry and you’ve started crying again and..”

“Hormones!”

“Right, hormones. I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“Well I’m considerably less stressed now, learning that you were so worried about this trip yourself that you decided it was better to keep me in the dark and wait till the last possible second to clue me in rather than just tell me. Did you tell the guys to keep it a secret from me too? A last hurrah party and not one of them mentioned the international travel plans the whole night?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It is. You don’t have to tell me everything, right? That’s… you’re not… it’s fine.” You pat his back “Sorry for freaking out. If you say you’re going to be fine then I should trust you, right? You know what you’re doing.”

Santi nods and is tight-lipped when he mutters, “Right.”

“You need me to water your plants or anything while you’re gone? Get your mail?”

“Already taken care of.”

You nod and click your tongue, “Well, it’s getting late.” You dump the contents of your herbal tea onto the lawn and hand Santi the mug. “Will I see you before you leave?”

“We leave in, Santi checks his watch. 5 and a half hours.” He says with tight apologetic eyes.

“Five and a half hours,” you mutter under your breath. “You need a ride to the airport?” You ask more loudly, already deciding that if he says ‘yeah that’d be great’ you’ll laugh in his stupid chiseled face.

“We have a shuttle coming… but thanks.” He looks so tired. But so what if he is, it’s his own fault if he isn’t well rested for his trip.

“Well then, you better get your beauty rest. Those boys are going to have raging headaches tomorrow.”

You get up and rock back and forth on your feet facing Santi. His knees are bent, one hand clasping his wrist, eyebrows downturned with concern.

“I’ll see you in… well… when you get back.”

“Vin—“

“Goodnight, Pope.”

He doesn’t rise to chase you. Doesn’t grab your wrist and force you to hug him goodbye. Doesn’t wipe away your tears with his thumbs. He remains sitting on the driveway when you get inside your home. And when you lay down in your bed, tears soaking your pillow, he’s still out there, staring at the fucking moon.

You have a nightmare. Not the usual horror of Jay collapsing in the middle of highway 1, the recurring playback panic of the last two years. No, in this nightmare you’re sitting on your porch in a rocking chair, holding a potted plant, one so big it crushes your thighs. Santi’s house, usually pristine and well kept, is condemned, paint chipped, windows smashed, lawn overgrown. You rock faster and faster out of control until the ceramic pot falls off your lap and crashes to the floor.

You wake with a gasp and leap out of bed. You nearly trip over the sheet still caught on your foot when you rush over to the window. It’s still dark outside. Santi isn’t out there any longer, neither is the blanket or your mug. You look at the clock. 4:30. You sigh in relief. They haven’t left yet.

You throw on a robe over your nightgown and go downstairs. You turn on the kettle before getting the ingredients out to make biscuits. Those idiots really shouldn’t have drank so much last night. You figure the least you can do is make them some breakfast sandwiches they can take with them. It’s not like you’ll be able to get back to sleep.

You’re wrapping up the last of the sandwiches (seven in total, one for Santi, Fish, and Redfly. Two for each of the voracious Miller brothers) when you see a blue shuttle van pull up in Santiago’s driveway. The sun has barely risen and the muffler steams as the driver beeps twice. You put the sandwiches in a paper bag and forget your slippers in a hurry, meeting the boys with their pack laden arms as they unload their bags into the van.

“Morning, Vin!” Fish greets you, causing Santiago to nearly snap his neck when he turns around in surprise. You hand the bag of breakfast goods to Fish.

“Mmm what’s this?” Frank pokes his nose into the bag and breathes deeply.

“Just a little something to soak up any remaining tequila.”

“Ugh, please don’t say tequila” Benny groans, shuffling off his pack into the trunk before he wraps you up in a hug. “Take care, Vin.”

“I will.”

In turn, each of the boys hugs you and thanks you. You tell them all to “be safe” and that the “welcome home party will be at casa de Vinita. With plenty of tequila.” Benny groans again. Santi watches you, arms folded leaning against the passenger door of the running shuttle. The boys load in and buckle up. Benny is already ripping into the parchment paper of his breakfast and will snatches the bag with a gravelly, “you’re an animal, Ben.”

You lock eyes with Santi, a strange anticipation tingling in your fingers. You both jump slightly when the shuttle driver beeps his horn. Santi glares at the driver who points at his watch.

“Pinche… give me a minute, Kay?”

You take two barefooted steps towards Santi and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head on his chest. He holds you close, like he’s giving you a concentrated dose of hugs, giving you a full month’s worth of embraces in one sitting.

“I had a nightmare about you last night.” You whisper so only he can hear. He inhales deeply and rubs his hands carefully up and down your back. You can feel the gripping dance of his fingers through the material of the robe and it makes you shiver. You grip him closer. “Be safe. Please.” You whisper, hoping you’re the only one who registers how desperate your plea really sounds.

Santiago’s hands skim up to the sides of your face and he gently pulls your head away from his chest. You choke back the makings of a whine. You don’t want the hug to be over, not yet, you’re going to miss him. He rubs his warm thumbs against your cheeks and there’s no warning at all, no hesitation, no eyes flicking to your lips, no sweep of tongue to wet his own, when he kisses you on the mouth.

It’s slow. Achingly slow. Your gasp of surprise is muffled by the insistent pressure of his mouth. You can’t be sure, but, if he he had been hugging you in prepayment of all the embraces you’d miss in the coming weeks, then this kiss is surely back payment, with interest, for all the times he’s stopped himself from kissing you in the past. Recompense, remuneration; a distilled unspoken passion. There’s nothing ‘first-kiss' about it, not clumsy, not awkward, not unsure. It feels practiced, steady, anticipated. The tingling in your fingers makes total sense and you use those same fingers to glide through his silvery thick curls when you tilt your head and open your mouth to him.

He twists your form in his broad arms, angling your faces away from the van, causing one of your bare feet to leave the ground and lift slightly like a wilting ballerina in swan lake or something out of an old movie.

There’s a romantic reverence in the way his tongue moves with yours, his nose pressed against your cheek, hot steady breath blowing comfortingly against your face.

You both jolt again and break apart your lip lock when the shuttle driver lays on the horn.

Santi doesn’t so much as furrow his brow at the driver when he steadies you back on two legs.

Frankie brushes the driver’s shoulder, and with a mouthful of biscuit says, “Pero qué coño! give him a minute, wéon.”

You blink rapidly and stare at your feet. What the fuck?

“I’ll be back soon.” Santi promises, squeezing your hand assuredly before climbing in the passenger seat and closing the door.

Frankie gives you a wide eyed smile before sliding the back door closed and you can hear the muffled admonitions of the driver as he hastily pulls out of the driveway and speeds off down the residential street.

-------

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#Santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia x you #Santiago Garcia x reader #Triple Frontier fan fiction #Oscar Isaac #reader insert

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