#plashing

[turndecassette2]

i just wanted to say that you make my heart feel everything and youre my world and im so glad i can see what you create and youre so important to me and i truly believe your vision and youre just so tramendeously great🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀 (your works, and skits and feel of the line make me feel like i would want to rip out and give to you my living beating heart and i would feel so thankful from doing so)

I appreciate this though logistically I'm not sure where I'd store a live human heart, long-term

[trainingdummyrabbit]

SAD ! game ost track upload has only one comment and it is nothing but comparing it to another, more popular game track!

[papyrusmailbox]

I have became one with the piano now because apparently it was radioactive

I'm piano man now.

I MUST SAY I AM A BIT CONFUSED, BUT I SUPPORT YOU STILL, HUMAN! UNDYNE LOVES YOU!! SHE SAYS SHE'D SMASH YOU!!

[identityarchitect]

taz zombie apocalypse au ...

Everyone has different names for the mould that cascades through the streets, digging its heels into the gaps between pavement stones and bricks and crawling up pipes like long arms begging to be taken to heaven. Some call it The Maw, some The Abyss, some simply Death. Taako and Lup call it The Hunger.

Or - Taako calls it The Hunger. He hasn't heard from Lup in a while. She was studying somewhere far away (Everwind? Everwinter? something like that) when The Hunger hit. She tried to keep up with him, but her radio must've broken or something. Maybe she's turned it off, preserve power. Maybe Everwhatever's dealing with The Hunger better than anywhere else and she's just continued her studies. She promised she'd be back. She promised.

Something in Taako knows, however, that she isn’t coming. That means he has to find her. That means travelling to Ever-whatever-it's-called.

It’s less dangerous on the road, he knows. There were less people, so there'll be less zombies too, less dull, thoughtless husks that The Hunger has incorporated into its mass and is piloting around to bring in more. Images of the things rise to his mind, sentry duty from within Refuge’s keep, carved into the cliff face that protects the town, watching the things shamble about outside. They made almost no sound, and sentry duty was always a pain because you could never see the damn things well enough for a clear, decisive arrow shot.

Enough dwelling. Time to get moving.

Everything Taako needs is kept in his bag; mask, non-perishable food (mainly beef jerky he found at a defunct food bank), water, compass, map, as well as soaps shoved into the bottom for whenever he reaches running water to wash his clothes and himself. He keeps his backup knife in an improvised scabbard on his belt, and has been attaching knives and blades to Lups umbrella at every opportunity. It's now covered in knives at the tips, outside and in, and is - in Taakos professional opinion - a weapon of mass destruction. He couldn't be happier.

He slips out of the musty old basement he'd hidden out in for the night, already wearing his mask, squinting against the dim light of the morning. This is another use for the umbrella, but he doesn't get it out just yet. The dawn is yawning across the sky, the warm colours cracking into the clouds like a stained glass window. He takes a moment to appreciate it, and then orients himself, and continues in his way to find Lup.

[peachydoo]

has this been done yet part like 5 i dont know

[cutevoid]

sundayyyy🧸🧸🧸✨

[feunnec]

Plish Plash

[plish-plash]

Being someone who is really only semi-verbal but Hates Silence is actually incredibly annoying

It makes talking to strangers and especially people you know but haven’t talked to in a long time really painful

Like I want to say something but either the words just won’t come out or my mind fully draws a blank on conversational topics

It’s honestly most likely why I have so many neurodivergent friends who can just rant about the same or a (distantly) connected string of things for hours without me having to do much more than listen

[oh-dear-so-queer]

'It's a shame to wake you,' whispered Sam, 'but that's what you said. There's nothing to tell, or not much. I thought I heard some soft plashing and a sniffling noise; but you hear a lot of such queer sounds by a river at night.'

"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[honeqq]

hi I love your au and just wonder the picture where bill in his human from and dance with Clifford's , is it a prom thing or the blood moon night thing ?

Blood moon night! here the plot of that night cuz that Actually the first step of development of their reliatioship :

So every once a years McGriffith family will host a grand masquerade party where all the famous and rich ppl came. And all the family members need to be present, despite get kicked out Cliff still need to attend to family gathering so he MUST COME to this party. So cliff are kinda bored to came cuz he's not really comfortable with a many crowd and hoping bill can come with him. But Bill obviously refuse cuz if he came he need to use a human disguise cuz that's not gravity falls , human in this ERA capture something like him for experiment so Hard NO!

But cliff wasn't give up he make a bet , if Bill come and able to find him before 9 among all these ppl with mask . he'll give he read 2 copy of page of the journal . Because with how Bill Always avoid to look at his appearance , Cliff think that Bill probably doesn't remember his face anyway but Bill :

"2 page? Just to find this guy on the party? That's Hella a good deal! This is interesting"

Bill : wait the Party start at 8:30 PM

Cliff : *smirk* ik you will cheated if I give you too many time so I hope youll find me before 9 *boop*

So the day of the party cliff already gone since morning probably preparing for the party so bill had no idea with how this guys will look like, or dressed. Bill kinda quite pissed that cliff knew about him too much to counter him back and play with him. He would already get the journal if this guys doesn't that smart to counter his manipulating . But now let him pick what to dress.

Bill arrived at the party , when he enter there everything is red the main Lighting make everything red, it's like blood got plash everywhere it hard to see ppl with this kind of light cuz everyone is red. "Oh this guy knew what he doin when giving me this bet"

[nottsangel]

hi would you do a theo w/ piss kink? like you two are having sex and he pisses in you or like on your pussy? or he makes us really overstimulated and we do it? love your writing soo much btw babe!!!

tw piss !!!!!!!!!!

“fuck, need you so bad right now.” theo growls into your ear, his voice low and raspy, teasing you as you feel his erection grinding against your bare thigh, naked bodies pressed against each other. “fuck me then, theo, please” you beg, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to pull him closer as you feel yourself grow even wetter at his alluring words, craving desperately to feel him deep inside of you.

his hips come to a halt momentarily, as if he’s contemplating, while he gently grips your jaw and tilts your head, giving him access to your already hickey-covered neck. “hm. but i need to pee real bad, though.” he whispers softly, a sense of frustration in his tone as his mouth latches onto the skin of your neck, planting sloppy, wet kisses right on your sweet spot, making you let out a breathless gasp.

you hook one leg around his torso, wanting to keep him as close as possible while you run your fingers through his soft, brown locks. you feel the precum from his pink tip leaking onto your bare legs, making it incredibly difficult for you to control yourself, yet you release your grip on him to let him go as you let out a defeated sigh. “it’s okay baby, i’ll wait for you here.” yet, to your surprise, he doesn’t get up to go to the bathroom— instead, his wandering hand trails down to your dripping cunt, pressing firmly against your inner thigh as he spreads your legs further apart.

“not— mm… needed.” he mumbles softly against your skin, his other hand roughly massaging your tits, causing you to narrow your eyes at him in confusion. “theo, what do you— oh.” you then realise what he’s hinting at, having done it once before, and you instinctively spread your legs further apart, your head spinning at the thought. “alright, alright… go for it.” theo lets out a surprised but exhilarated chuckle, a wide grin forming on his face as he groans against your neck. “oh, fuck. you’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

theo eagerly moves back to kneel in front of you, his painfully full bladder desperately needing release as he bites his lip, eyeing you hungrily. he places one hand on your thigh to push your legs open, while the other grips his cock, aiming it right at your glistening cunt. “così perfetta.” he groans as he lets go, a stream of urine shooting from the tip and plashing directly onto your already soaked cunt, trickling down your legs onto the sheets.

“mmm, feels so good baby.” you moan ecstatically, feeling the hot liquid right on your aching clit and dripping entrance while gazing up at him with seductive eyes, your hands teasingly massaging your tits. he shakes his head in disbelief with a smug smile plastered on his face, unable to understand how he got himself a girlfriend this fucking hot as he stares at your drenched body in admiration, his head cocked slightly to the side. “fuuuck. almost makin’ me cum too right now.”

he lets out a sigh of relief as his bladder is finally empty, then taps his dick against your pussy, shaking off the excess liquid. “yeahhh… that’s— that’s better.” he eagerly moves towards you once again, his hands resting on either side of your face as he hovers closely above you, his piercing eyes hungrily staring at you and his hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine.

“now, where were we?” he whispers right into your ear, his pulsating cock prodding at your wet entrance, soaked with a combination of his piss, your arousal and his precum. with one quick thrust, he abruptly pushes in until he’s ball deep inside, causing you to moan loudly. he quickly sets a relentless rhythm, his hand traveling down to where your bodies meet as he uses his own piss to rub fast circles on your swollen clit.

“my dirty girl, hmm? all mine. and so fucking perfect.” he growls possessively, the hand that was toying with your clit now slowly wandering up until it lands on your bare stomach, right where your bladder is. he lightly presses down on it, making you squirm and whimper— and you quickly realise exactly what he’s trying to do. “gonna fuck you so good, cara mia, until you’re making a mess everywhere.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[identityarchitect]

Everyone’s on edge when they meet the orc. When she sees them, her eyes widen, and she raises her crossbow at Barry, squinting her eyes at his lich form.

“Who are you?” she says. Barry holds his hands up in front of him. Taako’s still not used to seeing skeletal hands moving. It’s a little weird.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, which seems to make her more suspicious, “but I’m not. I promise I’m not. I- I wouldn’t.”

“And why should I trust that?”

“I know about the-” static. They have a short conversation like that, trading scant few coherent words in between swathes of static. Eventually the woman seems to believe him, though, and she looks over at them.

“Killian. Nice to meet you. There’s a guy here who wants to destroy the world. We’re gonna stop him.”

“Great!” Magnus says, exasperated.

“Yeah, this is just our normal schedule. Nine AM, save the world, ten AM, save the world, eleven AM, save the world.” Taako says, sarcastic.

“Twelve PM, brunch with god.” Merle adds. Barry’s laughing. A lot.

"Oh man," he says once he's recovered, wiping away a fake tear from his skull. "You guys have no idea."

[jamespottersdaisy]

Gold Rush.

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

"You keep a manual on how to turn down a girl?"

"Do you really want to talk about other girls on our date? I mean, I am fine with it if that's what you want, but it's rather uncommon topic for dates."

based on a request.

warnings- literally nothing, this is just pure fluff.

6,1k

author's note- no use of y/n. i kinda like this but also don't? but i definitely enjoyed writing this. english is not my first language so beware <3

The weather was warm, and the Sun was hugging you under its heat. A light breeze would caress your hair occasionally, reminding you that you were still laying on the grass.

You should move under the tree’s shadow, but there was just something too peaceful about laying down on the green, so close to the lake that wouldn’t let you move an inch.

Your eyes were closed, sun lightening the pitch black under your eyelids. Your ears were focused only on the plashings from the lake. Your senses were relaxed, letting the serene sensation take over. You were blissfully oblivious to your surroundings.

Unfortunately, you could only ignore everything till one point. You could ignore the blaring screams, but you couldn't ignore the brooms whooshing next to your ears.

Your eyes fluttered open, brows furrowing in discontent. You narrowed your eyes to adjust them to sunlight and propped up on your elbows.

"Do you ever stop, Potter?" you yelled at James, who was soaring high in the sky. You heard him laugh before disappearing mid-air.

"He doesn't," a distant but familiar voice said.

You turned at it, watching Remus walk to you. His frustratingly long stature towered over you, blocking the Sun.

You exhaled, readying yourself for another identical conversation with him that you both craved and despised.

"Lupin," you offered him a tiny smile. 

"May I?" he asked, but before you could reply he laid next to you. Sunlight gleamed in his amber eyes. Your smile grew as a counter to the irritation building up in your core.

"You already did."

"Is that a problem?" he asked with a sheepish smile, narrowing his eyes from the Sun.

It wasn't a problem with you; you enjoyed having Remus close. The problem was something entirely else that you abhorred to even think about. 

"I don't mind."

"What were you doing out here alone?"

You sat up and involuntarily stroked the grass, all while Remus watched you, laid down with one palm under his head. You were conscious of his gaze all of a sudden.

“I liked the weather today. So here I am,” you said, suppressing the urge to fix the skirt of your dress.

“You look nice,” he cleared his throat. You caught him glancing at your bare legs before averting his eyes to the lake. 

You hated the red rose blossoming in your chest after his mere compliment. You reminded yourself that you are not the only girl that dressed nice today.

“Thanks,” you said, not letting yourself dwell in racing thoughts., “What were you guys doing?”

“Nothing of importance. Sirius and James wanted to play Quidditch.”

You looked around, finding James and Sirius easily. They were loudly laughing and screaming at something in the sky.

“Where’s Pete–”

“With his girlfriend, I wager,” Remus cut you off, “I don’t know where he is actually. I just came here when I saw you were alone.”

You cursed at the butterfly in your stomach. He only put several words next to each other and here you were, chasing after your heart that took off the moment his voice mingled in the air. Still, you didn’t let his words stammer yours.

“Did you need something?”

Remus stared into your eyes. You stared back.. His eyes were screaming the words your ears were refusing to listen.

“Yeah, no,” he chuckled dryly, “Just wanted to see you.”

‘Why?’ you wanted to ask.

Sometimes you thought maybe you knew why; maybe the echo in your heart was right. But then you would notice how many other boys and girls also looked at him the way you did and you would listen to the echo in your mind instead.

You hummed and attempted to change the topic.

“Why are you guys in the school today? No Hogsmeade?”

“James and Sirius have detention,” Remus said, watching you observe the lake as if it was the most magnificent thing you had ever laid your eyes on.

“For what?”

“For blowing up all Slytherin students’ potions that were brewing.”

“Why would they even do that?” you laughed. A frog jumped out of the water.

“I think I heard them say they were bored.”

“And now you’re stuck here because of them.”

Remus shrugged.

“It’s alright. I like it here more.”

You turned your head at him, noticing him gazing at your face. 

You reminded yourself you shouldn’t let his intense gaze or implicit allusions confuse you.

He was Remus, “the Casanove of Gryffindor Tower”, Lupin.

Everybody wanted him. How could they not?

His soft, pink lips, perfect nose and messy brown hair were the first things that would alert the attention. His chestnut-coloured eyes with a fey glisten would emulate his whimsical smile, making it impossible to look away. The outworn jumpers would always compliment his hair, resulting in such a sight that a butterfly would slip right into your chest. Whenever he would chuckle, you would fight with the yen for smiling at the sound of his laugh.

And the scars. 

Your friends would sometimes say they were Remus’s only flaws, which you would scoff at. You adored his scars. You loved the way they contrasted with his perfection, yet still unable to outshine it. You loved the way they dazzled under the Sun and darkened under the shadow.

He was beautiful, unblemished and gorgeous. And you wanted him. 

You wanted him, but you were not the only one wanting him. 

So many other girls would stare at him in the hallways; some even would confess their feelings for him. Remus would turn them down kindly but would flirt his way out if needed. Thus, you never gave your thoughts and ardour enough power to befog your mind with hopes.

You didn’t guess why he would smile at you, dressing his words with a charm that would turn your heart upside down. You didn’t guess why he would flirt with you but would refuse to talk to you explicitly. You didn’t ask. You never reacted to his flirtatious words and smiles, refusing to acknowledge them. You simply convinced yourself that he was doing the same thing with everyone. Who wouldn’t if they had his charm?

“I like it here, too. It’s peaceful.”

He hummed and stretched out his unoccupied hand. You watched him get up on his feet, his hand still offering something to you. You accepted it. A daisy caressed the skin of your palm.

“Do you care for a walk, dove?

“Why so formal?” you chuckled as you took his hand, letting him help you to stand. The daisy was between your two fingers, twirling around.

“It makes up for my charm.”

“Ah yes,” you rolled your eyes,”your famous charm.”

“Famous? I wouldn’t say–”

“Oh, please, Remus. We know you’re enjoying the attention.”

Remus’s smirk put a smile on your lips, welcoming the same butterflies you shunned a few moments ago. 

“It does flatter me,” he said, “Why? Does it bother you?”

Oh, it did bother you.

It boiled your blood that you weren’t the only one whose skin was on fire from Remus’s touch. It annoyed you that you weren’t the only one infatuated with his smile. It irked you beyond comparison that you weren’t the only one getting flustered from his drawling but warm tone.

“Of course not,” you shook your head, straightening your back.

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to be bothered by me.”

“I am not,” you reassured, “except the times you’re reading your book loudly.”

You were not necessarily alone in this matter. Some days in the middle of your studies, you would get distracted by Remus’s voice, unable to comprehend any word on the pages.

“Library is for reading,” he shrugged, watching the twirling daisy between your fingers.

“Library is for reading silently.”

“I don’t scream, do I?”

He grinned at your scoff, stopping in his tracks.

“So, listen,” his smile ebbed a bit into something jittery. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to–”

“Remus!”

Your focus left Remus’s voice, changing direction to a feminine voice from a few steps away. 

“Here you are!” she said, smiling as wide as her mouth went. 

Lacey Green.

You’ve seen her multiple times next to Remus, smiling wide, stroking his arm or tilting her head as she was talking. She was an objectively attractive girl, successful in her studies and surely popular in her house, Hufflepuff.

But for some reason, you didn’t like her.

Maybe it was the way she would always beam, or maybe it was she would call Remus’s name. 

“Hey, Lacey,” Remus greeted her, visually disappointed at getting interrupted.

“Oh, were you busy?” she asked innocently after throwing you a mere glance.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. You were there, weren’t you? It shouldn’t have been that hard to take a guess.

“I–” Remus looked at you for a moment, turning back to Lacey. “We were just talking.”

“Would it be all right if I borrowed him?” she asked you, smiling as she linked arms with Remus, almost ready to leave.

You arched a brow at Remus, ignoring the annoyance luring under your skin. He looked at you, clearly weighing his options.

“It won’t be long,” he said.

Lacey let out a small chuckle, dragging Remus away.

Remus didn’t come back that day.

Professor Slughorn could be a total menace sometimes. As if the five pages long essay weren’t enough, you needed to brew a potion. Fortunately, you managed to complete everything, albeit you were now sleep-deprived. 

Someone needed to tell this man that his subject was not the only subject being taught in Hogwarts.

“Don’t you look nice?” you heard your friend’s sarcastic tone as you sat beside him. 

“How do you even look decent?” you asked Tom, looking at his combed hair and perfect attire in awe. “You and I both did that homework together.”

“No. Your dumbass was up until five in the morning. I was dreaming about flying cats in my bed at that hour.”

You grunted, rubbing your temples to soothe the ache. "I hate potions."

"That makes two of us," Tom announced, making you wince at his tone. “If I don’t get a nice twenty points from this, I will start strangling professors in their sleep.”

"You're a bit loud, Tom."

"Button it. Your man is here."

You looked where Tom was pointing, observing a group of four boys entering the classroom. Your eyes found Remus almost immediately.

He was walking up to his partner– Lacey– while joking with his friends. His brown eyes caught yours, offering you a wide smile.

You merely nodded and turned back to Tom, who had an extremely mocking expression on his face.

"What?”

“You’re acting like you’re not going to giggle and blush just because he smiled at you,” he smirked. “You can’t fool me. I know you too well.”

When you rolled your eyes instead of giving Tom a reply, he continued.

“He still hasn’t approached you?”

“No. I bet on my last galleon that he’s probably forgotten about it.”

Tom made a noise in his throat to let you know he wasn’t appreciating Remus’s behaviour, either.

You didn’t mind that much; you were used to it. You were used to being the centre of Remus’s attention for a moment and being totally forgotten the next day. It was simply how it had been working for quite some time now.

It would be a lie to say it never bothered you because it did.

You hated how Remus would occasionally let you soar in the sky with joy, only to crush your wings afterwards. You were sure he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. For him, you were simply another girl that fancied him.

You stopped the train of thoughts in your mind before they dived deep, focusing on the starting class. Focusing on the class instead of Lacey’s impossible-to-ignore laugh.

As much as you wanted to prevent Lacey and Remus’s dynamic partner relationship from getting into your head, under your skin and leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, your ears wouldn’t stop hearing.

Apparently, Remus had good humour. He must be given the noises arising from his desk.

And he had finished his potion yesterday, too. Lacey made sure the whole class knew that.

You were messing up with your potion; you knew that. And you did feel guilty that Tom was clearing up the mess you’ve been making, but you were tired. People needed to cut you some slack. 

You were half into the lesson when you felt shivers next to your ear.

“Psst.”

Remus’s warm breath hovered over your jawline as you refused to acknowledge him. How did he even get here?

“I have to ask you something.”

“Mr Lupin, what are you doing there?” Slughorn’s tone almost put a smile on your lips. Almost.

“I’m just borrowing some ingredients from this sweet lady.”

“Stop flirting and be quick then.”

You heard Remus’s ‘Yes, sir,’ and felt him nod before feeling his breath again.

“I don’t have any ingredients.”

“Didn’t ask, dove. I came here for something else.”

“You lied to a professor.”

“Will you come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

Your heart dropped to the ground or maybe skipped a beat; you weren’t capable of telling the difference. Your mind let the words sink in before raising questions behind your eyes. 

“What?” you turned to Remus, stepping away from him, from an almost nonexistent distance.

“Will you come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” Remus raised his voice, thinking that you didn’t hear him well. His change in  tone attracted a few heads to the conversation.

“Why?”

Remus parted his lips, readying an answer for you. You watched him falter for a moment.

“Because I’d love you to?”

You winced at his explanation. “That’s not an answer.”

If it was some other time, you would smile at his confusion and ineptness. 

“I think it’s a good answer.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it is not!”

“Yes, it is, I want you to let me take you out on a date.”

“A date?!” you blurted out, eyes widening. 

You knew Remus could be awkward sometimes, but you didn’t guess he sucked at proper communication. 

You couldn’t even comprehend that your heart fastened or that your pupils dilated, or that your fingertips went cold. Your mind was rounding around the word ‘date’ out of Remus’s lips.

“Mr Lupin! Please take your flirtatious nature and get back to your desk!”

Remus nodded at the professor but didn’t budge, still waiting for your answer. You, on the other hand, were extremely conscious of the looks fixated on you by the students.

“Mr Lupin, I will not repeat myself!”

Remus sighed, raising his eyebrows at you before returning to his desk. You shrugged at Tom’s questioning expression before focusing on the liquid before you.

Your head was throbbing at the end of the lesson, sleeplessness mingling with irritation somewhere in your temple, letting you know that the ache was not leaving anytime soon.

“Damn, you’ve been so helpful today,” you heard Tom from your left.

“Cut me some slack, come on.”

“Yeah, my apologies. I forgot that you were running on pure caffeine.”

“I love you, Tom, I really do,” you turned to him,”but please shut up.”

“It’s official, you’ve gone crazy,” he said, packing up his things. “I’ll let Mr Lupin handle your headache today.”

Without letting you a moment to ask what was going on, Tom nodded to you and someone behind you before leaving the class. You turned away to call after him, but Remus’s towering frame stopped you.

You watched him sit next to you with indifferent eyes. 

“I heard you had a headache.”

Hearing his voice tingled your inside, but you stayed stone-cold on the outside. 

“It was a disturbingly loud class today.”

He let out a chuckle. You liked when he did that, but it was neither the time nor the place to think about that. 

“I didn’t notice. I guess constantly being with Sirius and James had made me immune to their hullabaloo.”

“Oh, it wasn’t James and Sirius, don’t worry.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then I must be very caught up in my work.”

You scoffed, trying to sound free from sarcasm. “I doubt that. You and your partner were the loudest ones.”

“Ha, sorry about that,” he said, and you marvelled at his bad social skills one more time. “I asked you a question earlier.”

“What question?”

Your heart may be having a race inside of your ribcage, but you weren’t going to let Remus see it. 

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

“Yeah, sure. I love visiting Hogsmeade with my friends.”

You enjoyed the sight before you; Remus bouncing his leg up and down, averting his eyes around with your every word. 

“No. I mean as a date.”

Here was that word, again, placing itself in your mind, mocking every thought you had ever had. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right that Remus was asking you out on a date.

“Why?” you asked, without intending to.

“Why?”

You adored Remus’s wrinkled brows and confused face.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’d like to spend time with you?”

“We are spending time.”

“I don’t want to spend time with you as friends. That’s the whole point of a date.”

In the next two seconds, you lost control of your lips, voice and tongue. That could be the only explanation for your reply.

“So you want to spend time not as friends?”

“See, now you’re getting it,” he said with a gentle smile. The wrinkles around his lips captured all your attention, leaving you no choice but to give in.

“Alright. I’ll go on a date with you.”

You didn’t know how the week came by, you had lost all your sense of time. You were sure you got ten points from Potions; you remembered Tom’s complaints about the points not being enough. You were also sure another girl confessed to Remus her feelings, but he refused kindly; you had heard her weep in the bathroom.

It was finally Saturday, and you were dressed up for your…date.

It felt surreal like you were being delusional, which you were sure was not the case. It wasn’t like you didn’t see yourself worthy of a date with Remus, it was that you had convinced your mind and heart that he didn’t see you; that his flirtatious comments and smiles were nothing.

You were standing in the yard, your arms swinging around your waist as you waited for Remus. Several students were also hanging out near the train for Hogsmeade, while others were seated inside. You saw him make his way to you, offering you a genuine smile. 

“Did I keep you waiting?”

“Oh, no, I just got here,” you said, shaking your head reassuringly. Your eyes roamed his attire, but the only thing they lingered on was his smile, or lips?

“Moony never keeps anyone waiting!”

You frowned in confusion, watching James get on the train. Sirius and Peter followed him, Sirius saluting you. You turned to Remus, your eyebrows raising.

Was this what he had in mind when he said date? If it was, this was a whole new level of social awkwardness.

Remus chuckled at your expression, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “They are not going to be with us, no need to worry.”

Relief washed over you as you couldn't stop your smile, happy that he wasn’t that awkward.

“I don’t know. You four are like a package deal.”

“Not on dates,” he said, “But I had to get them out of my hair when I told them I was going on a date with you.”

Remus offered you his hand as you got on the train as well, walking ahead to find an available roomette.

“Why? Did they mock?” you asked, curiosity tickling your stomach.

“Of course not. What is there to mock?” oh, so did this mean he wasn’t going on a date for a prank? “They simply teased me for it. You know I don’t do this often.” but on another thought, Remus was too good to take out someone for a prank.

“Ah, yes. Why don’t you, though?”

You two finally found a place to sit, Remus closing the door. He sat before you as you chose to place yourself next to the window. You watched Remus lean in and put his elbows to his knees.

“Why don’t I go on dates?”

“Uh-huh”

“Why should I?”

“Because…” you frowned for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. I asked the question.”

Remus shrugged, his eyes moving to your lips for a moment. “There’s no one to go with.”

You let out a scoff, followed by a genuine laugh. “Are you kidding? A girl was crying in the bathroom because you refused her this week..”

Remus’s eyes widened, his mouth opening a bit. “She was crying? I thought I turned her down kindly. I even made sure to touch her shoulder and give her a smile.”

You make an amused face at him.

“You keep a manual on how to turn down a girl?”

“Do you really want to talk about other girls on our date? I mean, I am fine with it if that’s what you want, but it's a rather uncommon topic for dates.”

Your heart warmed at his words, but you shrugged, hiding the stars behind your eyes.

“I simply asked a question.”

“No, I usually come up with something at the moment. Why? Do you keep a manual on how to turn down boys?”

“I don’t get love confessions as often as you do.”

“That’s unreasonable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re beautiful.”

You didn’t let the pounding in your chest get in the way of your words or your wit. Remus smiled as you started speaking.

“Beauty isn’t everything.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you are beautiful.”

“Stop using your irritatingly charming words on me to impress me. It won’t work.”

“That was extremely rude, but I'm glad that you find me charming.”

You arched a brow at his cheeky smile. “I said words, not you.”

“My words represent me.”

You glared at his entertained beam, knowing that you had just let your lips offer the biggest lie you’ve ever said. His words did impress you. They impressed you to the point that your cheeks were on fire, and your palms were sweating. He and his words got you all flustered.

After only a few seconds, you felt the muscles around your mouth create a smile, turning into a burst of laughter after Remus’s consistent beam blazing through you.

“I almost thought you were incapable of laughing,”

“That was just your incompetence at making me laugh.”

The few hours went like seconds as you two enjoyed every corner of Hogsmeade. Remus took you to Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop at first, but you eventually got bored. You wandered around in Honeydukes and almost got kicked out of Zonko’s Joke Shop. 

Who would want to buy frog spawn soap when you can get nose-biting cups?

“They are easy to get rid of!” Remus defended his choice, his hands moving around with his every change in tone. “Frogs, on the other hand, are a nightmare! Trust me, I know.”

“Of course you do. You had experience with every item in the shop, it was scary,” you said, moving his hand before your face as you two were walking in the Hogsmeade streets. Who knew Remus Lupin was a gesticulating person?

“Exactly. I am more experienced, So the soap was the better choice.”

“But nose biting hurts more!” you turned to him, your voice getting high-pitched.

“Sweet, innocent girl…” Remus shook his head, stopping in his tracks, “If you want the target person to suffer, you have to hurt them emotionally, not physically. It is torture to try to get rid of all the frogs without hurting them.”

You groaned in annoyance but let Remus put his arm around your shoulder as he chuckled.

“You’ll learn, don’t fret. I am a great teacher.”

By the time it was dark, you had learned that Remus didn’t like fish, and he didn’t have a favourite colour. You also discovered that no matter how much he wanted to seem brave, he didn’t like spiders. You now knew that his hands were soft and gentle, albeit they had small scars on them. You knew it because he was now holding your hand as you two were slowly returning back to the train. You also knew purebloods had a laughable notion of the muggle world.

“Barbies?”

“James thinks only perverts would want to have a small version of a woman in their hands.”

You laughed loudly, closing your eyes. You didn’t see Remus’s long glance at your laugh. 

“What about lava lamps?”

“They would probably ask if they can drink it.”

“It does look delicious.”

“It looks like lava.”

“There are people who want to taste lava.”

Remus scoffed, making a face at you. “No, there isn’t.”

When your expression didn’t budge, he nodded firmly. “There is.”

“Yes, there is. What about...can opener? They’ve never used it before, no?”

“Only once. We were trying to open a can of worms, and Sirius pitied the muggles that they had to come up with things like this to open a can.”

“A can of worms? Worms?” you crunched up your face in disgust. “What would you even need it for?”

“For fishing! What else?” Remus was smirking, despite his words. You were smart enough to know the meaning behind the smirk, so you glared at him. He shrugged, “Barty Crouch’s birthday was coming, and the Marauders are kind boys.”

“Aha, you sure are,” You chuckled, nodding several times in sarcasm. “What about eyelash curlers?”

Remus stayed silent for a few seconds. “It curls eyelashes?”

“You don’t know what that is either, don't you?”

“I have no idea.”

You giggled, greeting another boy with your head as you were close to the train. You turned to Remus, opening your eyes wide.

“Look at my lashes,” you pointed at them with your finger, stepping a bit close so Remus could see clearly. “I made them with an eyelash curler.”

Remus narrowed his eyes, leaning in. “They’re just lashes.”

You sighed in disapprovement and pulled back. “For you, maybe. I spend quite some time on their happiness, though.”

“I never do.”

“And yet you have more gorgeous lashes than I do. It’s not fair.

You felt a hand on your chin. 

Your heart jumped in your chest when Remus’s fingers turned your head to him, pushing your chin up. You felt anticipation and confusion run in your veins, messing with your heart and mind. Something burst into flames when he leaned in, breathing against your lips.

“What are you–”

“Admiring your lashes,” Remus said, so casual that you almost thought you were delirious for getting jittery and impassioned. “Yours are way more beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, grateful that you managed to voice the words. You felt intoxicated by the lack of distance, golden sparkles rushing around your soul.

Your heart took a pace when Remus’s eyes lowered to your lips.

“You’re not looking at my lashes, Remus,” you whispered, offering him a way out. A way out if he decided that he made a mistake, if he thought that he didn’t actually want this.

“I know, I’m admiring your lips now,” he drawled.

His tone erased everything around you from your mind. The people, the street signs, the footsteps and casual laughter among friend groups. You were lost in his voice and taking shelter in that one warm breath that hit your lips.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

The four words poured cold water over your body, lit a fire in your heart, and starved your lips.

You closed your eyes and parted your lips slightly. 

“Kiss me.”

You felt Remus’s thumb graze your lower lip, his other hand caressing your hand, intertwining them. You tightened your hold on his hand, pulling yourself closer to him.

He leaned in, his nose on your skin, his lips ready to crash into yours. 

“Remus!”

You pushed yourself away, the heat of your cheeks visible under the street lights. Remus frowned, averting his head to the voice. He didn’t let go of your hand, holding it tightly as if he was going to lose you if he did. 

You steadied your breathing and heart as the voice walked up to you.

Anger sent white and red flames down in your core, your heart screaming in annoyance when you saw Lacey’s bright smile getting closer and closer. As usual, she wasn’t even looking at you and wasn't acknowledging your feelings. 

“Lacey?” Remus asked. You could pick up the complaining tone in his voice.

“What a nice surprise. I thought you weren’t gonna be in Hogsmeade today.”

“I said I was going to be with someone else,” Remus said, his voice kind but firm. 

Only then, Lacey glanced at you, her smile growing even more.

“What are you two doing here?”

You didn't reply, knowing that if you did, there was no way you could be kind. Thankfully, Remus did.

“Just hanging out.”

At that moment, you wished that you replied to her. Just hanging out? Like friends? Like mates? The way James hung out with Sirius? The way you hung out with Tom?

You felt annoyance itching your skin, your throat aching from the rude words building up in it. You pushed your hand back from Remus. Of course, Lacey noticed it. Her eyes peeked at your hand for a quick moment; it would be impossible to catch it if you weren’t already glaring at her eyes.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt something…?”

That was the last drop that your patience could hold.

“Is there something you need?” you asked, your manner being the exact opposite of Remus’s. 

“Oh…no, actually. I simply wanted to say hi.”

“Well, Hi. Goodbye.”

You were now contemplating if you would be sent to Azkaban were you to strangle the girl. 

She smiled, turning back to Remus. 

“Your friend must be tired, Remus. You accompany her to the train, I’ll see you later,” she beamed, turning on her heels back to her friend group after earning a nod from Remus. 

You started walking, an uncomfortable silence lurking in between your hands. You’re irritated, not only with Lacey but also with Remus. Thus, when he attempted to hold your hand again, you didn’t let him.

You didn’t acknowledge any of his attempts to get you to talk or react until you were sitting face-to-face in a roomette on the train.

“I thought this was a date,” you broke the silence at last, alerting Remus’s focus in a second.

“It is, dove–”

“Then, why didn’t you say that to her?”

“To whom? Lacey?” Remus asked, his eyes confused and his voice surprised. 

“Who else?”

“Because it is…none of her business?”

“What?” your brows drew together in annoyance. “Remus, are you blind?”

“No?”

“She likes you!”

Remus scoffed, shaking his head several times. He leaned back to his heat, a mocking smile greeting you on his lips.

“She doesn’t. I would know if she did.”

“Remus, she can’t be any more obvious.”

“No, dove. She’s just a partner.”

“She just interrupted us when we were in the middle of something!” you threw hands, trying your best to make him understand.

“Yes, but-” Remus started but shut his lips for a moment to think. He exhaled. “I would know if she did.”

“And how do you know it exactly?”

“When I get a confession?”

You groaned in your seat, turning to observe the road from the window instead. You marvelled at his communication skill. It made your blood boil, all while confusing you about what kind of words you should choose to speak to him.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Why did you ask me out on a date?” you blurted out, determined to get what you wanted from him this time. This time you weren’t going to let his social ineptness and bad charm with words prevent you from him. “You said you didn't go on dates often, so why did you go with me?”

Remus’s forehead wrinkled, his mouth readying to talk. When he did, his tone was like he was speaking the most obvious truth, the most casual conversation. You, on the other hand, felt like he was opening the locked door to your mind, welcoming the warmth in your heart.

“Because I fancy you.”

You let his words’ affection embrace you, relieving your every troubled thought, reviving your every buried hope.

“You fancy me?”

“Wasn’t that obvious? I was always smiling at you, trying to talk to you, flirting with you, hopping in every opportunity where I could have you close.”

You smiled at him, butterflies invading your stomach. “You didn’t confess, though.”

“Yes, I know–” Remus stopped himself, his words coming to a halt. Something lit up in his eyes, his expression changing into realisation. “Oh, I see.”

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for him to get everything together.

 “Maybe she wasn’t just a partner, after all,” he whispered, still taking something in.

“For someone who holds all of Gryffindor's hearts, you sure are a bit of an idiot.”

Remus’s eyes changed, his brown darkening, his voice lowering. “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“I don’t want all of Gryffindor’s hearts,“ He leaned in closer, holding your hands. “I want yours.”

The walls of your heart crumbled down, opening their gates to his smile, voice, touch. His affection sneaked into the darkest parts of your mind, soothed the strongest fires in your soul. You let all the voices disappear, trusting your heart to only Remus’s words.

“Remus…” you smiled, your eyes lowering at your linked hands. “But you already have it.”

Before you could grasp the emptiness in your hands, you felt Remus’s hands on your face. They pulled you in, letting Remus put his lips on yours. 

Your lips burned up at the feeling of his lips, your breath taken away from your lungs. His touch both killed you and revived you, both burning you up and drowning you down.

A few seconds were enough for you to return the kiss, devouring his soft and warm lips. You felt his hands go down from your face to your arms, tracing all the way back to your fingers. Goosebumps rose from your body, contrasting your cold fingers with your on-fire chest.

All your jealousy, anxiety, insecurity left your mind, body, soul as Remus smiled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to put his forehead on yours.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask for you to let me kiss you this time.”

“There is no explanation you can give that will convince me,” James shook his head, taking a bite from a sandwich he had stolen from the kitchen. “There is no way a normal person enjoys having a small body in their hand.”

“Little children play with it, Potter,” you said, smiling at the sound of Remus’s laugh above your ears. You, your boyfriend and his friends were scattered across the Gryffindor common room, conversing about Barbie dolls. 

Remus had you under his arm, your head placed on his chest. You could feel his occasional kisses on your hair or the way he would lean his cheek on your head. You weren’t complaining, you enjoyed having him close.

“They even play with them?!”

“I will get you a Barbie doll on your birthday, Prongs,” Sirius said. 

“You can’t even find your way in Trafalgar Square.”

“That’s only because there are a lot of muggles there, Wormtail.”

You smiled at your situation, listening to the boys banter about something that you didn’t remember anymore. 

You were happy. Remus had made sure that you were happy for the last week since your kiss. You smiled at the memory of him bringing you food, helping you with your homework, and staying late with you because you didn’t feel like sleeping. He had put a distance between himself and Lacey. You loved her face when Remus stepped back so she wouldn’t hug her.

“What’re you thinking about?” Remus whispered in your ear, making you smile with affection at him. You raised your head to him, watching his messy brown locks hug his forehead. 

“You look nice today.”

He grinned, bringing his hand from your stomach to your chin. He put a sweet but longing kiss on your lips before making use of his voice. “You look nice every day.”

I have no idea if this is ooc Remus, but I don't think it is. Let me know if it is.

Thank you for reading! Please share your thoughts so I know if I did a good or not.

Anyways. Stay safe, love you guys <3

and if you liked my writing, i would be grateful if you'd buy me a coffee <33

[pparacxosm]

hunger is ugly

(blue-eyed son 3 !! which, as any third and final installation of a franchise ((back to the future and spiderman withstanding !!!)), is obviously the best one; i’m only half kidding; homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; see parts one and two; tw eggnog; tw coworkers; cw smut but nothing crazy; if you’re seeking closure don’t hold your breath; i’m sick of these two; they clearly don’t know what they want; and i refuse to take blame; tw fitted sheets; tw cocaine talk)

He once told you he couldn’t wear a suit. I couldn’t, he’d said, I’d look ridiculous in a suit. But he cleans up quite nicely, actually.

In fact, he looks good, and you’re not above admitting that. He looks better, actually. Healthier. And he looks handsome in his casual blazer and charcoal linen slacks. Oh God, are you gonna look frumpy beside him?

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party,” he says.

You’re on the floor before him, straddling your full length mirror, and all your tumbledown, halfway gutted makeup products are strewn wildly about you.

Your bed, behind you, is a skeleton state, too. When he’d come over, he’d nearly laughed at the fact that you’ve apparently been so busy, your clean bedding is still sitting in a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and you’ve been sleeping in the inserts on a bare mattress for who knows how long.

Patrick doesn’t pass judgment on the mess in your apartment. He still feels he owes you in some weird, kiss-the-hand-that-fed-you sort of way.

You’re not a slob. You always look put together when you leave the house. You’ve just had to focus on work. You can’t stumble at the finish line. Or… the glass ceiling. Or the penultimate rung on the corporate ladder. Whatever. If you can successfully execute this next product launch, who knows what other doors might open for you. Probably doors in buildings very similar to the one you’re already working in. But that’s nothing to sneeze at. Every morning, you see your reflection in those immaculate windows.

So anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Things just get away from you sometimes.

Patrick’s standing above you pensively reflecting how many undone buttons says Corporate Shindig Eyecandy (Please Give My Date That Promotion) as opposed to Reformed Tennis Heartthrob. His shins are sort of bracketing your hips.

“Well, it’s half an office Christmas party, and half—like—a congratulatory… thing. For Deirdre’s successful proposal,” you murmur, leaning forward, tugging your temple to flatten your eyelid and flick on your liner.

“Aw, what?” he frowns, “Deirdre? We fucking hate Deirdre.”

You laugh. You try not to delude yourself, not to let these moments exist in some flowery vacuum in the eye of your mind, not to ask him to fix your bedding for you. But it’s hard.

Whoever let Sam replace the DJ halfway through the party was either a genius anarchist or too drunk to care.

You know it’s probably the latter. You down the cognacheavy eggnog from your glass and make a disgruntled face. You don’t know what you expected. Shania Twain is belting from the speakers while Sam wiggles his headphones in a dumb, awkward dance.

He’s pretty funny, all things considered, but you’d still like nothing better than to whack him up the head with an ink cartridge.

One of the blousy interns from your department is haplessly flirting with Patrick, pretending he bumped into her and made her plash some eggnog on herself, but she’s trying to be selfaware about it.

“Oh gosh, isn’t this such a cliché: the boss’ plus one wiping a dairybased drink from the subordinate’s—… oh no, I know she’s not technically my boss, but she’s sort of my senior within the company, like on the general corporate ladder, argh, I know, I hate it!”

She could’ve said superior, you think, instead of senior.

You’re feeling too pissy to go and save him from that failed interaction. You turn your back to the crowd and look out of the glossy black windows. That chorus keeps stomping its pointed heels over your fragile nerves.

The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun!

Do you have a little fun? Are you a Good Time? You have to laugh. It’s just a stupid song. But you need the validation.

That’s why Patrick picks the wrong moment to come and talk to you.

“Hey, this chick is chasing me with a napkin around the room.”

You snort. “Not my problem.”

Patrick leans against the buffet, delivering a wry salute when Sam points at him from the DJ booth and winks. “That guy’s something,” Patrick chuckles, “He asked me to sign his dick.”

“Did you?”

Patrick hums like he’s ambivalent and places a large hand on the small of your back. “Would that be good for you, if I did?”

“I’m fun, right?”

You swirl the remains of eggnog in your glass. You ask the question like he’s been holding out some big secret from you.

Patrick blinks. He scoffs in disbelief, but also smirks pointedly at your glass. “You’re asking me?”

You stare at him through the briar lace of your eyelashes. Everyone who’s met him today has had their own lashes drenched in laughter. You hadn’t realised it first. You’d figured those were mutually exclusive things, downandout charm and the breathing room of comfortable success. But no. He’s charming, anyway. It’s just that he’s not haggling for scraps of generosity anymore so much as he’s lapping at the fleeting dregs of likability. And you hate that you notice that, and you hate that you notice him, that you know him, in a sense. Because what are you supposed to do about it?

“Everybody loves you. Just… be objective.”

Patrick still laughs. He rubs his stubble. He should’ve shaved this morning. He thought he was doing something for you, something nice, by coming with you to this thing and wooing everybody’s pants a little tighter, but maybe he’d missed the mark. “You know I can’t be objective.”

“Why not?” You sound petulant, leaning angrily against the buffet. You’re old enough to know what he’s saying, of course. He’s being nice. He’s telling you he thinks you’re fun, that the rest shouldn’t matter, but then he doesn’t need anything. Even when he had nothing. So he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t notice.

Patrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he’s vivisecting you, then clears his throat. “You’re drunk.” He laughs again, a little gratuitous. Then, after a while, “I have fun with you. You’re engaging.”

“Engaging?” you echo, frowning. “Seriously? What am I, an essay?”

“No, I just— Jesus, what do you want me to say?”

You clench your jaw. Okay, you are drunk and you’re at this office party from hell and a hard rain’s a-gonna fall, so goddamn it, he will call you fun.

So you get right into his face. You’re good at that, even if you barely reach his shoulder. “Tell me I’m fun, because I am, and you think I am.”

You try to swat his hand away, but his palm stays put, a hot magnet just above your tailbone, and he doesn’t even look like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that he feels an emptiness in his stomach, depressing but also thrilling. Like taking a hit. Like you’re a little bag of white powder. Beyond the dark windows it starts to snow. He used to do a bit of coke, when everything around him dropped dead and started to rot, and he couldn’t stomach the smell. He doesn’t seem like the poster kid for moderation, but the coke was good, and he didn’t let it be any more than that. In fact, at times, the coke was great. The coke was fun. But he couldn’t live with the coke. You understand? He couldn’t settle down in New England and raise a cat with the coke.

“I don’t think I can win with you,” he murmurs, and, for his part, he at least sounds like he needs to change that.

It’s supposed to be a comfort fuck—and you call it fuck in your head dismissively—but it’s too raw and unknown. You’ve spent so much time in this questionable relationship with existence in his life. In and out. You thought you’d learned him, or at least learned the both of you, but his hands on you, his mouth on you—it’s frightening, finite, foreign. Somehow divorced from this man who, for all his egofueled casual mania, doles out intimacy like free samples.

This is what it feels like to watch him unravel, but it’s not just beggar’s desperation. No, he’s making room for someone else beside him in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He keeps touching every part of you, frantically, trying to feel all of you, sinking his head between your thighs with a groan of relief, immersing himself in another body. But not just any body, because he keeps mouthing your name. As if to remind you that he is here, and you let him in. Because it matters that it’s you, that someone who knows him is letting him in. He’s humming to himself as you come against his fingers and mouth.

... hunger is ugly... souls are forgotten... I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it...

You like his full weight on you, sinking you into your undressed mattress, trapping you, suffocating you under his bottomless gloom. He has one hand on your thigh. He lifts it at an uncomfortable angle, sinking his cock deeper into you, making it ache. How does he know you like that, anyway? He doesn’t. He noticed.

You want to resent what he’s doing here, which is trying to ‘win with you’. Because he’s been on a winning streak, and you’re not about to spoil that.

And these demeaning, mechanical thoughts probably aren’t reflective of his inner monologue at the moment, but it’s easier to believe he doesn’t respect you than to contend with this whole thing.

You want to tell him, you don’t know what I like, but he starts talking about this tournament. There’s a match in Boston, for real this time. You’re having trouble paying attention.

You fall asleep with him still inside you, head on your chest, and you, crushed comfortably by his weight.  

You wake up before him. He must have rolled off you in the middle of the night. He’s sleeping next to you, one hand stretched towards you, head on the pillow at a strange angle.

You turn away quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out, staring at the heap of his cocktail wear on the floor. You feel sore and stupefied. You feel cramps in your muscles. You feel weak in the best and worst way possible. You keep breathing in and out, hoping you’re keeping quiet.

But he wakes up anyway.

You can feel his gentle eyes on the slightly hunched line of your back.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” you mumble, throat dry. Why does it have to be morning? Why does it always have to be morning?

“Come back here,” he says, as if it weren’t morning.

You shake your head softly.

His silence is edifying. It goes on for too long.

“You’re not gonna stay, are you?” you ask, serious and formal, gripping the edge of the mattress. You clench your jaw, body taut.

You can hear him swallow, throat working to get the syllables out.

“I’m not, like… leaving you.”

You close your eyes.

“No, I mean—yeah,” you chuckle miserably. “You’re probably doing the right thing. The best thing for you.”

You feel the tears slide out one by one, and your shoulders shake slightly.

“Please don’t cry.” He’s using that soft and primordially tentative voice he uses with your cat. “I’m not worth it.”

You look over your shoulder at him. “Then why is it so fucking hard to watch you go?”

It’s only recently you’ve started getting angry with him. You used to get grudgingly amused, perhaps vaguely reproachful, but now his stupid face just makes you livid.

His eyes tremble pensively. “I don’t know. But that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You turn your head away, rolling and wiping your eyes at the same time. “I just don’t see how it could work.”

And there’s a door he could open for you. There’s something he could say at this juncture to reassure you, momentarily, that it could. But he can’t bring himself to lie, because he cares about you too much to take a bump of that powder.

He hangs his head and looks at the beautiful line of your back, memorising it.

Then he gets up.

“I’m gonna make coffee, then we can get that fucking fitted sheet on, alright?”

You nod absently. You don’t turn to look at him as he puts on his clothes.

He comes up to you before he leaves. He runs his finger under your chin and lifts it up. There’s a kitten scratch on his cuticle.

You could come watch the match.

But he doesn’t say that. You haven’t seen him play since New Rochelle. “I’ll fill the demon’s bowl. I think she’s starting to like me.”

You laugh, wiping more tears.

Patrick takes that hand, your hand, wet with tears, and brings it to his mouth. He kisses and licks the salt away. He keeps it there for a moment longer than he should. You gently pull away.

You only exhale when he’s gone.

Toby slinks out from behind your mirror, swishing her tail back and forth in contempt.

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, shut up,” you whisper.

[lonicera-caprifolium]

They had fled from the party and into the grounds. Crowley's hand faintly chilly in his. Through the frost bitten air and their clouds of puffed breath, to the thunder and plash of the fountain. They had, both of them, partaken of rather too much Christmas spirit, but when Crowley had scrambled up onto the ledge Aziraphale had retained enough good sense to tell him no. He had said it whilst chuckling, however, and Crowley had grinned, and he'd known they were done for. The demon had reached out to seize him and missed, caught a handful of coat sleeve with nothing inside, and heaved himself into the water when it slipped from his grasp. Aziraphale remembered trying so hard not to laugh that it ached in the seams of his waistcoat. He recalled Crowley's head breaking surface, a sputter of water that speckled his best pair of trousers, and Crowley’s incoherent noises of annoyance, deficient in vowels.

A gift commission for Caspian and Jem's lovely fic, As Soon Go Kindle Fire With Snow

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[valkyyriia]

Stormy Days

Words: 2087 CW: Hurt/Comfort, vague depressive thoughts, Lots of Crying | SFW Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain / Reader (pre-relationship), Leonardo / Reader if you squint

Note: I wasn't going to post this because I was unhappy with it tbh, but I'm realizing more and more that I'm probably never going to be completely happy with everything I write. It was cathartic putting some of these feelings into words and that's enough for me.

Not posted to any other sites.

From the moment you woke up, nothing had gone right.

You had left your bedroom window open last night when you went to bed, not realizing there was a storm brewing. You opened your eyes to torrential downpour and tempestuous winds, which had blown debris into your room and left a puddle under the pane. The papers you had had on the desk were scattered everywhere and most had been soaked into illegibility, and those that weren't still had enough damage to ruin them.

Cleaning up the mess left from that had put you behind schedule, and when you arrived in the kitchen to help Sebastian with breakfast he had already had it completed. This earned you a harsh flick to the forehead for your negligence.

If that wasn't bad enough, you then had to bring Mozart his breakfast. Mozart, the ornery musician you still weren't certain didn't hate you. When you propped the tray on your hip to knock on the door, Mozart had torn the door open before you could even knock, startling you. This resulted in the tray you had precariously balanced to fall, ruining his breakfast. Mozart sighed in frustrated exasperation. You apologized and bent down to clean up, but Mozart snapped at you to leave before you could ruin anything else. Ouch.

After that, you had gone to try to clean the windows, but apparently you couldn't do that right, either. You had somehow missed the fact that Leonardo had decided this particular parlor was a good place for a nap and you tripped over his prone form, sending you to the ground in a heap and sudsy water everywhere with a splash. To make matters worse, of all the places the water could have landed, it had plashed all over the oil painting Vincent had just finished and left hanging on the wall to dry.

Theo had ran in at the sound and immediately started yelling angrily at you for ruining a piece of fine art. Vincent had come in shortly after, hearing his broer's rant, and assured you that it was okay, that it wasn't your fault, that he was just glad you weren't hurt. Leonardo had woken up in the commotion and apologized to you. Again you had gone to try to clean up, but Leonardo shooed you away saying it was his fault and that he would take care of it. This left you feeling even more frustrated and helpless. You blinked back the tears and plastered on a weak smile, thanking him for his consideration.

When exiting that room, you ran right into Sebastian who, after giving you a once over, relieved you of your duties for the day with another flick to the forehead. Forehead abused and eyes stinging with unshed tears, you held back a sob and ran to your room. You nearly barreled into Arthur on your way, who started to say something, but stopped himself on seeing the state of you. His jovial smile turned into a frown as he saw the first glittering tear fall from your face. Arthur hesitated for a moment, his arm partially extended in your direction, before walking hurriedly towards another part of the mansion.

You had barely held yourself together long enough to get to your door. You threw the door open and flung yourself onto your bed, harsh sobs escaping you as you finally let go. You cried and cried until you ran out of tears, and your body still heaved, trying to shed more. Your sobs eventually quietened and you stared, glassy eyed, at the far wall. Your stomach ached, you had a pounding headache, your mouth was dry; you were miserable. Just as you started to wonder how you were ever going to face anyone again, you heard a knock at your door.

You opted to ignore the knocking and hoped it would go away. You didn't want any of the mansion's residents to see you like this, and you definitely didn't want any of them to yell at you again.

Unfortunately for you, the knocking continued. You cursed your lack of foresight when the door handle turned. You didn't have the energy to see who it was, so you continued to hope (in vain) that the intruder would think you had fallen asleep and leave.

"I know you're awake, Hondje," Theo's gruff voice spoke. You continued to ignore him, staring at the wall. You heard his footsteps approach your bed but still declined to move. You heard him sigh and sit on the edge of the mattress, a large hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he sighed. When you still didn't acknowledge him, he gave your shoulder a light squeeze and stood up.

Vincent's voice joined in from by the door. "It really wasn't your fault," he added. "Nothing was ruined. Please don't beat yourself up over it." You kept your gaze firmly on the opposite wall, your chest tightening and threatening to send you into sobs again. You heard their footsteps leaving the room and you dared a sniffle. The door closed behind them with a snick and Vincent softly began to chide his brother.

Silence followed. You curled up into a tight ball on your bed. Your head hurt too badly for you to sleep, but your body was too tired for much else. The tightness in your chest gave way to more dry sobs, your body too dehydrated to produce tears. Your eyes felt like sandpaper.

As you tried to pull yourself back together you heard another gentle knock at the door. Again you chose to ignore them, and again the vampire on the other side paid no attention to it. They opened the door, but unlike Theo and Vincent, they stood in the doorway.

"..I don't hate you," came Mozart's smooth tenor after a brief pause. "And I'm sorry for shouting. I was hungry and tired, and I took it out on you." Another awkward hesitation. Another sniffle from you. Mozart spoke again, more gently than usual. "..When you're feeling better, you should come by my music room. I'll play you something." He stood there silently for a moment before exiting the room.

Sebastian was next. He informed you that you had missed dinner and he had brought up a plate for you. Sebastian placed the tray on the vanity in your room and made to leave, but he paused in the doorway. "I know today hasn't been the best. But I'm sure we'll all be looking forward to seeing your bright smile again tomorrow." You didn't even grace his statement with a sniffle. You had no intention of exiting your room again before your month was up, that much was certain. The smell of whatever he had cooked was mouthwatering for sure, but you didn't have the energy to get up.

Leonardo came in almost immediately after Sebastian had left. The heady scent of his cigarillos filled the room, and he wasted no time in coming over to sit on the side of your bed. You were going to ignore him too, but then you felt him place something warm and heavy on your side. The weight startled you into looking up, and you were met with the sight of Leonardo's cat, Lumiere, sprawled out over your side.

Leonardo offered you a smile and he pet the cat's head, the tiny feline beginning to purr in contentment. You sniffled.

"Tears don't suit you, Cara Mia," he murmured, reaching his other hand out to brush your hair out of your face. "I'm sorry for causing you such trouble today."

"It wasn't you," you croaked, voice weak and scratchy from the tears. You couldn't very well ignore him when you had made eye contact, but you weren't keen on talking either. What little energy you had dissipated and you collapsed back onto your side, Lumiere's warmth relaxing you somewhat.

"He can sleep with you tonight," Leonardo said, getting up. "He's a great cuddler."

The greater vampire hesitated for a moment before leaning over and brushing his lips against your temple. He left again without another word, but Lumiere stayed. The cat actually stepped down from your side and curled up next to you, offering his furry back to your abdomen. You gently reached out to pet him, some of the ache in your heart dissipating.

Really, you deserved some of the vitriol you had received today. You had been late, and dropped Herr Mozart's breakfast, and tripped over Leonardo, and ruined one of Vincent's paintings today (even if the vampire said you hadn't, Theo would not have been that angry if there had been no damage). The vampires' ire was more than deserved if you were honest with yourself. But still, they all went out of their way to come and apologize for making you feel worse and comfort you in their own way.

Lumiere's purrs were soothing you into sleep when you heard another knock at the door. "I'm coming in, ma chérie." Your stomach dropped. Was Comte going to tell you you were no longer welcome after you ruined so many things?

You heard his footsteps echo plainly on your floor. He stopped at your vanity for a moment before coming to sit at the foot of your bed. "Sit up, s'il vous plait," Comte commanded lightly. You squeezed your eyes shut in response. "You aren't in trouble," he assured you. "But you do need to eat."

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder at him. Comte had shed his overcoat and was sat at the foot of your bed, the tray of Sebastian's delicious cooking in his hands. You were certain you looked like a mess, but he smiled gently at you like he always did. When you made eye contact, your stomach growled, and Comte raised an eyebrow. With a resigned sigh, you unfurled your body, joints cracking, and sat up. Lumiere meowed in protest and moved to the other side of the bed. Comte set the tray on your lap.

"I've heard most of it from Arthur, but I'd like to hear it from you," Comte said, his golden eyes firmly on you. His right hand rested on top of your shin and he gave you his full attention.

You froze, trying to remember what you had done to Arthur today, but you didn't even remember seeing him. You were confused, but at Comte's request, you launched into the tale of everything that had happened. He listened intently no signs of judgement. You found that after telling him, you felt.. better. Lighter. You were sure the food also helped. You made a mental note to thank Sebas, and everyone else, when you saw them again.

Comte nodded along sympathetically. "It sounds like today has been hard for you, ma chérie. Tomorrow will be better, though, I'm sure of it." He patted your leg. "I've had my fair share of bad days. The best thing you can do is to make sure tomorrow is a new day."

When you had finished your food, Comte took the tray and moved it back to the vanity. He gestured beside you. "May I?"

You nodded, confused, and he reclined next to you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. "It's okay to have bad days," Comte said. He rested his cheek on top of your head, his fingers running along your upper arm soothingly. "Don't let it ruin the rest of them."

Comte had never been so physically affectionate with you before, typically keeping his distance. You didn't quite understand what had changed, but you weren't going to complain. The physical touch broke something in you and you felt the tears threaten to fall again.

"It's okay to cry, too," Comte murmured, his fingers continuing to run up and down your arm. "Cry all you need to. I'll be here." As you started to cry, Comte pulled you even closer and tucked your face against his neck. You clung to him, sobs wracking your body, and he just held you. There was no judgement, no line between human and vampire; just a man comforting a friend in need. Eventually you dozed off in Comte's arms, exhausted, but comforted by his warmth and the sound of his heartbeat.

You didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but you knew you could get through it as long as you had such good friends by your side.

Taglist: @natimiles @chandeliermichel