#there are *technically* gritties too

[love-death-and-desert]

we crave more scitties, mumboobs, and dare i say, we even crave grititties

you get one(1) scittie

[ellie-the-character]

GUYS I ASKED MY CRUSH IF HE WANTED TO GO TO PROM WITH ME AND HE SAID YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[romeowho]

I love jordan luke gage a lot, but he's too puppy dog sweet as clyde, and all i'm saying is that I wanna see jamie muscato instead

[averageallogene]

Tighnari ♡⊹˚ Heated mind (NSFW)

✧˖°. Summary: An Amurta student gets stationed in Gandharva Ville to practice medicine, growing a bond with Tighnari. Becoming quite close, Tighnari finds himself in a predicament that hits him like a truck right around the time his heat starts up.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; plot with concluding smut ; cw for breeding, character in heat.

8k words.

notes. Starting off strong lmao- This idea has literally been stuck in my head for days! I can’t get over the idea of Tighnari in heat. Just. Just. Just. Oh my good lord. No thoughts head empty just Tighnari in heat, needy as well as confused over his ordeal. Enjoy! ✧˖°.

Tighnari considered himself a busy man. The life of a forest watcher was certainly not easy, yet he thought it was all the more fulfilling. Between training the rangers stationed with him and studying the ecosystems of the rainforests of Sumeru, the young researcher never thought over anything else. For quite a while, he was very content.

That was, until he had what, in hindsight, would be a fateful encounter.

Many would pass between Gandharva Ville, including from other lands as well as from within their main city. He was used to dealing with people, being a very educated and overall pleasant person to speak with; in fact, more so when the topic at hand regarded either the ecosystems or anything else biology related. Collei would usually direct curious folk to him so Tighnari would indulge in any questions they might have, as well as, maybe, the occasional request if it was deemed appropriate. It was, for most, a most agreeable arrangement.

It started that way, in fact. An agreeable arrangement. A young woman, an Amurta student from the Akademiya, had been stationed in Gandharva Ville so she could practice the medicine that she’d learned. After all, no doctor could graduate without eventually moving on to the nitty and gritty. It was something most in the branch were nervous about, and the scent in the air upon her first arrival was definitely noticed. Nervousness, but also excitement. The promising student was more than ready to begin her practical studies amidst the forest rangers, and Tighnari saw no reason for denying her a station. After all, it would be most hypocritical of him not to, as a researcher himself.

Besides, perhaps the scolding of an outsider would do well to his rangers. Some were too used to ignoring his (frankly, undeniably justified!) ‘harsh’ reprimands. 

She was very pleasant to work with, thankfully. A kind spirit who got along well with most, determination glowing from her very being. Tighnari worried their lifestyle would somehow be incompatible with her own, given the lack of readily available supplies in Gandharva Ville for a nearly graduating doctor, yet he found she would very easily adapt herself.

“Thank you for your concern, wholeheartedly!” She would beam with positive radiance, all the while still holding a twinge of formality in the way she addressed him. Sure, he was technically her senior, but Tighnari wasn’t one to care for such things. “However, I’ll manage. I just wish for you to count on me whenever needed!”

Oh, she was needed alright. The forest rangers were… Clumsy, to be gentle. Airheaded at best, undeniably, stupidly foolish at worst. Tighnari gave them the needed manual for a reason, yet some would find a way to consume something they shouldn’t and it would end in potential disaster being averted, or get injured upon not being careful enough in analyzing the area they were assigned to.

A few were even obtuse enough to run off into the forest and find some time to fool around in ways that were more noticeable than they’d like to think. Tighnari’s ears were as sharp as they could come, and if distance wasn’t the issue, the odors they’d return with sure gave everything away. Ah, and the avoidance of his gaze was surely a telltale sign.

To say the least, disappointment had become something deeply embedded with the job.

“That’s just a part of life.” [F/N] would calmly state, shrugging her shoulders whenever the inexperienced forest rangers were caught in anything less than savory. That had, apparently, become more of a routine between a particular couple than what their master would enjoy. “Curiosity is bound to sprout with any sort of attraction. The important thing is to ensure you’re both safe, lest we want to end up in a compromising predicament mhm?” 

“Y-Yes, miss [F/N]...” The embarrassment was palpable amongst the pair, it being amplified with the indifference their stationed doctor displayed. Surely, they thought, they were being judged by a mile away, even as the medicine student gave them the best contraceptive she had readily available before they leaped out of the spot.

“You’re far too lenient.” Tighnari’s voice could be heard as he entered her tent in their stead, catching the smile that blossomed on her face. He on the other hand crossed his arms, a small sigh leaving his lips as he shook his head. “They’re being irresponsible by doing such activities during their shifts!”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, you know…” She laughed softly, getting up before rearranging her small wooden box of emergency medication. Whilst ensuring everything was in its place, she continued to chat with him. “I just believe that tackling the issue with a more open mind will ease our way to the solution. If we shame them, they’ll just continue to try and do it in secret.”

She had to bite her tongue before she elaborated on how the female ranger had tried stealing one of the contraceptives from her small cabinet the day prior. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to tell Tighnari, or another scolding would shower down heavier than the rain that would usually pour into the rainforest. Yes, [F/N] thought the more open approach was definitely a better arrangement, even if a fraction of the embarrassment it could be for the couple.

“Besides, it’s a natural part of life. Sex shouldn’t be demonized.” 

“Well, with that I agree. I just-”

“Tighnari…” Her soft voice cut him off, though he didn’t quite mind. The Amurta student reached his side before placing an understanding hand on his shoulder, offering him a knowing smile. It certainly was a different dynamic from the one where they’d started off with, but the friendly relationship wasn’t at all unwelcomed. “Don’t worry, they’ll go back to normal soon enough. They’re just… Well, excuse me for a lack of better wording, but- Horny. Give them a few days to explore themselves and the high will soon die down.”

The forest ranger gave her a silent look - one his colorful irises spoke for themselves. One of a silent sigh, yet one that also agreed with her despite being tired of the ordeal. After all, Tighnari cared for their safety, and the mere thought of anyone getting frisky in the open wilderness was… Erhm, well… Conflicting, now that he thought about it. 

“Oh, anyway, since you’re here,” Her tone shifted, clear excitement and curiosity peaking through as she turned around and walked across her small tent. His gaze followed her, fluffy ears perking up as his tail swayed. He knew all too well what that tone was reserved for. “I wanted to ask for your thoughts on something. I’m trying to adapt a medicinal brew that’s originally from Liyue, but I can’t quite match this last ingredient with one that may be available in the rainforest… Could you please give me your insight?”

How could he not? The mere spark in her eye was enough to fill his chest with a sense of validation, heart swelling up. Well, that’s what he thought it was, at least. It surely was pleasant to feel respected, as well as sought after for one’s own interpretations. Tighnari couldn’t possibly deny helping such a cause.

Well, in truth, Tighnari couldn’t possibly deny her. That hadn’t occurred to him yet, though. He simply chucked it all to [F/N] being a pleasant company to be around, especially with them having so much in common. Their love of biology and the intricacies of the ecosystems was merely enough to fuel their conversations for hours, lasting way longer than the oil lamps they’d burn to light them well into the night. He found her voice pleasant to listen to, a delight as her tone would shift higher and lower between her curiosity and her contemplation to whatever he had to add to the conversation. The way her eyes would sparkle in such a wondrous way, his reflection staring right back at him as her face would focus solely on him, illuminated by the warm light. His ears would adjust carefully, slowly, shifting ever so slightly so he’d listen to every little syllable she spoke, every little sound she made as his tail wagged slowly, like a trance, unbeknownst to him as well. 

For quite a while, Tighnari was in blissful ignorance. He merely basked in her presence as one would delight in the sunlight of a spring’s afternoon, the warmth enveloping his very being as her fragrance engraved into him. The soft undertones of her natural scent became something he’d experience everyday, almost searching for it even without any clear intent, thinking of an interesting enough topic to discuss long after his legs had begun walking. [F/N]’s stay was well deep into several weeks at that point, and Tighnari didn’t even dare to think about her possible absence in the future. He’d found a companion in her, one he really enjoyed spending time with. 

A mere friend, he thought.

“I need to return to the Akademiya.” [F/N] had repeated, her tone soft as she gave him a smile smaller than usual. Still, it remained radiant to his eyes despite the sudden clench from within his ribcage.

“Oh?” He cleared his throat, trying to lift his head in a natural manner to gaze at her once more. “How come?”

He suddenly felt his tongue bitter.

“Well, I need to submit the reports I’ve been working on…” She reminded him again, waving gently the stack of papers she carried in her arms. His unfocused face didn’t go unnoticed, prompting her to stare at him with a frown that tugged at his heartstrings in a way he couldn’t quite figure out. “Tighnari… Are you alright? You seem a little-”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” He reassured her, getting up from his chair before rounding up his table. He forced a smile to his face, masking the sudden sadness he felt wash over him. “Have you re-read your papers? Gotta make sure everything is spotless before being submitted.”

A silent plea, please stay a little longer, take a little more time to be close to me. Though, he himself wasn’t fully aware of it, either. 

“Yeah, spent the whole night last night reviewing it… I’m a little nervous, even though they’re just reports.” She laughed it off, his belly feeling as though it was suddenly swarmed with butterflies. “It’s not even my final paper and I’m already so stressed! What if I don’t meet the standard?”

“Are you serious?” He scoffed, hands resting on his hips before he offered her a more sincere smile. “[F/N], you’ll do great. I’ve not met a more hardworking student than you in a long time… I wholeheartedly believe in you.”

“Oh… Thank you, Tighnari.” It was her turn to feel butterflies suddenly blooming in her belly, silently praying he wouldn’t listen to the loud pitter patter of her heart. 

The two of them remained still for a few seconds, though it felt more like an eternity. His eyes stared into hers, awkwardly shifting as if trying to find the words to speak. Please stay, Let me review the papers before you go?, I think I like you too much to have you leave, were all thoughts racing through his mind, some cutting off amidst the others as he watched her tuck some hair behind her ear. And feeling his gaze on her so intently, the sudden blush forming on her cheeks was inevitable as she finally spoke again.

“W-Well I, I should get going. Sumeru City isn’t far from here, but I can’t afford to be late…” Tighnari’s tail slowly lowered at those words, though his face remained supportive for her. “I’ll try to visit if I don’t get stationed here again. I really enjoyed your company, Tighnari.”

“Likewise.”

Amidst his lovesick thoughts, he couldn’t afford to say more. There was hope bubbling within him, she could get stationed in Gandharva Ville again. His tail raised a little at that, though he still watched as she inevitably left to return to the Akademiya. Most of the other rangers wished her well before she departed, and just like that, life returned to normal. 

Her sudden absence was… Unexpectedly uncomfortable. There was a constant sense of dread within Tighnari’s stomach, one that had him wearily gaze around himself as his ears remained perked, twitching, unrested. He himself was unrested. The nights were long, the sounds of the frogs and the river under Gandharva Ville were no longer calming. It all felt suffocating, strangely quiet without the scent of the oil lamps burning besides him and [F/N], without her presence to soothe him. He’d toss and turn around his mattress, hot before feeling cold, hugging his tail close to himself before wanting to do nothing with it, getting a glass of water before trying to lay back down only to remain pacing until the sun rose again… It was getting rather stressful, ridiculous even.

It took him an excruciatingly long time to finally realize what could possibly be the cause of his mood shifts. In fact, the moment when it all clicked in his head was outright ridiculous.

For those oddly unaware, Tighnari is, in fact, a hybrid. A fennec fox hybrid, in specific. This is stated, because it would seem he himself had somehow forgotten about this very important fact for an extended period of weeks. Amidst the companionship [F/N] had provided during her stay, Tighnari had subconsciously dismissed this very important thing about himself that he’d been able to keep in mind for the entirety of his life up to that point. It may seem mostly unimportant to most, but to him, it is something that greatly impacts his lifestyle, as well as a specific decision that many would do brazenly.

The only night he’d somewhat managed to rest due to exhaustion, he found himself suddenly sweating amidst his sleep. He held his pillow tightly as his body turned, groaning quietly to himself as his mind still dozed off between the state of being awake and asleep. His breathing quickened, the guttural sounds he made being muffled as his fangs bit into the fabric of his pillow. He began profusely sweating, his mind running wild as his body shifted itself, rocking with rhythm against his mattress as he sought any sort of release from the sudden tense bubble he felt in his lower area. The pain grew tenfold, coaxing his body to jerk harder into the bed, huffing and nearly drooling as his teeth nearly ripped through the fabric in drunken pleasure. The sensation transformed to something delightful, him experiencing undeniable gratification as his hardening length pressed against whatever he rutted against. His hips shook violently almost, the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead as his temperature increased, chasing the high he sought as his mind graced him with a delightful dream he couldn’t resist.

“[F/N]... [F/N]...” He groaned against his drooled pillow, fangs biting again as he followed with a low groan. 

“Ah, T-Tighnari~” He imagined the way [F/N]’s voice would sound in such a lewd scenario, the sighs escaping from her pretty lips enough to leave him begging for more. It all felt excruciatingly real, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he ignorantly fucked the bed instead.

“[F/N]!” He repeated like a sacred mantra, rutting wildly against his mattress before the mere shock of his orgasm spasmed him awake. 

His eyes opened wide, panting before registering his teeth were wildly tearing into his only pillow. Letting it go, the ranger breathed heavily, trying to gather himself as his body shivered from the high coming to a halt. His mind still replayed the way her body glistened under his own, her gaze staring at him with an erotic sense of drunken pleasure, mouth gracing him with noises he’d never considered imagining up until that point. Tighnari slowly shifted his hands to support his weight, lifting himself from his bed before realizing the accident on his lower region. His face burst in heat as he pieced everything together, another groan leaving his throat as he slipped his fingers through his hair. 

“W… What a mess…” He mumbled, biting his lower lip as he felt the sudden urge to dig himself a hole and hide in it. The clothing stuck to him as his cock throbbed occasionally, clearly not satisfied and wanting more. Shame mixed with desire as he pondered his predicament, weighing in on if he should even attempt to relieve himself or try to ignore the yearning he felt wash over him violently.

Tighnari was in heat. He was careful to track whenever his cycles would come so he could prepare himself, both mentally and physically, but it seemed to have hit him by surprise this particular time. In truth, amidst [F/N]’s company, he hadn’t even remembered it was right around the corner. And with her sudden absence, he suddenly came to a realization this particular time it would be far more challenging to deal with it. 

With his hands gripping his hair as he sat there, everything ran a mile inside his head as he finally decided to confront his reality - not only did he desire someone, he wanted someone as his mate. This could very well go terribly bad, for his particular dna demanded him to remain with one partner for his entire life span. Would he be up for it? That answer came rather quickly, surprising even himself. Yes, he was up to it. [F/N] would be a delightful partner, he could feel it within himself. His tail wagged violently at the mere thought, desire and bliss mixing in a dangerous elixir as he felt himself throbbing yet again. Still… Would [F/N] accept him as is? He couldn’t possibly force her or anyone to stay with him, that was out of the question. Not only was it undoubtedly wrong to do so on so many levels, Tighnari was fully aware of the responsibility accepting him came with. He’d have to be with a partner that fully understood that side of him, as well of his needs and the unnegotiable commitment it required.

He could only audibly sigh, staring at his own body as he felt the pain kick back in. Nothing he wasn’t used to, yet the neediness now had a point of focus - something it would be utterly difficult to focus on his job with.

 [F/N]’s stay in the Akademiya wasn’t particularly long. She was mostly utterly joyous, for the reports she’d submitted were impeccable. Honestly, she inwardly credited Tighnari for most of her success, for his continuous support and feedback helped her work immensely. His mere existence was the sole reason she nearly begged her superior to return to Gandharva Ville, hoping to remain there as a doctor for a while longer. Sure, she found the other forest rangers lovely as well, but unlike Tighnari, she was well aware of her blooming feelings for the Forest Ranger. In truth, he made her feel like a teenager with a crush, giddy and giggly whenever she thought of him or his big fluffy tail and his pretty ears and his adorable voice and everything else- Suffice to say, [F/N] was ecstatic when it was reported back to her that she indeed had permission to remain stationed there for another fixed period.

The trip wasn’t long before she was back in familiar grounds, the smile on her face thrice as big as the one she had on her first day. She could practically hear her heart jumping out of her chest as she gazed around, silently looking for Tighnari even as his colleagues welcomed her back with open arms. All were happy to have her back, especially some who believed her presence would improve their master ranger’s mood - perhaps, some innocently wondered, she had something that could help him with his problem. Something that was silently acknowledged, but no one dared to even bring up. 

“Where’s Tighnari?” She had finally worked up the courage to ask, smile hopeful as another ranger gave her a sheepish one.

“Oh, well… He’s been mostly confined to his own tent. He’s uh… Been going through a rough period.” A male ranger explained to her, lifting his hand upon realizing the sudden panic in her expression. “He’s mostly fine, miss [F/N]. It’s a more uh, intimate matter.”

Her eyes widened as she registered what it could possibly mean, clicking rather quickly in her head. Simply mouthing an ‘oh’, she wondered if it would be appropriate to even visit him in such a state. [F/N] was not ignorant after all, and her vast knowledge in biology was a handy one when it came to fully understanding the intricacies of the body. 

Everyone quietly reassured her that he was still able to receive visits, though they were more regulated and spread out so as to not overwhelm him. As everyone gave her the brief rundown though, Tighnari was beyond jittery. He nearly twitched as he squinted his eyes shut, breathing heavily as he attempted to rationalize with his own mind. He could’ve sworn he smelled it, her scent, her lovely smell he’d come to adore, but he feared it was nothing more than his heat clouding his judgment. After all, he’d received no letter warning him of her return, so he’d figured it wasn’t happening. That was, until he heard a very familiar voice, his body jumping in his seat as his eyes stared at the entrance of his tent with pure eagerness.

“Tighnari? It’s me, [F/N]... Is it okay if I come in?”

His tail swayed wildly, his ears twitching as he felt his breath hitch. Doing his very best to keep himself in check, he cleared his throat before putting down the pen he wrote with.

“Of course, come in.” He hummed.

His eyes nearly dilated as he watched her walk in, closing the door behind her. His cheeks flushed with a faint color, eyes betraying his respect as they wandered lower. His state blurred his judgment, filling his mind with thoughts variable to the dreams he’d been receiving almost daily. The fox hybrid nearly salivated as he watched her clothing hug her figure almost sinfully, mentally slapping himself as he offered her a seat wherever she’d like. Watching as she came closer, he stalked her figure as she sat in front of him, her scent invading his mind as he fully embraced it. 

“I… Heard about why you’re here.” She spoke with pure sympathy, all the while attempting to reassure him she wasn’t in any way scared or repulsed by his situation. He simply smiled with thankfulness, listening to her every word. “Sorry, I should’ve sent a letter announcing my return. I wanted to surprise you, but had I known it would coincide with your cycle-”

“Please, it’s quite alright.” He shook his head, offering her a look that only filled her with endearment. “I’m very happy to see you again, [F/N]... Although… Are you only visiting, or are you actually coming back to remain stationed here?”

Her smile nearly made him dizzy. “The latter.” She confirmed his question, Tighnari inwardly throwing his hands in the air in both bliss and frustration. Oh, he absolutely adored the idea of her around him, but that meant he’d have to suddenly chuck up the energy to discuss something very important with her.

“Really? That makes me so happy!” He sighed with happiness, wanting nothing more than to hold her close. He watched every little move she made, the way her shoulders tensed, the way her smile grew shier, the way her legs squeezed together as she remained seated in front of him… Unlike before, he no longer had the willpower to deny himself his feelings nor his desires. 

“I’m very happy to be back, too.” She confessed, her cheeks gaining an endearing blush. Between shy glances and hidden confessions, Tighnari figured he would simply have to bulldoze through the topic. He couldn’t wait any longer, else he’d burst or regret ever doing something harsh amidst his haze.

“Since you’re here, [F/N]... I’d like to discuss something with you. Do you have some time?”

“Of course. What do you need of me?” She inquired, head tilting slightly as she offered him her ear.

He gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing before he took a deep breath. She watched as he placed his pen to the side, sighing before finally gazing up at her again. 

“I wanted to have a serious conversation with you. Don’t worry, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

She laughed softly, his eyes nearly closing as he basked in her giggle. He’d only realized he had just treated her like he’d sometimes treat his own rangers, reassuring them whenever they hadn’t done anything worth receiving a scolding for.

“It’s okay Tighnari, I wasn’t worried. Please do speak your mind.”

“Right, well… It’s regarding these cycles I have.” He began, looking for any sign of discomfort as he spoke. He saw absolutely none, as well as no surprise on her face. She was calm, cool, collected, as well as supportive to listen to whatever he had to say. His heart jumped, mind racing as he wondered what the climax of this conversation would be. “Although your presence is very much welcomed and enjoyed, you’ve left just as my, erhm… Heat began, and returned right at the height of it.”

“O-Oh.” She hummed, a blush spreading across her face as she urged him to continue.

“During your absence…” He dragged out, before finally taking a deep breath and deciding to just lay all his cards on the table. “It’s been hell, I can’t lie. I’ve been prepared my whole life to deal with these cycles each time I don’t find a mate, but I can’t deny the bubbling feelings I’ve grown for you. At this point they’re not even feelings of a small crush, they’ve developed into full blown adoration. The issue is, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m part fennec fox.”

Nevermind the utter leap her heart was doing, [F/N] was fully listening in to him. Despite the fireworks going off in her head for knowing her love was returned, she was still concerned for his predicament. She could only wonder how uncomfortable it had been for him, especially when knowing she was the root cause of this particular cycle. 

“While most hybrids don’t have to think of this particular deal with much seriousness, me on the other hand, have to consider that-”

“Fennec foxes mate for life.” She finished the sentence for him, a sheepish smile gracing her pretty face as she felt her thighs squish together. Her heart raced inside her chest, eyeing him directly as she remained as calm as she could. She could feel his stare glue on her, looking for any sign of disapproval before he’d continue.

“Yes…” He hummed, clearing his throat before looking at her again. “Well… I fully understand that this can be a dealbreaker though, so-”

“I love you too, Tighnari.” It was her turn to be blunt, her eyes finally unmasking the pure adoration she’d held for him during the whole time. They glistened with a spark he couldn’t quite place, catching him off guard before he found the strength to finally respond back.

“A-Are you certain?” He mumbled, causing her to giggle softly. His ears twitched to whatever sound she’d bless him with, tail wagging in a livelier manner as her eyes followed with endearment. “Don’t get me wrong, that… That makes me happier than what I can even describe, but I can’t stress enough how this is a huge commitment. Once I have confirmation, there will be a switch flipped in my brain to instantly consider you as my partner, forever.”

“I fully understand that, Tighnari.” She reassured him, nodding her head as if to further confirm it to him. “I wouldn’t allow myself to fall in love with you if I wasn’t ready to commit. I know how important this is to you, but I am ready. For everything.”

The last statement was, by itself, enough to flip his switch. [F/N] watched as his eyes dilated, slowly getting up from his chair before rounding up his table. Following suit she got up as well, ready to welcome him as she watched him visibly struggle to remain cordial despite what she could only assume were urges bubbling deep within his being. Unbeknownst to her however, the hair at the back of his neck stood, his movements growing slower as he approached who his mind now suffocatingly told him was his lover, his mate. She offered him a loving smile, accepting him with open arms as he hesitantly placed his hands on her hips, noting how they were… Wide. How she was breedable. His mind was running foggy, he had to control himself for a little longer.

“I… I’m sorry if I’m moving a little fast, [F/N].” He confessed, his eyebrows furrowing as his tone nearly turned into a whine. He jolted slightly upon feeling her hands resting against his chest, her voice humming in understanding.

“It’s okay Tighnari, I understand. Like I said… I’m ready for anything.” Her hand lifted to stroke his cheek, his knees nearly giving out as his grip against her waist grew stronger. It was her turn to gasp lightly, though remaining with a confident and loving smile. He watched as she bit her lower lip, his mind groaning over how he wished to bite it instead. “I want you to know I’m willing to do whatever you need done. Will you just… Please guide me through it beforehand?”

He frantically nodded his head, the black of his pupils nearly drowning the color of his eyes as he pulled her closer to himself. Her frame felt perfect against him, her fingers stroking against his cheek still as if enticing him to move forward. With a quiet promise to explain everything to her before anything was done, Tighnari sealed it with a kiss, nearly suffocating himself in the process as he drowned in love and lust. His lips felt hot against her own, a sigh of bliss leaving her as he took the lead, experimenting as his mind lost focus. Wanting to taste more of her, his tongue peeked through, carefully carving out her lips before parting them, seeking her very own as they began to waltz together. At first slow, it rapidly grew more frantic, his hands lowering as he encaged her against himself, his own muffled groans in sync with her quiet whimpers before hearing her babble his name almost incomprehensibly.

“Tigh… Mhm, Tighnahhh….ri…” She moaned softly, his ears shooting straight up as he finally leaned back, letting her breathe. Never minding the saliva on the corner of his mouth, he eyed her eagerly, listening to her attentively. “M-Maybe not here?...”

He was blushing furiously, already feeling excited under his pants. “R-Right, I’m sorry.” He practically groaned, his hands never roaming too far from her hips before he leaned closer, kissing the corner of her lips repeatedly and with fervor. “I’ll explain everything once… Think you can keep up?”

“Mhm…” She nodded her head, taking up his challenge as his lips continued attacking her mouth with desire. And amidst fleeting kisses and licks, he explained everything that would need to be done, seeking approval and consent before it quickly became dark. 

Her mind ran wild, heart nearly bursting out of her chest as she prepared for what was to come. After everyone had gone to rest, the two of them made haste deep into the forest, hands holding together as he guided her through. Despite knowing exactly how the ordeal was done, Tighnari himself had never done anything of the sort, only further fueling his eagerness to finally release this side of himself with the one he chose. Such was very clear with the way he held [F/N] close, murmuring to her the repeated plan whilst ensuring her he’d be as gentle as he could.

“Not scared of the dark, are you?” He pressed his chest against her back, bringing them both to a stop as his lips brushed against the crook of her neck. Against his hold her figure tensed, an excited grin on her face as she stroked his hands.

“No, don’t worry. With you it’ll be fine.” [F/N] hummed in response, shivering upon feeling his teeth brush against her exposed skin.

Tighnari was nearly trembling, though he bit himself back. He was close to finally getting what he needed, he only needed to hold on a little longer. His animalistic urges were bubbling from within at the mere thought of how it would all go down, it being the only reason he managed to finally release her from his embrace.

“Alright, dear. I’m giving you a minute to run ahead.” He explained, a cheeky tone hidden underneath the husky voice he spoke with. [F/N] turned around to gaze at him one last time before she were to follow through. “Be sure to not get hurt… One… Two… Three…”

Her eyes widened upon realizing he’d already begun counting. With a brief smile [F/N] ran, her panting being listened to even as she disappeared into the night. Tighnari couldn’t help the smile from forming on his face, his voice still echoing through the forest as he continued to count the time. His ears were straight up, twitching at any little sound he heard as he felt his heart racing. As he was coming close to finally counting down the minute, he could feel his mouth nearly salivating, the scent of her arousal reaching his nose. 

“And sixty… Alright alright my love, here I come~” He practically sang, moving slowly at first as if he stalked the area for any sounds. 

[F/N] could hear him approaching, biting her lip as she smiled for herself. She couldn’t deny just how excited she was, even if the ordeal hadn’t exactly been one she’d thought she’d find herself in. Honestly, that was all the more reason for her to feel eager for him. Still… She couldn’t cop out and make it end quicker. Despite being selfish with her own desires, she still understood the assignment of ensuring his needs were also met, even if such needs included a chase that led them into a small cave.

It lasted for a little longer than what [F/N] could’ve ever predicted. Honestly, she inwardly gave herself a pat on the back, being able to evade Tighnari for far longer than what she would've ever thought possible. Sure, it might’ve been easy for a fox hybrid like himself, but it was still a feat for someone as inexperienced in such a thing as herself. It was a little difficult to navigate the forest in the dark, her pace slowing down as she realized she was close to their final destination. Her hands moved to slightly loosen her own clothing, a small step to aid in the near future as they finally rendezvous on their little den. 

“Eager, are we?” [F/N]’s voice let out a sudden yelp, arms snaking around her as Tighnari had suddenly jumped from the shadows. His face nuzzled against her shoulder as he aided her in loosening her clothing further, the grin being practically felt against her skin as he peppered her with hungry kisses. “You did so well, love… I’m actually impressed.”

“And I’ll only get better… Next time around.” She huffed whilst trying to suppress her sighs of pleasure, feeling his hands roam against her figure as he shivered against her hold. Tighnari only hummed in approval, agreeing with her before turning her to face him.

“Of course. But for tonight, seems like I’ve successfully caught you…” He breathed out, clashing his lips against her own as they ruffled against one another. He could practically feel her smile against his lips, heart swelling as he inwardly praised the skies for such an understanding partner for his needs.

“Mhm… You have…” She mumbled, her own hands sneaking up on him to help him loosen his own outfit as well. “I’m all yours, dear. Why don’t you claim your prize for however long you wish, ‘Nari?”

He shivered in such a delightful way, she herself could feel it against her hold. It was dirty, the way she made it seem so… Primal. Yet it only fueled his fire more, his urges boiling to the surface before he dragged her off to the little den they’d painstakingly prepared beforehand.

“You’re so good for me… So good. Thank you.” His whines were honestly sickeningly sweet, a stark contrast from what [F/N] had thought he’d behave like. It was as though the normally level-headed Tighnari still wished to voice his thankfulness one final time before succumbing for the time being, wanting her to know just how much he appreciated her.

“Anything for my ‘Nari…” She mumbled back, feeling as the cool air hit her bare skin. 

He felt himself drooling, tongue slithering across her neck before going down her bare skin. The makeshift blanket with their pile of clothes served as a base for them to lie down, carefully trapping his lover against his hold before he pressed himself against her. [F/N] could feel his body hot, sweating against her own as her fingers stroked through his dark locks, sighing in lust as she felt his fangs experimentally bite her collarbone. 

“I can smell just how aroused you are…” He pointed out, licking his lips devilishly upon feeling her thighs squeeze shut. His hand lowered before gently prying them open, his body shifting downwards as he left a trail of kisses against her skin. “Don’t hide from me, love. Not only is it useless to… I could just- Get drunk off your scent.”

[F/N] shivered as glanced down at him, the lack of light only adding an extra layer of eagerness for the whole situation. Her other senses were heightened with the lack of light, jumping at every little touch he offered her as his eyes practically glowed back at her.

“Tigh… Tighnari…” She moaned quietly, still a little reserved, feeling his lips reach her inner thigh as his fingers carefully worked to fully undress her lower region. “I-It’s embarrassing~”

“Nonsense, you’re absolutely divine.” He hummed in delight, his eyes leaving her face to fully focus on her now exposed pussy. By that point he licked his lips in preparation, his hands firmly holding each thigh as he prepared himself to fully dive in. 

Like a starved man, Tighnari was quick to jump in and stop any possible questions his lover could have. Even though [F/N] was already naturally aroused by their situation, the idea of tasting her juices was enough to have him leaping for it, ignoring his own lust as he drowned himself in what he quickly came to realize was the best taste he’d ever tried. His tongue moved feverishly, but not without care for every corner of her pussy as his grasp against her squishy skin tightened. His ears remained straight as he listened to the delectable moans she provided for him, strings of praises mixed with incomprehensible babbles leaving her lips as her back arched naturally with the pleasure he provided. Tighnari could quite possibly come undone then and there were he not to stop rutting himself against the floor, his hardened bulge painfully reminding him that he needed some attention to. His tongue swirled upwards to her clit, paying extra attention as he both kissed and nibbled on it, as if the researcher experimented on any little reaction his dearest provided him.

“N.. Agh… ‘Nari! That feels so good,” she heaved amidst moans, one hand lowering before grabbing a hold of his hair, careful as to not tug too hard. It was his turn to groan, a guttural sound that vibrated against her needy hole, leaking in neediness of him as it only further enticed him for more.

“More, I need more,” he huffed against her pussy, licking up any juices she offered him as if it were divine nectar he’d been blessed with. 

Even against his hold, her thighs squished around his head, trapping him into a situation he couldn’t possibly complain about. His nails dug slightly into her skin, [F/N] swearing she could hear her lover growl under his breath in what she could only assume was pleasure from the ordeal. Having never considered Tighnari would actually become pussydrunk, it was a pleasant surprise to say the least. 

“You’re so wet, so so wet my lovely [F/N]...” He purred, all the while still giving all his attention to her pussy, an experimental pump of two fingers enticing a louder moan that had the hairs at the back of his neck stand. He couldn’t wait himself, the sensation of her tight hole around his throbbing cock would absolutely derail him, he just knew it. The way her tight walls sucked his fingers in desperation was enough to have him shivering, pumping them deeper as he listened to her finally whining out her request.

“‘Nari… I can’t wait any longer!” His [F/N] moaned, pulling his head up by his hairs to watch his glowing eyes land straight to her blushing face. His expression darkening with desire, he slowly lifted himself up, her juices staining the lower part of his face as he licked his fingers clean.

“Is that so? Then tell me, what exactly do you want to interrupt me in such a way.” He hummed, tail wagging as if expecting a final confirmation before the prize was finally claimed.

With her arms wrapping around his shoulders, she pulled him close, eyes pleading by themselves before she whined. “Please Tighnari, fuck me real good. I want you to fill me up, to breed me!”

Although it was the dead of night, his eyes widened, the fox hybrid nearly choking on his spit as he was evidently caught off guard. Not exactly expecting her to use such filthy language, Tighnari quickly removed his undergarments before finally freeing his cock, pumping it eagerly while [F/N] spread her legs nice and wide for him.

“You’re such a dirty girl… But I ‘spose I should reward you for being so honest with me.”

“Mhm, please?” She pleaded, a groan leaving his throat before his lips latched onto her own. 

With both in position, Tighnari aligned himself before finally pushing his tip in, his eyes closing shut as he lowly moaned against her neck. Her tight walls sucked him in, welcoming his throbbing cock with open arms as if begging for him to fuck her into his shape. He felt her legs locking around his hips, her body jolting under him as her nails clawed at his back slightly.

“S-Shit… You’re so tight.” He sighed out, sharp teeth brushing against her still unmarked skin. His free hand roamed up, fingers slithering across one of her breasts before latching onto it. “So good, baby. You feel so good, taking me in nice and easy.”

“‘Nari, you’re so big…” She yelped, her walls stretching to accommodate him as her natural arousal coated his cock. The slight pain would periodically subside as he attempted to not wildly thrust into her, his hips battling against his brain as he gave her a moment to adjust to his sudden insertion.

His lips lowered to her chest, a trail of kisses leading up to her tit before his mouth latched onto her nipple. Sucking while gently nibbling on it, Tighnari began to slowly thrust, attempting to focus himself on maintaining a steady rhythm before he’d lose control. The way her velvety walls wrapped around him so nicely had him seeing stars, the high clouding his vision as he groaned in a sinful manner that only further helped arouse [F/N].

“Harder, Tighnari… Please, please fuck me harder!” She moaned, pleading with him as she held him tighter. 

His grasp on her tightened, finally letting himself go as his hips rolled quicker, faster, harder. This had his mate moan his name out like a sacred prayer, their lewd sounds echoing around them as his cock became coated with their own desire. Tighnari bit and nibbled all over her chest, moaning how good she felt around him all the while, how she was his, how much he loved her. His teeth left many love bites around her skin, the researcher grinning to himself whenever he felt her hole clench a little tighter around him with each hickey.

“I’m going to fill you up, love. You just wait, you’ll be so full of my cum, so full of it, oh I can’t wait…” He lifted his head before lunging at her lips, swallowing her moans as the tears pricked the corners of her eyes. 

[F/N] could swear she was seeing white, eyes rolling back as his tongue rubbed against her own, his dick being able to reach deeper and deeper and hitting all the right spots. Her grasp on him weapened, jolting at every time Tighnari thrusted forward before nearly emptying her pussy and ramming back in. It was so sinful, so lustful, so good. He fucked so good, she couldn’t even stop the babbling moans from leaving her throat as he fucked her tongue with his own. His pace increased, yet Tighnari held on, cock throbbing but still not quite close to cumming, saving all of his load to coat her insides in sticky ropes of white and claiming her for the first time of the night. 

“You want that don’t you? For me to breed you nice and good?” He lifted his head, the string of saliva falling down and sticking to her jawline as she moaned in response, his grin never leaving his face as he continued to fuck her faster. “You’ll be a wonderful mom, oh I’m sure of it, I’ll make sure by tomorrow you’re stuffed full of cum that you’ll surely be pregnant with my pups.”

“Mhm, Tighnari!” [F/N] cried out, trying to pull him back to kiss him more, instead only receiving kitten licks across her lips as his hips continued to thrust into her aching hole.

“I can’t wait… I can’t wait, fuck [F/N], you’ll look so pretty once I fill you up.” Tighnari’s hand lowered to rest on top of her belly, his heart racing as he thought of his beloved fully bred. His back shivered at the image, his pre already mixing with her juices as he imagined her pretty hole filled to the brim.

“Ah, ‘Nari, you feel so good~ I’m so close, ahnn~” 

“Are you cumming love? Then do it, right around my cock, do it, I want to fuck you through your first release.” 

Tighnari watched attentively, focusing for a sole moment as her face twisted, lips parting as her pussy clenched around him one final time. His ears were graced with the most delightful of moans, hole spasming around him wildly as it all threatened to overwhelm his own high. He groaned in response, hips still thrusting through it as he engraved her expression in his mind. She looked so fucked out, and yet one single round wouldn’t satisfy him in the slightest.

“You look, so, gorgeous,” He breathed out quickly, finally latching onto her lips once more as his own pace grew wild and unpredictable. His arms rested against the ground, holding himself up as he pressed harder against her sweating body, grinding against her as he chased his own high against her now overstimulated pussy.

“Ah, Tighnari, that’s-!” [F/N] moaned loudly, arch backing deliciously against himself as her tits squished against his chest. His teeth nibbled on her puffy lower lip, growling as he felt his cock throbbing harder, signaling he was close.

“I’m going to cum, [F/N], here comes your first prize for being such a good girl,” He huffed, grinning wildly before he moaned her name lowly, one final thrust into her abused hole kissing her on her deepest part before finally dumping his fat load deep into her.

Nails digging into his back, she moaned in pure bliss, body trembling at the mere sensation of her pussy being utterly filled to the brim. To her surprise, Tighnari continued to pump into her, fucking her through his own release as his cum coated every single corner of her hole until there was no space left. He felt his head lower against her neck before finally breathing heavily, slowly pulling out before lifting himself up to watch the scene before him.

With hearts in her eyes, [F/N] eyed him with a blissful expression, arms extended out to him as if whining for him to come back to her arms. Her legs remained apart, his cum now leaking from her as her hole protested the sudden disappearance of his dick. Her chest was sprinkled with love bites, body glistening and sweating as her hair was disheveled from their first round of many. 

“N…. Ah.. ‘Nari?” She whispered, face blushing upon gazing how he stroked himself, pumping his hardening dick vigorously as he savored the view. She felt her mouth go dry, the sudden wonder of how his cock would feel fucking her throat running through her mind. “A-Ah~”

“No wasting any seed, now…” He purred, fingers sliding easily back inside her hole before fingering his cum back into her pussy. The sound their mess made was quickly becoming one of his favorites, still rubbing himself while he studied over how sensitive she was. “This won’t do… A single round won’t be enough to ensure you’re well bred, don’t you think baby?”

“H-Huh?” She blushed furiously, feeling his weight press against her once more, aligning against her entrance yet again as his dark gaze landed right on her.

“One more time, love… One more, can you take it? Please?” He outright pleaded, promising it would only be one more, just to ensure. 

It never was just one more time, Tighnari fucking her well into the sunrise, more and more addicted to how she felt around him, as well as the image of her every hole leaking his seed.

[luveline]

losers | remus lupin

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]

fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.

It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes. 

“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”

That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating. 

It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye. 

A phone number. 

If lost, please call. 

You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day. 

It goes for ages. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”

“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”

“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

“Sure. Of course.”

You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”

Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess. 

You’re the opposite of fearless. 

The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it. 

You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it. 

“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you. 

You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches. 

He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on. 

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”

Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip. 

You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”

If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”

“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”

“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness. 

“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”

“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”

“You must be good friends.” 

You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles. 

“We must be.”

The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?” 

“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, really." 

Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you. 

"That's you?" Moons asks. 

"That's me. Sorry." 

"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling." 

You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside. 

You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with. 

What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair. 

You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it. 

"Nice highscore." 

You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound. 

You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair. 

"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?" 

His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?" 

That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course." 

Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting. 

"Sure you don't mind?" 

"I'm paid not to mind." 

"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please." 

"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?" 

He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be. 

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused. 

He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you." 

You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me." 

"Yeah." 

You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes. 

"Is there something wrong?" you ask. 

You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands. 

"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it." 

"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul." 

You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable. 

His long silence makes you squirm.

"A thank you, then.”

He offers you an envelope. You take it. 

The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside. 

You look up in shock. "I can't–" 

He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view. 

He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one. 

You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself. 

You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line. 

"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it." 

"Are you kidding?" 

"No, seriously." 

She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach. 

You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front. 

You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes. 

It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way. 

This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it. 

The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited. 

The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin. 

And last on stage… last on stage is Moons. 

You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe. 

That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage. 

You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours. 

Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing. 

His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow. 

They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them. 

They're good. 

Like, too good to be openers for long. 

The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out. 

You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places. 

You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set. 

"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship." 

"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl. 

"Thanks, Mary," Moons says. 

What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons. 

You try not to tense as footsteps approach. 

"Can I sit?" he asks. 

You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up. 

"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say. 

He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup. 

"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted." 

He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.

"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion. 

He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?" 

Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then. 

"I like music,” you say.

"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup." 

"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice." 

His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet." 

Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call. 

Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar. 

The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over. 

"Hey, it's you!" 

You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together. 

"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.

James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Um, and you?" 

"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?" 

"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians." 

He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames. 

"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now." 

"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says. 

"And the handsomest." 

"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly. 

Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?" 

"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here." 

Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound. 

"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.

Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back." 

You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody. 

Not that it matters if he is or isn't. 

But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is. 

There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything. 

"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say. 

"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?" 

"I'm not a big drinker." 

"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino." 

What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?" 

Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much." 

"What's in San Marino?" 

"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.

The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding. 

Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it. 

You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch. 

"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.

He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."

"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino." 

He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar. 

"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."

— 

James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again. 

James has never seen Remus like this before. 

His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever. 

James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour. 

He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out." 

He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close. 

But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy. 

You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.

Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly. 

—

Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes. 

It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does. 

He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone. 

You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake. 

"You play Snake?" you ask.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.

Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming." 

He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it. 

"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?" 

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous." 

"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before." 

"This is your first date?" 

You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that." 

"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special." 

"It doesn't," you say. 

"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–" 

"Why would you?" you joke, grinning. 

He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?" 

He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair. 

"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it." 

He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners. 

"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?" 

He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect. 

"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married." 

"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance. 

"He's devoted," you guess. 

"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding." 

You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared. 

"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying." 

"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest. 

"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man." 

"Half?" 

"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me." 

"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say. 

James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does. 

Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other. 

"They've always been like brothers." 

"But not…" 

He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time." 

Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now. 

"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful." 

"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes. 

He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise." 

You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own. 

"Charming, isn't it?" 

"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?" 

"Wolf."

A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in. 

"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble." 

"No trouble at all." 

You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another. 

It's not so bad. It's agonising. 

"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this." 

"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay." 

"I just blurted out what I was thinking–" 

"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder." 

You like that he says it as if it's a good thing. 

You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time. 

"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says. 

Not promising. "Okay." 

"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me." 

"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.

Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries." 

He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh. 

"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down. 

"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep. 

Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume. 

"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"

“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear?”

The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking. 

It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo. 

You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same. 

The date is suddenly over. 

“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest. 

You nod rather than answer. 

Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes. 

A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling. 

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours. 

He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?

His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”

“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands. 

You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it. 

“How will you get home?” you ask quietly. 

“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”

“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“

“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again. 

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Fits the recipient.”

It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long. 

“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming. 

“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.

“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly. 

He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”

He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered. 

The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you. 

"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking. 

You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own. 

You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath. 

He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm. 

“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can wait,” you say. 

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.

He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him. 

—

Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.

He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie. 

Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated. 

And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away. 

“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure. 

You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”

“No.” His head has never been this clear. 

He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date. 

Which means he has to get out of his head. 

Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice… 

He wants to see what other sounds you make. 

Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible. 

He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice. 

“I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands. 

Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still. 

Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips. 

Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.

Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down. 

Your thumb traces a scar. 

He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs. 

He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor. 

Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone. 

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. 

Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”

He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”

“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again. 

He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat. 

He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat. 

Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine. 

“Was that alright?” he asks. 

You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time. 

“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden. 

He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”

You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.

He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.

Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge. 

He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”

All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move. 

“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”

“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.” 

Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore. 

The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart. 

He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said. 

Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes. 

Close? Remus is fucked. 

“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”

“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back. 

His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans. 

He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.

“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far. 

“Let me clean you up,” he says.

“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”

He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly. 

He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up. 

He drags the quilt over your naked back. 

Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead. 

“Don’t think so.”

He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”

You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up. 

“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”

He hums. “What?”

“Could I kiss you again?” 

You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently. 

He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought. 

“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”

You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen. 

You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.  

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[artist-issues]

I Saw Wish

And it was the worst animated Disney movie I’ve ever seen. I have to watch it again before I can get into the nitty gritty details. But I don’t need details to sum it up, because my dad actually said it perfectly as we left the theater:

“It was like someone who didn’t really understand Disney movies tried to make a Disney movie.”

Both the form (the technical arts of filmmaking) and the content (the morals, values, and themes of the movie) were totally horrible.

I don’t know who’s fault it was. Jeremy Spears was in the storyboard room and Mark Henn and Eric Goldberg did some 2D animation. But they must have gotten outvoted, or they must not care anymore.

Because holy cow. Here’s some stuff that’s just off the top of my head.

SPOILERS. Not that it matters, because nothing interesting happens in this movie.

The writing? Terrible. Ninety percent of it feels like the characters are filling time with quirky one-liners that are trying too hard to be appealing, then failing, then taking you out of the movie. The jokes aren’t funny. The characters just respond to each other in conversation to check a one-liner box. The other twenty percent is whole conversations repeating tell-don’t-show exposition that has already been covered, usually twice, in previous scenes. Like if in Tangled, every scene had included some variation of Rapunzel saying to friends and enemies alike, “I have to see the floating lights so I’m sneaking to the castle with this thief who wants a mysterious tiara I hid from him. Don’t tell my mother, she’s a bit overprotective!” Over. And over. And over.

The character motivations are way too broad. Asha? Her dream is just “that everybody around me gets to be happy.” That’s it, in a nutshell. No deeper exploration of that. Nobody asks, “why do you care so much?” Nobody tries to convince her she should look out for herself, and then she proves she was right all along. The King? We are told (not shown) that he doesn’t want anyone else’s dreams to be “destroyed.” But he in no believable way expresses that that motivation is still what’s driving him during the movie—what’s driving him is just a plain old lust for power, no nuance.

By the way, the whole premise of the movie? Undercooked. Half-baked concepts strung together with no definitive meaning. Therefore, it’s not believable. Example: The characters act like the wishes are beautiful—well, actually, no, this movie doesn’t know how to show, so there’s not a lot of meaningful acting—the characters just tell us that wishes are “the most beautiful part of someone,” and that’s why it’s worth going through this adventure to give their wishes back to them. But there’s no proof of that in the movie. In fact, it directly kicks it’s own legs out from under that idea, because it has every character who gives up their wish forget that part of themselves. Asha’s grandfather has forgotten his wish, but that doesn’t make him any less “beautiful.” She, and everyone, still treats him like he’s this wonderful old man who deserves the world, who everyone loves…but why is he so appealing? If he “gave up the most beautiful part of him?” The only character who is changed by their lack-of-wish is the Sleepy-analogue character…who is just sleepy, which is described as “boring.” But nobody else who’s given up their wish in the whole kingdom acts like that. It’s just him. Also, the King acts like it’s so important to protect the wishes from destruction. But what does destroying a wish look like? That actually happens to Asha’s mom. Her wish-bubble is broken, literally, and she just says she feels grief. But like. Why? She never remembered it in the first place; it had been missing from her life for years. Also, what the heck is a wish?! It seems to range from broad concepts like “inspire people” to “fly.” Just “fly,” like a bird. The desire to levitate off the ground is the most important, beautiful essence of one background character. Like, what?! But no character ever has the why behind their wish to make us care.

I could go on and on about that point. Like, think about Disney movies that wrote the book on how to make movies about characters with wishes. If Ariel were in Wish, her bubble would look like “dancing and learning and exploring on the Surface with someone who understands her.” But we believe that that is her real, genuine wish, and that it matters to her, because we are shown why being understood is so important to her. Because it’s missing from her life. There’s a scene where she explores a boat alone, and even her best friend doesn’t get excited about it with her. Her dad won’t listen to her point of view. Her siblings don’t ask her about her life even when they think she’s in love. She wants what she wants because of pieces of her life that we are shown.

We are never shown why Asha’s grandfather is obsessed with inspiring people, so we have no reason to believe it, or care whether he gets it or not. We can’t feel disappointed when his wish is said to “never come true,” like we did when Quasimodo was abused by the people he wished to join. We can’t feel elated when he finally “gets” his wish, like we did when Simba smiles on Pride Rock remembering the same way he used to as a cub and claims the crown with a roar. We don’t have anything to hang on to, nothing to relate to, nothing to grasp and feel with the characters. So we don’t feel, because they didn’t put the work in to help us feel. They just say, “the mom’s feeling grief. Feel grief.” And expect us to do the work ourselves. I have to stop harping on this point and move on.

But The main point of the movie is very broad because of that lazy premise, and it’s barely reinforced by any kind of appealing storytelling. If I had to guess, the point would be “Keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” But the story they told to communicate that meaning was so unimpactful. Asha doesn’t have a dream of her own that’s such hard work to accomplish! (Neither does her grandfather; his wish is “to inspire people.” And at the end, we’re supposed to see him strumming a guitar and believe it’s inspiring? We were never shown how he worked hard to learn how to play the instrument. Or that he carved it with his own hands, or anything like that. So there’s no meaningful demonstration of working hard for it or achieving your wish even if it’s far out of reach.) And nobody except the king is trying to take wishes away from anyone, and he just does it literally, after they voluntarily give them to him, so there’s not even any impactful demonstration of “don’t let anyone tell you your wishes are dumb or unachievable, or stop you from reaching them.” Even when he takes them away, it’s just because they…could, someday, be used to threaten his kingdom in a vague, really unlikely way. There are so many things you could do with “keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” For instance; you could say the main character has always been afraid to dream (wish for more), because maybe when she was a kid something wonderful almost happened but ended in tragedy, so she keeps her head down and doesn’t want much because if you don’t dream you’ll never be disappointed. She takes no risks, and has to learn that sometimes trying and failing is worth more than slogging through life all self-protective. I mean, the pieces were right there. She has this line about her dad, and how she wished he would get better but then he died. She has lines about how nobody should have to live with grief?? Then that’s never addressed again! It’s just a throwaway emotion-moment with no buildup or follow-through to tie it to and support that main theme.

The compositions of too many shots were so terrible. Characters got cut off in weird places. One shot has Asha dead center, with her grandfather on the left side of the table and her mother on the right, having a family dinner with a super exposition-heavy conversation that is meant to be emotionally charged. But despite everything else being perfectly centered, half of her mother’s body is chopped off. The movie’s shot like someone’s mom who doesn’t understand technology tried to take a video with her phone.

The charm of the art “style” wears off basically immediately. I know what they were going for. I see the sketch lines and watercolor textures. This is maybe the first time Disney ever failed to accomplish a visual “look” that turned out good. Everything looks dull. Muted. De-saturated. Slightly out of focus, but not in a cool Spider-Verse way. The sets or backgrounds are lazy; at no point does the scenery look complete; big, empty, boring spaces that do not create any kind of “stage” for impactful moments. The rendering looks unfinished. When Asha’s hair moves during her belting of the “I Make This Wish” song, it’s bad. It’s unnatural. It flops in a way that doesn’t make sense for the weight of her hair. The most impactful visual moments come from the villain, and they’re moments when he looks way too unhinged for the kind of line he’s saying.

There is no interesting character development. Asha goes from believing everyone is basically good and their wishes deserve the chance to come true , to….that, again. That would be fine, she could be a static character, if she proved contrast-characters wrong, in a believable way. But she never does. Because no other characters argue with her except the King. And it goes no deeper than “everyone’s wishes are basically good and they deserve the chance to make them true” vs. “nuh-uh, because I get to decide what makes them deserving.” The King doesn’t have any kind of interesting development, either. They don’t expand on his tragic backstory—it consists of one drawing of him near a broken boat, and a few images of the corner burned off of his family taoestry. They never say “King Magnifico wished for _____ and it was taken away!” They literally never tell you what his wish or dreams were, or what motivated him to create the whole kingdom that the movie’s premise sits on. So there’s no convincing sense of progression, how he got this way, why he’ll keep going “so far.”

The pacing is weird. It undercuts every moment that could have any kind of emotion behind it. One minute Valentino is suavely bouncing around, then he’s given a two-second beat to blubber with badly-animated tears that he’ll miss Star—then he instantly gets to have another funny one-liner so we forget he might’ve been sad a second ago. We’re clearly supposed to believe that the King and his wife are devoted to each other, and his turning evil was such a big betrayal, but there’s no time and no impactful evidence for us to believe either of those things. And even if we did, the moment he’s defeated and trapped in a mirror, and begs to be let free, the Queen kind of shrugs it off, makes a forgettable one-liner, and tells them to throw him in the dungeon. And he doesn’t look remorseful. And we don’t even get to assume he’s embarrassed or emotionally devastated that he’s come to this—because the last thing he says is “nooo, the dungeon is so smellyyy!” Like this is a half-baked LEGO short that can’t get emotionally deeper than what an actual 3 year-old’s parents might be okay with.

And that’s the worst offense: The movie is not genuine. It works hard for nothing, and it has no vulnerability. It just uses old Disney standbys to pretend to be vulnerable. Have the music swell and the characters gasp and the songs drip emotion when characters are meant to be saying or doing something emotional.

But truthfully, think of all the Disney movies you’ve ever seen with the hardest emotional moments. The sheer joy of Genie when he realizes he’s free. The anguish when Elsa thinks Anna’s been frozen forever, or when Anna thinks she’s dead. The trauma when Simba loses Mufasa. The longing and dreaming of Ariel when she reaches up out of her grotto. The sense of foreboding when Mother Gothel says “fine, now I’m the bad guy” or the heartbreak in Rapunzel’s eyes when she thinks Flynn has abandoned her, or the shame on Aladdin’s face when Jafar reveals he’s a street-rat, or the horror of cruelty when the stepsisters rip up Cinderella’s dress, or Kala’s tears when Tarzan leaves her in the treehouse, or Sarabi’s tears when Simba comes back, or Mulan’s father tossing aside the sword and token of the Emperor to embrace Mulan, or heck, even just Lilo pushing Stitch in the woods and telling him “get out of here.” This movie has no moments like that. It has moments you can tell that the filmmakers wanted to hit like that—but they don’t.

Because no work is put into building them up. You know how much Simba loves Mufasa, because you’ve been watching their chemistry more than any other character all the way up till he dies. You know how much Mulan wants to please her family because she spends all of Act I desperately attempting to do that. You know Quasimodo believes the world below is beautiful and wants them to accept him because he has interesting things like—talking to gargoyles, convincing us that he’s lonely; building a scale model of the townspeople, convincing us that he sees them in a beautiful way and wishes he were beautiful in more ways than one like them, too.

Right down to the facial expressions, none of them are as anguished, happy, sad, excited, silly, in any convincing way like all of Disney’s other movies. Asha’s “low moment” when she’s afraid her “wish” hurt everyone else (still vague on what that wish ever was) lasts two seconds, she’s not crying, she’s barely sitting with slumped shoulders, and her family barely spend two seconds comforting her. They basically just say, “aw, no, it’s not y fault, it’s the king’s.” And she’s like, “yeah okay” and that’s that. It’s like the animators we’re afraid to animate really intimate emotions on the characters’ faces. The voice actors, too.

And the whole movie is peppered with Easter eggs to past Disney movies. But all that does, if you really know Disney beyond the visuals, is make you think of how hollow this movie is in comparison. How much you wish you were watching Cinderella or The Little Mermaid or something with depth and vulnerability instead of Wish.

[writers-potion]

Different Genres, Different Fight Scenes.

Romance

No real gore; write entertaining fight scenes with an illusion of reality

Avoid excessive arobatics or feats of unbelievable strength. Stay realistic - describe the weather, how the ground feels.

Add a layer of erotic tension.

Use injuries as opportunities to test the hero and heroine's relationship, for displaying touching and tender care.

Fight scenes in romance tend to be short (<700w)

Where there are several fight scenes: (1) he comes to her rescue - (2) she comes to his rescue (3) together they fight in the final showdown.

Fantasy

Fantasy fight scenes will primarily be enertaining, but have considerable grit.

Since readers needs to retain their suspense of disbelief in dragons, fairies, unicorns, etc. it helps to keep fights realistic.

Heroes will be skilled in using the weapon of their choice, and he climax of the fight will be prolonged, detailed and technically precise.

Science Fiction

Invent a special weapon for your book. To make it plausible, take a real-life weapon and extrapolate.

To make it interesting, the weapon will have a critical flaw or have consequences to the user which will make the plot more interesting.

Thriller

Fight scene in thrillera are very gritty, with real violence and gore. There will be several injuries and death.

However, the hero will also show off his skill in prolonged fight scenes, making it entertaining.

The suspense section is typically long

The hero will often have advanced level fighting skills.

Horror

As long as the blood is plot relevant, readers will want to see gore and grit.

The suspense and aftermath sections will be long, with unexpected twists that gets the hero behind his back.

Cozy Mystery

Cozy mystery won't have too much fighting involved, but if it does it will be be short.

Focus on how the hero struggles towards the next clue as a result of the fight rather than on the fight itself.

Historical

Fight in historical novels can be anything between entertaining and gritty.

Consider the periodic background, tech level, and relative wealth of your fighters before you give them weapons and armour.

In period where life expectancy was shorter and violence was more commonplace, your heros will be less bothered about seeing death, gory gutting, or having children in battle. Less qualms about killing.

In most periods and societies women didn't fight, and you must come up with a plausible backstory for her.

Literary

Either the fight takes place off stage or it is shown in all its realistic brutality.

Literary fight scenes are gritty and short.

You will choose to focus on the aftermath - play up the tragic, sinful, meaninglessness, etc. of violence for the reader and how it affects your hero's psyche.

Young Adult

YA fight scenes are entertaining, but it can escalate to be very scary.

he plot often revolves around he protagnoist performing implausible feats of fighting, often with exceptional martial arts skills.

Choose whatever martial arts teenagers find "cool" and build up your knowledge about it.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[zillychu]

I really like your “ghosts treated as natural disasters” au! It’s super cool! I wonder how people get around the fact that phantom has never been seen sucking anybody’s life force out? Do they think he’s building up to something big or just protective of the population center he’s found

That's a great question! I tried to keep that post as short and sweet as possible but oh man do I have a lot more nitty gritty details in mind.

For one, ghosts aren't restricted to Amity Park. They have haunts (territories) but they have lairs in the ghost zone as well, so they tend to go back and forth between the worlds.

However, only the Fentons have a portal with a fixed location, and they rarely have it turned on. (Fun fact: the Fenton portal is made after ghosts explode into the human realm in this AU!) There are areas on earth with higher portal activity, but where they pop up and how long they stay is pretty random.

So, ghosts naturally wander. They pop back into the human realm as they wish, but it's not always close to their haunt. Lots of lesser ghosts don't even have haunts, too mindless for intelligence and more like roaming animals. Smarter ghosts can be curious and explore other parts of earth. They tend to only get defensive of their haunt if they sense other ghosts hunting there excessively, or trying to lay claim on the haunt.

So, in short, Phantom isn't always in Amity. He's there most frequently, but does appear elsewhere on earth at times. There's basically no way to tell how many ghost-related deaths are Phantom's fault.

Not only that, but slowly devouring a human's life force over time isn't uncommon! More intelligent ghosts will do this in an effort to prolong the duration of their "meal", and indulge in the terror it incites. A lot of people simply get very ill and exhausted over time, until there's not enough life left in them. But since this happens to humans naturally all the time, well... it's often hard to tell if the decline in health is from natural causes, or a ghost. (Lesser ghosts don't eat as much, but they have no intelligence to keep them from stopping till they're full. They get full quickly though, so you're less likely to die if one catches you. Just watch out for multiple encounters.)

Danny does take this to an extreme, though! Humans do replenish their life force naturally over time--it's just that ghosts that eat slowly still overcome that natural regeneration. Phantom is literally the only ghost that takes so little over such a large population that it's barely perceptible (unless he messes up, which, oops--that's happened).

But there's simply no evidence that this is probable, or even possible. Ghosts have no reason to do this, it's not as satisfying to them if their prey doesn't experience the terror that comes with knowing they're being drained.

(Also, just another fun little factoid: haunts are usually small! Lesser ghosts will haunt a single item, stronger ones will haunt a building, the strongest on record will haunt something like a park or complex. No one has figured out yet that Phantom haunts all of Amity because that's unheard of!)

Another factoid: ghosts don't need life force to survive! They lived in the ghost zone all this time just fine.

Life energy simply gives them more power, and better ability to stay in the human realm longer, and more corporeal. And it's instinct--it tastes good.

Danny, however, does need that life energy to survive. He needs his ghost half strong enough to stay attached to him, or it could detach and leave his human half dead. Then he'd just be another ghost.

(Also, The more sentient a life is, the stronger it is. So ghosts could technically drain the life of plants and animals, but it's gonna be mostly empty calories.)

[rayclubs]

Which tf2 merc do you think gets mischaracterized the least?

Good question! Let's do a rating.

In my opinion, there are three aspects to characterizing someone.

Facts - you have to get basic character backstory right. This includes all objective canon truths, events, and, well, facts about said character.

Behavior - you need to understand how the character acts, how their interpersonal relationships function, what they're like in their day-to-day life. This is the nitty-gritty of fanfic and fanart, this is dialogue, line-to-line characterization.

Integrity - you need to understand the character's core beliefs and principles, what their values are and how they view the world around them. This isn't something you can easily quote or point to as a mistake in fanfic, it's more of an overall idea of a character.

Each of these is going to be worth up to three points, with zero for terrible characterization that gets everything wrong. This would ideally total to nine points. I'll be awarding an additional bonus point for character interpretation that doesn't make me scream "he would not fucking say that". Let's go.

Scout:

His backstory is fairly simple. He has an absent father, half a dozen siblings, and a crush on his boss who doesn't reciprocate. People mostly get this right, except they also call him a virgin despite the fact he canonically lands the fried chicken queen, and seems to do it with ease. 2/3.

His behavior is also mostly portrayed accurately, in that he's loud, obnoxious, self-absorbed, and can be kind of a dick, though not completely without endearing qualities. The fandom is, admittedly, guilty of making him more insecure and self-conscious than he actually is, to amp up the drama. 2/3.

His core values, however, are completely off. The main interpretations I see of him are "depressed Scout", "homophobic Scout", and "baby Scout", neither of which is true to his character. This is a grown man with a force-a-nature complex. The homophobia is just projection and internalized prejudice, but that phenomena is too complicated for me to dissect here. I talked about it before and might make another post later. Anyway, 0/3.

Scout does not get a bonus point. He would not fucking say "poggers" but he would say "daddy-o".

Overall characterization score: 4/10

Soldier:

Very little is known about Soldier's backstory so there isn't really any room to be wrong about it. What we do know is also vague and unreliable, so it's open to interpretation. Given how little room for error there is, I'll give him a 3/3.

His behavior is completely off in most cases, often shown to either be overly aggressive or so dumb you start to question how this man functions in his day-to-day life. Canon Soldier has plenty of endearingly stupid moments but a lot of them can be read as deadpan jokes on the character's part, and many turn out to be secretly clever moments, such as him infiltrating the robot base with a goofy cardboard disguise. Likewise, canon Soldier has plenty of aggressive and mean moments, but he's not cruel and very clearly not a threat to his teammates, which isn't captured at all in fanworks that decide to go that way. 0/3.

Soldier's core ideals are mostly captured well, as in - yeah, he calls people communist as an insult in fanfics. I feel like he should mention God more often than he does in fanon, it's, like, one of the two ideologically meaningful things he ever talks about. The importance of "America" as a concept to him is mostly preserved but left unexplored. 2/3.

Soldier does not get a bonus point, he would not fucking say [homophobic slur] yet here we fucking are.

Overall characterization score: 5/10

Pyro:

His backstory is nonexistent yet people still fuck it up. His technical knowledge is clearly extensive and impressive, as shown by the complexity of his weaponry - which, mind you, looks HAND MADE - but people treat him as if he's altogether incompetent and maniacally stupid all the time always. He also ran an engineering company for hell knows how long and people just forget about it because they're allergic to adults or something. God this pisses me off so much. I mean for fuck's sake, people act like his full job description is "Pyromaniac" and not "Pyrotechnician". I'm so tired. 0/3.

His day-to-day characterization and dialogue is also completely off. People treat him as if he's INCAPABLE of communication, make him obsess over childish things he's only shown a moderate liking to in a manner that's borderline creepy and insulting, and take away his whole entire agency in everything he ever does. I will literally not give y'all a single point, you do my man Pyro so dirty. 0/3.

His ideology is complex and vague in canon, and I don't blame people for getting confused by such things as Pyrovision, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. In my time on Ao3 I've seen animal Pyro, cryptid Pyro, monster Pyro, alien Pyro, evil mindless maniac Pyro, incompetent baby Pyro, nonbinary Pyro (HENCE MY PROBLEM WITH THE HEADCANON, do you see how it looks next to all these other interpretations?) but I've rarely, if ever, seen competent adult Pyro with actual hopes and dreams and agency. 0/3.

Pyro does not get a bonus point because he would not fucking say "uwu" but he would say "fuck", let Pyro say fuck.

Overall characterization score: 0/10 are you fucking surprised

Demoman:

Oh poor lad what have they done to you. So, Demo's backstory is arguably the most detailed and fleshed-out in the entire canon. Too bad nobody fucking read it. Admittedly, in the recent years I've seen people mostly manage to remember he has several jobs and is overall a competent and successful man, but it's rarely - if ever - explored, I've seen exactly one fic where the author bothered to explore what one of his other jobs might be (and it was not a good fic for many other reasons, don't ask me for a link), and it honestly feels like people don't want to dwell on it? Like, they mostly mention it to fill a quota, y'know? Here, I'm not racist, I've acknowledged one of this character's achievements, leave me alone. Also the subject of him being fucking adopted as a kid never comes up. 0/3.

His day-to-day characterization suffers a lot because people think alcoholism is the most morally repugnant thing that can ever happen to a human being. This man honestly barely even has a presence in the fics he's in. Are you wondering where Demo is? Well, he wasn't there! He was BUSY! He couldn't come! There is a handful of writers who bother to write his actual inner monologue and point of view, and this point goes out to them only. Also there was a pretty good Boots and Bombs fic in which Demo was a dick to Soldier but then got better, and it stuck with me. 1/3.

His core character is fucked up by fandom because he's either all flaws or not allowed to have any flaws, and there's no in-between. Ever since I joined the fandom I've seen a lot of critique floating around, and people mostly seem to listen and realize they've been mistreating the man for long enough, but it created a whole separate problem of Perfect Demoman which is bland and boring. People don't want to write an offensive caricature but don't feel like fleshing him out either, so they just make him great at everything and never let him fail and grown in ways that are meaningful. Except that one fic I mentioned earlier, but I've already awarded a point for that. 0/3.

Demo does not get a bonus point. I couldn't find a meaningful example of bad dialogue because, like I said, he has no presence in any of the fics he's in. He would fucking say something.

Overall characterization score: 1/10 and honestly it's too generous on my part.

Heavy:

Okay so Heavy's backstory really confuses people. I've got like a dozen asks in my inbox when I called his father a revolutionary AND a counter-revolutionary. Wait till I call him a royalist, it'll blow your tits clean off. I don't feel like explaining the history of the communist regime in the USSR on this post, let's just say people are mostly faithful to canon but don't really "get" Heavy. 2/3.

His day-to-day characterization is plain bad. He's treated like a mother hen to the mercs when he's more of a stoic friend with a mean streak and a crude sense of humor. I think the main problem is the dialogue, people just can't give him the dignity of speaking in an intelligent manner. It's honestly also pretty bad in the comics. 1/3.

His core ideals are fine, if oversimplified. He's not a complicated man, he loves his family, his guns and his doctor. People rarely give him any more depth than that but it's not offensive to his character or anything. I feel like he should have more political opinions than people give him. I also feel like people make him way more protective of Zhanna's romantic pursuits, to a creepy degree. I mean, yes, he's annoyed by her marrying Soldier, and seems horrified for a brief second, but it's not like he's against it or anything, he's just kinda surprised? Anyway, 2/3.

Heavy does not get a bonus point because he would not fucking say "da". Pizda.

Overall characterization score: 5/10

Engineer:

Yeah people mostly get him. He's got 11 Ph. Ds. Some treat him like he grew up as an actual cowboy or something but most remember he's a nerd. I'd actually give all the points here because Engie's backstory is NOT complicated. 3/3.

His dialogue and day-to-day characterization is also okay, though people really mellow him down a lot. I had a bit in one of my fics where he said something like "let's teach those sumbitches how the real killin' is done" and like three different people commented on it saying they liked or were surprised by his mean energy. It's not even that mean, I think it kinda shows my problem with his interpretation. 2/3.

I asked about mischaracterization once and a lot of people replied "Engie is the most mischaracterized because people treat him like he's good but he's actually evil" which I think pretty much covers it? It's hard to write someone who is not implicitly strictly good or strictly evil. Engie treads this balance really well, I'm actually convinced his demeanor is not a facade, he is nice at times and mean when he wants to be. Fanon Engie can only be one of two things and neither is right. 0/3.

Engie gets a bonus point as an exception. I actually can't tell why, people just have his voice on-point. Is his accent and manner of speaking really that easy for you? I struggle to write him a lot. I think he should say "bitch" more.

Overall characterization score: 6/10

Medic:

People focus on the fact he lost his medical license more than on the fact he HAD a medical license in the first place. Other than that he really doesn't have a backstory. I dislike that people try to give him a sad one, I think he grew up loved and maybe even a little spoiled, but I can't fault others for not following my headcanons, so. 2/3.

His dialogue is the WORST because it's written phonetically. His goofy yet self-confident energy isn't captured well at all. The best I can put this is "people wife him" but it sounds kinda mysogynistic so really I'm at a loss. Submissivepilled breedablemaxxer. 0/3.

His core values are also all over the place. The complicated thing about writing Medic is that he actually doesn't come with pre-packaged drama. His backstory is vague, his demeanor is optimistic, his vibes are fun, and the worst thing that happened to him in canon was working with the classics for a bit - people amp it up to squeeze hurt out of it, which is fine, but not many people actually like going there. Thing is, fanfic writers aren't that good at writing drama when it hasn't been established before. They have to warp his character, make him edgy, self-conscious, or plain mad evil without redeeming qualities. I remember really struggling with my big Medic fic because I wanted it to be dramatic but had to put a lot of work into actually building up the emotion, because Medic is fine. He's fine. He's alright. He's fine. He's doing well. 0/3.

Medic does NOT get a bonus point, he would not fucking say "babygirl" and I'm not even sure if he would say "yass queen slay" I'm SORRY

Overall characterization score: 2/10

Sniper:

People mostly get his backstory right, probably because it's the most well-explained in the comics and it gets the most "screentime". It's also literally a Superman parody which is funny and memorable in concept. 3/3.

People can't find a good balance between stoic professionalism and social anxiety. I think Sniper is actually pretty simple, in that he's a little self-conscious which pushes him to actively better himself as a professional, but also makes him a little awkward so he comes across as standoffish and a little mean. He's a solid bloke that's balanced and feels real. Fandom has to go for the extreme every goddamn time with him. It sucks. 0/3.

People kind of get his drama, his relationship with his family and whatnot - mostly because a lot of us losers can relate, I bet - but, again, go for the extreme in making him anxious, whiny, and sad as a wet kitten. Unless it's a porn fic in which case he's an absolute freak that growls at people. I don't know what it is about Sniper that makes him so difficult to characterize. Manic pixie dream boy. Dark and moody lover love me like no other. 0/3.

Sniper does NOT get a bonus point because he doesn't say "cunt" nearly as often as he should. Also send me asks about my Sniper takes I want to stir up some shit.

Overall characterization score: 3/10.

Spy:

The only piece of his backstory we actually know is that he fathered the blight of the earth that is Scout TF2. 3/3.

His obnoxious and insufferable demeanor is mostly captured well. A lot of his portrayals aren't nearly as classy as people think they are, but that's because most authors are themselves proletarian, myself included, which is fine. Not many make the effort to pepper his speech with French words it would actually be natural for him to say, and blame it on the nonsensical complexity of the French language, but I'm not buying it as an excuse. 2/3.

His core values are off in regards to Scout - he's often portrayed as soft, mellow, overbearing, and critical of Scout's love life to either a comical or an uncomfortable degree. His fandom portrayal often also lacks the self-confidence he's demonstrated in the comics. Spy is not above strangling a man with a chain that holds the shackles around his ankles, he wouldn't consider it a blow to his dignity to fuck any of his coworkers either, come on. He's also funny and goofy but the fandom tends to neglect that. 1/3.

Spy does not get a bonus point because he would not say "perchance" but he would say "your mother".

Overall characterization score: 6/10

The final scores are:

Spy - 6/10

Engineer - 6/10

Heavy - 5/10

Soldier - 5/10

Scout - 4/10

Sniper - 3/10

Medic - 2/10

Demoman - 1/10

Pyro - 0/10

There we go! Pyro is the most mischaracterized, Demoman is a close second, and nobody is characterized well. Cheers!

[iambicpentameterhamster]

What i think of you based on your favourite Six of Crows character

Matthias Helvar:

You probably read a lot in the fantasy genre and take yourself too seriously (no offense) probably busy daydreaming about profound things and writing poems that you'll eventually delete. You love bleak and gritty stories and you listen to Coldplay, Conan Gray or The Tortured Poets Department. No shade though, you guys are probably great friends with value for loyalty. In summary, i think you're all either really intense and ernest or totally shy and quiet. You're probably heterosexual to be honest.

Nina Zenik:

I think people who's favourite is Nina don't tend to be much like her in real life, but are the type of people that would really want to befriend her. I'd say you're more introverted and quietly friendly, but then you act totally different and comfortable with the right friends. Technically disapproving of gossip, but turn into Regina George if the rumour is juicy enough- secretly judgemental but it all comes out to your best friends. You have a good sense of humour and probably quite a cynical/pessimist mindset overall. I know you like campy films like Legally Blonde and Clueless. Oh, and your favourite subject is definately history.

Inej Ghafta:

If you're drawn to the steady and honest beat of Inej's thoughts, I think you're quite an anxious or scattered person who enjoys how safe and comforting she feels as a character. I'd say you're a sensitive person with a keen eye for colour and art. Your favourite chapters in SOC are definately the backstory and romance chapters. You cry often at films and music and just when you feel bittersweet or happy. You have Hozier, Mitski or Radiohead on your playlists. You're either artsy smart or english smart, there's no way your a science/maths kinda person.

Wylan Van Eck:

This one is split. You're either one of those people that infantalises and simplifies his character and reduces both him and Jesper to their ship and nothing else, OR you're literally the best person ever. If you're the latter, you're probably super empathetic and appreciate depth as well as a good laugh, and i severley doubt you yourself enjoy maths and chemistry despite loving that look for Wylan. I've also never met a Wylan stan who wasn't a HARDCORE fan of SOC in general. You guys are the loudest complainers about Shadow and Bone being cancelled, and honestly, power to you. I bet your room is a bombsite right now too- pick up those dirty clothes, for christ sake.

Kaz Brekker:

All Kaz Brekker fans are somewhat infatuated with him. Your favourite chapters/scenes are absolutely the action and sexual tension scenes. All about high stakes and excitement, and you love to be surprised. That or you have a big thing for the bad boy trope. I think you have "dark achademia" or grunge-ey pinterest boards that don't match your real life style. I also think you think chess and piano are really sexy but play neither yourself. You and your friends probably read terrible Wattpad stories for a joke. Generally, you're somehow relaxed and simultaneously intense as fuck. 70% of you are Queer women/ nb people, other 30% are intensely heterosexual.

Jesper Fahey:

You have Queen on your playlist. Queen or Gorillaz. You're probably a quite casual person who is taken with Jesper's charm and humour, and you appreciate the comedic relief as you don't enjoy too much grit and heavy stuff with no humour breaks. But despite being not the most sensitive person in the world, Jesper's backstory caught you off guard and it HURT. I think you love comedies and action, you're decent at school and you're quite popular with a good circle of friends. A social person. Potential theatre kid, but minor roles/tech, and the only musical you really like is Hamilton lmao. You are generally a funny person, but you've definately experienced that moment where you tell a joke and nobody laughs.

Anybody else:

Non-existent.

OH AND ALSO, KAZ AND WYLAN FANS ARE THE ONES WHO WRITE ALL OF THE FANFICTION

[batbabydamian]

🦇🐥 Batman and Robin (2023) #6 rambling and screaming crying throwing up about a single page

so right off the bat, i'm adding these panels to the Ms. Hall is Shush conspiracy board - the first suspect in mind for who could train Zach would be Principal Stone, but Ms. Hall is conveniently placed in the "teacher's pet" panel HMM

Damian's history with Zsasz is mentioned again! any further reference to Streets of Gotham ends here once Damian and Zsasz face off, but i'm not complaining when Damian gets to kick his ass again LOL

AAH SUCH A COOL PANEL!! i rambled enough about Cizmesija's impact shots last time, but this is just. SO COOL... DAMIAN'S POSE, the light streak from the eyes, the jittery effect at the point of impact from Zsasz's front to his back - LIKE DAMN, YOU KNOW THIS KID HIT HIM HARD

ok i was gonna shut up about the impact shots but to accompany the Robin panel, THIS SICK BATMAN PANEL!! THE SPEED LINES ALONG HIS WHOLE ARM, the hilarious waves of that hit going through Zsasz's face asdfg, the cowl and cape silhouette in the back - and the KRAK SFX!! it's got a bit of that gritty splatter effect Cizmesija uses so either another smooth choice by letterer Steve Wands or extra kudos to Cizmesija!!

i thought the action would be my favorite aspect of this issue, but it was THE EXPRESSIONS. from Damian's frustration here (his glare and his seriously gritted teeth) to the page that brought me to my knees lol

a breakdown of my breakdown for this page:

DAMIAN'S WIDE EYED EXPRESSION AT BRUCE'S COMPLIMENT, THE SHINE IN HIS EYES!! what gets me about Bruce’s praise is how specific it is, especially pointing out Damian’s storytelling 😭 Bruce already knows Damian’s technical art skills are amazing!! storytelling through comics is a whole different skill and Bruce recognized that!! 😭 no wonder Damian is so touched, Bruce is paying attention 😭

HE LOOKS SO OVERWHELMED BY THE VALIDATION FROM HIS FATHER - THE TENTATIVE SMILE!! BEFORE HE BREAKS OUT INTO A FULL GRIN!! 😭

HOW HE BURSTS ABOUT HIS PROCESS AND THEN THE LIL ASIDE OF “I love those…” HE'S SO CAUGHT UP IN HIS JOY PLEASE I’M COUGHING UP BLOOD THAT'S SO CUTE 😭 happy Damian is my weakness i mean LOOK AT HIM OH MY GOD the wide smile his lil fist and the pointing, he cannot contain himself!! 😭

his art is so fun, i'm glad we get to see more of this!! the shadow of Bruce and Damian over the pages is a neat touch too! Damian expanding from realistic renders to this manga style on top of these amazing comic layouts…Bruce is right his growth is crazy 😭

to add on to Damian's progress from Bruce's eyes - Detective Comics (2016) #1003 was the last time Bruce acknowledged Damian's art!

the return of Flatline!! for this last bit, i'll be referencing Lazarus Planet: The Next Evolution (2023) since that's Nika's last notable appearance!

Nika calling Damian out on not contacting her asdfg she mentions something similar before, and i could only imagine it's been months since then considering that issue came out a whole year ago 😭

besides Nika meeting Bruce, the most important thing that needs to be addressed is if Damian's aware that she resurrected Ra's and finally, what they could have discussed??

ending note, upgrade from earbuds in Batman and Robin (2011) to headphones haha wired earphones only!!

[ilovedthestars]

Hello Tumblr friends, apropos of nothing, I have a book recommendation for you.

If You Think You Would Enjoy:

First person narration that Does Something Cool With It

Urban fantasy that really leans into the urban aspect. The mundane beauty of the city made magical

London Man Investigates His Own Murder While Committing Several More Murders, more at 8

A protagonist who is just an absolute wet pathetic paper bag of a man and knows it

A protagonist(s) who are the exuberant and unhinged personification of telecommunications technology with an unparalleled zest for life and also sometimes murder

Both of those characters are technically the same person

The most breathtakingly gorgeous prose that has ever been used to describe a magically animated pile of garbage

A tone that I feel can reasonably be described as “gritty,” with its refusal to shy away from the blood and grime of reality, but that is also suffused with a deep unflinching love for everything that humanity is

A supporting cast that includes many of the world’s weirdest and most badass women

The protagonist getting beat up and/or stabbed and/or shot and almost dying at least twice per book

A reading experience not quite like any you have seen before or since

Then You Should Read:

The Matthew Swift series by Kate Griffin, starting with A Madness of Angels

If you love the city of London, you will love this book. If you have never been to the city of London, this book will show you what it looks like through the eyes of someone who loves it.

(And also what it looks like when embodied as a giant dragon made of street signs.)

I cannot emphasize enough the gorgeousness of this prose, the geniusness of the urban magic system, and the amount of love for London and for humanity that oozes out of this book. I am also fully convinced that Matthew Swift would be a tumblr blorbo if his books were not mostly out of print and very niche.

It can be a bit hard to get your hands on a physical copy—try thriftbooks or another online used bookseller, or call your friendly neighborhood bookstore and see if they can order it for you. Or just go for an ebook (maybe your library has it on Libby). It is absolutely worth the trouble.

Brief content note while I have you here: There is a fair amount of violence and it is sometimes very lovingly described. Also...don’t get too attached to side characters.

Go read it and then join the approximately 3 people on tumblr who know this book exists and are obsessed with it!!

[aemondwhoresworld]

FIRE (2019) — by OMELETO

Jack is an awkward, volatile teen who struggles not just to control his temper, but his unusual powers: his hands leak out fire when he struggles to control his rage and anger. But then he randomly encounters a ranger in a forest, and tags along to watch him work. Faced with an unfamiliar environment and asked to contribute to an unusual task, Jack finds a way to be strong without anger and the key to working with his powers. Writer-director Chris Andrews's short drama has the look and feel of a naturalistic story, full of gritty social realism and a strong sense of observation. It's photographed with the muted color palette typical of many naturalistic films, and the direction and editing have a careful attention to small details of performance and visuals, whether it's the shift in a facial expression, a pause in conversation or the reveal of a tree within a forest. But the "superhero" elements add an element of engagement and unexpected depth to this coming-of-age story. Obviously metaphorical, it's still handled with subtlety, thanks to the understated performances and excellent craftsmanship of the filmmaking itself. There are no "big" moments or swelling orchestral scores to underline huge emotion or revelation. Instead, the film carefully lays out its emotional arc on the tiny but meticulous shifts in performance and visuals, reflecting the shift in Jack's confidence and competence. When Jack once again has to face confrontation, he has learned how to harness himself -- and discovers that his self-awareness actually makes him even more powerful than ever. FIRE can technically be filed under the "fantasy" category. But while the special effects are minimal and quietly done, the supernatural elements of the story still accomplish what all great fantasy does: it takes those magical powers and realms to comment on the deepest, most mysterious inner aspects of human existence, and brings an element of the archetypal to a work of great psychological insight. Anger and rage at the injustices inflicted upon us are never easy to grapple with, and like Jack, we are all too often tempted to use those impulses towards violence. But those dark emotions have a role, as well as valuable information about our internal landscapes -- and by learning to deal with those feelings with a sense of self-mastery and insight, we can harness that righteousness towards productive ends, instead of against others or ourselves.

[megalony]

Third Time's A Charm

Okay, this is my first Buck x Tommy imagine and I am really happy with how it turned out. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: During Buck and Tommy's first date, things take a strange turn. And Buck is in awe when his date stands up for him like no one has done before.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan dragged his hands up and down his thighs, trying in vain to wipe away the sweat lingering on his skin that was prickling all over with heat.

Why did Tommy have to look at him like that? Why did he have to smile in such a way that made Evan's stomach twist? Why did he have to exude so much confidence and authority that it made Evan feel like a teenager on his first date?

Well, this technically was a first for him. It was his first time dating a guy.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to sit or what his stance should be or what was even considered normal anymore. It was as if Evan had suddenly become self-aware. He was aware of his sweaty palms. He was aware of his quickened heartbeat that was pounding in his ears and making it hard to hear anything Tommy was saying.

He was hyperaware of the fact that his hands had been on his lap for too long and he didn't know where to put them now. He didn't know whether to let his shoulders slouch down or stay sitting as straight as a ruler. He wasn't sure if resting his elbows on the table would make him look casual or demanding. He felt like putting his arms on the table but didn't know if that would make him seem too eager.

What was he supposed to do?

"You seem a little tense."

Tommy's voice snapped him back to reality and Evan quickly realised his nails were puncturing through his jeans and digging into his thighs that were now starting to ache.

"I uh, yeah, this is my first date, with a guy. But it's okay, it's going well- isn't it?" He needed to stop. He needed to stop talking and veer onto a different track before he made a fool of himself.

All of Evan's insides started to turn to mush when Tommy smiled. It was a smile that made his eyes crease and his cheeks puff out and even his nose crinkled, something Evan noticed he did a lot. And it was cute. It was endearing. His smile was infectious; Evan could feel himself smiling and flashing his teeth and he didn't know why.

Just looking at Tommy made Evan want to break out into a big smile and start shaking and drum his fingers on the table to tap out the rapid music his heart was creating.

"I'd say it's going well."

Good. Evan wasn't making too much of a fool of himself right now. If Tommy was agreeing that this date was going well then surely Evan was on the right track. He wasn't ruining this like he managed to do when he went on dates with women. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he messed them up because they weren't what he needed.

Maybe this was what he needed.

He could feel himself getting lost in the sound of Tommy's voice that was slightly gritty but still had a smoothness to it that drew Evan in.

He wasn't sure what managed to drag his eyes away from his date, but somehow, Evan found himself glancing behind Tommy towards the bar. And he suddenly wished he hadn't.

"What time did you say the movie was on?"

"I didn't… we haven't picked one yet." Tommy huffed a silent laugh and raised a brow. Was Evan suddenly so flustered he'd forgotten what they'd just talked about? They hadn't decided on a movie, they were going to see what was on by the time they got there. Tommy didn't see the point in rushing dinner and setting a timer when they could just take things slow and see where dinner led them.

"Oh, well, should we go pick one?"

Evan took another swig of his beer to try and clear his throat that had suddenly gone as dry as the desert. He hoped holding his breath to have a drink would slow down his heartbeat.

He wanted to go. He was ready to go; dinner was over but Evan wanted this date to carry on and move onto the next stage. He wanted to see what would happen when they got to the movies. He wanted to see if the night would end with another kiss that knocked him off his feet. Evan wanted to know if sitting next to Tommy in the cinema would stir up his heart and if there would be electricity when they touched. He wanted to bump their knees together and see what would happen.

He wanted to see if he was brave enough to do what he had imagined doing since Tommy asked him out. Reach across for his hand and hold it.

"Is something wrong? You know no one's looking at us, Evan." God, the way he said his name made Evan's heart burst up into his throat. Why did he call him Evan and not Buck? Why did it have such an effect on him when he did? Why did it sound like heaven personified when it came from Tommy's lips?

"I know! I know, I… it's not that, oh God," He slumped his elbows on the table and took a moment to run both sweaty palms across his face.

He didn't want to give that impression. He didn't want Tommy to think Evan was self-conscious and paranoid and didn't want people to suspect that they were on a date. If that was the case Evan would have suggested staying home for their first date and being closed off. He was out with Tommy because he didn't care if people saw or looked or gawped at them.

Them being seen out together wasn't the problem here; it was who Evan could see standing at the bar.

"Evan, talk to me." Tommy's voice was so soft and coaxing and when he leaned across the table to rest his hand on Evan's arm, he felt the way Evan sucked in a deep breath.

He tilted his head to the side and waited, resisting the urge to drum his fingers against Evan's arm and settled for holding his arm as lightly and delicately as he could. To let him know that he was here, he was waiting and he was listening. Evan could tell him what was on his mind, Tommy wasn't going to judge or get upset or annoyed.

"There's someone at the bar that I can't… I can't be around him, that's all."

"Who?"

Evan was almost upset when Tommy's touch left his arm, but it was replaced by a much better feeling when Evan studied the man sitting in front of him.

He studied the way Tommy's jaw ground up until his teeth were grinding together. He noticed the way his face tensed and his upper lip stiffened and curled like he was about to snarl. He noticed how Tommy leaned back in his seat and his chest hardened in a way that made Evan both look and feel small and protected in Tommy's presence; in his shadow.

It was clear it took a lot of Tommy's strength for him not to spin round in his seat and look behind him at the bar. He wanted to scan the entire restaurant to find whoever it was that Evan had clocked eyes on. He wanted to find him and make sure he didn't come over here.

Evan realised the way he worded that might have come across as if Evan was the one who needed to be protected. That wasn't the case. The man at the bar was the one who needed to be protected from Evan, not the other way around.

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does, who is it?" Tommy couldn't resist anymore. He turned in his seat and looked through the wooden pannels behind him to get an obscured view of the bar.

There were four men dotted around the bar and two women. Which guy was it that Evan had seen? Why couldn't Evan be around him? What had the guy done to him? What could Tommy do to make this situation better and make sure nothing happened to his date?

Evan wasn't sure where the surge of courage came from, but he leant across the table and grabbed Tommy's wrist before he could think better of it or shy away. He curled his hands around Tommy's wrist that felt a lot sturdier and larger than his own and he gave a small, almost childlike tug until Tommy turned back to look at him again.

"It's okay, I just… fuck, he's got a restraining order against me, okay? I'm not allowed within ten feet of him, but he technically shouldn't be allowed near me either. This is our date, the last thing I want is to be arrested for violating an order."

The way Evan's lips curved into a crooked, lopsided grin made Tommy's chest tighten and he almost smiled.

"Can I ask why?" Tommy kept his tone soft and his voice gentle, he didn't want to be pushy or intrusive. This was their first date, they were still getting to know each other and clearly there was a lot about Evan that Tommy didn't know yet. But he was as curious as he was worried.

He knew Evan enough to figure that he wasn't the violent type and he certainly wasn't aggressive. So whatever reason there was for him to have a restraining order against him, it had to be some strange, compelling reason.

He realised Evan was still gripping his wrist, as if he was somehow afraid Tommy was going to get up and walk away. And to calm him down, Tommy gently moved his left hand and curved it around Evan's slightly smaller hand. He brushed his thumb across the back of his hand and smiled, waiting patiently to see if Evan would talk or if he wanted to change the subject. Either was fine with Tommy.

"My sister called me one night, freaking out, her boyfriend was going mad at her, he hit her. She locked herself in the bathroom, but by the time I got there… he had her on the floor with a knife to her throat."

Evan closed his eyes at the memory he couldn't get out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

He could still hear the fright in (Y/n)'s voice when she rang him. He could hear her hiccupping down the line, asking him to help her. He could hear Vince bashing his fists on the bathroom door, trying to break it down to get to her.

And when Evan closed his eyes, he could still see the state of that old apartment when he got there. He could see vases on the floor, petals crumpled and trampled into the carpet. He could see wine spilt on the counter, pictures hanging off the walls. And his little sister pinned to the floor with a madman sat on top of her and a kitchen knife held beneath her chin.

"Did he hurt either of you?" Tommy was almost too afraid to ask and he wasn't quite sure why he did.

Maybe it was because Evan was holding his wrist so tightly that he could barely feel his fingers anymore. Maybe it was the look in Evan's eyes that worried him into asking. Or perhaps it was because the man Evan was talking about was still in the same restaurant as him. Posing a threat to the very person Tommy felt a huge need to protect.

"Not badly…" Evan kept his left hand curled around Tommy's wrist, and before he could stop himself, he undid the first two buttons on his shirt and pulled his collar down. He lowered it enough to reveal his left shoulder where there was a bubbling white scar just beneath his collar bone.

It had been small but deep and Evan had to get four stitches that night while (Y/n) got a wound down the side of her neck that had been extremely lucky to miss her artery.

"He stabbed me, but by the time the police arrived, they found me pinning him down… and I'd hit him a few times. He got an order against me, but we got my sister one out against him. I haven't seen him since, but I wouldn't put it past him to cause a scene."

It had been very unfair that the police arrived just as Evan got Vince pinned to the living room floor.

He'd been running on adrenaline, he broke Vince's nose, smashed the side of his head into the floor and broke two ribs to subdue him and keep him away from (Y/n). Evan was acting in a mixture of self defence and anger and the police tried to arrest him until (Y/n) explained the situation.

But a judge still thought it was necessary to approve Vince's restraining order against Evan. But (Y/n) now had one against him, he couldn't get within fifty feet of her and if he approached her he would be arrested. If Evan didn't get there in time, he could have lost his sister.

"Sounds like you did the right thing… was it Maddie, Chimney's fiancee?" The 118 had definitely become more of a family unit since Tommy had left, something he wished he had been a part of. They were all so close and it was even closer, if a little more complicated, given that they were all tied together. Such as Chimney dating Evan's big sister.

"Oh, no, I didn't tell you? Maddie's my big sister, but I have a twin sister, (Y/n)."

"Eddie's wife, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah," Evan nodded his head with a smile. He hadn't been best pleased when his team started to worm their way into his family and hustle in on both his sisters.

With Chimney and Maddie it had been different, Evan didn't see it as a bad thing. But when his best friend started dating his twin, it felt a little too close for home. If he fell out with Eddie, he couldn't go and talk to his sister about it because they were together. And if he argued with (Y/n), he couldn't talk to his best friend because Eddie was her husband.

But he was happy to see them all together, they were all happy, the girls were the happiest Evan had ever seen them and that was what mattered most.

"Wanna get out of here?"

Evan could feel his heart desperately trying to break out of his chest when Tommy gave his hand a squeeze and looked at him with those eyes that were full of burning intensity and something Evan had never seen before.

He could feel his lips curving up into a grin and he could barely breathe when he tried to nod and agree.

There was nothing more that Evan wanted than to get out of here and be as close to Tommy as he could get, whether that was in public or in private, Evan didn't care. He just wanted to be close. He wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him and attach to him for the rest of the night, the week, the year.

"God yes." Evan could barely hear himself over the sound of his heartbeat pulsing in his ears and he was sure he didn't speak louder than a whisper, but it was more than enough for Tommy.

It felt like pins and needles raked their way up Evan's arm from his fingertips right to the joint of his shoulder when Tommy reached out for his hand when they stood up. He could barely feel his numb fingertips that curved between the grooves of Tommy's hand and it felt like magic Evan had never imagined. It had been a while since he'd held someone's hand, but this was the first time he'd held a guy's hand.

More specifically, someone's hand that was larger than his own and made him feel protected and small and adored and confident.

He took a step closer until there was less than an inch of space between their chests and when Evan took a deep breath, he could almost feel Tommy's heartbeat trying to reach his own. He wrangled with he little ounce of confidence he had stored up within himself, desperate to make the first move this time. To surprise Tommy and show him he truly didn't care if people saw them or stared or realised they were on a date.

He inclined his head but couldn't find the will to close his eyes, not when there was so much to look at and blinking felt like he was missing something.

He didn't get close enough before a familiar voice called out his name and sent a shiver coursing down his spine and down to his toes. And when a set of delicate hands gripped his bicep and gave him a little shake, he stumbled on his back foot.

Evan felt the urge to cry for more reasons than one when he turned to the right and looked at the two people behind him.

Eddie and (Y/n).

"Hey, you two hanging out?" Eddie's smile was somewhat bewildered but his eyes were blind to the closeness between the two men. And the fact that their hands were still intertwined.

But (Y/n) noticed. Evan knew she would; he'd told her this morning he was going on a date, but he left out the very relevant information of who and where he was going. He told her not to tell Eddie because he wanted to keep it quiet, he wanted to see where the night took him before he told anyone other than his sister that he was going out his first date in a while. His first date with a man.

A silent but layered look passed between (Y/n) and Evan as she looked between her big brother and the man next to him.

Huh. He was going out on a date with the guy he was complaining about last week; the one he seemingly couldn't stop talking about. She wasn't expecting that.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here… you two leaving?" Evan couldn't breathe. He glanced to the left at Tommy who was still so close that Evan's shoulder and arm were brushing his stern chest.

Tommy needed to get the hint. Evan wasn't clamming up because they were being seen by family. He was clamming up because a certain person was still in this restaurant who both Evan and his twin shouldn't- couldn't- be around. They needed to leave; all of them needed to leave.

"Gee thanks." Eddie rolled his eyes and swooped his arm tighter around (Y/n)'s waist, reeling her into his side like he was pulling her under his wing. "Don't worry, we're not gonna cramp your style or tag along with you, we're heading home." He gave (Y/n)'s hip a squeeze and kissed the back of her head, but something about the tense smile on Evan's face put him on edge.

Evan gave Tommy's hand a sharp squeeze and jammed his elbow into Tommy's very hard, stern chest before he looked towards the bar.

He could have swooned when the realisation finally dawned on Tommy and his lips faltered into an 'oh' shape before he tried to smile. "We'll walk you out."

"No, that's okay-"

"Yeah, come on. We're leaving anyway."

(Y/n) frowned when Evan grabbed her shoulders and gave her a nudge to get her walking. What was he doing? She wouldn't tell Eddie, she was about to guide him out and head home. There was no need for Evan to panic or for them to try and play this off, (Y/n) and Eddie would leave them be. They only wanted to say hello when they noticed two familiar faces.

She reached behind her and curled her hand around her brother's wrist, glancing up at him a few times before she looked ahead to make sure she didn't trip down the steps.

Her eyes narrowed when Evan moved to stand tall on her left side, as if he wanted to cage her in and steer her forward. She had Eddie on her right, Evan on her left and then on Evan's other side was Tommy who looked very much like their bodyguard with his advanced height and large build.

"Buckley, is that you?"

A quiet whimper mixed with an 'ohh' left (Y/n)'s lips and when her knees started to shake and her feet became rooted to the spot, Evan's jaw locked. He tightened his hands on her shoulders and moved to stand behind her while Tommy inched closer to Evan's side.

They couldn't be sure who Vince was referring to, whether he had only noticed Evan, or if he had seen (Y/n) too.

They had been so close. Almost passed the bar, almost at the doors.

"Who is it?" Eddie couldn't find the ability to smile when he realised his wife had become frozen and his brother in law was now tensed and had a face like thunder. Evan's upper lip was curling up, his shoulders were taut and pulled up around his neck and he was gripping (Y/n)'s shoulders so tightly he was going to hurt her.

"Out. Get her out, it's Vince."

Hearing his name was enough to make (Y/n) shiver but she couldn't find the ability to move. It was as if the faint scar on her neck was pulsing and aching and coming back to life. She could almost feel the skin splitting apart at the seams and the way her blood curdled and shivered felt just like blood oozing down her neck and trickling down her chest.

"Baby come on, you're okay." With his left arm already around (Y/n)'s waist, Eddie moved his other arm around her chest and gripped her elbow.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he locked eyes with Evan before he started to drag (Y/n) forward. He could understand why she had clammed up and he could see she was starting to shut down, but they had to move. They couldn't stand here and create a bottle neck and they couldn't wait for Vince to approach them and cause trouble.

They had to move and Eddie was more than willing to drag or even pick up his wife if it would get her away from her crazed ex. Eddie had seen the damage first-hand when the team turned up after Vince attacked (Y/n) and Eddie. He wouldn't have that man anywhere near them in case he hurt either of them again.

Evan let his hands drop from his sister's shoulders and watched Eddie practically drag her towards the door. With her feet dragging and scuffing behind her and her head flopped forward like she was about to pass out.

"Evan, we need to go too."

Tommy's hand found Evan's shoulder as he looked between his date and the man vastly approaching them. They didn't need to hang around and have a fight or warn Vince away. They needed to follow (Y/n) and Eddie, all of them needed to get out of here and carry on with their night.

"He'll follow her." Evan could feel the panic burning away in his stomach and it was making him feel sick. They couldn't just walk out because Vince was going to follow after them. He wasn't the kind to just turn around and walk away, he would see this as an opportunity.

He had gone to jail and got a fine and a restraining order because of (Y/n) and Evan. He would see this as the ideal situation for payback.

"No he won't, we'll get her and Eddie in a cab, he can't run after a car. But I'm not letting you get into trouble so let's go." Tommy voice was coaxing and calm as if he had been in this situation hundreds of times before.

The way he placed a sturdy hand on Evan's shoulder and looked right into his eyes made Evan breathless and feel faint. He found himself nodding along, even if he didn't totally agree with what Tommy was saying. He continued to nod and he let Tommy turn him round to face the doors, but Evan cringed when an unfamiliar hand found its way onto his arm.

"Buckley, long time no see… was that (Y/n) leaving?"

Dread held Evan by the throat so tightly he couldn't breathe but he found enough willpower to spin on his heels and look at Vince who was so close he could smell the liquor on his breath.

The last time they had been this close, Evan had a kitchen knife punctured in his shoulder and his sister was bleeding out on the floor behind him.

Everything Evan imagined he'd want to say, everything he thought about screaming at this man if he ever saw him again, it all vanished like footprints on the sand. He couldn't find any words. All he could do was look to the left at the closest table which was only four feet away.

There was a knife on that table. If Vince was swift enough, he could grab the steak knife and imbed another jagged scar into Evan's skin. Or Evan could get payback and give him the same matching scar he now had. He could make sure Vince never followed him or his sister again if he grabbed that knife and threatened him with it.

Evan didn't realise Vince was still holding his arm until Tommy leaned across him and grabbed Vince's wrist so roughly it made Evan jolt forward. With such a grip, Tommy could have snapped his bone in two if he wanted to. He could squeeze just a little bit tighter and crush the joint into fragments, he could twist his hand to one side and snap the tendons holding it together.

He felt enough rage to snap it. He wanted to. Tommy felt the greatest urge to break the shorter man who thought he had the right to cut into Evan's pale, perfectly porcelain skin. And when Tommy noticed the way Evan couldn't stop looking at the knives on the table, it made his vision turn red. He was looking for a weapon to defend himself. He was looking at the weapon that had been used on him. He was assessing whether or not he was going to get hurt tonight.

And Tommy decided on the spot that he wasn't going to let that happen. He wouldn't let Evan get hurt, emotionally or physically.

Tommy took the deepest breath of his life until his chest tightened and expanded to the max and he was at the point of shaking. With a little too much force, he threw Vince's hand down at his side, causing the shorter man to stumble back.

And with the small membrane of space between them and a split second to move, Tommy took his chance. He curled his fingers as delicately yet somehow firmly around Evan's arm and pushed Evan behind him. He made sure he was as much of a shield as he could be for Evan and squared his shoulders to hide his date behind him.

When he felt Evan's hand on his shoulder, his hardened composure almost crumbled.

"Touch him again and you'll need a restraining order against me too."

If Evan wasn't overwrought with panic and adrenaline, he knew he would of swooned.

No one had stood up for Evan like that before.

People had agreed with him on things. Maddie had always put him first when it came to their parents. Bobby had his back when it came to work and when Evan did things that were considered dangerous or acting without thinking. But no one stood in front of him and stood up for him like that.

People took one look at Evan and assumed he could look after himself and stand up for himself and he didn't need any help at all. Whereas Tommy looked at him and decided he was worth the effort, he was worth the fight. He was worth protecting.

"Tommy…" Evan glided his hand up and down Tommy's shoulder to try and gain his attention. People were looking; they were anticipating a fight and if they called the police everyone would make a scene. That was the last thing any of them needed. They had agreed to go. They had to make sure Eddie and (Y/n) got off in a cab alright, and then they needed to salvage the rest of their date, if they could.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from both of them." Tommy locked his jaw, narrowed his eyes and gave Vince a rough shove in the chest until he backed up into the nearest table.

Then, with his hand on Evan's lower back between his hips, he turned and began walking them both out. He strained his ears to focus on the sounds they were leaving behind, the clinking of silverwear, the sound of chairs scraping against carpet. Gasps and murmurs fluttering through the air. But he didn't hear the sound of footsteps following swiftly behind them. Vince had listened to the only warning he was going to receive.

The fresh air almost knocked them both off their feet. It flooded Evan's nose and made his head tip back like it suddenly weighed too much to hold up.

He scanned his eyes around the street until he finally locked onto his family, just a few feet to the left. The sight both made his heart float and break at the same time.

Eddie had one arm looped around (Y/n)'s waist, pinning her into his chest, while his other hand was cradling the side of her neck. The very side where Evan knew his sister's scar was visible.

Eddie had his lips smothering the top of (Y/n)'s head while her hands had scrunched up his shirt so tightly she was starting to tear holes into the fabric. He gently swayed them from side to side, tangling his fingers in her hair while his thumb glided up and down her neck and across the tip of her jaw. "It's okay, baby. You're okay, I've got you."

Part of Evan wanted to walk over to them. He wanted to wrap them both up in a hug and reassure (Y/n) that she was alright. She wasn't going to get hurt tonight, none of them would let that happen. But he didn't want to intrude. She was shell-shocked but she had Eddie. He was enough.

When a taxi pulled up beside them, Eddie finally lifted his head up enough to rest his chin on top of (Y/n)'s head and look across at both men.

He silently tilted his head to the side towards the taxi. They could join them if they wanted. They could come back to Eddie and (Y/n)'s place and talk or have a drink, it was up to them. Evan shook his head. Something told him his sister wouldn't be in the mood for talking and he and Tommy wouldn't want to intrude.

"I'll call you," Eddie mouthed, pressing his hand to his ear just to Evan got the message. He watched his brother in law nod before he pressed his lips back to (Y/n)'s temple and guided her towards the car.

As soon as the car pulled away from the curb, Evan turned to the right, suddenly feeling as if his knees were going to cave in and his legs had turned to jelly. He didn't feel able to hold himself up, he felt like he was going to keel over and collapse.

With that worry in mind, Evan latched his hand around Tommy's shoulder and inched closer until there was barely a membrane of space between them.

"Thank you."

"Evan, you don't have to thank me-"

"You just stopped a fight from happening… you- you stood up for me. Not many people would do that." He wanted to add that Tommy had stood up for (Y/n) too, but he stopped himself. (Y/n) had people in her corner, she had Evan and Eddie for a start. But Tommy was in Evan's corner when he didn't have to be, he barely knew him and he stood up for him anyway.

He couldn't find the ability to breathe again when Tommy smiled that sweet, endearing smile and brushed his hands against Evan's neck to sort out his skewed collar.

"Well that's their loss, not mine. Are you okay, we can call it a night if you want." He would understand if Evan wasn't so keen on going out to a movie after that. Tommy would admit the movie seemed a dampener now after the adrenaline rush they'd just gotten.

He doubted either of them would be able to focus on a movie now anyway and if Evan was shook up and just wanted to go home, Tommy understood. He would make sure he got home and they could reschedule and he would check on him in the morning.

"No! I- I don't want you to go." He almost worried that he sounded too desperate, too eager to stay in Tommy's company. The night may have taken an unprecedented turn, but Evan didn't want to part from Tommy just yet. He wasn't sure he ever would, if he was being honest with himself.

He found himself smiling and his lips parted to let out a shaky breath when Tommy's hands left his straightened collar and moved to cup his neck. He could feel Tommy's thumbs gliding up and down his neck and tickling the side of his jaw like he was drawing patterns or trying to write a secret code into his skin.

"Well then… your place or mine?"

The kiss took Evan by surprise, even though he could see it coming. His heart still rammed away in his chest like a wild rabbit and his skin flushed beet red as heat wrapped around him. And his palms began to sweat as they pressed into Tommy's chest and clutched his jacket to ground himself and remind himself that this wasn't another dream. This was real.

He wanted to be the one to initiate their second kiss. Evan wanted to be the one to take the lead and take Tommy by surprise and kiss him like he was trying to devour him and steal all the air from his lungs.

But it didn't matter so much anymore. Their next kiss could be Evan's chance to take him by surprise. Third time's a charm, and Evan would charm the Hell out of Tommy.