#like 'oh yeah well there's TWELVE days of Christmas!' shut up no there's not

[quasi-normalcy]

Maybe we could all just admit that "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is a bad song and stop singing it?

[etherealily]

​🇸​​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​​🇾​ ~ ​🇫​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇽​ ​🇨​​🇦​​🇹​​🇹​​🇴​​🇳​

Felix Catton + fem! reader. SFW, but discretion advised, slightly dark, abuse.

Part 1: Hard Candy

Part 3 : Rock Candy

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : He's only cryptic and machiavellian 'cause he cares. He's sorry, he's so very sorry. But will he say it?

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END OF SEMESTER

One thing about Felix is that he always got what he wanted.

It both enamored and infuriated you.

Even when the two of you weren't hooking up, both before and even - with much audacity - after, he got away with everything.

He smacked your ass whenever he saw you and everyone laughed it off, because imagine being Felix's certified girl, essentially. Who'd ever complain?

You reached your limit when he grabbed you when you were out with your friends, twirling you around in a gesture that could only be described as disgustingly, unnecessarily romantic, before kissing you.

Pushing him away, you glared and he chuckled, not even bothering enough to look at your face, but instead looking over your shoulder, at your friends, and chuckling with them.

Because of-bloody-course. Because you were obviously the one who had done something wrong right now.

"What the fuck, Felix?"

"What?", he laughed, breathily. "'S a dare, c'mon, relax."

"Yeah? Yeah? A DARE?"

"Well, dares are for kids. This was more of a bet. A challenge. Definitely more manly and dignified than a dare."

"Don't you have enough FUCKING money as it is?! Why'd you need to win this?"

"Hey, hey, relax-"

"NO! You can't keep FUCKING with me! You've been doing it since high school, and you can-"

"Okay, shh, shh.", he murmured, turning you around and placing his chin in the crook of your neck as he rubbed your almost-flailing arms that were itching to have a go at him, calming you down. "Hey, hey, listen. Listen. I got carried away. Okay? You know I tend to do that."

Oh, you knew way too fucking well what this rich cunt tended to do.

Ask the pens he never gave back in high school - not because he didn't have any of his own - but because you shouldn't have had such "ugly-looking ones" in the first place.

"Listen, listen, I'm- hey, stop struggling, okay? St- Y/N, don't piss me off, stop.", he whispered, soothingly kissing the side of your neck softly. "Everyone's watching, stop making a scene."

Says the bastard who kissed your neck in public not milliseconds ago.

"Yeah? You good?"

"Shut up, Felix."

He chuckled, slowly letting go of you. "Come to my dorm tonight."

Now, you chuckled. "Funny."

"I'm being serious."

"For what purpose?"

"Mum's sent a gift for us."

"If it's a fucking engagement ring or something, I swear-"

"If it's an engagement ring, I will kill myself, you don't have to kill me.", he assured.

"She doesn't want us together, does she?" You'd genuinely kill yourself if that were the case. Because what Elspeth Catton wants, Elspeth Catton gets.

"I hope not. So far, it seems like she's just glad you didn't lose your virginity to a 'troglodyte' or summat. Apparently it's common for girls who've just gone off to Uni to-"

"Yes, I know." You'd heard the horror stories, the warnings. 'You'll have a newfound sense of freedom. Don't abuse it. Don't fuck it away. Don't be a whore.'

And you'd ignored the warnings during your first party there.

And with the biggest fucking mistake there was.

Felix Catton.

THREE DAYS LATER

Look, it isn't often that your circles interact, but when they do, you and Felix attempt cordiality. No one, not even Felix Catton wants to be 'the bummer'.

And so, tonight - the weekend before Christmas and three days after he'd invited you over and you hadn't gone - twelve of you sat on a parapet wall (you and Felix at each end of the line, naturally).

"We should go streaking."

Unsurprisingly, it's Felix's suggestion.

"You should. We'll take a Polaroid."

"You know what we should do?", you suggested. "Skinny dipping."

A murmur of agreement and you knew you'd won it.

"Why not streaking? It's funnier."

"Skinny dipping is less likely to get us in trouble seeing as it's night and the lake's far away."

More hums of 'oh, yeah, good point' and 'we'll be naked either way'.

"It's the prude's way out."

"Just say y'can't swim, Catton.", you retorted, jumping off the wall with a soft grunt, the others following suit.

"I can, too, swim.", he replied, hopping down as well.

"Then just say y'can't handle wet things."

Raucuous laughter - that you didn't quite understand (it wasn't that funny) - but didn't dislike either ensued.

"I dunno, I'd say I handled you pretty well, didn't I, sweetheart?", he replied, twirling a strand of your hair, illuminated a burnt orange by the sombre streetlight perched above the two - well, twelve, but honestly, it didn't feel like it - of you.

"Alright. Fine.", you declared. "Hands up if you wanna go streaking 'cross campus."

A couple hands, not too many, good.

"Skinny dipping?"

Majority of hands. You shrugged, grinning triumphantly as you patted him on the cheek and shouldered past him.

****

You didn't know if it was the moonlight or the water or the weed or what, but Felix had never been more annoying.

Why he insisted he wouldn't skinny dip and ruined the night for everyone, you knew. He was just a cunt.

But why he insisted that you didn't, either, and made everyone beg you to stay on the bank so that he'd shut the fuck up, you didn't know.

Till the end, that is.

"What if one of them had copped a feel? I'm just lookin' out for yah. Like mates do.", he whispered as the night winded down, before ruffling your hair up.

Oh, oh, so this was a favour, according to him. Summat to be grateful for? FUCK Felix Catton.

"What the fuck?", you yelled, following him back to his dorm as he covered his ears with his little fingers comically. "No, seriously! Did I crush your ego that much?!"

"No, sweetheart, I just thin-"

"DON'T call me that!"

"I just think you shouldn't be out there wanting to get felt up by our entire friend group just because you're angry at me!", he screamed back, turning for a moment before he foraged around forcefully in his pockets for his dorm keys.

"WHY should everything in my life have to do with you?!"

"IT HAS SINCE HIGH SCHOOL AND IT WILL FOREVER!"

"THEN YOU'RE JUST BLOODY DELUDED!"

"YEAH? WELL YOU STILL FUCKING WANT ME, SO YOU CAN'T TALK LIKE YOU'VE GOT ANY SELF RESPECT!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'I STILL WANT YOU'? NO I FUCKING DON'T!"

"YEAH? WELL, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO MY DORM?!"

"TO YELL AT YOU!"

About five doors swung open. "IT'S THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

You and Felix continued glaring at each other. "Fuck you, mate."

"I'm not your mate, Y/N. Don't call me that."

"Yeah, you're not my mate. You're just a prick I had the misfortune of knowing for this long."

"And you're just a cunt I've had the misfortune of fucking for this long."

You scoffed. Average conversation with Felix.

"Get over yourself, Felix Catton, or you're going to have a real fucking hard time in the real world - that DOESN'T CATER TO YOU!"

You could feel him flipping you the bird behind you as you left. You just decided to fucking ignore it.

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That night, you woke up to a knock at the door.

Deja vu. Felix on his knees. Jesus.

"What?"

"Can we please talk?"

Talk meant fuck.

You frowned.

"I promise, I'll just talk."

He doesn't try kissing you this time.

Because this time, things were even more off.

This time, he was stone cold sober.

You rolled your eyes before rubbing them, letting him take your hand to stand up. He didn't need it, of course, but it made you feel better. More in control.

How pathetic that it was the smallest of things that you had to desperately cling on to for the smallest sliver of self respect.

"I didn't mean it. When I called you a cunt. I wasn't... I was angry."

"Yeah."

"I just don't understand why you're... why do you want to forget me so easily?"

"We're terrible together, Felix.'

"I don't want to be together, alright? I can't do relationships either. I just think that we... I mean, we know each other, which makes the sex so much better, right?"

Wrong.

It would've been funny to an outsider. This was something, again, that you were very sure of. Someone else would laugh at your inability to say something to him, laugh at the way he stood there, opposite you, playing with his rings as he took a long drag of his cigarette.

And him being Felix didn't help, either.

When you let him in, he sat there like it was his dorm.

Like it had just been you on your knees, and he'd begrudgingly, magnanimously let you in.

Essentially, this was everything you had not missed since Felix had graduated and left. It was brutal, honestly, to the rest of the school when he had graduated. Because what, oh, what would they do without Felix Catton? It also didn't help that, since you were family friends, you'd been constantly badgered about whether he'd grace the school with his presence during school events like plays and fundraising fairs.

That was genuinely laughable. Felix Catton is only charitable when he wants to be. That's not to say he's an opportunist, no, if you were being honest, the purity of his intentions were truly unmatched, but his intentions often had a way of making him look like an angel.

Kind little angelic rich boy. Connivingly kind little conveniently angelic rich boy.

You decided that the silence was a good opportunity to do something you hadn't done in a while (and something he'd probably never done ever) and reflect.

Reflect on why you and Felix had actually grown apart, not his skewed version and definitely not your biased explanation.

The answer, however, was vague.

Inseparable as kids.

Insufferable as adolescents.

Ineffable as lovers.

Incapable as people.

"He really was trying to cop a feel.", he sighed after the agonizing silence. "Logan. I saw it."

Right. And he also saw every single thought to ever go through Logan's head. Because being Felix Catton gives you both an immeasurable inheritance and impeccable judgement in friends, yeah?

"Well, thanks.", you replied, biting back the word 'mate'.

He sighed once more, shifting closer to you on the couch and now playing with your rings. "I'm just lookin' out for you, okay? I got your back. Just 'cause we stopped shagging doesn't mean all of our history is just gone, yeah?", he questioned earnestly, kissing your rings, your fingertips, your knuckles, and then finally, your wrist.

In theory, that makes total sense. You did used to be best friends. You did used to like each other, at some point.

But this was all, of course, theory, because nothing would ever make sense around Felix, not when he's so noxiously himself, his fragrance, his taste, the basking glow of his attention enveloping your senses until you could feel his aura so tangibly.

"Felix, I just feel like we made a huge mistake."

"What? Fucking? C'mon, it's Uni, and we're both adults, c'mon, this is absolutely ridiculous!", he whined, softly, with his brows raised high up in pleading. He held his cigarette in front of your lips and you inhaled. Because it's Felix. God, what a hypocrite you were.

"I have hated you for as long as I can remember-"

You did have a point. You were about to mention the fact that animosity contributes to lust - just like the first time you'd hooked up, how he'd been pissed at you- and that at some point, it will destroy and consume the two of you. But he didn't let you finish.

"Yeah, and you never let me forget. What did I even do to you?"

"You really don't remember?", you sighed. "You remember your friend Henry Falker?"

"Oh, yeah, Henry Fucker!", he giggled. "What about him?"

"Y'remember when you told him and his gang that if I wasn't a family friend, you'd 'shag the living daylights out of me'? Or, at the very least, whistle at me when I walked by?"

He nodded, slyly as he tapped your nose, as though you were being petulantly annoying. "Yeah, but that was a joke. And I didn't actually do it.", he replied defiantly.

"Yeah, well, he worshipped you."

He frowned at the silence. "He wasn't the one- he didn't cat-call you. Right? I told him it was a joke. I told him you were off-limits."

Off-limits?!

See, this was news. He'd been messing in your life without your knowledge for years, then? You'd actually got along with Henry, no matter what a Felix-sycophant he'd been, and before the cat-calling incident, you wouldn't have said no to a coffee.

"Clearly, we went to different high schools. Y'know, because you went to one where teenage boys keep promises about cat-calling."

He sighed, his forehead on your chest. "He's a prick."

"So are you."

The words felt overused and false, but they had to be said.

His intoxicating kisses began, and moved up the side of your breast up to your throat as he pushed your hands away and pulled your head closer.

"Felix." Your willpower should be applauded.

"If you call me 'mate', I will genuinely hit you."

You couldn't help the breathy laugh that erupted from you as he began gripping your jaw and kissing you as he gently rested your head back down onto the couch.

"No. Felix, stop." This was the thing about Felix. Once you've got his attention, it's difficult to keep an iron will to get it off of you. Because who in their right mind would want Felix's attention off of them?

You, evidently, since high school.

"Look, this is just friends helpin' each other out, alright?"

"Then why do you not like me calling you 'mate'?"

Silence.

"I just don't."

"Do you not remember why we stopped?", you asked, attempting to sit up.

"Summat about you 'being with someone else'."

"Do you not remember the ER?"

"Shh-shh-shh.", he murmured, shaking his head and undoing his belt. "C'mon. Seriously. You had your storm-out, now come back to normal."

Why he always conveniently brushed that under the carpet, you didn't know.

Did he think this was some temporary temper tantrum? Just you being kind of a bitch? Was he already sure you'd forgive him?

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?", you hissed, pushing him off. "Seriously! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Relax, I'm just saying, you were pissed, and you let it out. Now you can come back to normal!"

"Normal? Normal, after you bloody got me admitted in the ER at three am? Normal?"

"That didn't bother you last week."

What bullshit. What utter fucking bullshit.

"Yeah? Well, the whole skinny dipping incident exacerbated it."

"Oh, stop with the whole woe-is-me thing, Y/N, it's getting old."

Honestly, he had a point. It was getting old to you, as well. But damn him for making you that way.

"Look, we agreed to stop. Respect that, Felix."

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you always such a CUNT? Is it 'cause you think you're better than everyone else?! OH, I was a virgin before college, I'm so fuckin' pure and angelic! OH, I've got all good scores in school, I'm so fuckin' AWESOME?! YOU'RE NOT, OKAY?"

Where the fuck did that come from?

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"IT MEANS THAT MAYBE YOU FUCKIN' DESERVED WHAT YOU GOT WHEN YOU GOT PUT INTO THE ER!"

Both of you froze. Felix had obviously meant it. You had obviously believed it.

For once, though, it wasn't you believing it just because it was Felix who said it. You believed it because even you'd been thinking that for a while.

"Get out."

"Fuck, no, can we- look, I admit, I'm an arse- I just promised I'd have your back and then I-"

"Get out."

"Please."

"FUCK YOU, FELIX, GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I SEND YOU TO THE ER!", you yelled, pointing aggressively at the door, taking his attention away from your stinging eyes.

He, instead of obeying you like a sane individual, began to move closer, his hands in front of him as though you were a wild beast he had to tame. "Y/N-"

"STOP! GET AWAY! DON- NO! Don't touch me! NO!", you cried, attempting to wriggle out of his arms, but also attempting to stay between them to relish the comfort they provided.

"Listen to me. Lis- Y/N, stop being a child. Just listen."

The word 'sorry' never left his mouth, but he'd somehow managed to convince you that it was all that he had been saying.

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It's not like this was an unfamiliar feeling.

Felix had a way of doing this. Making someone feel warm until he got bored. Thankfully, though, you seemed to do the opposite of bore him.

You were essentially his personal jester.

"Toy with you", the cocaine addict had said.

Like sour candy, the addiction was to the unpleasantness, the sour sting, the challenge of how long you could last on Felix's bullshit without flinching.

Well, the unpleasantness and this feeling that you had right now. Not love, of course, but something dangerously bordering at the edge of it.

This feeling, this not-love-feeling was hard to characterise, hard to describe. It was nostalgia brewed with mutual hatred with a tiny bit of affection.

Yeah. Suppose that's the closest one could get.

The not-love-feeling usually blossomed when you were... well, doing what you were doing right now.

Counting the number of flowers on your shirt - the one which hang precociously on the edge of your desk chair, about five paces away from the bed, which is where Felix lay, and, right on his chest, you.

He wasn't awake.

You had been for a while.

"Either you've forgiven me, or last night was the best hate sex planet Earth has ever seen.", he muttered suddenly, singling out a thick strand of your hair and examining it meticulously.

You didn't reply, but just rolled off him. The ceiling seemed to mock you.

"You packed yet?"

"For what?"

"Saltburn. Our proper-proper reunion. Don't tell me you forgot."

Did your face look like you had been on top of your itinerary for the last couple days?

He shook his head, looking past your face to the window behind you. You could almost swear you could see the snow falling through through the reflection in his eye. "I could help you."

"No, it's okay, I'm not coming."

"Like hell you're not. You've been sent a fuckin' dress, okay? My mother sent you a dress plus jewellery - which you'd know if you showed up that day at my dorm - so you're not flakin' out of this."

"A dress for what?"

"The party."

You frowned, watching him sit up and use the same hands he'd had on you to reach over to the pockets of his jeans. "You're not seriously smoking without brushing your teeth."

"Good point. I'm using your toothbrush."

"Don't you dare."

"So let me smoke in unhygienic peace."

You grimaced, looking away and out of the window.

"Relax. Been up for a while. I got up, I brushed, washed my face, and then I just... I dunno. I came back to you. Back to bed."

He was up before you?

"You weren't sleeping?"

"Nah.", he replied, beckoning you closer with the hand that was holding the cig. You moved almost on autopilot. "You forgive me, yeah?", he asked, arm around your shoulder reaching far enough to playfully squeeze your neck. "I'll choke you non-sexily if you don't, y'know? Or I'll leave you to the likes of Logan or Daniel-the-handshaker."

You laughed out loud at that, and he rewarded you with his dimpled grin. "C'mon, mate, let's get you packed."

Honestly? Fuck Felix Catton. And then fuck Felix Catton.

[lemoncrushh]

Wild Horses - Five

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

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter Five Word Count: 4.3k+

“Who’d ever thought that I would have the guts to change…” - Maria McKee; I’ve Forgotten What It Was In You (That Put The Need In Me)

“So what city are you in now?” asked Faith.

“Wilmington,” Amber replied.

“Delaware? What the fuck is in Delaware?”

Amber chuckled. “Beats me.”

“When are you coming down south?”

“Well, I’ll be home for Christmas, as the song goes. But we don’t play Atlanta until February.”

“Oh, that sucks. But at least you won’t be on the road for the holidays,” remarked Faith. “I don’t think I could live like that. City to city.”

Amber rose from her hotel bed and dug inside her suitcase for her cream sweater while Faith continued to chatter through the speaker. Although she’d been on the road before, Amber wasn’t prepared to give her cousin a response to her comment. She’d only been on the Harry Styles tour for two cities so far, Wilmington being the third. While she missed Pauline and Laci, this had been her dream since she was twelve. Being on the road, living in a suitcase...it was just part of the life that she’d accepted, if not actually looked forward to.

“So are you gonna tell me what he’s like?” Faith asked.

“Who?”

“Fucking Orlando Bloom. Harry, you idiot.”

Amber laughed. “He’s great. Really, really sweet. Every good thing you’ve ever heard about him is true.”

“Yeah? Even the size of his pecker?”

“Shut up!”

Amber heard Faith cackle through the phone, a little squeak at the end like a tiny mouse.

“You know I’m messin’ with you,” she said. “Although inquiring minds do wanna know.”

“I’m sure you do,” Amber muttered as she tied the laces of her Nikes.

Finishing up her conversation, Amber semi-promised Faith she’d make sure she had a ticket to the Atlanta show before hanging up. She wasn’t really sure why it mattered to Faith at all, seeing as she hadn’t bothered to come see her perform since she’d moved to Savannah, and probably hadn’t ever listened to her music - or Harry’s for that matter - but there was still a certain comfort that came from chatting with her cousin that she couldn’t explain. So somehow, deep down, Amber felt an obligation to be kind to Faith.

Just as she was dabbing on some lip gloss, a knock sounded on her door. She knew who it was before opening it. For the last couple of days, Carter had been oddly nice to her. Though he never mentioned his mood at the first concert, nor the night before when he’d pushed her against the wall in his drunken state, he’d seemed to find some kind of resolve, perhaps finally admitting to himself that they were just friends and bandmates. He’d also been showing Jeff and Harry some kindness, always shaking their hands when either of them walked into the room, though he never seemed to stick around for more than a minute or two.

It was a start, Amber decided, and the smile on his face when she opened the door only reassured her more.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, an arm stretched out against the door frame. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Good, me too. John and Bren are already downstairs.”

“You’re chipper this morning,” Amber smiled.

“I’ve been up a while,” Carter shrugged. “Went to the gym.”

“Look at you,” Amber raised her brows in amazement before shutting the door behind her.

“Yeah. Styles was there.”

“You worked out with Harry?” Amber asked incredulously as they reached the elevators.

Suddenly, the image in her head of Harry working out made her flushed, and she pretended to look down at something on her phone.

“I wouldn’t say with,” Carter chuckled. “But he was there. I talked to him for a little bit. He’s a nice guy.”

“Yes, he is,” Amber nodded as she stepped onto the elevator.

“He asked about us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you and me. I guess he wanted to know if we were a couple.”

Her stomach lurching, Amber glared at Carter. “What exactly did he ask?”

“He was curious about our history.”

Rolling her eyes, Amber ran a hand through her hair.

“He probably meant how we met and you became my drummer, Carter. Not if we were together!”

A smirk grew on Carter’s face as the elevator doors opened.

“Maybe so.”

“Carter!”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Yeah, because there’s nothing to tell.”

Fuming, Amber strode briskly past Carter and toward the hotel restaurant. She knew Carter’s pleasant mood had been too good to be true, and she was pissed off that it had taken him all but five minutes to ruin hers. She stopped when she walked into the restaurant and saw Brendan and Johnny sitting with three other gentlemen and two women. Harry and his band.

Stealing a glance back at Carter who’d followed her, Amber silently gave him a warning to which he merely shrugged. With a deep sigh, she put a smile on her face and walked through the tables toward Harry’s. When their eyes met, she instantly felt her rage dissolve.

“Good morning!” he greeted before she had a chance to say it first.

“Morning,” Amber said softly, taking a seat on the other side of Johnny, across from Clare who smiled up at her.

“Oh, it’s nice to have everybody!” she cheered. “What a treat.”

Amber couldn’t help but grin back, relieved that Carter had chosen to sit at the other end of the table.

“Harry doesn’t usually get to join us for meals, and last time was a fiasco,” Clare continued with a chuckle.

“Was that the night in Nashville?” Amber asked, recalling the evening she’d met Harry.

“Oh yeah, he was mobbed right outside the restaurant,” Mitch pointed toward the doorway.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Harry shrugged. “I still made it inside.”

“After what? A hundred autographs and selfies?”

Amber heard Mitch’s words, but he might as well have been sitting at another table. Harry’s eyes met hers again, and with the added smirk on his face, she couldn’t seem to look away. She suddenly felt warm and cool all over at the same time, and if it hadn’t been for the waiter coming around to take her drink order, she might have continued staring.

“Wasn’t that many,” she heard Harry say after she ordered coffee.

Clearing her throat, Amber reached for her water glass and took a sip, her gaze finding green eyes once again. She knew she had to be blushing, just as she’d been that night in Nashville when her eyes caught his staring at her from across the room. Perhaps it had been the other way around, she admitted to herself. But either way, his emerald eyes were like magnets pulling her in.

The rest of breakfast was filled with light chatter as the two bands got to know each other a little better. Amber found Clare to be delightfully friendly and pleasant, a calm aura about her, much like Harry’s. She suggested that when they get to the next city, they do a bit of shopping together since they had a couple of days.

“If Jeff lets me out of the hotel,” Amber remarked with a smirk before biting into a slice of bacon.

She heard Harry chuckle next to Clare. She eyed him, knowing he caught the sarcasm in her tone.

“I reckon you should be okay,” he offered. “Jeffrey will have a car if you need.”

Giving Clare a smile and a shrug, they agreed to make plans.

When all the plates had cleared and Amber couldn’t swallow another sip of coffee if she’d tried, the gang rose from the table and said their goodbyes. While Harry stood chatting with Mitch, Amber secretly hoped she could walk out with him and possibly get an idea of what exactly he and Carter had discussed earlier. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she didn’t want him to get the impression that she and Carter were an item. Feeling a hand on her back, however, she dropped her shoulders and sighed.

“What time’s soundcheck?” Carter asked.

“Two o’clock.” She gritted her teeth, knowing damn well that her drummer was aware what time soundcheck was.

“Oh yeah,” she heard him say. “You ready to go?”

“Go where?” Amber asked, finally turning her head. She saw Carter wasn’t looking at her at all. Instead, his gaze pointed toward Harry and his guitarist who were still having a conversation.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, giving her a side-eyed grin. “Breakfast is over.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed, turning for the exit.

“What?” Carter called after her. Catching up with her at the elevator, he stood between her and the doors. “What did I say?”

Amber crossed her arms, her jaw tight. “It’s not what you said, Carter, it’s what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“I don’t know exactly,” she rolled her eyes. “But it’s pissing me off.”

“That’s nothing new,” Carter muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Huh?”

Carter puffed out a breath and shook his head. “All I ever seem to do is make you mad. I can’t win with you.”

Furrowing her brows, Amber considered his comment. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The elevator doors opened then and an older couple stepped off. Giving them a fake smile, Amber ignored the scowl on Carter’s face as he stepped in.

“Are you coming?” he asked, holding the door.

“No.”

“No? What the fuck is with you? You can’t even ride on an elevator with me?”

“I wanna be alone right now,” she replied.

Carter scoffed. “You always wanna be alone. You used to need me, Amber. What happened?”

Blinking, Amber dropped her arms and stepped back.

“I grew up,” she said.

Rolling his eyes, Carter released the door. As it shut, Amber heard him mumble something about her becoming a bitch too.

With a shutter, Amber sniffled, realizing she had tears in her eyes. Quickly wiping them, she waited a few moments before pressing the button for the lift to come down again.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Jumping when she heard the voice, Amber cringed, hoping he hadn’t seen or overheard the exchange.

“Um, yeah,” she nodded, turning to meet his concerned face. Or maybe she was just imagining the concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Thought you’d gone,” said Harry.

Amber tried to think of the best excuse she could in two seconds, but only came up with, “Not yet.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled gently. “Good then, because I just got a text from Jeffrey, and he wants to talk to you. We’ll go up together.”

“Okay,” Amber managed a breath as the doors opened.

“I chatted with your drummer this morning.”

Biting her lip, Amber braced herself for Harry’s reveal. She watched his ringed fingers as he pressed the button for his floor, and the doors shut again.

“An interesting lad, that one,” Harry added.

“Carter talks a lot,” Amber blurted, unable to control herself.

Harry grinned. “Actually, I found the opposite. I tried asking him several questions, but his responses were short and minimal.”

“Oh.”

“You sure you’re fine?” Harry asked with apparent concern. “Your eyes are all…”

“Oh. Yeah,” Amber lied. “It’s fine. I have allergies. Not used to this cold, either.”

“Ah yes. I get a fit of hay-fever myself from time to time.”

Amber smiled meekly and wiped her eyes, completely embarrassed.

“Anyway,” Harry chuckled low, “it wasn’t until I asked Carter how you met that he finally started talking.”

“Oh.” Amber felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She was afraid to ask what Carter had said.

“You two have a history?”

Amber wasn’t quite sure if it was a question, though Harry’s inflection did rise a little at the end.

“History? Um…”

“I mean, you’ve been through a lot together, it’s no wonder.”

“I’m not sure…” Amber pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, worried she might confess what had not actually been confessed.

The door opened then, and Harry held it as Amber stepped off. Waiting for him to lead the way, however, she was surprised when he stopped next to her.

“He’s quite fond of you,” remarked Harry.

Amber glared at him, her mouth agape.

“He said that?”

Harry shrugged. “In so many words. He didn’t really have to, though. I could tell.”

“Hmm…”

“Although…” Harry added, his eyes shifting toward the opposite wall. “He might seem just a wee bit...possessive.”

Amber gasped. “What?”

“Perhaps possessive isn’t the right word. Protective, maybe? But I can understand that, I suppose. I mean, after all you’ve been through.”

Narrowing her eyes, Amber crossed her arms.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, love, it wasn’t anything bad. No intimate details or anything,” Harry smirked, and Amber swore she saw the color rise in his cheeks. “He just told me about your desire to become a singer, your ambition. About your mum and your baby sister. How you were determined to make a better life for them. Which I find very commendable, by the way.”

“Oh,” Amber mouthed, blinking hard. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You’re very strong-willed, Amber, and I like that about you.”

Knowing her face had to be bright pink, Amber felt like a dumbass.

“C’mon,” Harry gestured. “I’ve said too much. Let’s go see Jeffrey.”

“Whoa!” Carter laughed as he wrapped his arm around Amber to keep her from falling.

“Oops,” she giggled. She tried her best to stand upright, but she only managed to do so for a second or two before starting to sway again, her knees giving out.

The band had played a good show that night - a damn good show. Amber had been in her element, taking requests from the audience and singing them as they if she herself had written them. Anything from Tanya Tucker to Pat Benatar to Elvis, she’d performed them all with a certain amount of both grace and audacity, proving she was worthy of being up on that stage.

The drinks had started coming after the first request and hadn’t stopped until she’d said goodnight into the microphone, her weak limbs and last call from the bartender the only things keeping her from letting the night continue.

“Probably shouldn’t have had that last tequila shot,” Amber giggled again, planting her palm on the brick wall before twisting and resting her back against it.

“The last shot was over an hour ago, Ambs,” Carter chuckled. “I think you had a few more drinks after that.”

“Were you keeping score?” Amber asked, her eyes merely slits.

“Nah,” he grinned. “Just noticed.”

“Are you as drunk as me?”

Carter laughed again, stepping closer to her. “Not even, babe. I’m drunk but...it’s kinda hard to keep up with you from behind the drums.”

“Oh,” she blinked, letting the sound of him calling her babe roll around in her head and make her tummy flutter. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

“You were great tonight,” he declared, letting his hand rest on her hip.

“Thanks,” Amber said low. Then with a groan, she reached out and grabbed a fist of his shirt.

“Help me to my room, Carter,” she insisted. “I’m too wasted to walk.”

With another chuckle, Amber’s drummer gladly obliged, wounding his arm around her again and leading her down the hall to her motel room.

“Where’s your key?” he asked when they arrived after a few stumbles.

Amber groaned again, trying her damndest to remember where she’d put it.

“Um...back pocket.”

Carter smirked, letting his hand linger a bit on her butt cheek as he retrieved her key. He smiled wider when she didn’t slap his hand or pull away.

Sliding the key inside the lock, he waited for the green light before pushing the door open. Then guiding Amber toward the bed, he set her down.

“Where are you going?” he heard her ask as he started to back away.

“Um…” he hesitated. “You should probably drink some water.”

Carter walked to the sink, poured a glass of water and handed it to Amber.

“Thanks,” she muttered before taking a sip. Realizing how dehydrated she was, she soon gulped down the rest of it, handing the empty glass to Carter.

“Want some more?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she reached down to remove her boots, but she found the movement too difficult. Carter set down the glass and knelt in front of her.

“Let me help,” he insisted.

When he’d removed both of her boots, he looked up and met her blue eyes, wider than he’d seen them since they’d left the bar.

“Please don’t leave,” she whispered.

A small smile crept up on his face. “You want me to stay?”

With a tiny nod, she grasped Carter’s bicep and pulled him towards her. Stumbling slightly, Carter kicked Amber’s boots away just as his lips met hers. As she reached for him, he paused only to kick off his own boots before joining her on the bed.

“I need you,” Amber cried in his ear as his hands roamed up her sides and underneath her shirt.

“God, yes,” he moaned, nipping at her neck. “I need you, too, babe. So bad.”

Soundcheck went off without a hitch, giving everyone more time to rest before the show. As the band made their way to the backstage parking lot, Amber stopped Carter, letting Brendan and Johnny take the car back to the hotel.

“Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

“What for?” he scowled.

Amber frowned. Okay, so he was still mad at her, despite having a decent rehearsal and soundcheck. At least he was able to remain professional, she told herself.

“I wanted to apologize,” she sighed.

“Oh yeah?” he quirked a brow.

“I talked to Harry.”

“Oh,” Carter’s expression faltered, the scowl returning to his face.

“He told me what y’all talked about. And I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Okay,” Carter crossed his arms.

“I was afraid you’d...told him things.”

Rolling his eyes, Carter shook his head. “I told you I didn’t. You always think the worst of me.”

“I know…” she hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I guess that’s not really fair. I’m sorry.”

Amber heard Carter sigh before he stepped closer to her, his hands grazing her arms.

“Ambs…” he said, making her lift her head. Her blue eyes questioned him as he ran his fingers down her wrists and took her hands in his. “We’ve been through a lot together. I want this band to make it as much as you do.”

“I know,” she nodded meekly.

“I guess I…” Carter paused. “I guess I just don’t want you to shut me out. Talk to me. Hang with me.”

Carter playfully twisted back and forth, making Amber dance with him. Cracking a smile, she nodded again.

“Can you still do that?” Carter asked.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon,” he grinned, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go grab a burger or somethin’.”

Amber crinkled her nose. “I was actually thinking about a nap.”

“Hmm,” Carter sounded. “That sounds good, too. Your room or mine?”

“Carter.”

“I’m joking! I swear, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Making a face, Amber thought for a moment. “A burger does sound pretty good.”

“I’ve got the keys to the van,” Carter beamed as he slipped them from his pocket and twirled the keyring around his finger.

“A good one with everything on it,” Amber announced as she followed him outside. “Mayo, no mustard.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe with avocado. Or mushrooms.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” grinned Carter as he opened the passenger door.

“No bacon though,” Amber added when she crawled inside and grabbed her seatbelt. “I never understood why anyone wants to add more meat.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Carter chuckled as he rounded the front of the van and climbed in his side.

Harry made his way down the hall, hoping to run into Amber to wish her luck before her set. He’d also hoped he could ease her mind a bit after the chat they’d had on the lift before the meeting with Jeffrey. The look on her face had been a mix of astonishment and embarrassment, maybe a little bit of relief in there as well. He wanted to reassure her that everything was fine, though he wasn’t quite sure why himself.

Perhaps he’d given her the impression he was leery or even jealous of Carter, and that certainly was not the case. At least not the latter. While he still didn’t know the man very well, from their short exchange in the gym that morning, he’d gotten the feeling that Amber’s drummer was more than just a bandmate. If they were romantically involved, he was still unsure, but he definitely could tell they had a history together.

He was just about to her dressing room door when it burst open and he heard a loud, boisterous laugh.

“Shut up!” he heard Amber say emphatically. “You’re a tool.”

“And you love it,” chuckled Carter.

Stopping in his tracks, Harry watched Amber stumble out of the dressing room, her drummer’s arm around her.

“Oh, hey man!” grinned Carter. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s going well, thanks,” said Harry. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Just fine,” added Amber, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tried her best to stand up straight.

Harry could detect the glossiness in her gaze. She was definitely more buzzed than he’d seen her that evening after sharing the bottle of champagne. 

“You sure?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” Amber nodded, blinking her eyes. “I feel great. Ready to get this show on the road!”

Carter smirked, pulling her closer to him. For a moment, Harry considered suggesting to Carter that he make sure his singer was actually ready to take the stage, but seeing as she wasn’t falling over or slurring her words, he reckoned it wasn’t his place to step in.

“Alright then,” grinned Harry. “Just wanted to come wish you luck. Have a great show.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Amber beamed her pretty smile at him, and for a split second he forgot the other man was standing there.

“Thanks, man,” Carter offered his fist for a bump.

Harry obliged before watching the duo make their way down the hall. Just as he was turning away, he heard her call his name.

“Are you gonna watch again?” Amber asked, her head turned to look at him, Carter’s arm still stretched across her shoulder.

“Always,” he grinned.

Keeping his promise, Harry watched Amber’s show the way he had the first two nights, from the side of the stage, behind the equipment. To her credit, and a little to his surprise, Amber seemed to use whatever alcohol she’d consumed to fuel her performance. She no longer seemed to be the somewhat shy girl he’d met that summer in Nashville. She had attitude and grit, and if he was being honest, a bit of sex appeal. He even caught her making a few jokes with the audience and found himself laughing at her audacity.

Still, when he watched her make several trips to the drum riser to grab another drink of beer, or whatever was in the cup, he felt the urge to protect her take over. And when she turned around to face Carter for a count-off, and he saw her wink at her drummer, his own stomach began to turn as though he’d just swallowed an entire bottle of whiskey.

When Amber was finishing her set, introducing her final song, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked his manager.

“Out there,” replied Jeffrey. “I wanted to watch her from the audience this time. She doesn’t know, though. I didn’t wanna make her nervous.”

“I don’t think you could have,” chuckled Harry. “She’s a little firecracker tonight.”

“Stop using my words.”

“Your words?” Harry raised a brow. “Did you coin that phrase?”

“No, but I just said it to Sarah and Mitch.”

Harry laughed again just as his band joined them.

“Where has this girl been?” asked Sarah.

“She’s come out of her shell,” Clare commented.

Crossing his arms as he nodded to the beat of the song, Harry agreed with the others. Amber Crosby was certainly in her element tonight. Even the rest of her band seemed to be feeding off of her energy, playing the best they ever had. Harry had to admit, he was proud, and he hoped to continue seeing her like this.

The crowd went wild when the song was finished and the band took their final bows. When Amber met Carter halfway and he slung his arm around her again, however, Harry was reminded of the sour feeling in his stomach.

Standing back, Harry allowed his bandmates to congratulate Amber, each of them hugging her one by one. When it was his turn, she gave him that same beautiful smile from earlier.

“You were a-” he began before he was interrupted by Carter.

“Is my girl the shit, or what?” he cheered.

“Absolutely fantastic,” Harry replied. He felt his jaw set, but immediately dismissed it. He had no real beef with Carter.

“We’re gonna go watch you from the audience tonight, Harry,” Amber said. “Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah, sure, of course. Hope you enjoy.”

Amber beamed wider. “I know I will.”

Before he could say another word, Carter pulled Amber to the left and down the hall where the others had gone, leaving him alone.

Running his hand down his face, Harry took a deep breath and headed toward his dressing room. He could hear the chatter from his manager and bandmates, but he wasn’t in the mood to join them. Instead, he shut the door behind him, poured two fingers of tequila and sat back on the leather sofa. He quickly realized his jaw was clenched again, so he dropped it, wiggling it back and forth to loosen it. He knew it was no good to let the tension build in his muscles now, not right before a show.

Taking a long sip from his glass, he sighed, leaning back on the couch as he took in the smell of his candle. It reminded him of her now. Closing his eyes, he could see her pretty face smiling back at him.

“God damn it,” he muttered to himself.

tagging: @freedomfireflies, @daphnesutton

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

[duckduckhjonk]

I think Christmas is/has been my villain origin story

I mean sure, when I was a tiny baby I used to love the season, all the flashy lights and the cheesy mascots, the toys, but as I got older and, as dumb as this sounds, found the actual meaning of the day itself I grew to despise the season. The day is fine, I love my family and they're fun to be around, but my qualms lay with the rest of it.

The obsession with the season, the buy buy buy mentality, the capitalism of it all, and how deeply the rest of my family fell into it. For my family, they'd start celebrating in August if not for me. Fucking??? August??????? I could never wrap my head around the fact people start that early for just one day. I compromised with them to start just after my birthday, which is still absurd to me but it's what we could agree on.

We also stopped celebrating Halloween a long time ago because "you're all grown up, get over Halloween" ?????????? What??????? When I turned twelve everything Halloween just stopped entirely, I wasn't allowed to dress up anymore, no trick or treating, I had to be invited to do anything related to the day by someone else.

What do we do with the day instead then? Oh, wonderful question my dearest reader. Decorate for Christmas. Yeah... That's what my family does on Halloween.

Worse yet, if I bring up to someone I'm not very fond of the holiday instead of getting any "oh, I disagree but I respect your opinion" or any iteration of that, I get; "well what's wrong with you? You must have such a sad life. You don't have any whimsy at all. Such a Grinch." First off motherfucker I have whimsy, sorry it's not flavoured like Santa Claus ate a Christmas tree and shit into a gift box. Second off shut the fuck up????? What's it matter that I don't like the holiday??? I'm perfectly happy without the season.

Again, the day itself is fine. I celebrate with my family, it's nice, but god fucking damnit if I have to see one more Christmas tree being put up before maybe like- mid November I'm going to lose my shit.

[space-dog-from-space]

1/12

The Doctor, the Hag, and the AU, or, Bones and the Hallmark Christmas Movie Curse

Every year in December, the Enterprise's senior staff gather to watch 21st century Hallmark Christmas movies. Unfortunately for Bones, he hates Hallmark Christmas movies more than he hates the idea of being spaced. And this year, he is grumpier than usual. Luckily, the Christmas Hag appears and sends Bones on an isekai Hallmark adventure (against his will) to discover the true meaning of Christmas: Spirk.

Chapter 1 - Halloween Called

Bones temporarily escapes the Hallmark Christmas movie watch party only to discover that he's jumped out of the frying pan, into the fire.

This was by far Bones’ least favourite tradition among the senior staff of the Enterprise.  He had never understood his friends’ fascination with generic, mass produced Christmas movies from the twenty-first century, and he supposed that he never would.  However, ever year around this time they all gathered together to watch a marathon of the stupid things.  

“I think we’ve seen this one,” Bones said as they started another, seemingly familiar vid.

Uhura, mastermind behind this god-awful tradition, shook her head with a wry smile.  “You say that at least once every year,” she said.  “I promise, we won’t be having repeats for a long while.”

“I don’t know why they had to make so many of the exact same film,” Bones grumbled.  

“Oh come on, Bones,” Jim protested lightly from his spot on the floor.  “They aren’t all exactly the same.”

“Yeah,” Sulu agreed, adding, “there’s at least twelve plots that they keep recycling over and over again.”

“And yet, here we are, watching the hundredth-”

“-Hundred and fifth,” Uhura interrupted.

“-one of these stupid movies,” Bones finished, ignoring Uhura.  “Maybe it’s time we retired this tradition,” he suggested, prompting a gasp from Uhura.

“No!” She protested, looking at him as if he had kicked a puppy.  “They’re fun!  They’re light hearted and fun to make fun of and they’re all about the magic of Christmas and true love!”  She proclaimed in an exaggeratedly sappy voice, knotting her hands together and holding them to her cheek, emphasizing her love for the terrible films.

Bones rolled his eyes, having none of it.  “Christmas is a stupid holiday, and true love is as dead as y’all are to me right now.”

“Jeez, Leonard,” Uhura said, raising her eyebrows at him.  “You sound like you need some help.”

Bones rolled his eyes again, already having forgotten to quit doing that.  “The only help I need is in liquid form.  And some ibuprofen.  These terrible movies and y’alls’ ridiculousness have made me roll my eyes so much that I have a headache.  I’m going down to sickbay for some painkillers.”

“Shall we pause the vid until your return, Doctor?”  Spock asked snarkily.

“No!”

—

With the door to the officers’ lounge shut behind him, he sighed and rubbed his temples.  He was trying not to be such a sourpuss at Hallmark Nights, but that was a feat easier said than done.  The movies were all around stupid and annoying, yes, but what annoyed him the most was the idiot main characters who somehow always managed to find their one true love in, what, three days?  How stupid.

Shaking his head, he headed down the hall to the turbolift, in no particular rush to get to sickbay and back.  He stepped off the turbolift on G deck and took the well known route through the corridors to sickbay, but stopped in his tracks after turning a corner and seeing a strange figure in the middle of the hall.  They were standing limply, with their chin to their chest, looking as if they were being held up by the top of their spine by invisible wires, though heir feet were planted firmly on the floor.  Bones couldn’t see the person’s face, their long greying hair falling to shroud it.  They wore some sort of dirty old nightgown that left their unnatural ashen arms, lower legs, and feet bare.

A few years ago he might have been shocked to have this sight before him unexpectedly, but he had seen so much shit during his time on the Enterprise that it was nearly impossible to spook him.  Settling his weight on one leg and crossing his arms, unimpressed, Bones called out, “Hey, Halloween called, they want your lame costume back!”  When the figure didn’t respond, or even move, he squinted at them.  “Hey, who are you?”  He demanded, then with more urgency snapped, “Hey!  I’m talking to you!”  He grumbled to himself, striding towards them when they again offered no response.

When he reached the figure, he grabbed them by the shoulder, and tried to resist the urge to shake them roughly, as he wasn’t entirely sure that this was indeed a joke.  It was possible that whoever was in this ridiculous getup was in some sort of medical distress.  However, the moment he touched the figure, their head shot up, the ashen face of a sickly looking woman staring at him, stray strands of hair falling in front of her face.  Bones took a step back, startled, but didn’t retreat any further.

“Hey, can you hear me?  What’s your name?”  Bones asked.  Now that he was up close, he saw that the ashy dry skin wasn’t a practical effect, and that this person was likely very ill.  When she didn’t respond other than moving her eyes to trace his movements, he sighed, wishing that she was in uniform so at least he’d have some sort of identification to work with.  He couldn’t very well treat a patient without knowing who she was and what ailments might be in her medical history.  “Alright, I’m going to take you down to sickbay,” Bones said, taking the unidentified woman gently by the elbow.  “We’ll get you all fixed up, don’t worry.”

“No,” she said, surprising him.  She raised her free hand, revealing what Bones recognized as a model truck shortly before she slammed it into his head, instantly knocking him unconscious.

—

When Bones came to, he rubbed at his aching head and slowly opened his eyes, a difficult feat under the bright lights of wherever he was.  He could feel a throbbing bruise on the right side of his forehead.  When his eyes finally adjusted, he was surprised to find himself on a park bench in a snowy town.  

“What…?”  He looked around frantically, which only made him dizzy, so he put his face in his hands until the feeling settled.  Confused at the texture of his hands, he lifted his face to see that he was wearing a pair of wool mittens that definitely weren’t there before.  Upon examining himself further, he realized that he was fully outfitted for a chilly winter day, sporting a parka, scarf, and matching toque.  “What is this?”  He asked under his breath, slowly getting to his feet and walking through the park towards the street.  He took in his surroundings more carefully, noting that many of the trees in the park were adorned with festive lights, which were illuminated despite it only beginning to get dark.  When he reached the street, he noticed that the streetlamps and power poles had been given the same treatment, along with big red bows tied around them.

“This is obviously a dream,” Bones decided out loud.  “It’s a dream, and I know it’s a dream, so I can wake myself up.”  He stood there on the sidewalk for a long while, focussing.  He didn’t wake up.  Nothing around him changed in any way, except for the occasional car driving by, snow crunching below the tires.  “Okay…”  Bones whispered to himself.  “This is real.  That….  That hag did something to me…  Alright, think, McCoy, think.  Where do I go, what do I do?”  He looked up and down the street for any leads.  His eyes caught on a sign and he laughed despite himself.  “Well, I couldn’t imagine a better place to start,” he said, and started towards the green and black sign.  The big white letters spelt one word:

Enterprise.

[hxt1b]

December 16 - 00:15

Mark x Reader

Genre: timestamp, suggestive

WC: 275

Warning: swearing

Twelve Days of Christmas

Masterlist

Feedback

Ficrecs Masterlist: I will be putting the first one out in January, please tag neocainficrecs if you would like me to read your post to potentially put in my monthly ficrecs.

Mark's fingers brushed up the side of your neck as he kissed you. You moved your own hands up the back of his shirt allowing yourself to take in the feel of him.

"I can't believe you broke up with me for like a day and a half." You mumbled as you looped your leg around his hip.

Your own body sank into the bed when he settled more of his weight onto you, as he groaned letting his head fall into the crook of your neck.

"I just - I don't know. I was being stupid?"

"Stupid is kind of an understatement."

"I'm sorry baby."

He moved to kiss the tip of your nose, but you tipped your head up. Catching his lips against yours and kissing him again.

"Make it up to me Mark Lee." Mark's eyes glazed over as he gazed down at you. You shot your head up catching his bottom lip with your teeth.

Mark let out a low growl before his mouth forcefully kissed you again.

"You know I was worried about what I would do with your Christmas gifts this year." You stated, pulling away from him for a second. "You know when we were broken up and everything."

"Babe. I don't care about the presents right now." Mark whined pulling your face towards his again with a touch of his fingers to your cheek.

"Yeah well, I'm just letting you know I was stressed about it. Since we were broken up-"

"Oh shut up" Mark groaned. Your following giggles were swallowed up by him he kissed you again his lips drowning out anything that wasn't a moan.

Previous | Next

A/N: i apologize that these were posted late i was at the vets all day yesterday.

-neocain

[fruitcoops]

Could you maybe do that part 5 of truth or drink you alluded to?? :) with Jules and the lupins and basically Jules spilling ALLL of re’s secrets & Marley loving it 🥰

Oh, Jules, how I missed you. The truth or drink referenced in this ask is here (it's been an age since I did one, wow!) and SW credit of course goes to @lumosinlove!

“Please can we have alcohol?” Jules swung his legs under the table with wide, pleading eyes.

Marlene barked a laugh. “Over my dead body, baby Loops.”

“It would be,” Remus agreed with a teasing grin.

“Welcome back to Lion Pride, both of you,” she said, ruffling their hair. Both scrunched their faces up in identical expressions of displeasure. “There are fifteen cards in your deck, and if you don’t want to answer the question, you have to take a drink of apple juice. Not alcohol.”

“You used to be cool,” Jules sulked. Marlene rolled her eyes and Remus reached over to flick his ear. “Hey, that hurt!”

“No, it did not.”

“I’m gonna tell mom you hit me.”

Remus turned to Marlene with a long-suffering look. “Can I have alcohol?”

“Get crackin’, boys, the world wants to know your secrets.” She tapped the deck of cards with a wink and wandered behind the cameras again.

“Alright, here we go.” Remus sighed. “My name is Remus Lupin, I’m the Lions’ right wing, and I’m here with my baby brother to answer some questions. Take it away, Jules.”

“I’m not a baby,” Jules clarified to the camera. “I’m twelve. Who’s the most attractive sibling?”

Remus frowned. “Me? Just ‘cause I’m older.”

“As if.”

“Oh my god,” he muttered, reaching for his own card. “Oh, this should be fun. Name your favorite parent.”

“Dad,” Jules answered without hesitating. Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“First, you’re not supposed to answer that fast, and second, what?”

“Dad’s cool!”

“Dad is not cool!” Remus laughed. “I don’t have a favorite parent—”

“Liar.”

“—but mom is the cool one. Dad’s a dork, and we love him for it.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Mom would literally do anything for you. She learned to skate for you.”

“It’s not like I don’t love mom!” Jules protested as he took a new card. “I love her so much! And I know mom is your favorite, so it’s only fair. Which of us is the most successful, and which is the screwup?”

“I don’t have a favorite parent,” Remus insisted, leaning back in his seat. “And neither of us are screwups.”

“You’re more successful.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re a screwup. It means you’re twelve. Who’s the overachiever?”

“You,” Jules snorted. “You’re such a nerd. It’s embarrassing. What’s the meanest thing I did to you when we were kids?”

Remus rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment, then turned to look behind the camera. “Since we were only kids together for, like, three years, can I say something from a little later?”

“Anything before age 25,” Marlene called.

He nodded decisively. “Sweet. In that case, it’s the time this little monster let a rat into the house, freaked out when he didn’t know what to do, then locked it in my bedroom and didn’t tell anyone until I went to bed and something ran across my sheets.”

Jules shrugged. “You survived.”

“Yeah, and you almost didn’t.”

“So dramatic,” he muttered.

Remus whacked him over the head with the next card before reading it. “Oh, god. Share the most mortifying memory you have of me. If you drink that apple juice and don’t answer, I’ll get you ice cream on the way home.”

Jules leaned back with a hum, already grinning. “Let’s see…”

“No,” Remus groaned.

“Probably—” Jules broke off to giggle. “Probably when you took me into the locker room to meet the team and the whole time I was talking to Sirius, you looked like you were about to melt into the floor. You had this stupid grin on your face—”

“Shut up.”

“—and almost tripped over your own feet, like, four times. This was before you guys were dating, too.”

“You are the worst,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms. “Next question?”

“I can keep going. There was the time you gave yourself a black eye hanging Christmas lights, and when you bounced off an enforcer when you tried to check him, and when mom asked you to defrost the chicken for dinner and you forgot so you put it in the microwave and almost set the house on fire, and—“

“Marlene.” Remus raised his head with a pitiful look. “Please make him stop. Please.”

“Okay,” Marlene laughed, a little breathless. “Alright, one sec. Jules, your turn.”

“Ugh, fine. Do you let me win at things?”

“When you were five, sure.” Remus tilted his head to the side. “Otherwise, no. Do you want me to let you win?”

“I’d be so upset if you did. I only get better because I want to kick your ass one day.”

“Language. Am I a good brother?”

“Well, yeah,” Jules said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He blinked at Remus, clearly confused. “Duh. You’re weird and annoying, but you’re one of my top three favorite people?”

“Before or after dad?” Remus teased, but it was soft with fondness.

Jules narrowed his eyes and leaned his elbows on the table. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Have I ever disappointed you?”

“Never. I don’t think you could if you tried. Who’s smarter?”

“Me.” Remus gave the camera a disbelieving look as Jules took a new card. “Ha! I like this one. Which of us was a mistake?”

“Oh, that is a good one. Honestly, I don’t think either of us were planned. Mom and dad definitely weren’t expecting a kid at 21 and 25, and absolutely weren’t planning on another one fifteen years later.”

Jules cast the camera a bright smile. “Oops!”

“But we’re their best mistakes,” Remus said solemnly with the ghost of a smile, as if he was repeating a sentiment that had been said many times before. “Okay, I need to have a talk with whoever set up these questions. Do an impersonation of me, or drink to—”

“Oh, look at me, I’ve got a fancy degree,” Jules mimicked, dropping his voice comically low. “I’m so cool, I’ve got a secret boyfriend and I’m not gonna tell anyone about it for three whole months even though I suck at keeping secrets. I’m tall, so I’m gonna grab my awesome little brother by the ankles and shake him around—”

“You asked me to—”

“Shh! I’m not done!”

Remus gave him an incredulous look. “They get the point!”

Jules stuck his tongue out, but grabbed a new card from the stack. “What are your best and worst memories of mom and dad?”

“Aw, man.” Remus tapped his short stack of cards on the table and bit his lip. “Best and worst…best would probably be Christmas two or three years ago, when we all went skating on the lake.”

“That’s a good one,” Jules mused.

“It’s hard to think of my worst memory of them. Um, maybe after I stopped playing hockey in college? There was a lot of walking on eggshells and it was really uncomfortable.”

Remus read the next card and his frown dissolved into laughter; he reached for the apple juice and filled both glasses to the brim, then pushed them across the table to Jules without a word. “What are these for? You have to read the card, dummy.”

“The most spoiled sibling has to drink,” Remus said with a wide grin.

“It’s not me!” Jules protested, though it was weak. “You were an only child for fifteen years!”

“Yeah, and?” His amusement only grew as Jules struggled to make a comeback. “See, you can’t even deny it! You’re the baby of the family and everybody loves you. How many times have you been to Gryffindor?”

Jules opened and closed his mouth a few times, going red with indignance.

“How many?” Remus’ expression was pure glee. “Buddy, I didn’t leave Wisconsin for anything other than roadies until you were old enough to travel, and then mom and dad had to show you off to everyone.”

“They love you, too!”

“I know they do,” Remus laughed. “They’re great parents and we both had amazing childhoods. You’re still the more spoiled one.”

“I don’t like this game,” he muttered as he drank one of the glasses. “And I’m not drinking that other one. Okay, last question. Should we see more of each other?”

“Of course,” Remus said. “I wish we lived closer to each other all the time. Do you think so?”

Jules reached for the glass, then burst out laughing when Remus’ jaw dropped. “Oh, I got you so good! But yeah, I miss you a ton during the school year.”

“You little…” Remus bit back his threat and ruffled Jules’ hair despite his protests, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “Keep that up and you’re gonna get flipped again.”

“You wouldn’t. Not on camera.”

“Try me.”

Jules bolted from his seat and tried to make a run for it, but Remus was faster—he caught him around the waist, hefted him under one arm, and turned him around until he could get ahold of his skinny ankles. “No!” Jules shrieked through his giggling as Remus started swinging him lightly back and forth. “No, no, put me down!”

“Just making sure you really don’t want to see more of me,” Remus said, alight with happiness. Jules’ fingers nearly touched the ground. “You’re almost too big for this.”

“Good,” Jules wheezed. “Are we done yet?”

Remus looked back to the camera. “Thanks for tuning into Lion Pride, everyone. Make sure to like and subscribe if you want a slow-motion tutorial on how to transform your little brother into an emergency pendulum.”

“No!”

“Can you get down by yourself?”

Jules stretched his arms toward the floor, but Remus pulled him up an inch just as his fingertips brushed the tile. “Hey! Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Pulling me up!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said, adding another inch.

[classyklancey]

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he’s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.  

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[screechesincoherently]

The Cop Out- Sam Kiszka

Part 12- Gifting

Masterlist

Synopsis: Y/n calls up a friend to help her buy a Christmas present for Sam, and finds herself in good company that night while she wraps.

Warnings: Swearing, Dad Jokes

Word Count: 4,196

In Collaboration With: @capturethechaos

By the time they had arrived back at Y/n’s apartment, both were drained, and very ready for a nap. Sam walked with her all the way to her apartment door, giving her a kiss on the forehead and letting her know that he would be back the next day to pick her up for Christmas Eve with his family.

“I can’t wait, I love you Dipshit.” She said, grinning at him.

“I love you more Giggles.” He said, giving her one last kiss before walking down the hallway towards the elevator.

Y/n watched him leave until he was out of sight, shutting her apartment door and finally letting out her excitement. She got a few steps into the entrance before she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t in a while.

“Hey Y/n. Long time no text or call babe, how are you?” Mackenzie greeted.

“Holy— shit— Mackenzie—”

“What? Are you alright?” She asked, her voice becoming mildly panicked at Y/n’s tone.

“It finally happened!”

“What happened, you’re freaking me out.”

“It happened Kenzie, Sam and I finally got together!” Y/n borderline yelled, bouncing around on her toes.

“Hold on— I thought you two were already together. Danny was told by the twins that you have been dating in secret for a while now. He wasn’t too impressed having to hear it through anyone other than Sam.” She said.

“Oh— about that—”

Y/n walked around her apartment, aimlessly doing small chores as she explained the whole situation to Mackenzie.

“Okay, so why didn’t you just ask him out in the first place?”

“That is a great question. Short answer, I was a little bit scatterbrained?”

“Okay— and?”

“For whatever reason it was easier to ask him to fake date rather than real date.”

“Because you wouldn’t have to admit to anything.”

“Well… yeah.”

“So— You’re both pussies, that’s what I’m getting from this.” Mackenzie teased.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh about it, Kenz.” Y/n replied, her hand lifting to her chest.

“But am I wrong?” Mackenzie asked, chuckling as she spoke.

“Not in the slightest.” Y/n said, joining in the laughter.

“I’m glad it finally happened, for real this time. So is Danny. Sam can finally stop beating around the bush whenever he talks about you now.”

“It’s going to be so nice to not have to silently pine over him anymore.”

“As long as you don’t vocalize it twenty-four seven, I’m alright with listening to you gush over him.” Y/n could hear Mackenzie smile through the phone

“Good, cause I don’t think Ronnie will want me to gush about all the things he can do with his--”

“Yeah, alright I think I’ve heard enough for today.”

“Come on Kenz, you were no better when you and Danny started dating.”

The two were silent for a moment.

“Hey, do you wanna come shopping with me? I need to get Sam a Christmas present.” Y/n said as she sat at her computer beginning to look up ideas.

“Aw, you don’t know what to get your boyfriend? You’ve only known him for twelve years.”

“Okay Kenzie, what are you getting your boyfriend for Christmas?”

“I got him about fifty travel-sized bottles of his favorite shampoo and conditioner.”

“That will last him ten nights on the road, Kenz.”

“Well, it's better than him using hotel shampoo.”

God— why do so many websites say socks?

“Do you wanna help me or not?”

And cologne?

“Are you coming and picking me up?”

There’s consistently two suggestions— socks and cologne. That's it.

“As long as you’ll pay for coffee on our way back.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll be over in like, ten minutes. And tell Danny he’s not allowed to tag along unless he actually wants to help.”

“Sounds good, he was trying to convince me to help him make a third batch of cookies with him.”

Y/n stopped what she was doing, her brain taken over by confusion.

“A third batch?” She asked, staring at her phone.

“Don’t ask— I’ll see you soon.” Mackenzie said, followed by some garbled arguing with Danny before she hung up the phone.

Y/n grabbed her bag and phone before walking out of her apartment. It didn’t take long before her phone buzzed with a text.

Kenz: Hurry please lol.

She laughed and decided to take the stairs, running down as fast as she could without tripping.

The drive took less than ten minutes, and when she texted Mackenzie to let her know that she had arrived, she was out of the house in seconds. She nearly tripped on the greeting rug on her way out the door, her hands full with her phone, purse, and a container of what Y/n could only assume was some of those cookies Danny had been baking.

“Take the cookies. Please.” Mackenzie said as soon as she got into the car, throwing the container onto Y/n’s lap.

“How thoughtful of you–” Y/n laughed, taking the container and gently tossing it into the backseat.

“—So, how are you?” Y/n asked, looking over at Mackenzie with a grin.

Mackenzie looked back at her with an eyebrow raised, looking absolutely exhausted.

“I have been baking all day with Danny. I don’t know why he is so insistent on making so many cookies—”

“Have you ever asked him? Maybe it’s some sentimental shit or something. I can see him doing that.” Y/n tried to reason, pulling out of the driveway.

“I think he’s broken, he’s been making some sort of baked goods every— single— day.”

“Have you tried shutting him off and back on again?” Y/n joked, earning a snorty laugh from Mackenzie.

“— or resetting his hard drive?” She said, turning to Mackenzie with a wink.

“Actually, I have. Thank you.”

“Maybe he’s making them as a reward for a job well done then.”

“He’ll give all but fifteen away, and then complain because we don’t have any.. I’m not sure how that’s a reward for me.”

“That’s still fifteen cookies, not the worst thing.”

They reached the mall relatively quick. Pulling into a parking spot and walking into the building.

Their first stop was Target, walking around aimlessly, occasionally holding up random items to make each other laugh. The only things they walked out with were snacks— and socks.

Y/n really didn’t want to be that girlfriend that got her boyfriend socks for every holiday. So she and Kenzi made their way to the nearest jeweler. Y/n wasn’t paying as much attention, more just holding Mackenzie's hand letting her lead her around, so she didn’t notice Sam standing inside the very jeweler they were about to enter— but Mackenzie did.

Her and Sam locked eyes, and he panicked a bit, looking at Y/n like a deer in the headlights. Mackenzie chuckled, waving him off before turning to drag Y/n in another direction.

“Wait where are we going? I thought we were going to go in there.” Y/n said, looking ahead at her friend, but pointing to the shop behind them.

“I wanna make a pit stop at Yankee Candles. I think I found some candles online that I could get Jita and Ronnie.”

“Well I can tell you what Jita is getting already— well, more Jake, but it is technically for both of them.”

“Which is?” Kenzi said with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, Sam bought Jake sex dice. It’s not going to be a great time when Jake decides to go after Sam in the middle of opening presents.”

“Do me a favor— film it and send it to me.”

“See, but I don’t want Jake to end up taking my phone and throwing it in the snow so that I don’t have any evidence. You know how he gets when he’s embarrassed.”

“That is a valid point. Have Karen record. Jake won’t take her phone.”

“Smart.” Y/n said.

The two walked into Yankee Candle, beginning the search for candles for Jita and Ronnie. As they sniffed through the endless supply of candles, Mackenzie got a text from Sam.

Sam: She didn’t see me, did she?

Mackenzie: I’m fairly certain she didn’t.

Sam: I need you to be fully certain

Mackenzie: Okay let me just ask her if she saw you at the jeweler’s or not

“Y/n, you didn’t by any chance see anything interesting in the window display at the jeweler did you?” She asked, looking at Y/n as she lifted a candle to her nose.

“Uh— no not really, didn’t get the chance to look before you turned us around.”

Kenzi went back to her phone to relay the message to Sam, and saw a frantic message from him.

Sam: No! That’s going to defeat the whole purpose if you ask her if she saw me!

Mackenzie: Sam, calm down. For one, it’s too late. Two, I didn’t tell her that you were there, so calm yourself. Three, no. She didn’t.

Sam: Okay… I guess

Mackenzie: Have you left yet? I think Y/n might pass out if she sniffs one more candle.

Sam: Please don’t let my girlfriend pass out

Mackenzie: You didn’t answer my question

Sam: Yes I’ve left… why?

Mackenzie: Cause I want to get Danny something from there for Christmas, but I can’t exactly take her with me if you’re in there

Sam: Just leave her with the candles

Sam: Wait, no. Don’t do that. That wouldn’t be a good idea.

Mackenzie chuckled at her phone, putting it back in her pocket and walking over to Y/n, who had made it to the end of the wall, and had a stack of candles in her basket.

“I think I found some that they’ll like.” She said, smiling at Mackenzie and lifting the basket to show her.

“All of these are just for Ronnie and Jita?”

“Is there a correct answer for that?”

“They’re going to use two. At most. Once a month. They don’t each need five.”

“Alright so, two for Jita, two for Ronnie, two for you, and four for me—”

“No. Absolutely not. Two candles for the girls and then we are getting you out of here.”

“No Mackenzie please, they all smell so good.” Y/n said, giving her friend the best puppy dog eyes she could muster.

Mackenzie just stared at Y/n unamused

“Fine.” She groaned, taking Y/n’s hand and dragging her to the register.

—

“Kenzi, I can’t believe you let me spend almost three hundred dollars on candles.” Y/n said, looking down at the big bag she was lugging along with her.

“Oh, no no. No. No.” Mackenzie said to her, turning to Y/n with her finger raised.

“Oh yeah— that’s right, you owe me for the candles that are being given to Jita and Ronnie. It was your idea to get them candles.”

“You are insane.”

“And you love me anyways.”

“Whatever. Didn’t you wanna go to the jeweler’s?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Y/n said, walking ahead of Mackenzie and pulling her along.

They walked into the store and immediately started to look through the necklaces.

“How ‘bout this one?” Y/n asked, pointing to a simple gold chain with a dainty bar hanging from it.

Mackenzie inspected the necklace, looking up at her friend, offering her a smile and nodding her head.

“Do you think he’s going to like it?”

“I think you could give him a piece of gum and he would treasure it for the rest of his life.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at Mackenzie’s comment, a smile forming on her own face. She asked the jeweler to get it out of the case for her, and immediately decided to get it. She could already envision the way it would sit on his torso.

And how it would dangle when he’s above me.

“You owe me coffee now Kenz.” Y/n said as they walked out of the jewelers.

“I think the last thing you need is coffee right now.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t have any.”

“I’m paying, you’re getting a hot chocolate.”

“Fine. But you owe me coffee later Kenz.”

“Put it on your wish list.”

—

The day went by agonizingly slow, Y/n more than eager to spend the holidays with the Kiszkas.

She sat on the floor of her bedroom, wrapping Sam’s gift. It turned out to be more of a challenge than she had expected solely because she wanted the wrapping to be perfect. She wanted the paper to be lined up wherever it overlapped so it looked seamless but that was easier said than done considering the small size of the jewelry box and the abstract pattern of the wrap.

Eventually, Y/n gave up with the patterns and went to her storage closet to grab a roll of plain brown wrapping paper deciding that she would add something extra to the appearance with some twine and decorative ribbon.

As she made her way back into her room, her phone dinged with a text notification.

Dipshit <3: Hey Giggles, quick question.

Y/n: Possible answer…

Dipshit <3: Do you want to have the regular dinner that everyone else is having tomorrow night, or do you want the vegetarian option?

Y/n: I’m okay with whatever is there for me Sammy. As long as I get to eat.

Dipshit <3: Mom wants to know if she has enough food for everyone, that’s why I’m asking.

Y/n: Your mom always has more than enough food anyways, your fridge is always filled with leftovers for weeks after every event you have.

Dipshit <3: Is that what you want me to tell her your answer is?

Y/n: Just tell her to not worry about me, I’ll be content with whatever is offered.

Y/n set her phone down to try to wrap Sam’s necklace for the fourth time. Once she had cut out a square big enough to cover up the whole present, her phone began to ring next to her.

Glancing over to her phone, she saw her contact picture she had set for Sam years ago fill up the screen.

She picked up the phone and held it out in front of her parallel to the floor, not registering that it had been a FaceTime call, and not a regular phone call.

“Ooh what’s that?” Sam asked, only being able to see the gift on the floor for a split second before Y/n realized that it wasn’t a regular phone call.

“Fuck!”

Sam laughed on the other end as she scrambled to move her phone so she could flip the camera without him being able to inspect the object on the floor.

“What’cha working on, babe?” Sam asked through a giant smile, while getting up from his bed.

“Christmas shit.” Y/n grumbled placing her phone on the floor, her front camera only capturing the corner of her face and her ceiling.

“I see you’re in the Christmas spirit. Good to hear.”

“Did you need something? Or did you just call to harass me about my current state?”

“I miss you, and wanted to chat while I prepped my dinner for tomorrow.” Sam walked through the house until he got to the kitchen.

“Well you could have warned me that you were going to FaceTime me though, Dipshit.”

Sam laughed as he propped his phone up against the cabinets so he could begin the task.

“I’m really enjoying the view of your ceiling, babe. Very nice, very plain.”

“Well I’m sorry I can’t wrap Christmas presents with only one hand so this is what you’re getting.” Y/n said as she began to fold the paper over the box, taping it in place.

“I can’t cook with one hand, but you can still see me.” He replied with jazz hands exaggerating his point, even though Y/n’s eyes were glued to her wrapping.

“What are you making?”

“Well, I am currently starting to work on some cheese and onion rolls.”

“Those sound like they’d be good.”

“So, whose present are you wrapping?” Sam asked as he heard her cutting the paper through the phone.

“None of your business.”

“Now I’m curious. Tell me.”

“Nope.”

Sam gasped before leaning over the counter to get closer to his phone.

“Is it mine?” He asked quietly with eyes wide, and a grin even wider.

“No.”

“You’re an awful liar. Did you know that?” His face filled the entirety of her phone screen, eyes squinting as if it would help him figure something out.

“So are you, babe.” Y/n said with a small laugh.

“Hurry up and finish wrapping my present so I can see you.”

“I’m going to take my time, thank you very much.” Y/n said, slightly leaning over the camera, now showing a third of her face.

As she went back to focusing on the present, she heard another voice come from the phone.

“Oooh, whose ceiling are you talking to?” Kelly asked, looking at his phone as he walked into the kitchen.

“Y/n’s. We’re having a very intriguing conversation at the moment.”

“Hello Y/n’s ceiling, how’s it hanging?”

“Oh my god.” Y/n said laughing through the phone at the joke.

“Why don’t you laugh at my jokes like that?” Sam asked, looking at his phone with an offended look on his face.

“You just can’t deliver dad jokes quite the way Kelly does.” Y/n said, calming down after her small laughing fit.

“I know a way we could change that.” Sam commented, completely disregarding the fact that he was in the kitchen with his father.

Y/n heard the sound of Kelly smacking Sam upside the head, and she began to laugh once again.

“Where did your manners go Samuel? You don’t talk to women like that.”

Sam gave a knowing look to the camera, a smirk on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why is Sam sorry this time?” Josh asked, walking into the kitchen and picking a piece of cheese off of the cutting board in front of Sam.

“Hey, I was using that!”

“He forgot how to talk to girls appropriately.”

Josh tsked at his youngest brother, shaking his head.

“Y/n, just so you know, I could always treat you better.” Josh said with a wink, turning to walk past Sam to get to the fridge.

“I do have a knife in my hand Josh.” Sam said.

“Okay, I am not dealing with this, you two are old enough to duke it out on your own. Goodnight Y/n!”

“Goodnight Dad!” She said, making Sam turn to the camera with a grin.

“Josh, why is it taking you so long to grab me a yogurt?” Y/n heard Karen yell in the background of the call.

“Sam’s being a little shit to Y/n. I have to knock some sense into him.”

“Oh my god you guys. Leave me alone and let me cook please.

“Samuel Francis, what on earth are you saying to her?”

“I’m not saying anything!”

Karen made her way into the kitchen to interrogate Sam. At this point, they had all distracted Sam enough that Y/n could finish wrapping his gift to her liking. She cleaned up the mess from the three attempts and picked up her phone from the floor, making her way into the living room.

She sat on the ouch just in time for Karen to come into the frame.

“Hi momma K!” She said, catching Karen's attention.

“Hello Y/n! How are you honey?” She asked, ignoring her sons and walking over to the phone.

“I am wonderful, can’t wait to see everybody in person tomorrow.” She said, relaxing into the cushions of her couch.

“What did you want to eat tomorrow by the way Y/n?” Karen asked.

“I’m okay with whatever is there. I’ll have a little bit of everything.”

“Alright hon, I’m excited to see you tomorrow!” She said.

“I’m excited to see you too!” Y/n replied, watching as Karen turned and plucked the yogurt from Josh’s hand and walking out of the kitchen.

“You’re welcome!” Josh yelled to his mom throwing his hands up at the lack of manners.

Sam packed away the prepared food, placing it into the fridge before turning around to see Josh and Y/n making funny faces at each other.

“Alright Josh, can I have my girlfriend back now please?” He asked, leaning against the counter.

“I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n, love you.” Josh said, stepping back and walking out of the kitchen.

“Love you too Joshy.”

Sam picked up his phone, walking into the living room to get to the stairs.

“Josh told us you’re talking to Y/n, were you just gonna walk right past us without letting us say hi?” Ronnie said, leaning her head back over the back of her chair.

“You’ll be seeing her in less than twenty-four hours.” Sam said impatiently, wanting to get to his room.

“And? Let us see Y/n!” Jake said, throwing a pillow at his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, turning his phone to show Y/n to his remaining two siblings.

“I can’t see her Sam, come closer.” Jake said, gesturing for Sam to move towards him.

Sam reluctantly followed the instruction, moving closer. Jake remained unsatisfied, shooting up from his seat and snatching the phone from Sam's hand.

“What the fuck you guys?”

“Sorry Sammy, figured she’d rather look at me than your ugly mug.” Jake said as he skittered away from the living room.

He only made it a few feet before his feet slid out from underneath him, Sam’s phone went flying as Jake’s body hit the hardwood floor with a thump.

“What the fuck just happened?” Y/n asked concerned laced within her laughter.

Sam walked over, stepping over his brother and grabbing his phone off of the floor.

“Jake tried to steal my phone, but apparently forgot that socks don’t get traction on hardwood.” Sam explained, looking down at his brother and turning his camera so that Y/n could see Jake sprawled out on the floor.

“Are you okay Jake?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna sit here for a minute.”

“And wallow in self pity no doubt.” Sam quipped, causing Jake's head to whip around in his direction.

Jake squirmed, reaching for Sam’s feet, and Y/n watched as Sam bounced around, avoiding his brother's grasp.

“I don’t wallow Sam.”

“What would you call this then?” He asked, gesturing to his brother’s position on the floor.

“Alright, now you’re gonna get it.” Jake said, pushing himself off of the ground.

Sam took off in a sprint, running for the stairs. He made it about half way up before Jake grabbed his ankle, causing him to fall forward on the stairs and throw his phone a couple steps up.

Y/n could only see a black screen, but could hear the sounds of Jake and Sam bickering. She sat like that for a couple minutes, listening, before the phone was picked up again.

“Finally decide to act like a grown up Dipshit?” She asked, staring at her ceiling as she spoke.

“Try again.” She heard the melodic voice of Ronnie Kiszka coming through the speaker of her phone.

“Ronnie!” Y/n said, looking down at her phone with a wide grin.

“Hiya Y/n! Long time no see. How was the cabin?” Ronnie asked, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.

“Very romantic— nothing says Christmas getaway with my boyfriend like having my family consistently walk in on us doing god knows what.”

The sound of conversation made Sam and Jake stop moving, looking up at their sister holding the phone.

Jake let Sam out of his grasp, sitting on the step to catch his breath. Sam stood and walked to the top of the stairs. He stopped in front of his sister, holding out his hand and looking at her expectantly.

“Look at your man Y/n, so demanding. He won’t even ask politely for me to give him his phone back.” Ronnie said, turning the camera to show Sam’s pouting face.

“Oh yeah, he looks so demanding.” Y/n said, laughing mildly at the look on his face.

“Can I please get my phone back so that I can talk to my girlfriend alone?” Sam asked, making a little grabby motion with his hand.

“Alone you say? I don't know, how do you think mom would feel?” Ronnie teased, handing his phone back.

Sam made a mocking sound as he took the phone.

“Bye Y/n!” Ronnie and Jake yelled as Sam walked into his bedroom.

“It’s nice to know that they like me more than they like you.” Y/n said, trying her best to keep a straight face.

Sam shot a glare at his phone, making Y/n laugh.

“I love you.” She said in the gaps between her laughter.

He couldn't hold the stern expression long, his face softening as he listened to her laughter.

“I love you too.”

Taglist:

@gretavanwinkle

@gvfrry

@theweightofstardust

@jakekiszkasgiggle @@alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @chalametpwk

@cowboysamkiszka @katie-gvf

@sammykiszkasunusedshoes @thehippieelement

@welightthefire

@h-e-l-l-o-s

@lucidliving1205

@kaylal15

@miidnightcarlights @gretavanfleetwoodmacncheese

@gretavanhoney

@dannythedog @oopslashes @obetrolncocktails @samsdirtyfeet @godblessmarywanna @joshkiszkastea

@prettyxvenomx @basically-hayley @j3rboa

@fictional-duchess

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @wrenstrange! Put up the decorations, it’s finally time again! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1957 Warnings: pure fluff, blood sample/needle/syringe, soft!Loki, fatique, fainting

You dropped like a piece of wood right about when you were making yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Knees ceasing to support you any longer, vision darkening, stars dancing around you making you dizzy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and before you knew it, your body finally won and shut down.

Although if you could have chosen, you would not have fallen straight into Loki’s arms whose reflexes caught you, preventing you from hitting the hard floor beneath you. He cradled you with his brows furrowed, his blue gaze almost helpless as he looked at Thor and Stark for support.

Then, everything went black.

-

“Welcome back.” You blinked, the artificial lights above your head blinding you. A hand held you down when you attempted to sit up drowsily. Bruce was leaning against a metal table in Tony’s lab, hands crossed before his chest and with a concerned expression on his face. “You blacked out,” he explained, “out of the blue.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony added.

You only realised then that it was Loki who had held you down. He was sitting on a chair right next to the makeshift bed they had carried into Tony’s lab and he was observing you with Argus eyes. Your heart sped up when you noticed. You usually tended to avoid the God of Mischief at all cost. There was a part of you that was afraid of him after watching him making an entire crowd kneel in Stuttgart, the other was hands down swooning over him. It had all started when he had rescued a cat from a tree, honouring a cliché he had not even been aware of. But someone who helped defenceless little kittens had to have a soft heart deep down, no?

Thor had brought him to Earth along with him after Asgard had been destroyed. He could not exactly be considered an Avenger but he had long surpassed the villain image… at least, to some extent. Well, you were no Avenger either. You used to be a SHIELD intern and then somehow ended up with the superheroes themselves. Apart from some basic fighting skills and the ability to use a gun, you had been trained to spend most of your time in front of a computer, often working twelve hours or even more a day. What did they say? Evil never sleeps.

“Any idea what might have caused this?” Bruce continued.

You shook your head. “No. But I’ve been having migraines and a persistent fatigue that just won’t go away.”

“I see… anything else?”

“Um…”

“You can talk to us, (Y/N).”

“Well, I… I’ve been dizzy a lot lately but that sometimes happens during my special week of the month so I didn’t think anything of it.” You took a deep breath but hesitated.

“And?”

“I’ve been sweating way more when working out. Like, a lot more. Instead of making progress… I feel like I’m getting weaker every day. It’s frustrating.”

“Uh-huh. I’m taking a blood sample. FRIDAY will run a couple of tests on you to figure out what’s wrong.”

“What? No! Nothing’s wrong! We don’t need a b-blood sample.”

“No one faints for no reason, (Y/N), especially not on Loki.” Loki rolled his eyes but did not leave your side, even when Bruce started fiddling around with some gear and apparently, a first-aid kit and then approached you with a syringe and a small clear vial.

“I’ve done this a million times before, I’ll be gentle.”

“No! No, no blood test, Bruce, please!” Almost hysterically, you moved back on the bed, your heart in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” Loki suddenly said calmly. You shivered when he spoke your name, his head tilted slightly. “Are you afraid of needles?”

“N-n-no…” You lied. Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Look at me.” He said. Hesitating only a little, you did as you were told. It wasn’t like his tone allowed any contradiction anyway. In fact, it reminded you a lot of his strict and bossy tone when he had caused chaos in Germany. “It has to be done. Hold my hand and do not take your eyes off of me.”

“Who are you and what you have done to Reindeer Games?” Tony tossed in, throwing the Trickster a suspicious glance. Loki rolled his eyes once more. As if he had any obligation to explain himself to Stark of all people.

In the meantime, you were panicking even more. Loki was being nice and considerate with you and Bruce was about to pierce your skin with a needle. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… your breathing sped up.

“Look. At. Me.” Loki repeated. You obeyed this time, allowing him to take your hand and press it gently. Much to your surprise, it immediately calmed you down a little. You gaped at him unbelievingly. You didn’t even feel the needle going into your skin and drawing blood. Wait… was he casting a spell on you?

“There. All done.” You could not bring yourself to look where Bruce brought your blood sample but when both Tony and he stepped away and turned their backs on you, you swallowed.

“T-thank you…” You had to ask—not because you did not think he was not capable of offering his help without seeking a personal advantage and not because you didn’t think he was too evil to even think about being selfless… but because you were genuinely curious about his motivation. Loki did nothing without a reason, he was always one step ahead. “You put a spell on me, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Why… why did you do that for me?”

“We are all afraid of something.” It was the only response he gave you. For a few moments, you merely sat there quietly, neither of you uttering a single word. Only when Bruce and Tony returned did you realise that Loki was still holding your hand.

“Okay… I’ve got the results from your blood test and FRIDAY couldn’t find anything suspicious.” Tony announced, scrolling on his tablet. Bruce adjusted his glasses to take a peek.

“You said you’ve been feeling tired? You sweat a lot, you get dizzy, and I’m presuming you barely have an appetite?”

“I don’t have time to eat a lot to be honest…” You confirmed.

“Any concentration problems?”

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you thought about it for a moment. Now that he mentioned it… it had gotten obnoxiously hard to focus on your work lately. Eventually, you nodded.

“Sounds like severe exhaustion to me.” Bruce said. “Do you have issues with low blood pressure or diabetes or any other medical condition? No, FRIDAY would have found something like that. You know what I think? You overworked yourself.”

“Like… a burnout?” You probed.

“Most definitely.”

You grunted. Oh, that was just great. There you were, attempting to squeeze in regular workouts in this awesome training hall the Avengers called the HARM room after work to get stronger and hence, eventually gather up the courage to speak to Loki and now you looked exactly like what you did not want him to see you as—a weak and meagre human.

“The best medicine would be for you to quit work for a while and stop physical exercise altogether.”

“Banner is right,” Tony added. “Take a few weeks off and rest, sleep in, eat more and healthy… the whole program. I officially give you a holiday.”

“You’re not my boss, Tony, you can’t give me a holiday.” Your smile was weak. “But I don’t have time for this anyway! I can’t believe this is happening so soon before Christmas!” You whined. “I can’t stay in bed, I’ve got so much to do! I have to buy presents and decorate and bake biscuits and make gingerbread… Besides, I’m gonna fall behind on all the data.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take care of that. Let me talk to Fury. You let us know if you need anything. Can you take her to her room, Reindeer Games? And please, no funny business.” Beside you, Loki was just frowning, utterly ignoring the billionaire’s request.

“Why were you pushing yourself so hard?” He finally spoke when the two Avengers had left—whether it was genuine confusion or mere curiosity in his voice, you were not sure. “Why were you training for battle in the first place? I have never seen you out on a mission.”

You sighed. Time to let the cat out of the bag, it wasn’t like you were still going to make a good impression on him anymore now.

“I wanted to impress you, I guess…”

“Impress me?” Loki repeated incredulously.

“Yeah… catch your attention… in a way. I mean, part of me is still terrified of you, of course but… you have a good heart, Loki. I knew when I saw you rescuing that cat from the tree.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to damage my reputation.” He responded with a sly smirk, making you grin. “It was an innocent kitten, what was I supposed to do?”

“See?”

Your heart skipped a beat when his blue eyes locked with yours. He appeared… uncertain; not used to dealing with affection. Loki swallowed.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure…”

The God of Mischief sighed, his lips pressed together to a thin line. Without any hesitation, he snuck one of his arms under your knees and wrapped the other around your waist. He lifted you off the makeshift bed as if you weighed nothing—and to him, you probably didn’t.

Loki carried you to your room in utter silence and eventually lay you down in your bed. Your heart jumped when he sat down on the edge of the bed himself, with a peculiar interest in his hands so he would not have to look you in the eye.

“There is no need to impress me.” He suddenly said. Your head shot up. “I did not think anyone would even… never mind.”

Oh. It almost felt like you were finally getting to know each other, for real this time.

“Do you want to stay for a while? I was going to watch some Christmas movies if I’m not allowed to get out of bed.” You sighed. “I can’t even decorate. You have no idea how many decorations I have to put up. None of the others care to make it a little more festive here, especially not Fury.”

“Yes, I have seen the boxes.” Loki replied. “It’s a little… corny, wouldn’t you say?”

“Honestly, when living among superheroes who risk their lives every single day, you could use a little corny.”

“I see.” Loki simply waved his hand and before you knew it, your entire room was decorated. Green and red tinsel shimmered on your window sill, holiday lights were blinking above your door and fake—but incredibly real-looking—snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Many of your favourite decoration items were now sitting on your nightstand and your desk, including your tiny little Christmas tree. The rest of the decorations, so it seemed, Loki must have spread all over the Tower.

“Oh my Goodness… Loki, this is amazing!” The God of Mischief winked and when you looked down on yourself, you noticed you too were wearing a green and gold Christmas sweater. Heavens, you could kiss him. “Thank you so much! What did you… is the entire Tower…”

“Yes.” He confirmed. He didn’t have to. Tony did only a fraction of a second later.

“Thor! Can you tell me why my Ironman helmet just grew metal antlers? I swear to God, if Reindeer Games has something to do with this…” It was then you exploded with laughter despite your exhaustion.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[imagine-that-100]

Why No Answer?

Description: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | You’re woken up in the middle of the night to find Alex drunk and high on your doorstep. Looking after him proves to be a tiring and revealing ordeal. 

Word Count: 5.1k 

A/N: This was requested by an Anon. I really hope you enjoy it, I basically turned it into an aftermath of the Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? music video. If anyone hasn’t seen it, if so why not I’d recommend watching that first. This was so so so much fun to write. Likes and Reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. Really hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~ January 1st 2013 ~*~*~*~

“Alex?” You question, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you” Alex smiles at you walking into your house confidently, but his eyes were heavy.

It was New Years Eve, well now it was early New Years Day, and you’d opted for a night with your friends instead of a night with the boys. You knew they were going out in Hoxton but you and your friends were staying near Finsbury.

You lived not too far from the park and you’d got home around 2am as the shots that you’d been doing earlier had got to you. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed, so that’s what you ended up doing.

But after waking up hearing constant knocking on your door, you saw 17 missed messages from Alex flash up on your phone. You saw the last saying that he was outside so the nerves you were feeling from who was at your door immediately dissipated.

Along with those messages, you saw one from your neighbour across the road saying that she thought a guy ‘around your age’ was asking for you. You were going to bully him for that tomorrow.

You also saw that you had an abundance of missed calls too so you made a hunch and sent him a text to let him know you were awake.

Why’d you only call me when you're high?????

After he made it into your house you quickly shut the door behind him and shook your head at the wasted man stumbling in your hall. “Alex it’s almost five”

He turns to you then and his heavy brown eyes meet your Y/E/C ones. He grabs your hand and brings you towards him. He tells you, “Yeah but it’s New Years and I wanted to wish you happy new year”

“I was asleep Al” You say when his hand comes up to cup your cheek.

Alex grins at you then and you see his eyes run down your body. You hold your breath as he does but when his eyes meet yours again he makes your cheeks go hot when he says, “You look really pretty in your pyjamas”

You shake your head at the pretty boy standing in your hall with the perfectly styled hair, the chiseled jawline and the leather jacket sitting on his body making him even more attractive than he already was.

“Aren't you happy to see me, babe?” Alex says with a bit of a confused look on his gorgeous face.

“Alex” You chuckle finding the pet name amusing. You also stop his thumb from stroking your cheek.

Instead you take his hand and pull him into your kitchen.

As he stumbles behind you he says, “I’ve been calling you”

“Why?” You say, letting go of his hand so you can get him a glass of water.

“What do you mean ’why’?” You hear him ask as you fill a pint glass with water for him. “Your my friend, I wanted to talk to you and wish you a Happy New Year”

You turn to him and hand him the water and cheerily say, “Happy New Year Al. Drink up”

He does as you said and you’re actually grateful when he downs half of it.

“Why do I have a dozen missed calls from you?” You ask curiously.

“To keep me entertained as I walked” Alex shrugs before finishing off the rest of the drink.

Your eyes go wide, “You walked here? From Hoxton?”

He nods, “Yeah, from Howl at the Moon.”

“That’s over an hour's walk Alex” You scorn him, shaking your head.

Alex’s finishes the water and shrugs again when he places the glass into the sink beside you, “Well I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year”

“Al, I replied to your text one minute past twelve” You remind him with raised eyebrows.

“Well I maybe I just wanted to call to you”

You repeat your text message from earlier, “Why’d you only call me when you're high?”

Alex frowns at you then, “I call you all the time?” not understanding where you were coming from.

“I mean like pestering me when you're high.” You grin.

If you were honest, you didn’t actually mind him calling you on the nights he was getting wasted. You found it quite flattering he chose you out of everyone in his phone book.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t tease him for it.

“I don’t wanna pester you Angel.” Alex pouts tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

The pet name makes your stomach flip, even though you’re aware he’s just saying it because he’s drunk. “Alex.” You grin and shake your head again.

He grins back at you, but then his brown eyes dart to the shelves above your head. His eyes brighten seeing the vodka, “Let me get you a drink.”

“Alex no.” Your eyes widen and you push against his chest when he reaches for the spirit so he can’t get it. “We aren’t drinking at five in the morning”

“But I wanna chat with you” He pouts again but this time with a slight frown.

“You can chat with me anyway” You say pushing him a little more so he moves towards the kitchen door.

He’s stubborn though because he’s drunk.

“Wanna drunk chat with you” He whines at you, obviously ruining his plans.

“Alex, you're drunk and high.” You remind him. “That's a recipe for bad decisions.”

“I could never make a bad decision around you, love.” Alex shakes his head, “Never.”

Your cheeks heat up at the 3rd pet name of the evening and you once again find his name falling from your lips, “Alex.”

He grins at you as you move him to your kitchen door, but his face falls all of a sudden. He looks at you with worried eyes and he seriously asks, “Have you ever had sex with a bouncer outside a club?”

That certainly paused your actions.

“What?” You ask in shock. “Alex no, why would you think that?” You shake your head.

Relief passes through him then and he tries to shrug it off, “I don’t know, I’m just curious.”

“You think I have sex with random men at clubs?” You ask him with your eyebrows raised a little.

It was such a random but specific question. It confused you a lot.

“I mean, I didn’t think so” Alex tells you honestly whilst shaking his head, moving into the hall again after you turned the kitchen light off.

“Alex what the fuck have you taken?”

He chuckles a bit, running his hand through his hair, “Coke and lots of shots”

“Lord.” You shake your head.

You weren’t opposed to him doing all that as you’d had your fun with drugs once upon a time with your brother and you’d had your fair share of shots earlier tonight. You just didn’t think that he was in any condition to be walking the streets of London at 3 in the morning.

“Come on” You pull him by the sleeve of his leather jacket to the bottom of the stairs. You nod up the stairs and instruct him to, “Go up.”  

He does as he’s told but half way up the stairs he pauses and turns back to look down at you, “Why am I in front of you?”

“Because I don’t want you to fall down the stairs.” You tell him honestly, holding the bannister just in case he started to fall back now he was looking down at you from the step above.

Alex, however, seems to find something amusing because a smirk comes to his plump lips. “You just wanna look at my arse”

You withhold your eye roll and just grin up at him. “You got me” You playfully pat his arse twice to encourage him to continue up the stairs, “Now go.”

Alex chuckles the rest of the way up the stairs and once you get to your landing, you rest your arm on his lower back to encourage him to walk towards your bedroom.

Before you get there through, Alex tells you, “I love you”

You smile and says, “Love you too Al”

You’ve got him in your room now and you make him sit down on the side of your bed whilst you attempt to find your joggers so he could sleep comfortably.

As you start looking Alex shakes his head saying, “No, I mean I really love you.”

You look back around to him when he continues with, “Like in the way Jamie loves Katie”

Your heart stops. You knew how much that couple loved each other so the fact he compared his love for you to them really shocked you.

“Take your jacket off Alex” You tell him ignoring what he said because it was clear he didn’t know what he was saying.

He does as he was instructed but with a frown because you didn’t register what he said. So he tells you again, ”I love you Y/N.”

“No you don’t.” You say, taking his jacket from him.

“I do. I really really love you.” Alex tells you and his brown eyes are looking into your Y/E/C ones sincerely.

You brush it off though telling him, “You don’t know what you're saying” as you hang up his coat.

“I really do. I know I worship the ground you walk on and you’re easily the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Alex says as he watches you once again routing through your wardrobe for whatever it was you were searching for.

You turn toward him with a pair of dark grey joggers in hand and he can’t help but smile, “Look at you, all stunning right now.”

You shake your head, “Alex I’m wearing Harry Potter pyjamas.”

“Yeah and you look sexy as fuck.” Alex says after running his tongue over his bottom lip.

You shake your head, not believing his drunken words at all. “Alex”

“Please tell me you like me.” He almost panic pleads with you and it makes you chuckle a little.

“Of course I like you Alex.” You smile at him to ease his nerves, “I wouldn’t be letting you sleep in my house if I didn’t like you.”

His face falls like something else dawns on him. He can’t stop himself from asking, “You’ve never shagged the guy from the kebab shop, right?”

Your eyes go wide again at the random question, “Alex, where is this coming from?”

You’re honestly baffled by the suggestion alone.

Alex shakes his head, “I just-“ but then something catches his eye, “Oh, is that whisky?”

He attempts to stand up then to grab the miniature whisky set you got for Christmas. But you put a hand on his chest, “Alex no.”

“Sit down.” You instruct him in a stern voice.

He frowns at you a little but it’s like a puppy looking angry. He does as asked but he takes it further and just flops himself back, lying himself across your bed.

Well, at least if he was lying down he couldn’t do anything else stupid.

He’s silent for a minute until you throw your joggers over his head. After you both chuckle a little you say, “Alex, unbutton your jeans so I don’t have to.”

You turn towards your shelves and start silently moving your alcohol into hidden places so when you went downstairs, he didn’t start drinking them.

“Kinda want you to.” You hear him say once he moves your joggers off his face.

Your eyes go wide and you embarrassedly say, “Alex stop.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighs and you can then hear his belt unbuckling and him undoing the zip.

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s being lazy and is taking his jeans off whilst still lying on your bed.

As he continues his struggle, he nonchalantly asks you, “Have you ever sucked someone off in a taxi?”

You’re absolutely mortified by the question. Where the fuck were all these questions coming from?

“Alex, you're taking your jeans off in my bedroom.” You say, keeping your eyes on the draw you were moving your gifted alcohol into. “Refrain from blowjob talk.”

You can hear his grin when he asks, “Have you though?”

“No Alex.” You assure him, and you hear him move towards you, “You better have put them joggers on.”

Just after you close the draw you were hiding the alcohol into, you hear him chuckling behind you.

“What you laughing at?” You ask after you’ve turned around to see him standing close. Thankfully the joggers were on.

He gently moves your hair to the side and cups your cheek again. His thumb caresses your skin as he softly says, “Thank you for looking after me.”

You’re smiling up at him and you’re about to tell him that it was fine, but you don’t get a chance. Instead Alex kisses you and you freeze in shock.

His lips are gentle against your own and you find yourself melting into it. Your lips move on their own accord and you relax into the gesture.

His lips were soft but the kiss seemed to contain something a little bit more. Alex’s other hand found your hip and encouraged you to step a bit closer which you did.

Your hand came to rest on his chest over the black material of his top, but once a few kisses go by and Alex more confidently runs his tongue across your bottom lip, your hand slips up to the back of his neck. Alex then more confidently deepens the kiss and your now hazy mind can’t seem to stop it.

He tasted of vodka which surprised you because you knew his chosen drink was whisky. But you didn’t pay close attention to that because there was so much to concentrate on.

His hand that cupped your cheek had slipped around the back of your neck to keep you in the kiss and your senses filled with his aftershave mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. But you indulged in the way he was holding you against him tightly.

You actually really liked the kiss and you hadn’t liked anyone’s kisses in a long time.

Alex pulled away from the kiss after a minute and he rested his forehead against your own. You both tried to calm your breathing as you stayed close but after a few seconds you opened your eyes to see him already looking at you.

You gazed into each other’s eyes for a minute then, neither of you moved a muscle. Your chests were still rising and falling, trying to regain the oxygen you were just denied.

“That was nice.” Alex whispers, then hesitantly adds, “Right?”

You smile at the vulnerability of his question. But you look into those gorgeous brown eyes and confirm, “Yeah, that was nice.”

Alex smiles at that and he leans down and kisses you once more. But you don’t let it get to what it just was. After one kiss you pull away and slip your hand down to pat his chest, softly telling him, “It’s time for bed.”

Alex smiles and actually does head to bed. You press your now sensitive lips together to contain your smile and turn back to your wardrobe to grab a blanket. Once it’s in your hand and you turn to see him now in your bed, you head to the door and turn out the light.

“Night Alex” You call and you start to head out the door.

But he calls, “Where you going?”

“To sleep on the settee” You say when you turn back towards him.

“No Y/N, please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me.” Alex pleads.

“Alex, you’re off your head.” You state, “You don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to stay. I know that much.” He tells you and you can hear that he’s serious.

You shake your head, “Alex no, you need to go sleep”

But he has none of it, “You know I’ll follow you downstairs and share the settee with you so you might as well just stay where we’ll be comfier.”

“But Alex yo-”

“Please Y/N.”

You sigh and give in then, knowing he wouldn’t give up until you got in bed next to him. So you do, you get yourself in bed beside him and you get comfy.

That doesn’t last long though because Alex basically shuffles himself close to you until you’re coaxed into cuddling into him. You don’t see any harm in his arm going round your back or your head resting on his shoulder because you’d fallen asleep once or twice before after resting your head on his shoulder.

After a few minutes silence, you hear him whisper, “I really love you, you know?”

“Tell me that when you're sober.” You tell him.

After a second to process what you just said, Alex asks, “Will you believe me then?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

~*~*~*~

When you stir awake the next morning, you’re sure it must have been pretty late in the morning, maybe earlier afternoon, because the light shining through the sides of your black out curtains was very bright. You were still curled up into Alex’s side when you looked down at your bodies, but one of your legs was resting over Alex’s and your arm was now lay over his chest.

You pick your head up to glance over Alex to look at the time on your alarm clock and see that it reads 11:13. You then decided that 6 hours is enough sleep for the both of you or you’d never get out of bed.

So you disturb Alex’s slumber by patting his chest a few times before poking him. After a minute he stirs and when you feel him hold you a bit tighter to him and rub your back you decide to speak.

You say into his chest, “Happy New Year, my lovely”

“Heyyy” His deep voice calls out in surprise, as if he’s shocked it’s you he’s hearing. He recovers well when he says, “Happy New Year.”

You pick your head up to look at him and you have to admit to yourself that his messy unstyled bed hair is very pleasing on the eye. You see him smile back at you and you ask, “You don’t remember coming here, do you?”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes again and he rubs them with his other free hand. After a second he hesitantly asks, “Did I…? Did we...?”

“You wish” You softly giggle as you shake your head. “You don’t remember anything, do you?”

“Not really, no” He says with a small smile on his lips.  

“You knocked on my seventy-six year old neighbour’s door before you found mine which is comical because you’ve been here hundreds of times.” You inform him as you sit up, your smile getting bigger and bigger, “Then you came in off your head, begging me to have a drink with you, so I made you go to bed.”

Alex slowly sits himself up too, and when he notices his change in attire he asks, “Did you get me changed?”

“I made you get yourself changed” You inform him and Alex sighs.

“Jesus.” Alex says rubbing his eyes again before running a hand through his messy hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you were quite funny.” You grin, getting yourself out of bed, “Especially when you got all pouty asking me to stay.”

You were going to have some fun teasing him today.

Alex chuckles a little before looking at you, saying, “Well I’m glad you did.”  

“I’m a wonderful friend…” You smile, “What can I say?”

He grins at you then and you think he is the cutest person in the world that you’ve ever seen first thing in the morning. How in the hell did this beautiful man in front of you drunkenly claim he had feelings for you.

“Right...” You say, “I’m going to quickly use the bathroom and then you’re going to get yourself up and in the shower, and after I’ve made breakfast I’ll tell you what else you said.”

“Oh god.”

An hour later, you’d both done just that. You were up and dressed and bacon butties had been made, Alex joined you downstairs dressed back in his jeans now and his wet hair had been styled with a comb you’d left on your bed for him.

Only the water drying was styling his hair, but it still looked great. It had definitely been a shock when he initially cut it like that last year, well, two years ago now. But the cut suited him anyway.

“How you feeling?” You ask him, thinking he was looking a lot better now sat in the kitchen compared to when he was in here last night.

You were both sitting at the table in your kitchen and you’d just got you both another small glass of fresh orange. He definitely looked a lot more awake now if nothing else.

“Not the best but better now I’ve had food though...” Alex tells you honestly, “So thank you.”

“Do you remember anything else now you're not an extra from the walking dead?” You ask with a playful grin, ready to give him a little bit of shit before things got serious.

Alex elects to ignore your zombie comment and he says, “A few things.” and then takes a long sip of his orange juice.  

You ask with a grin, “Do you remember asking me if I’d shagged a bouncer or the guy from the kebab shop?”

He chokes on his drink then which makes you giggle. He coughs a little before saying, “I was hoping I dreamt that.”

“The answer was no by the way.” You remind him.

Alex nods then and you almost choke on your drink when he asks,  “What about riding on the back of a motorbike naked?”

You shake your head at him, your eyes going wide. “Your mind is honestly something else.”

Alex sheepishly says, “‘M sorry”

“No I haven’t.” You tell him. “Because that is irresponsible and dangerous and you know I tell you off when you just go out on yours in your jeans.”

Alex raises his eyebrows in an unimpressed way as he hums, “Mmm... You don’t let me forget it.”

You grin taking the conversation back again, “I’m not gunna let you forget last night.”

Alex closes his eyes and sighs, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” You correct with a grin. When you get up with your now empty glass with the intent to wash it, you ask, “Do you remember kissing me?”

“That was real?” You hear him ask in shock and it makes you smile.

You nod looking back around at the now wide eyed man, “It was.”

“I’m sorry.” He says as you start washing up, “Bet that was awful.”

“You’d be surprised…” You giggle washing the glass and two plates in the sink as you tell him, “I’ve kissed a lot of drunk people and a lot of them were worse than you.”

Alex chuckles but after a few seconds asks, “Is that a compliment?”

“Yeah.” You laugh, and then tell him, “Thanks for not being a shit drunk kisser.”

He slowly says, “You’re welcome... I think.”

You soon enough finish washing the dishes and you feel that now is the time to bring up the heavier stuff. A kiss was noteworthy sure, but declaring your love for someone was massive.

Especially after how things ended with Arielle the 8 months or so that happened. He’d been certain he was never going to fall in love again, so god only knew how he’d apparently fell for you without you noticing.

“There’s one more thing...” You say, grabbing the pot towel to dry your hands, leaving the stuff on the draining board to dry.

You look back around to the man in black who’s sat at your table, but you notice that he’s hesitant to look at you, “But from the look on your face, I think you know what you said.”

“Yeah…” He trails off, and when his eyes meet yours he says, “I’m sorry.”

You ask, despite the look on his face clearly giving the answer away. “Did you mean it?”

“Would it mean anything if I did?” Alex asks after he finds your Y/E/C eyes once again.

You nod, “Of course it would... Things would change.”

Alex sighs a little, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He can’t bring himself to look into your eyes when he asks, “Like what?”

“Well it would depend what you did if it was true…” You say and you see him looking very nervous and uncomfortable so you throw him a rope to latch onto. “If you asked me out then things would change.”

His eyes widen at that suggestion and he nods processing it. He then asks, “How would they change?”

“Well that would depend on my answer, wouldn’t it?” You say, trying to keep your emotions off your face.

If he was going to ask you out he needed to not be scared to. You weren’t going to serve it on a platter to him, not after he had drunkenly told you he loved you.

“So what would your answer be?” Alex asks when he stands up after drinking the rest of his drink.  

“You’re not getting that.” You tell him as he walks towards you to put the glass in the sink, just next to where you were leaning. “You gotta ask me.”

After the glass is discarded, neither of you make any attempt to clean it.  “I don’t want things to change Y/N/N.”

“Why?” You question, “The only things that would change is you’d see me more and could kiss me whenever you wanted instead of doing it completely off your face.”

His eyes go wide and his head whips round towards you, “You’d say yes?”

You grin and laugh, “Just ask me out Alex.”

So he does, in a very slow, very nervous way, “Do you… Maybe... Wanna go out sometime? With me?”

“I think I’d like that” You grin at him.

He just needs the confirmation, “Yeah?”

“Yes Alex” You chuckle and nod, going to hug him because a few seconds ago he looked petrified.

After he hugs you back and your arms loosen around each other, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, you’re asking this time?” You tease, not being able to get the smile off your face.

His eyes roll, not wanting to be embarrassed by his drunk actions. So he asks looking down at you, “Can I or not?”

“Don’t be embarrassed…” You tell him, bringing your arms you arms around his neck, “It was a good kiss”

A little smirk makes its way onto his face then, almost matching your grin. His arms go around your waist and he holds you to him which you're happy about.

“So yeah, go on then.” You dare him, “Kiss me Turner”

So he did, his lips met yours again and he took your breath away all over again. His soft lips moved against your own and you were glad it wasn’t just left over alcohol in your system last night that made it feel good.

You were definitely nervous but that didn’t stop you from wanting it to continue. You’d fancied him for a while but you’d never done anything about it, because you were honestly scared to and what the consequences of it might mean.

But all of those worries slipped away whilst his lips were attached to yours. The kisses were soft like they were last night but he got a little more encouraged when your fingers went up to the back of his head and laced your fingers through the longer strands there.

If he was nervous to deepen your kiss, he didn’t show it at all because he did it expertly and his hold on your waist tightened. Alex’s kisses were forcing your stomach to fill with butterflies and you truly didn’t want it to end.

Everything about this moment felt right. He wanted you and you wanted him.

You wanted him when he moved you back a little so you were trapped between him and the worktop. You wanted him when he broke the kiss for a second to pull on your bottom lip which caused a breathy moan to fall from your lips before you forced him into another kiss.

And you still wanted him when you moved yourself up to sit onto the worktop without breaking the kiss, so you could sit comfortably and kiss him. But as your luck would have it you knocked the draining board as you did and a second later you heard glass smashing.

The noise unfortunately shocked you enough to make you break apart and you both turned to see that your glass had fallen off the draining board and into the sink causing it to smash. You’d be lying if you said you were bothered by it because you truly weren’t.

You’d break a glass everyday if it meant he kept kissing you like that.

He was standing between your legs now, his hands resting on your thighs, and your arms were still around his neck and you both just laughed when you shrugged at the glass breaking. There were definitely more important things.

You think the little break in the kiss let it sink in for you both though. As your mind ran to everything that would be different now you could kiss him whenever you wanted, well almost whenever you wanted.

You didn’t think the fans would be too impressed if you kissed him when he was on stage.

“Can’t believe I’m finally kissing you.” Alex grins, pecking your lips once more.

You say, “I know… I’m very happy you are doing though.”

“I’m happy too.” Alex assures you, “Very happy.”

You laugh at that and he joins in too. “I’m gunna keep you away from everyone now, you know that, right? Want you all to myself.”

“Damn… Possessive already” You giggle, “What’s Matt gunna say?”

“I honestly couldn’t give a shit what your brother has to say right now” Alex shakes his head, chuckling a little before he leans in to kiss you again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Read Part 2: | Here |

Add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[earlgreytea68]

Tagged by @setting-in-a-honeymoon​!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

An even 200!

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

Um. 3,328,002

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Six:

Inception in the lead with 67 fics

Sherlock with 56

Fall Out Boy with 36

Doctor Who with 14 (this number is incorrect, I have written waaaaay more than that, they just live on LJ and DW)

and then one each for Sports Night and The Office (UK)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Nature and Nurture

Saving Sherlock Holmes

Working on the Edges

The Radovljica Apicultural Museum

John Watson’s Twelve Days of Christmas

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Sometimes I get busy or depressed or sick, etc., and I fall behind, but I try to respond, for a number of reasons - they give me so much joy that I want to acknowledge that they have brought my joy; it is so wonderful to see what people to respond to and love and laugh at and cry over, it definitely makes me a better writer, and so I want to acknowledge that, too; and comments when I’m in the middle of posting a fic are especially helpful to me because they often result in me tweaking what’s coming next in response to questions I see people have that indicate I’m not being clear enough, or maybe I’m not hitting the tone I want, etc. And so I like to respond to be like, “Thank you! You have no idea how important and wonderful this is to me!”

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, wow. While I actually think I can write good angst, when I do it I try to have it in the middle of the fic, so that it gets properly resolved to give you a nice, happy ending. I’m sure someone’s going to be like, YOU ARE FORGETTING THIS HEART-WRENCHING THING YOU WROTE, but all I’m coming up with right now is that, in my long Doctor Who ‘verse I wrote, I did a fic in which their family dog died. That was pretty angsty. (omg I just scrolled down to see how I ended this story and OH MY GOD ahahah I forgot that I wrote this after I’d broken up with the Tenth Doctor and so it ends with Brem being like, “Plus, my father is useless so I have to hold the entire family together all the time” hahahaha what an extra-angsty ending, Brem, my love lol)

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do sometimes! I feel like most of my crossovers make some amount of sense. Like, okay, maybe you wouldn’t think to cross Inception with Fall Out Boy (this was a special request) but I think the premise of the fic makes total sense. And I once crossed Oliver with Brem, but those were my first two beloved precocious fic songs, so that made some sense, too. And I still think Inception and Sherlock crossed together made SO much more sense than actual seasons of Sherlock lol. So I guess if I had to choose the craziest I would go with the Doctor Who/Gossip Girl crossover I wrote lol. But wait, that one actually also made sense as I wrote it, I think, so I’ll go with the Sherlock/Fall Out Boy crossover because that was just bonkers.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I wrote a fic that was really horrible to Mary in “Sherlock.” I hate Mary. I feel like I can say that now. I haaaaaated Mary. But in those days “Sherlock” was an incredibly tense fandom to be part of and if you didn’t say that you loved Mary all the time forever and always then people were like !7@((!*(@(!& at you. I have a million massive warnings in all caps all over the fic, like, DON’T READ THIS IF YOU LIKE MARY, and people still would leave rude comments on it lololol. And then we wonder why I left that fandom lol. (I mean, many people in the fandom were wonderful, and I don’t always have REASONS why I leave fandoms, it’s not like anything is that logical or rational. But it wasn’t a very fun time to be in Sherlock fandom. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. My smut almost always has to be advancing some kind of emotional beat in the characters’ relationship. I’m never super-explicit because usually the whole point of the scene to me is what the characters are thinking and feeling, not really what they’re *doing.*

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sometimes my fics show up somewhere without my knowledge. People are really good about letting me know when that happens.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is like asking who my all-time favorite child is.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have this high school Peterick AU that I started at the beginning of the pandemic. For some reason, when schools shut down, all I could think about was all these bands that wouldn’t get formed because the kids couldn’t go to each other’s houses, like Pete Wentz couldn’t just show up at Patrick Stump’s to hear him play. So I started this story where Pete and Patrick meet right before the pandemic hits, and then everything locks down and they’re stuck Facetiming each other and coming to the realization that their soulmate is on the other side of the screen.

Anyway, I actually think this fic is super-hot?? And I never think I write hot things, but it’s got a hot phone sex scene and I’m really happy with it and I would love to finish the story...except that the pandemic turned out to be...this. And in my head, Idk, I thought there’d be this triumphant moment where everyone would be like, “Yay! We can see each other now!” and Pete and Patrick would reunite, and instead everything petered out into, “Can we see each other now........????? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ “ and I didn’t know what to do with that in my fic, it made it not as neat as I was wanting it to be.

But I hate to lose that hot phone sex scene hahaha. And also after the hot phone sex scene Patrick adds “Hotline Bling” to his and Pete’s shared Spotify playlist they’ve been working on and I’M SORRY, I FOUND THAT SO CHARMING, PATRICK STOLE MY HEART WITH THAT MOVE, anyway, as you can see, I love so much about the fic and I really want to find a way to make it work and maybe someday I will the end.

15. What are your writing strengths?

My dialogue.

Also I think I write the same story over and over (person realizes that they’re deserving of being loved for exactly who they are), but I think I’m REALLY GOOD at that one story lol

Also I like to think that I write family relationship stuff fairly well, like, Idk, I love doing that stuff, whether found family or biological.

Oh, and I think I usually get the ratio of angst::happy ending pretty good (in my view for my personal preference lol).

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don’t think I’m especially good at smut. I’m terrible at paying attention to things like setting, what the characters are wearing, what the characters even look like, etc. As mentioned above, I tell the same story over and over and over, and I’m okay with that, but yeah, I’d be bad at telling a story where people aren’t, like, nice people who you’re rooting for.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think I couldn’t do it, because I don’t speak any other language, but I’m always happy when people translate my fics!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who. Although maybe, like, New Kids on the Block self-insert stuff counts from junior high??? But Doctor Who was first published.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Please see above re: favorite child lol

I tag every writer who wants to do this and I hope every writer does this because I always think these are fascinating!!

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[perlukafarinn]

Sweeter Than Roses

happy holidays @galaxystiel​ from your @destielsecretsanta2020​ secret santa! sorry this is late but since i didn’t know i would have to pinch hit until a couple of days after posting date, this was the quickest turn-around i could manage. i hope you like it!

Dean loved the holiday season. Of course he did, he made about a quarter of his annual income in December. People liked to eat baked goods on Christmas, go figure.

But he hated the holiday season, too. Every single day was busy, every hour was rush hour. Sometimes he didn’t get the last orders done until an hour after closing. He had seasonal hires, of course, but in the three years since he opened Rolling Scones, he’d always ended up underestimated how much extra help he needed.

Thankfully, things quieted as soon as Christmas was over. The last week of the year, while still busy, was a calm oasis compared to what came before. This meant that for the first time all month, Dean wasn’t busy with twelve other customers when Cas dropped by.

Cas had been coming to Rolling Scones twice a week, like clockwork, ever since he took over the flower shop next door a few months ago. Dean had been sad to see Mildred, the previous owner, go but he’d been prepared to welcome his new neighbor. He’d even set aside a complimentary piece of pie for him, because who didn’t like pie?

The first time Cas had come by, Dean had been so dazed that he almost forgot not to charge him for the pie. Dean hadn’t even thought he had a type when it came to men but here Cas had been to prove him wrong, handsome and charming and weird in the exact right way to come across as endearing rather than awkward. 

He always came about half an hour before the lunch rush, ordering a cup of coffee and a new type of pastry every time. Then he hung around while he ate, talking with Dean if he wasn’t with another customer. 

And yeah, maybe Dean treasured those quiet moments with Cas, learning about flowers and their symbolic meaning and explaining to him how to make the perfectly flaky pie crust. Maybe he looked forward to the days Cas would come by the rest of the week. Maybe he’d added a few items to his menu since Cas started frequenting, just to give him the incentive to keep coming. 

It was called being a good business owner. 

This past month, Cas had come by for his coffee and pastry and taken them to go. He’d been busy, too, so stopping wouldn’t have been an option even if the bakery hadn’t been crowded and Dean hadn’t been on the phone with some asshole who absolutely needed sixty-four macarons in eight different flavors for a holiday party that same evening. 

Today, though, was just a slightly-busier-than-average Monday. For both of them, judging by the foot traffic outside that Dean could see from his spot behind the counter. 

Cas even arrived a little bit earlier than usual, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses.

Dean watched him, amused as Cas navigated his way past the chairs and tables, head just barely poking up past the flowers in his arms.

“What’s this?” he asked as Cas finally arrived at the counter. 

Cas placed the flowers down, giving Dean an abashed smile. “Cancelled order. A young man was intending to propose on Christmas Day but apparently, his girlfriend had different plans.”

“Yikes, poor guy.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “But I felt the bouquet should be enjoyed by someone, so I thought of you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not planning on proposing, are you? ‘Cause I like you but I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“For the bakery,” Cas clarified, cheeks growing pink. “I - uh, I thought they might look nice in your window.”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Dean picked up the bouquet. It was heavier than it looked and up close, the smell of them was almost overwhelming in its sweetness. “Thanks, Cas. I don’t gotta feed them, right?”

“Only water.” 

Dean looked around for some free space for the flowers then, failing to find one, put them back down on the counter. “So, what’ll it be today?”

Cas placed his order - a cup of coffee and a festive peppermint eclair Dean only offered around the holidays - and stood at the counter as he ate, talking with Dean in between customers. As soon as he left, Krissy walked up to Dean and smacked his shoulder.

"He gave you flowers?” 

Dean rubbed the spot she hit - kid was getting stronger by the day. Maybe he should stop making her knead the bread. “Yeah?”

“And you didn’t take the hint and ask him out?” she asked.

“They weren’t for me, they were for the shop. It wasn’t a hint.”

Krissy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Was it?” Dean asked faintly.

“I know they say your mind starts to go as you grow older but, wow.”

“I’m not that old,” Dean protested. “You’re… young.”

“Nice one, boss.”

“Shut up.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, observing the roses still sitting on the counter. “You’re not messing with me? You really think that was a hint?”

“He gave you red roses. Dude couldn’t have been more obvious if he walked up to you and shoved his tongue down your throat.”

Dean shoved at her. Krissy danced out of reach, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Go man the register," he told her. "You've got customers waiting."

She rolled her eyes but did as told. Dean picked up the bouquet, getting it out of her way, and went to the back to find something to use as a vase. As he looked, he thought about what Krissy had said.

Had Cas meant that gift to be romantic? There were times when they talked that Dean thought his feelings might not be unrequited but then, he usually dismissed it as wishful thinking. Cas had never asked him out. He usually responded to Dean's more overt flirting with a confused but polite smile. That had to mean he wasn't interested and was just too nice to say so, right?

But then again, red roses. Those were objectively the most romantic flower, even Dean knew that. Sure, Cas had said they were for the bakery, but he'd also said I thought of you. He could've thrown them out or donated them or done whatever he did with flowers he couldn't sell. But no, he'd brought them to Dean, because he'd thought of him.

And Dean had gone and screwed it up by making a bad joke. 

He needed to make it up to him. Just asking him out wouldn’t be enough and it wasn’t like he could give Cas flowers back. But, Dean considered, an idea forming in his mind, he could give him something else.

 It took a couple of tries. Dean’s first attempt ended with a soggy middle. His second in burnt edges on the carefully crafted apple/rose petals. His third was perfect, the apples sliced not too thick and not too thin, curling up beautifully in the oven as they dried while still retaining their vibrant red color.

He stared down at his creation, cooling on the counter in his bakery’s kitchen. It was an apple pie and a rose bouquet rolled into one, the apple slices serving as petals arranged on top, sweet and tart just the way Cas liked best. 

Cas wasn’t due for another visit until tomorrow but Dean was too nervous to wait. Both Krissy and Kevin were working today and the lunch rush wouldn’t start just yet, he had the time to drop by next door and deliver his gift. And possibly ask Cas out, put his heart on the line for what might just be a simple misunderstanding of intentions.

No big. A couple of minutes, in and out.

He put the pie on a plate, covering it with cloth for the short trip over to Cas' shop. Krissy dryly wished him good luck on his way out, to which he responded with a raised middle finger.

("Good luck? He's just delivering pie."

"Oh, Kevin.")

Dean had only been inside the flower shop a couple of times since Cas took over. A lot had changed since Mildred left, most noticeable of all a window in the ceiling that let in the pale morning light, shining directly down on the counter where Cas was working alongside a dark-haired woman. He smiled as he spotted Dean at the door, turning to the woman to say something before leaving her alone with the customers and making his way over.

"Hello, Dean." God, had he always looked this beautiful? "What brings you here?"

Dean opened his mouth, then realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. Wordlessly, he shoved the pie at Cas' chest. Cas looked confused but accepted, pulling the cloth away.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cas looked back up at Dean. "You made this for me?"

Dean shrugged, his ears growing warm. "Just- since you brought me those roses yesterday. Thought I'd bring you something nice in return."

"Thank you, Dean, but there was no need. It wasn't any trouble for me, I had the roses by chance and no one else to give them to."

Dean's stomach sank. So it hadn't been romantic after all. Krissy had been way off and Dean had been desperate enough to believe her.

“It’s, uh, no big.” Dean cleared his throat. He needed to get out of here, quick. “I was gonna test out this technique anyway, so I figured I might as well try it on someone. Anyway, I gotta go back. Busy time, you know how it is.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you again for the pie.”

“No problem.”

 Krissy had the good sense not to say anything when Dean returned less than two minutes after he left. She must have explained to Kevin what was going on because for the rest of the day, the two of them were model employees, quiet and helpful - in other words, nothing like their usual selves.

Dean sent them home early, figuring he’d use the time it would take him to close up by himself to stew in his disappointment and get it out of his system before he got home. He hadn’t lost anything, after all. He and Cas hadn’t broken up. It was just a stupid crush, a passing infatuation, and Cas would still be his friend once he got over it.

He’d be fine.

He’d almost managed to convince himself he believed that whole crock of shit when someone knocked on the door. Dean looked up, ready to tell them off when the bakery was so clearly closed, but stopped short when he saw Cas standing outside, giving him a small wave.

Dean was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen him, or to wave him off under the pretense of needing to close up quickly. 

He'd need to talk to Cas again sooner or later, though. He closed the register, walking up to the door and swinging it open. A cool breeze greeted him. Dean now noticed snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky, covering the ground in soft, powdery snow.

Dean stood aside but Cas remained in the doorway, looking nervous.

"I think I may have misunderstood you earlier," he said. "After you left, Meg told me that the pie was- that it might be a romantic gesture?"

Dean stared at him, his face on fire. Great, so Cas had been completely clueless and this Meg chick had to go and rat him out? And now he was here to, what, make sure Dean knew nothing was going to happen?

"Was it?" Cas prompted after a long silence.

Dean looked away. "Does it matter? Look, I promise I'm not gonna make things awkward if that's what you're worried about. Nothing has to change, I'll get over-"

"There was no proposal," Cas blurted. "I just wanted to give you flowers."

Dean blinked. "You-?"

"I intended to be honest with you but when the moment came, I lost my nerve." Cas smiled sheepishly. "So I made up a story about a botched proposal. The truth is I like you and I've wanted to ask you out for a while."

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, this situation was beyond ridiculous. 

"I wasn't testing out any new techniques," he admitted. "I just wanted to give you pie."

Cas' smile widened and if he'd been beautiful before it was nothing compared to now, beaming and pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling in the artificial glow of the streetlights. Dean wanted to kiss him so bad and for once, he had no excuse to hold back.

Cas must have been thinking the same thing because they met in the middle, noses bumping in their excitement, before Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss and Dean smiled as he could taste the apples and cinnamon on Cas’ lips. 

Dean’s heart was pounding as they parted, stomach fluttering with what felt suspiciously like butterflies. 

“I know offering pastries to a baker might be as useless as offering flowers to a florist,” Cas said, “but I have some pie left over if you’d-”

Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. “Baker or no, I never turn down pie.”

But even with the promise of pie Dean was in no hurry to move and neither, it seemed, was Cas, because they lingered in the doorway, trading kisses until their noses had gone cold and Cas’ dark hair was dusted with melting snowflakes. 

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

part xiii

Please read the warnings for this chapter in the tags if you feel you need them. <3

Come down, the text said.

Christmas had been wonderful. Remus’ mother had made a perfect Christmas morning breakfast of pancakes and sausages and fresh orange juice, something Remus hadn’t even been aware he missed so much. Julian’s face had been priceless when he opened the Lions jersey with his own name across the back, Sirius’ signature sprawled across the number 24 on the back. He had missed having his family around. Cooking with his mom, talking and reading on the couch with his dad, shooting pucks in the snowy park and washing the dishes with Julian sitting on the counter, chattering away and drying them carefully. It was peaceful. It was home.

But he couldn’t get his mind off of Sirius. Remus knew he was safe and happy at the Dumais’. Logan was there, too, they were family. Sirius would have been welcomed at any of the teams’ houses, he was sure. But Remus wanted Sirius at his house. He wanted to see his mother trying to teach Sirius to cook, hopeless but patient. He wanted to watch his father moon over him. He wanted to see Sirius watch and laugh when Julian got sleepy after dinner, insisting that he wanted to watch a movie even as his eyes started to close.

He wanted Sirius there, on the couch, as the ball dropped to bring in the new year, while his dad popped champagne and Julian jumped up and down, throwing the paper confetti they had cut that morning. His parents leaned in for a soft peck, whispering an I love you, and Remus just—he wanted.

The text said, come down.

Remus’ heart drove into double time.

They’re getting ready for bed, he replied.

Take your time. I’ll be here.

Remus bit back a smile and clicked his phone off, holding it to his chest.

“I’m leaving some dishes to soak,” his mom said, coming over to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll do them in the morning,” Remus said. “What time does your flight leave?”

“Not until tomorrow evening,” Hope looked at him for a moment, then reached forward to push his hair away from his face. “Re, I’m so happy that…well, you’ve really grown. You look so much happier than…well.”

“I know,” Remus said. Since the accident, was what she meant. He smiled, squeezing her hand. “I am. I really am.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby,” she said. “I better go make sure your brother’s in bed.”

Remus laughed. “Probably wearing his jersey again.”

Hope laughed. “Probably.”

Remus watched, trying not to be too obvious about it, as she poked her head into Remus’ room where Julian was sleeping, and then disappeared into the guest bedroom. She waved once, before shutting the door. Remus forced himself to go into the living room and make his bed out of the pull-out couch, giving her time to get ready for bed.

He lasted ten minutes before slipping out the door.

Coming, he sent off, and received a few exclamation points and a short, parking lot.

Remus glanced back down the hallway as he quietly put on his jacket, pulling a beanie low over his ears against the winter air. The house was quiet as he slipped outside.

Sirius’ car wasn’t running, but Remus spotted it easily in the parking lot as he ran through the chilly night and knocked on the window. Sirius looked up and reached over with a grin, popping the door open. He was wearing a puffy jacket and beanie of his own, his hands covered in gloves.

“Hey there, All-Star,” Remus said as he hopped in and pulled the door shut behind him.

Sirius half laughed, half groaned. “Don’t remind me. C’mere.”

Remus leaned over for a kiss, pressing his hand against Sirius’ cheek. Sirius made a noise and pulled back a little, taking Remus’ hand into his gloved ones.

“What are you doing? It’s fucking freezing, Loops.”

Remus just leaned forward for another kiss. “Wanted to see you.”

Sirius sent him a mockingly disapproving look before cupping Remus’ hands between his own. Remus watched, heart flipping, as he leaned down and blew hot air over them, then kissed the cold-red knuckles.

“Better?” Sirius said. “Good thing we’re going to Florida soon.”

But Remus half heard him, too focused on the way Sirius was holding Remus’ hands, his entire attention on keeping them warm. Keeping Remus warm.

“Can we…” Remus glanced towards the back seat. “Just, this thing is sort of…” he hit his knee against the gear shift. “In the way.”

Sirius laughed. “Say no more.”

Remus grinned, and there was a brief blast of cool air through the car as both of them moved to the back seat, Sirius behind the driver’s side, Remus the passenger’s. Remus got in first, and watched as Sirius pulled his door closed, breath a puff of air. Remus scooted over, pressing up against Sirius’ side. Sirius said something quick and sweet that Remus didn’t catch, as it was mostly mumbled into a kiss on his temple, and wrapped him up in his arms.

“Bonne année, mon loup,” he said quietly into the small space between them.

“Happy New Year,” Remus repeated as Sirius’ gloved fingers tilted his chin up for a kiss.

“How long do we have?” Sirius whispered, lips trailing across Remus’ cheek to his jaw.

Remus felt his eyes slip closed, the tension of being away from Sirius releasing at having him so close.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he said, fingers reaching to tug gently on the zipper of Sirius’ jacket. “I think we have a few hours.”

Sirius made a pleased noise, pressing a quick burst of kisses to Remus’ cheek. “Good. How was Christmas?”

“Really good,” Remus said. “Jules practically died at the jersey. Lots of baking. What about you, how’s Dumo’s?”

“Why did I ever leave such close proximity to Celeste’s cooking?” Sirius sighed, and Remus laughed. “No, but it’s great. The kids woke me and Logan up at, merde, five? In the morning? Was nice though.”

Remus bit back a smile. “Saw that picture Logan posted of your matching pajamas.”

“I’m going to murder him.”

Remus snorted, leaning in for a kiss. Sirius obliged for a moment, licking sweetly into his mouth, before he made a noise like he remembered something.

“Speaking of,” he said, absentmindedly taking Remus’ hands and pressing them beneath his jacket and sweater, right to the warm skin of his stomach, he winced a little, but held them there. “Warmer, non?”

Remus nodded faintly, unable to find the words.

“Speaking of murder,” Sirius began again, and Remus burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Re, I found your tapes.”

“Oh?” Remus said.

“Fuck me,” Sirius said, followed by a flurry of French. He pulled Remus towards him and kissed him hard. “I…you’re so fast.”

Remus smiled faintly, looking down. “I was, huh?” He glanced up, raising his eyebrows. “And that relates to murder because…?”

“I’m going to die watching them,” Sirius laughed. “Fuck, Re. You make goalies look like they can’t see out of their fucking masks. How did I never hear your name?”

Remus took a deep breath in through his nose. This was the closest to telling the truth he had ever come but, looking at Sirius in the soft yellow streetlight coming through the window, he felt okay. It wasn’t the whole thing, and maybe he’d never be ready for the whole thing…but it was almost. Sirius deserved that.

“You know Greyback?”

Sirius blinked, obviously surprised. “Yeah. First overall the year before me. He’s on…what, Golden Knights now?”

Remus nodded. “Right. Well, we—we were at Wisconsin together. We played. Everyone thought we would be drafted together.” Remus shrugged a shoulder. “Fenrir didn’t like the sound of that.”

Sirius’ face melted into one of horror. He understood. Of course he understood. “He was worried you’d take first.”

Remus just nodded again, then tapped his left shoulder. “Busted me up pretty good for it. Enough to convince the League I’d never play again. This was, I don’t know, few months before. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. No one likes thinking about career ending injuries when their healthy. Totally normal.”

“Re…fuck me, the next time we play Vegas—”

“No,” Remus hit him in the chest lightly. “No, you will not do anything except beat him and his team.”

Sirius groaned. “Please let me punch him.”

Remus laughed. “No.”

Sirius leaned in, pressing a kiss to one of Remus’ cheeks, then the other. “Mon Loup.” Sirius pulled at Remus’ waist until he gave way and straddled Sirius’ hips, head ducked low in the space of the car.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius said again, softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Remus shook his head, kissing the corner of Sirius’ mouth. “It was a long time ago. It just…I didn’t trust anyone for a little while. Especially on the ice. It was easier like this, having the job I have. I’m in control. I’m there to help. Do I miss the ice? Of course. Every day. But I also really, really love my job.”

Sirius nodded, hands on Remus’ thighs, and Remus reached out for the number twelve necklace.

“Let’s talk about something happier,” Remus said. “This is a new year, you’re an All-Star, we’re probably going to the play-offs—”

“Non, non,” Sirius gasped, laughing lightly as he pressed a hand over Remus’ mouth. “Don’t say it.”

Remus laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, and Sirius soon replaced his palm with a kiss.

“We could have had an entire week off together instead of the fucking All-Star game, but…” Sirius groaned. “Don’t want to talk about that either.”

Remus ducked down and pressed a hard kiss to Sirius’ lips. “Okay, okay. Jeez, grumpy.”

Sirius, in contrast, made a delighted sound, and accepted the kiss. He went to tuck his fingers into Remus’ hair, but was instead met with the beanie.

“Cute,” he said, before taking it off. “Too cold?”

“Not a chance,” Remus breathed, his entire body heating up with Sirius’ touch. He pushed at Sirius’ shoulders a little, settling him into the corner between the seat and the door, so he could stretch his legs out, supporting Remus more. Sirius gripped Remus’ thighs appreciatively.

“I think the team finally gets how fucking hot you are,” Sirius said.

“Oh? Was that something you were hoping to discuss with them?”

Sirius snorted. “Non. Just…you’re—everything.”

Remus’ heart caught.

“I just mean,” Sirius said, his eyes on Remus’. “You save our asses every day, you help us. You are fucking talented as shit, and then, for me, you’re just…gorgeous. Mon dieu, Remus, you in the showers… if I hadn’t just come…”

Remus laughed. “Okay, enough compliments.”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s the year of compliments.”

“You’re too sweet for me.”

“No, I’m perfect for you.”

The words were true. Remus looked down at Sirius, soft in the streetlight filtering into the garage, and pressed his hands to his cheeks.

“I think you are,” Remus said softly, but that wasn’t good enough. He said it more firmly. “You are."

Sirius’ expression changed, laughter fading. They stared at each other.

“Remus,” Sirius said.

Remus’ thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to hide forever.”

“I don’t want to either.”

“But I’m scared. I’m scared.”

Remus nodded, kissing Sirius once, twice. “I know. Don’t feel like you have to do anything, okay? Sirius, I…I’m in.” Remus took a breath, kissed him again, short and hard. “I’m in with you, okay? No matter what. As long as you’re here for me, too.”

“I am,” Sirius whispered. “I always want to be.” He smiled then, nervous but real, and tapped Remus’ wrist right over the watch he had gifted him.

Remus smiled, too, and Sirius leaned forward off of the seat to kiss him with a small, almost desperate noise.

“One day?” he said.

“Name the date,” Remus murmured against Sirius’ mouth. “I told you I’d wait.”

Sirius laughed lightly. “No pressure.”

“No,” Remus said, and pulled back to raise his eyebrows at him. “There’s really no pressure at all. Really, Sirius. As long as…as long as I have this, you, these moments…I’m so happy.”

Sirius’ expression was a quiet one, lost in thought for the most part, and adoring. He rubbed a hand up and down Remus’ side, loving. “Come somewhere with me this summer. Anywhere. A trip. I don’t care, Paris, the fucking jungle, Seattle. I don’t care, I just want to be somewhere. With you.”

Remus’ face broke into a grin. “I want that. Yeah, let’s do it.”

Sirius smiled back, and it filled up the entire space, the small car, the world, Remus’ entire chest.

“Happy New Year,” Sirius said, and kissed him.

Later, as Remus stood and watched Sirius drive away, he tried to think of where he had been this time last year. Happy, yes. Happy with his job, and himself, and how far he had come. Just beginning to think about coming out to his family, but never getting around to it. Loved by his family, his friends, his colleagues.

This year was different. No words had been put to it yet, and Remus understood why. But that didn’t change how he felt.

This year, he felt loved in an entirely different way.

This year, he was in love.

~

After Christmas, after Gryffindor’s Decembers, Remus was more than ready for a little sunshine in Florida. The Tampa Bay Lightnings had swept the Penguins last year in the playoffs, giving them lots of credit, at least in Remus’ mind. He was excited for the game, excited for the sunshine—

“Well, I’m excited to see you in a swimsuit.”

Remus looked down at Sirius, who was mouthing at the cut of his hips, carefully and torturously avoiding his hard cock. His hair was a wild, morning-mess of curls, and his eyes were sleepy, mouth soft and warm. The sunlight was filtering through the large windows in Sirius’ bedroom, and they were alone for the first time in what felt like weeks. Remus missed Sirius so much he felt it in his veins, and he guessed Sirius felt the same. He had been woken up at five in the morning, hours before they had practice, by Sirius’ hand gently cupping his soft cock through his underwear, Sirius’ already hard one against his hip.

“Jesus,” Remus breathed. “You just asked to suck my dick. I don’t think there’s anything left to be revealed.”

“I disagree,” Sirius said and bit down gently on Remus’ hip, looking up with a devastating mixture of bold and bashful. “You’ll tell me what’s good, d’accord?”

“It’s all good,” Remus grumbled, settling a hand in Sirius’ hair. “‘m gonna come just thinking about it.”

“No, no,” Sirius pressed a kiss to the side of Remus’ cock. “Not yet.”

Remus let his head fall back into Sirius’ pillows, spreading his legs further on his massive bed. Sirius pushed his arms under Remus’ hips, letting Remus’ calves rest on top of his shoulders. He kept his hands firmly on Remus’ waist, warm and strong.

“I might suck, okay?”

Remus, cock hard and flushed against his stomach, gave Sirius an incredulous look. “You might?”

Sirius blinked at him for a moment, and then burst out in a laugh, resting his forehead against Remus’ hip bone. “I meant I might be bad at this.”

“Sirius, you laughing next to my dick gets me going.”

Sirius bit his lip, and then moved his gaze to Remus’ cock again. It was thick, even if not quite as large as Sirius’. Remus’ pale skin was flushed all the way down his chest from Sirius’ mouth and the anticipation. He was practically tingling with it. His cock twitched hard when Sirius, finally, leaned down and pressed his mouth to the base in an open, soft sort of kiss.

Remus pet his hand through Sirius’ hair, watching quietly. He liked Sirius like this, sweet and careful. He could tell how turned on he was, though, but the way his hips were gently, almost unnoticeably, rocking against the bed.

He was so focused on Sirius’ hips, that the hot pressure around the tip of his cock nearly took him by surprise. Sirius sucked hard, and Remus felt the blunt pressure of his tongue against his slit, too.

“Oh,” Remus breathed out, fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair.

Sirius pulled off with a soft sound, and Remus’ cock bobbed above his stomach.

“Good?” Sirius asked simply, and Remus laughed, eyes closed.

“Yeah, baby.”

Sirius hummed appreciatively, and then he sucked Remus down, farther this time, hands moving down to Remus’ ass, fingers digging into the hard muscle.

Remus let out a long, unsteady breath. “Fuck…”

Sirius moaned in response and Remus’ hips jerked up.

“Ah—“ Remus gasped. “Sorry, you okay?”

Sirius just looked at him, and Remus could feel the hard press of his tongue. He realized Sirius was looking for instruction. The thought made Remus even hotter. Sirius, so confident on the ice, a menace, really, taking whatever he wanted. And yet waiting for Remus to tell him this.

He eased a hand around the back of his head, pressed down lightly. Sirius’ mouth moved with him, and Remus’ dropped open, his breathing heavy.

“Go easy,” Remus said, realizing immediately that it was a mistake.

Sirius’ eyes darkened, accepting the challenge.

“Jesus Christ,” Remus had time to say before Sirius was pulling off again and getting his knees beneath him, propping himself up to get a better angle. He laughed at Remus’ expression as he retrieved his hands from beneath Remus’ thighs, letting Remus’ legs splay out on either side of his hips. He circled his hand around Remus’ cock. He jacked him a few times, drawing a dribble of precome out.

“Easy?” he questioned, and then bent again, lips brushing the red head. “Remus…”

Remus smirked. Sirius was smug again, brimming with confidence. Remus wanted both sides, and he loved that Sirius gave them to him so willingly. “Alright, do whatever you want, Captain.”

That pulled the arousal back into Sirius’ expression, and Remus could see his cock now, heavy between his legs and dripping onto the sheets. Sirius bent, wordless, and slipped Remus back into his mouth, inch by inch, until his lips met his fist and Remus’ breathing was shaky.

He dragged up, cheeks sucked in, and Remus let his head drop back on the pillows again, hands fisting the sheets.

“Of course you’re good at this. Is there anything you aren’t good at, Christ, Sirius.”

Sirius just hummed, making Remus’ hips jolt again, and reached for Remus’ hand, placing it back on his neck.

“Aw, baby,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder muscle and then cupping the back of his head.

Sirius’ fingers found Remus’ hips again, digging in and he moaned. Remus wanted to touch him so bad, could catch glimpses of his cock, stiff and needy. Remus relaxed into the rhythm Sirius was building up, mouth open at the wet glide around his cock. He ached with it, felt the pressure building in his core.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Remus said, widening his legs as his balls drew up. “Sirius…”

Sirius didn’t pull up, but sucked harder, twisting his fist around Remus’ cock while he tongued at the head.

“Fuck, you’re so—” Remus’ hips strained upward, head digging into the pillows as his back arched. “I’m gonna, Sirius, I’m gonna—”

Sirius moaned in a way that sounded negative, like he was telling Remus not to come yet. It made Remus gasp. Sirius sunk down again, splaying his legs so he could rut against the bed. He sucked in time to his own thrusts, his eyes shut. His cheeks had a dark flush on them and Remus’ cock pulsed as he tried not to come, as Sirius gripped him hard around his base. It prolonged the crest, the feeling of being just there but not quite. Remus felt like he was already coming, his breathing quick with it. The position showed off Sirius’ shoulders, muscles moving with every hard flex of his hips.

Remus’ back arched harder, and then he forced his hips back down on the bed. His balls ached with how good he felt.

Sirius pulled off with a gasp, panting with his cheek on Remus’ hip. Remus’ cock was shining with his spit and jerking as it pulsed out precome.

“Loops,” Sirius panted, and mouthed just above his own fist, sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss. “Fuck, okay, come, come for me.” he said, and trailed his mouth back up to the tip, sucking Remus down again.

Both of Remus’ hands went to Sirius’ head this time. Sirius held Remus’ hips, his own working faster now, grinding down in small circles. He pulled up to suck hard on the head, and Remus was finished. His hips jolted and he moaned as he came hard into Sirius’ mouth. Remus’ hands pulled at Sirius’ hair and Sirius kept him warm and steady for another moment, tongue gentle.

Sirius pressed his forehead to Remus’ hip again as his fist worked him down, grinding against the bed with small sounds that Remus swore were going to get him hard again.

“C’mere,” Remus wrapped his hands around Sirius’ arms, pulling him, and then pushing him, until he was settled on his back. Remus trailed his fingers up Sirius’ wet cock and Sirius closed his eyes. “What do you want baby? Anything.”

Sirius opened his eyes again and, without a word, gathered Remus to his chest. Remus came willingly, kissing Sirius’ neck and jaw, his cheeks and temples, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so good,” Remus whispered as he ground his hips and sensitive cock against Sirius’ straining one. “That was so fucking good.”

Sirius made a low noise, arms wrapped around Remus’ back. “Re.”

“Come for me, baby,” Remus grinned. “And then you can think about me while you’re in the showers today, eh?”

“Oh fuck me,” Sirius managed to laugh, temples beaded with sweat as he rut up against Remus.

Remus felt that protectiveness flame up in his gut, familiar by now. He went back to kissing Sirius' neck, teeth scraping and heart leaping with the idea of leaving a mark that he knew he couldn’t leave.

“Je le veux,” Sirius said when he felt Remus’ teeth. I want it.

“This summer,” Remus breathed. “I promise.”

Sirius came between them, sudden and long. He held Remus against him, pressing his lips against his temple.

I love you, Remus thought for what felt like the thousandth time since New Year’s.

He kissed Sirius slowly, trying to pour the words out.

“Love waking up with you,” Sirius said, hands stroking down Remus’ sweaty back. His voice was scratchy and soft. “Watching you wake up, blinking and all that.”

Remus pressed his cheek against Sirius’ chest, listening to his heart. It was pounding.

I love you. I love youIloveyou—

Sirius’ alarm went off.

“Fuck,” Sirius laughed, and squeezed Remus tighter. “Shower? You know, the thing I’m going to embarrass myself in today after I get hard thinking about you.”

Remus grinned, cock fattening again with interest at the image. “That sounds nice.”

“Which one?” Sirius looked down at him, eyes on his semi. He reached for it, palming it gently. Remus’ breathing quickened again and he raised his head, doing his best to look innocent.

“Both.”

Sirius snorted, slapping Remus’ ass and rolling them out of bed.

~

Florida was just as warm as Remus was hoping it would be. Warm enough, and sunny enough, for the team to organize a beach workout.

“They call it a beach workout,” Logan said, throwing his hat down on a lounge chair so he could pull his shirt over his head. Remus eyed the fleur-de-lis tattoo on his left hip, a dark outline against his tan skin. “But it’s a beach day.”

“Sand sprints,” Kasey sighed, watching the waves and the rest of the team settle down in various rows of beach chairs. “Oh joy. Oh joy, oh joy.” He mumbled that to himself before discarding his shirt, too. “Yo, Loops, from one pale guy to another, wanna do my back?” He held up a bottle of sunscreen.

Remus really liked beach days.

“Sure, Kase,” Remus said.

“Sucks to suck,” Logan said, flexing his shoulders. “No burning here, baby. Can’t speak for freckles over here.”

“Hey,” Finn pushed his sunglasses into his hair as he threw his stuff down on the chair beside Logan. “Skincare is important.”

“I’m going swimming,” Leo announced, and shoved Finn in the direction of the water.

“Hey, Nut,” Logan snorted. “Ask Finn about seaweed.”

“That was one time, it’s slimy, and if any of it so much as floats near me, I’m done.”

Leo laughed. “I’ll protect you, Harz, come on.”

Logan stared after them, but didn’t follow. When he turned, he had put his own sunglasses back on, and Remus couldn’t read his expression. Logan sat down heavily on his chair. Maybe Remus would be able to find some time to get him alone this trip.

“Loops,” Sirius said, walking up to them through the sand. He looked gorgeous, baby blue bathing suit setting off his tan skin nicely. “There’s a chair with me, Talker and James, if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Remus smiled, trying to subtly check out the curve of his ass in the thin material. “C’mere, Kase, before I go.”

Kasey handed him the sunscreen and Remus squirted some into his palm. He sent another look to Sirius, who’s eyes were carefully blank, and smirked as he rubbed the lotion into Kasey’s sun-warmed, strong back.

“Aw, you’re just like Nat,” Kasey said. “Warming it up in your hands and shit, man.”

Remus laughed. “Thanks?”

“Always taking care of us, eh, Loops?” Sirius said.

“I do my best.”

The entire beach was crowded, and some girls in the tiniest bikinis Remus had ever seen asked for pictures with a few of the guys—Thomas the most popular—but other than that, everyone was relaxed and enjoying the much needed break from the brisk winds of Gryffindor.

Remus was on a chair between Sirius and Thomas, chin tilted up towards the warmth.

“Looking a little pink there, Loops.”

Remus cracked an eye open and looked at Sirius, who had just come back from a dip in the ocean. His hair was pushed away from his eyes, sopping and sticking up. The salty droplets fell down his body and Remus, behind his sunglasses, allowed himself a glance at the way his trunks wetly clung around the shape of his soft cock.

Remus loved beach days.

“I’m gonna put the umbrella up.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Thomas said, coming up behind Sirius, dark skin glistening and smile bright.

“Thanks, Talker,” Remus grinned at Sirius’ expression, as if offended that another man would get to raise Remus’ umbrella for him.

“No problemo. I’m gonna get a smoothie, anyone want one?”

“Yes,” James gasped, looking up from where he was lying on his stomach, and Remus jumped. He had thought he was asleep. “Please, I would like—strawberry banana? Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“Anything blueberry, I think,” Sirius said. “Thanks, Walkie.”

“Same,” Remus smiled up at him.

Sirius kicked Remus’ foot as Thomas walked away. Remus looked up in time to see Sirius glance at James, and then jerk his head towards the sea.

Remus smiled, and pushed himself out of his chair.

“Beach days are the best,” Remus said as his feet sunk down in the sand.

Sirius snorted. “Why, because you get to rub sunscreen all over Kasey Winter?”

“That was nice. Maybe it’s because Thomas is walking around all handsome.”

Sirius made a noise that was close to a whine and Remus laughed.

“Maybe it’s because your swimsuit’s clinging to your dick like they’re in love.”

Sirius burst out laughing as they waded into the water. “Alright, alright.”

The water was warm and Remus sunk right into rolling wave, diving down below it and letting the current pull him back for a moment before surfacing. The salt was cool and heavenly on his skin. He flicked his hair out of his face and looked up at Sirius, squinting in the sun.

“I’m never going back to winter,” Remus said.

“Yeah?” Sirius was smiling softly at him, eyes darting all over his face. Suddenly, he could see it. A trip with Sirius, just the two of them. No practice. No worries.

Remus shook his head, and dunked beneath the water again. Everything became quiet for a moment. He could hear the sand sifting against itself. The silence made his thoughts suddenly loud.

He loved Sirius.

He loved Sirius.

Remus broke through the surface just in time for Sirius to dive under. He felt Sirius’ hand press against his chest, submerged, and then it was gone as Sirius surfaced again. But Remus was grinning, hand where Sirius’ had been.

From the sea, Remus could see how the team had spread out. Jackson, Evgeni, Sergei, and Pascal were playing volleyball a little ways down, Leo and Finn were still in the water together. Remus didn’t see Logan. He hoped he went to get smoothies with Thomas. He could see Olli near by, sun shirt and sunhat on, in the shade, happily away from the sun and reading a book.

“Did you notice anything funny with Logan at Christmas?” Remus asked Sirius as they floated together, carried up and down with the waves and hands brushing.

“This again?” Sirius smiled a little and shrugged. “I don’t think so? I mean, I think it’s funny that he’s not living with Finn, but who am I to talk? Took me a long time to move out, too. Celeste is heaven in a person.”

Remus smiled, licking salt from his lips. “Yeah, no…” Remus finally spotted Logan on the beach. He was still sitting on his chair, eyes down and on his phone. “I just was wondering.”

“What do you think’s up with him?”

Remus shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Okay… I am the captain, you know.”

“No, really?”

Sirius grinned, floating on his back. “I just mean I’m here to help.”

“I’ll let you know, Captain.” What Remus didn’t say was, I actually think this one might help you.

“Hey,” Sirius said, and Remus looked. Sirius was sun-kissed. His eyes took on the light color of the water. Sirius swam closer, even though no one was close enough to hear. “I’d kiss you right now if I could. You look gorgeous.”

Remus let their feet brush in the floating sand. “I’d kiss you right back, baby.”

~

“Florida ice sucks,” Finn yelled, slapping his stick against it. “Bouncy mother fuck.”

They were at morning practice, two hours of ice time at the Lightning’s rink before the game that night. Remus was partly watching Sirius laughing as he and Olli played keep away while the next drill was set up, partly nodding along to Finn, leaning against the boards complaining, and partly looking at Logan across the rink, silent beside where Pascal and Kris were talking. He was shuffling a small bit of shaved ice with his stick, back and forth, back and forth.

“Loops, you should practice with us,” Finn said.

“He’s not insured,” Coach said, flipping through his notes. He was firm, but he sounded sorry. “If he gets hurt, he could sue us.”

Finn scoffed. “What if I pay him off right now?”

“Harzy, get your ass out on that ice and don’t complain about it.”

Finn sighed, but bumped his glove against Remus’ fist. “I fought for you. You took me down, and I fought for you.” He tapped his temple. “Remember that, Lupin.”

Remus laughed. “Whatever you say, Harz.”

Sirius was in full blown captain-mode, laser-focused on making sure they won every game they could. It was January now. They were getting closer and closer to clinching a play-off spot. But they had to keep winning. Remus watched him touring around the ice, checking in on everyone—Leo, in goal. Talking plays with Pascal. Mostly discussing but sort of arguing with the coaches in the endearing and intimidating way that he had.

Remus loved him.

They were five minutes into three-on-three drills when Logan went down hard near the goal, accidentally tripped up by Leo. It was an awkward, sudden fall, a caught skate blade-on-blade. It took him a second to get up, and Remus didn’t know if it was because he was hurt, or becomes of something else. He had been acting dazed all practice, Remus was trained to look for that for concussion reasons. Only, Logan hadn’t hit his head.

Sirius skated up to him, stopping just short of the boards. “I want you to check Tremz out.”

“The kid’s asleep on his feet,” Moody said from beside Remus. “Or something.”

“Tremz,” Remus called, and motioned him over with a beckoning hand.

Finn skated with him, as if afraid Logan was going to fall. By the look on Logan’s face, Remus didn’t think it was an entirely unreasonable fear.

“I’m telling you, Lo, Florida ice,” Finn said as Logan stepped off. His tone was teasing, but his worried eyes met Remus’.

Alright, come with me, Tremz.”

“Okay,” Logan said. He didn’t look at Finn.

“I just got tripped, Loops,” Logan said from the exam table. Remus saw the sleepless purple beneath his eyes. “Everything feels fine.”

“I know, it didn’t look bad,” Remus said as he washed his hands. “It took you a second to get up though. Feeling okay? I noticed a little at the beach, too. Thought it was the heat, but…”

Logan was silent for a few, long beats.

“Yeah,” he finally said, and that was all. It was faint, and Remus sighed and turned around. Logan was staring at his hands, gloves and helmet beside him.

“Logan,” Remus began, and Logan looked up. Remus stayed across the room, leaning against the sink and shelves. “I just want you to know…I want you to know that I’m a resource for you. That the confidentiality that applies to people like doctors, any sort of doctor, applies to me. I only have to report things if I feel like they pose a danger to yourself, or to other people.”

Logan blinked at him, hands twisting in his jersey.

“I’m here, Tremz. If you want to talk. If you need anything. Really. I’m here.”

Remus turned around, then, giving him space, busying himself with random things until—

“I’m so…” Logan’s voice was faint, small in a way that Remus had never heard it.

Remus turned around slowly, and his heart hurt for him. Logan was staring at his hands, still pulling at his jersey, and his eyes were dull with the pain of whatever he was thinking about.

“I’m…” he tried again, and swallowed hard. He looked up at Remus. “I’m horrible.”

Remus shook his head slowly, and walked over to him. “Why do you think that?”

Logan looked down again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, there were tears on his dark lashes.

“Fuck,” he wiped at them roughly, angrily.

“It’s okay, Tremz, hey…” Remus reached out, rubbing a hand over his back.

“No, it’s—” Logan tried again.

And then suddenly, in the next breath, Logan was sobbing. Great, heaving sobs that wracked his entire body. The scary part was, they were nearly silent besides his ragged breathing, as if he couldn’t bear to let them out but couldn’t catch his breath either. They tore out of him.

“It’s okay,” Remus said softly. “This is okay.”

Logan buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and cried.

Remus felt tears in his own throat just at the sight. This was hurt. This was pure hurt.

“I can’t love him,” Logan said, breathing hitching while he tried to get the words out. “I can’t—they’re—”

Remus took that in stride. He figured this was something to do with sexuality, based on what Leo had said—or, rather, shown. He thought of the multi-colored thread of his bracelet.

Remus shook his head. “Yes, you can.”

Logan looked up at him, green eyes bright and chest still jumping with his tears. He shook his head. “No.”

“Yes,” Remus said gently. “Logan, you can love whoever you want.”

“Not here,” Logan’s lip trembled and he blinked new, hot tears. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jersey. “Fuck, Loops you see what they—if they knew…”

“I know,” Remus said quietly. “I understand why you’re scared. I’m…” Remus took a breath. “I’m the same. And when I was playing…I was scared, too.”

That froze Logan in his tracks.

If anyone had told Remus a year ago that the first person he would be coming out to was Sirius Black, the second Leo Knut, and the third Logan Tremblay, he would have laughed.

“You’re…” Logan breathed.

Remus nodded silently. “Yes. And I understand.”

In the next moment, the door was opening.

“Hey, Loops, is Tremz—”

Remus felt Logan recoil at Finn’s voice, eyes widening at Remus as they both turned to look.

For a moment, Remus could only watch as Finn appeared, just his head and shoulders through the door, sweat dripping from his hair. The smile slowly dropped from his face as he took in the sight in front of him. Logan’s red eyes. His shaking hands.

He took another step inside. “Lo, oh my god.”

“Harz, do you want to give us a minute?” Remus said as steadily as he could. This was not what Logan needed. He should have locked the door.

“Lo, what’s wrong?” Finn looked at Remus. “Is he okay? What’s—Lo, what’s wrong?”

“Finn,” Remus said more firmly. “I’m asking you to give us a minute.”

“Logan,” Finn said again, taking another step through the door. He looked tall on his skates, but wrecked by what he was seeing. Remus heard Logan let out a low sob from beside him, and watched Finn’s face break, worried and confused.

“Finn, leave,” Remus said, and walked forward, pushing Finn gently backwards.

“Hey, no—get off me,” Finn said louder, and looked desperately back at Logan. “Lo…”

Logan looked down, lip shaking like it was taking everything in him to hold himself together.

Remus had never seen Finn aggressive off of the ice. For a moment, Remus thought he was going to push back, but then he deflated again.

“Logan,” Finn pleaded.

“Finn, I swear to fucking god, listen to me,” Remus gave him a shove. He opened the door. “I’m sorry, I know. You can talk to him later, that’s up to you, but right now, this is my office.”

Remus shut the door. They could both see Finn’s silhouette, standing there still, through the shade on the window. After a few, long moments, it disappeared.

Remus turned. “Oh god, Logan, I’m so sorry, I should have locked—”

Logan let out another breath, half air half tears, and shook his head. “None of this is your fault.”

“No, I told you that you could talk and then the person you’re talking about fucking—walks right in.”

Logan looked up, startled. “You know?”

“I…”

Logan’s hands gripped the padded table on either side of his thighs. “Do people know?”

“No, no, no—” Remus held up his hands, walking back over to him. “No, I swear, Tremz, no one knows.”

“How do you?”

Remus took a breath. “Um. Well…”

“Remus,” Logan said. He looked truly panicked. “Remus.”

“I can’t say that without—” Remus sent Logan a pleading look.

“Was it Finn?”

Remus pressed his lips together. He shook his head.

“It was Leo,” Logan said.

Remus knew before he could help it that his surprised expression gave him away. He guessed that he shouldn’t be that surprised. Leo and Logan were roommates on the road. It was logical that Leo would be a friend Logan might have confided in.

“Yes,” Remus stumbled through the word, and only because Logan had said, rather than asked.

Logan put his head in his hands.

“Fuck.”

“Do you…what’s can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said. “I don’t even know what I can do.”

“I think…I think you should talk to Finn. Then you two can figure out what you want to do. It’ll be hard and awkward but…it’ll work out. I know it will. You guys have a strong friendship.”

When Logan laughed, he sounded unbearably tired. “When has anything like that ever worked out before?”

Remus smiled a little. If he only knew.

“Just trust me, okay? Can you?”

Logan let out a long, exhausted breath. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. he snuffled, and rubbed his jersey against his face. “Fuck…yeah. I can.” Then, Logan looked at him carefully. “Are you…do you have someone?”

Remus hesitated, but nodded silently. “But I won’t say more than that.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “He’s in the League.”

“Go talk to Finn,” Remus evaded the question, then paused. “Maybe after you’ve both cooled off a little.”

Logan heaved himself off of the table. “Thanks, Loops. Really, I…I don’t really talk about this. My sisters, they want to talk about it, but I just…”

Remus waited patiently. Logan still looked tired, but he was standing a little straighter now.

“I’ve always been scared of it,” Logan said. “I was never allowed. I’m still not allowed.”

“Oh, you’re allowed,” Remus shook his head. “They are just people stupid enough to believe they can control something like that. Logan.”

Logan looked up at him.

“You said you love him.”

Logan’s eyes closed and he looked down again.

“And,” Remus gestured at the door. “I don’t know if you noticed, but he was about to take a swing at me just to get to you, so… it’s pretty clear to me that he has some sort of feelings, too.”

Remus had a brief, panicked thought, suddenly remembering June. He didn’t understand that part of this. From the way Finn had just acted, to whatever Leo, who lived with Finn, seemed to think…he didn’t know how she fit in.

“Feelings and a girlfriend,” Logan said, voice thick again.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t…” God, Remus ached for him, remember seeing Sirius with girls. “It’ll feel good to tell him, I think. He’s your best friend. Let him be there for you in any way that he can. Logan, you need people to support you through this. I didn’t have that, but now I do. And it’s really fucking important.”

Logan sniffed, eyes filling again. “I’ve never said it.”

Remus sucked in a breath. Me neither, he wanted to say, but instead he wrapped his arms around Logan, feeling him return the hug with a little bit of surprise.

“I think you should,” Remus said.

As he said it, he made a vow to himself, too.

~

The stadium was blue that night with Lighting jerseys, warm-up music blasting as the two teams skated around the ice. There were some vibrant spots of red near the glass, and Remus watched as Sirius skated over to a father and his two small children, one boy, one girl. The girl was wearing Thomas’ jersey, and the boy was wearing Sirius’. Remus smiled as Sirius waved at them with his glove, and then whistled at Thomas. Thomas skated over, too, asking the little girl for a high five through the glass, and then pretending to be knocked over and onto the ice with her force. She giggled madly. Sirius threw a puck over to the boy, then posed for a picture.

His attention was pulled away by the sound of a hard stop in front of the boards near him.

“Fucking ice,” Finn grumbled. He looked at Remus, then away, cheeks flushing. Pascal was with him, and squirted him with a water bottle.

“Not with the cameras and microphones around, mon cub. Florida will kill us all.”

Finn rolled his eyes. He looked tense. He didn’t look at Logan, a few feet away, on his knees and stretching.

Remus caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Logan shook his head. So, they hadn’t talked about it yet. That was good, it had only been a few hours. By the looks of it, Remus would guess that they weren’t talking at all right now.

“Don’t let it affect your play, Harzy. It’ll work out,” Remus said quietly, and Finn’s eyes snapped towards him. They went hard, and he all but threw his water bottle back into the bench slots.

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Finn said lowly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” came a new voice, and one of Tampa’s blue uniforms came skating up, taking Finn immediately into a headlock. “If it isn’t my baby brother.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. He had completely forgotten that Finn’s brother played for Tampa. That he had a brother in the League at all.

“Alex, come on,” Finn groaned as Alex rattled his helmet before letting go. Finn laughed though, and hugged him, slapping his padded shoulder. “Hey, man. Ready to get your ass whipped?”

“Fat fucking chance,” Alex shook his head, and smiled at Remus. He had his brother’s smile, all blinding perfect teeth, crinkling soft brown eyes. Alex kept a faint, red stubble that Finn shaved clean off. He called for Logan, then, who skated over a little hesitantly, and bumped fists with him.

“Sup, Lo,” Alex said. “Haven’t seen you in the city for a few years, what’s that about?” He glanced back at Finn, who’s smile had faded. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Remus. “These kids lived at each other’s houses during college.”

Remus smiled back, dying a little inside at the pain he wasn’t sure Finn’s older brother knew he was currently causing.

“I can believe it,” Remus said.

Logan coughed and shuffled a little on his skates. “Just busy, I guess.”

“I guess,” Alex parroted with a laugh. “Alright,” he smacked Finn’s ass with his glove. “Good luck little brother, love you bunches.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn grumbled, retaliating with a shove from his stick, but he smiled again. Remus was glad, because he could see about fifteen cameras trained on them.

“Boys,” Sirius stopped hard in front of them. “The fuck are we standing around here? Circle shoot, come on.”

Logan shot away as fast as it seemed that he could. Finn, however, looked again at Remus. His brown eyes were worried and Remus did his best to look back calmly.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and then glanced at Pascal, who was very obviously pretending like he wasn’t listening.

“You can’t know that,” Finn said quietly.

“But we can hope,” Remus replied, and then nodded towards center ice. “Cap’s calling. Play the game first, and come find me later if you want.”

Finn took a long, slow breath, and then wordlessly skated away.

Pascal took his place in front of Remus, and he was smiling. “Sometimes we all simply need a little baby push in the right direction, non?”

Remus stared at him. Pascal just kept smiling.

“Like a dinner invitation,” Pascal shrugged exaggeratedly. “On a stormy night.”

Remus nearly choked. “I—Dumo.”

“I have a game to play, Remus,” Dumo sing-songed as he skated away to shoot on Leo.

“Dumo,” Remus yelled.

“What are you yelling at Dumo for?” Coach said, coming out of the tunnel with his line card.

Remus stared at him. “Um—the water bottles, he was unscrewing the water bottles.”

“Oh,” Arthur laughed. “The usual.”

“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly. “Apparently.”

~

They won 3-2, two goals from Thomas and one from James. The atmosphere in the locker room as everyone packed up to get back on a plane to Gryffindor was calm and pleased. Remus was packing up his supplies in the visitor’s PT room when there was a knock at his door. Remus looked up.

“Finn,” he said, not completely surprised. “Hi. Good game.”

Finn sent him a small, wavering smile. His hair was tucked beneath a beanie and he had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his light gray suit.

“Can we talk?” he said.

“Of course,” Remus gestured to a chair and the exam table. “Where ever.”

Finn pulled the hat from his head, red hair a mess beneath, flopping over his forehead. He let out a long breath as he hitched himself up onto the table, vans swinging on his feet.

“Logan’s really hurting,” he said. “And it’s my fault.”

Remus blinked. Based on Logan, he had thought he was going to have to work a little harder to get Finn talking.

“Okay,” Remus said slowly. “Why is it your fault?”

“Because I’m an asshole.”

Remus laughed, just a little. “Harz, you aren’t an asshole. What do you mean?”

Finn took a few moments to respond. He was pulling at his suit lapels and seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek.

“Loops, what I’m about to tell you…”

“Doctor’s confidentiality, Harz,” Remus said. “It’s the same deal as you telling me you think you might have an STD. That information’s going no where, unless I think you’re about to cause someone else some harm.”

Finn actually laughed. “Oh. That’s a real nice image, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Me, um. Me and Logan, in college…we had, well, I wouldn’t call it a thing but,” Finn looked up at Remus, expression soft. “Logan’s my best friend. That’s all we’ve—that’s all we’ve said, but I,” Finn pressed a hand over his mouth, staring at the wall. He laced his fingers together, then, elbows on his knees. Remus watched him think it through, watched the words formulate in his mind. He watched Finn feel them in his entire being. “Remus, I love him so much. Really, love him, I mean. I’m—I’m in love with him.”

Remus looked at him. He admired him. Finn was nodding slowly to himself, eyes closed. Remus understood Logan’s pain now. Logan, who had never said such a thing, not even when Remus had flat out asked him.

“Finn, that doesn’t make you an asshole.”

Finn just gave him a pained look. “June.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, maybe explain that to me.” When Finn didn’t answer, but just pressed his fingers into his eyes, Remus took a step further. “Finn, was…was this, like, a jealousy thing?”

“It didn’t start that way,” Finn said. “At first it was…it was me trying to be happy. Me trying to move on.” Finn groaned. “I…I really, really like June. And she really likes me but,” he laughed, a little tearfully. “It took her about three fucking days after I asked her on a date to figure me out. Literally, I thought we were going to lunch and she fucking sat down like, alright, O’Hara, who are you in love with?” Finn rubbed a hand over his face, laughing again, but the laugh was sad. “I thought I was going to fucking cry.”

Remus thought Finn looked like he was going to cry right now.

“After I told June what was up,” Finn sighed. “We became really good friends. Like, is that weird? She’s the first person I got to open up to. Ever. She’s—fuck, she’s incredible.”

It actually made pretty good sense to Remus. He’d never actually seen them kiss, but he could see the affection there.

“And she said she would come to family skate with me, as a friend, because my family was at my brother’s this year, right? Here, in Tampa. But everyone assumed she was my girlfriend, of course, I mean that’s logical.”

“Right…”

“And then she went along with it, maybe to help, and then I saw the look on Logan’s face, and I thought…” Finn stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. “I thought…maybe now he’ll talk to me. Maybe we can sort this out. Maybe I’ll finally tell him…I’ll tell him…”

But he couldn’t finish.

“I think,” Remus began. “I think you guys should talk to each other. Really, just—just a long, sit down talk.”

Finn nodded. “I try. Logan…fucking French.”

Remus smiled a little. “There’s a lot of history here that I don’t know about, and a lot of feelings I wasn’t there for. Only you two know how you feel, and what you want.”

Finn still looked conflicted, though, and he was rubbing at his heart like it hurt. “But Leo—”

Remus tilted his head a little at him. Logan had mentioned Leo, too.

“Does Leo know about all this? What is he, like the middle man between you two? Because he’s the one who told me to talk to Logan.”

Finn’s head snapped up. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he also told me about you and June, so—”

“No, no,” Finn said, suddenly standing. “Leo knows about me and June. Like, the truth. Logan doesn’t know.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, Logan’s the one you’re in love with, right?”

Finn’s smile was sad. “Only for seven years of my life. But, there's…”

Remus waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, just shook his head. “Well,” Remus said. “Then I think maybe you should tell him that you don’t have a girlfriend. That might make things a little easier for him.”

Finn groaned. “Yeah. Fuck me, see? I’m an asshole.”

Remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “No, Harz. You’re trying your best to be yourself in a world that’s making it really fucking hard. You’re brave. You just need to talk to the people who will help you. You’ll support each other.”

Finn blinked at him, and then cursed and pulled Remus into a hard hug, face tucked into his neck.

“You helped me, Loops. Fuck me,” Finn pulled back and he was sniffling a little. “Do you get paid for this?”

Remus laughed. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Remus patted his shoulder. “We need to get on a bus now, Harz.”

“A long talk to him on the bus,” Finn’s face lit up with anticipation and nerves.

Remus shook his head. “No.”

Finn sighed, but nodded as if resigned to Remus being right. “We’ll talk to him at home.”

Remus tilted his head as Finn turned towards the door. “We?”

“Catch you on the plane, Loops!” Finn called, and let the door close slowly behind him.

It was caught by a hand before it closed. Sirius’ head poked in.

“Jeez,” he said, and then grinned while Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius closed the door, turned the lock, and then pulled Remus in with his hands on his hips. He leaned down to brush their lips together, his hair, wet from his shower, dripping cooly on Remus’ neck. “You’re city hall today, eh?”

Remus grinned, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck. He looked handsome in his dark gray suit. “You have no idea.”

“Is this to do with your Logan fixation?”

Remus snorted. “Oh God. That makes it sound like I have some sort of kink for him.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Remus laughed, and pulled him down for a hard kiss, licking into his mouth before sealing it with a soft scrape of his teeth against Sirius’ lip. “You know that’s only for you.”

Sirius tucked his face against Remus’ neck and held him close. “Mine or yours tonight?”

Remus thought for a moment, heart speeding up. He carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Mine. I’ll cook.”

And I’ll tell you I love you, he didn’t add.

The plane ride felt quick, and Remus had slept the entire time. He was groggy as they stumbled off the plane. He caught Sirius staring at him as they exited into a waiting area. Sirius smiled at him, warm and soft. It filled Remus up to the brim.

I love you.

It had been playing like a record on the plane, even as he slept. He dreamed in I love you’s, now, he lived and walked in them. He needed to say it. He thought of Finn and Logan. He needed to say it. He would say it tonight.

Sirius had one AirPod in, and he looked down, still smiling. Remus expected his phone to buzz with a text any second.

Instead, Remus watched Sirius’ entire posture change. He stiffened. He had a funny look on his face, looking down at his phone. It was staring and vacant. With alarm, Remus realized he could see Sirius’ hand shaking. He took one step forward, and then Sirius looked up. His eyes, even from across the room, were completely blank, cold. They stopped Remus in his tracks. It was identical, perfectly identical, to Sirius’ first years on The Lions. That stare was Sirius looking through layers and layers of walls, of brick and cobwebs and years of being torn down. What Remus didn’t know, was what had sprung them up so fucking quickly. Just hours ago, Sirius had been smiling and kissing his neck. Now, he was looking at Remus like he didn’t know who he was. Before, years ago, Remus hadn’t known Sirius well enough to realize that look for what it was.

Now, he knew Sirius looked afraid.

“Whoa,” he heard from behind him, and turned. Finn was staring at him wide-eyed. Logan was staring at Sirius, eyes even bigger. James was staring at Sirius, expression unreadable. They all had their phones in their hands.

Remus reached for his own phone, nearly dropping it. No emails. No texts. Remus’ hands were shaking, too, now. He had a feeling in his stomach.

Twitter. Trending.

Remus swayed, hand reaching out for something to grab onto and finding one of the flimsy, belt, line dividers. He felt his entire body heat up, then go ice cold.

#SiriusBlackGay.

It was worse when he clicked on it.

Captions. Horrible, horrible, captions. He didn’t even see if there were any supporting messages. All he could see were question marks, and capital letters. Slurs.

Burning this jersey, one said.

#notmycaptain.

And the pictures.

They were dark, but they were clear. Taken through Sirius’ car window, in Remus’ parking garage. On New Year’s eve. Remus was on Sirius’ lap. They were kissing in one, and in another, Remus was kissing Sirius’ neck, Sirius’ face tilted up, eyes closed. They were perfectly recognizable with their hats off, with the streetlight filtering in.

#CaptainBottom the tweet read.

Remus felt sick. He pressed a hand to his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

Sirius.

Remus looked up when someone said Sirius’ name, quietly. It was Pascal. He was the only member of the team to approach their captain, the others still frozen or shuffling with shock. Remus watched as Pascal reached out a hand. He watched as Sirius fell a step backwards.

“Sirius,” Pascal said again, followed by French that was too low for Remus to hear.

Not even Sirius seemed to hear. Remus watched his throat work around a swallow. Remus silently begged Sirius to look at him. But he didn’t.

Instead, Sirius turned on his heel and walked out of the airport, automatic doors opening before him, and then sealing shut. Sirius disappeared as the light’s reflection took over the glass. Remus found himself staring at his own, murky reflection, smaller and behind Pascal’s, who still had his hand out.

Remus couldn’t look away from the whites of his own terrified eyes. His hand closed more tightly around his throat. He couldn’t think.

Vaguely, he registered James walking slowly up to him. He stood there, shown in the door’s reflection for a long moment, and then Remus watched his hand reach out and gently hold Remus’ shoulder.

“Can I drive you home?” James said softly.

Remus stared ahead, eyes unseeing. James gently took his phone out of his hand and clicked it off, slipping it into his own pocket. He wrapped his arm more firmly around Remus’ shoulders.

“Come on, Re. Let me—let me be here for you.”

“He needs you,” Remus choked out. They both knew who he meant.

“I’m going there next,” James started walking them forward. “Lily’s going to you. She’ll meet you at your apartment, okay?”

That made Remus’ eyes fill. He blinked away the wetness, and it dripped down his cheeks.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay, babe,” James said and squeezed his shoulders.

They followed where Sirius had been, out the doors and into the freezing night.

[egcdeath]

a date with destiny

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: fate brings you to a... questionable man more than a few times. 

warnings: lots of fluff, enemies/strangers to lovers, kind of cringe

a/n:  i swear my new thing is poorly writing every played out fanfic trope on the planet, i'm so sorry guys. maybe hallmark can hire me to write a few movies for them

You definitely could’ve avoided this situation if you didn’t wait for the weekend before Christmas to go shopping for your family’s presents.

You had no idea why your time management had to be so bad, but in the midst of working way too many hours in an effort to get promoted, you had completely forgotten about the fact that Christmas was literally right around the corner. And to make it worse, you had a flight tomorrow that you’d also forgotten about.

You sulked to yourself while walking around Nordstrom, waiting for inspiration to strike you for a semi-decent gift for your mother. The whole world seemed to be out that day, and you watched a plethora of shoppers pass you by, with their sour faces and unruly children. After eventually deciding on a black winter sweater for your mom, you went on your way to the candle section, knowing exactly the brand and scent that your sister would love.

This candle was the definition of a non-negotiable for you, and had been the reason you came to a Nordstrom in the first place, and when you found it sitting on a shelf by itself in all of its glory, you had simply become transfixed.

As you walked toward the candle, you didn’t notice that another customer was going for it as well, leading both of your hands to land on the candle, the absurdity of the situation making you blush. This was just your luck.

“Oh, this is awkward,” you played off the encounter, then attempted to subtly pull the candle your way, and away from the man.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” The man whose hand was also placed on the candle said shortly, before attempting to pull the candle his way.

“Hey man, I’m kinda on a tight schedule, and I really need to get this like… right now. I have a flight in like.. An hour,” you exaggerated.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I really need this candle too.”

You took a deep breath, only you would find yourself in this kind of situation. “To be fair, I definitely saw this candle first. I’m its rightful buyer,” You attempted.

“Mmm, I definitely had my eyes on it first, so with your logic, I deserve this candle.” The man narrowed his baby blue eyes, and put a hand on his hip.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hoping that maybe if you acted dramatic enough, he’d leave you and your candle alone.

“Sweetheart, can you even afford this kind of thing? I’m sure your friends or family, or whoever the fuck you’re getting this for, would rather you not go into debt over a candle. Just let me have it,” he responded cooly, as if he hadn’t just called you poor to your face.

You looked at him with an open-mouthed expression, completely shocked at the nerve this man had. “Fuck you, you asshole!” You attempted to yank the candle out from his grip, and you could begin to tell that the man’s resolve was beginning to fall.

“Fine. Take the damn candle. But maybe you could give me a little gift in exchange, and go out with me sometime,” he offered, slipping his now free hand into the pocket of his tan peacoat.

You were honestly shocked by this whole exchange. How did he go from insulting you and calling you poor, to asking you on a date? Men are so weird, you thought to yourself. He really isn’t that bad looking, you also considered. “Eat shit, guy,” you told him before flipping him off, and walking away.

-----

Imagine your surprise when you saw the same man from the store sitting in a local Massachusetts restaurant, with whom you assumed were his family. With your sister sitting across from you, you couldn’t help but be gossipy and point him out.

You scoffed and leaned over to your sister once you saw him, “See that guy over there?” You whispered to her, gesturing your head in his general direction.

“Which one?” she asked. “There are like five guys. Are you talking about the dude with the goatee? That old dude with the grey hair? Y/N! I didn’t know you were a grave robber!” she giggled and poked your side while you rolled your eyes, “Or, are you talking about that sexy beast in the white sweater?”

“The se- the dude in the sweater-”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty hot. You should go talk to him,” she began to scoot out of her seat.

“No, you idiot!” You whisper shouted to her. “That guy basically attacked me in the store the other day. And then, he had the nerve to ask me out on a date!”

He must’ve felt the two of you’s stare, as he turned around and gave you a brief surprised look, then a twisted smirk.

“Oh my god, Bea, act natural,” You whispered before turning your head so fast that you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

You brought a hand up to your face and rubbed your browline in a fit of embarrassment. You looked down, then began to shovel pasta into your mouth at an ungodly fast rate.

“Oh come on, Y/N, he’s cute. What did he say to you that was so bad that you turned down his hot ass?” She asked, glancing back over at the man who was still occasionally looking over at your table.

“It’s kinda a long story. I’ll tell you later,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat steadily growing on your cheeks.

Beatrice shrugged, and a waiter approached your table.

“Ma’am, the man over there wanted me to give this to you,” he said before awkwardly placing a glass of white wine in front of you, along with a ripped napkin with a note and number.

We started off on the wrong foot, give me a call sometime?

Ransom

XXX-XXX-XXXX

-----

You looked at the note for so long, that it would’ve been better off being tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Just text him, Y/N,” your sister told you, her sentence a bit muffled by the toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

“He really seems like a dick,” you groaned, before rolling onto your back and throwing an arm over your eyes. Your sister rinsed out her mouth in the ensuite before returning with some advice.

“Well, he’s hot. Maybe you can bring him as a date to the Holiday party or something,” she stated before sitting down on the foot of your bed. “What’s the worst that could happen, Y/N? If he hurts your feelings, you can throw a hot drink at him and walk away. At best, you get a hot piece of ass to be your boyfriend.” she squeezed your calf reassuringly.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll text him tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl!” Beatrice cheered, then placed a kiss on your forehead. “‘Night, Y/N,”

“Goodnight,” you mumbled before attempting to fall asleep.

-----

The funny thing about you, is that you were a master procrastinator. So after a day and a half, you’d put Ransom’s number into your phone, but had contemplated so many different opening texts, that you’d just completely given up. Besides, you had your parents’ holiday party to be attending and to be caring about.

You did some final touch ups of your makeup, before heading downstairs, and watching guests arrive from a safe spot in the kitchen.

Sometime after talking to about seven of your childhood friends, you felt a large hand press against the satin material of your short, red, tie-waisted dress.

“No way, girl I see everywhere?” The man who you know knew was Ransom, asked.

“It’s Y/N. Hi, Ransom,” you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh at the absurdity of it all, the fact that he was standing in your parents’ home, the fact that he was literally everywhere you went, and because you��d never in your life been called ‘The girl I see everywhere.’

“Why didn’t you ever call me? I mean, not even a text? Also, why are you following me everywhere?” He inquired, moving to stand in front of you.

“Well, I uh.. I forgot. Sorry, I’m a super busy woman. And I also live here... sometimes.. so if anyone is following anyone else, it’s you following me,” you tried to say this confidently, but something about Ransom really threw you off your game.

“You live here? No way. Is this like your family home?” He asked, and you nodded. “So our parents have been friends this whole time, and we had no idea.” He gestured to a doorway, where your mother and his were talking with flutes of champagne in hand.

“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

“Maybe, this is just fate. We’re meant to be together, and that’s why we keep seeing each other everywhere,” you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head when he said that to you, genuinely confused at why those words would come out of his mouth. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just kidding,” he said with a bemused smile.

“You have a weird sense of humor, Ransom.” You told him plainly, trying to act disinterested, though you were rather endeared. He definitely saw right through you, as he gave you a little grin before he began to speak again.

“So tell me about yourself.”

-----

After a few too many drinks, you were walking down the sidewalk, hand and hand with Ransom as you searched for any sort of restaurant that could be open at that hour.

Finally, you found a quaint and rather empty 24-hour diner with its lights on. The two of you sat down in a booth, and struggled to contain giggles as you sipped from mugs of stale, lukewarm coffee. Why you were giggling, you weren’t completely sure.

“You know what, Ransom, once you get over the asshole-ness, you’re not that bad,” you reached out a hand, and set it on top of Ransom’s, that was idly sitting on the table.

“Wow, thanks,” he chuckled, a dark pink dusting his cheeks.

“Why did we even come here?” You groaned, “No offense, but this coffee tastes like ass,” you whined,

“And how do you know what ass tastes like?” Ransom burst out giggling at this.

“Shut up. Are you twelve?” You pretended to be annoyed with him, before giving in and laughing along with him. “Can you take me home?” You asked with puppy dog eyes.

Apparently, one for the dramatics, Ransom tossed a $50 bill onto the table, then stood up from his seat at the booth to swoop you up in a bridal style.

“Ohhh my god,” you slurred as he carried you out the door, then eventually set you back down on the pavement once he became tired.

-----

While you walked up to your doorstep, Ransom stood on the sidewalk, watching you contentedly. As you got to your door and turned around, he gave you a big, goofy smile and a wave.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in with me,” you invited. It was safe to say, Ransom happily obliged.