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holybibly · 3 months ago

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this is such a weird scenario ..but imagine a little red riding hood concept, the big bad wolf being san, and him tricking innocent reader into "playing" with him and just fucking her dumb in the woods !!

God baby, I love the Little Red Riding Hood concept. I'm such a slut for it, to be honest. I'm a little obsessed with dark, twisted gothic fairy tales.

You should have heeded the warnings before you wandered alone through the woods on a full moon night. Or where you're meeting a big, handsome and very mean wolf from whose clutches you won't easily escape and maybe that's exactly what you want.

Warning: Dub-con, Werewolf! San

The night air was unpleasantly cold against your bare skin, ripping you from the sweet embrace of Morpheus. You reluctantly shivered and slowly opened your eyes, only to be greeted by the dense darkness of the forest. The sudden lack of sunlight jolted you from your half-sleep state, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine and your heart pounding loudly in your chest as the forest around you continued to sing the song of the night.

You shouldn't be out here, especially at such a late hour. You hurriedly gathered your belongings and cursed yourself for letting the beautiful meadow of flowers enchant you and for letting your guard down. You had been warned that ancient magic lived in these woods and that you should be very careful when you walked along the path through them, but of course you hadn't listened, and now you regretted it. You had always assumed that all these warnings had been given because of your gender. Most of the people in your small town were still stuck in the Dark Ages, thinking that a girl couldn't go through the forest alone. You wanted to prove them wrong.

Another cold gust blew across the clearing, and you wrapped yourself tighter in your heavy cape. The velvet fabric was expensive and luxurious, a rich scarlet that earned you your nickname, Little Red Riding Hood.

You were sure that you were going to be all right. You were smart and savvy, and you had a hunting knife with you. You'd think that would be more than enough to handle anything that might be lurking in these woods and get you back to your grandmother's house unharmed. At least that is what you thought.

A long, blood-curdling howl echoed across the clearing, freezing you in place and halting your frantic gathering. Dear Lord...

Your eyes automatically rise to the night sky, only to find your worst fears confirmed: Through the dry, tangled branches of the trees, the brilliant face of the full moon illuminates the earth with its diffuse silvery glow. The words of your grandmother, which she had been repeating to you ever since you were a child, came to your mind at once: "Beware of the moon, whose face is full and merry, my child, for this is the time when its children have their feast. And their hunger is insatiable and greedy'. Another howl pierced your heart, a reminder of the situation you were now in.

Wishing that you had listened to the warnings, you ran, clutching your beautiful wicker basket tightly with your hands as your scarlet cape evolved behind your back. You weren't sure of the right way as you ran through the dense thicket of the forest. You sobbed softly as the sharp branches of bushes and trees dug into your skin, leaving long, lacerating marks; the warm, crimson liquid running down your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your tall, white socks, spreading the seductive scent of your blood through the forest.

Nothing seemed to be familiar to you in the thick, impenetrable darkness of the night. You stumbled through the massive roots of the trees and almost fell into a thorny bush with heavy, glistening bunches of poisonous berries hanging from it. You're so tired already—you can hear your heart pounding in your chest through your laboured, hoarse breathing.

Another furious growl echoing through the air keeps you from stopping, forcing you to keep running. You could almost feel the hot, wet breath of the wolf on your neck and the sharp claws on your skin, and it seemed to you that if you stopped for even a moment, the wolf would tear you to pieces. The hair stood up on the back of your arms, and the image of the sharp-toothed monster pinning you to the ground filled your mind's eye. No. No. No. You shake your head, hoping to banish the dark thoughts and push away the horrible images of blood and broken bones.

A sharp pain blossomed on your face as you fell face first, stumbling over a large dried log and almost losing consciousness from the combined sensations. It was horrible—your mouth was full of dirt mixed with blood from a busted lip, your knees were skinned and bleeding, and in general you want nothing but sobbing with despair and fear.

The hopelessness of your situation was more palpable to you now, when you're sitting in a pile of dirt and leaves, than ever before. A deep and low howling sounded from behind you, sending a shiver of cold down your spine. It made you jump to your feet, in spite of the sharp pain that you felt at such a sudden movement. You looked around anxiously. You glanced around anxiously, letting out a small sigh of relief at the fact that there was no one in your wake. But you didn't stop, the edge of the forest was already in sight, the soft welcoming light of the nearby village's lanterns calling to you.

Your relief was short-lived, however, as a warning growl suddenly sounded directly in front of you, a pair of sacred silver eyes glaring out from the shadows of the forest. You gasped loudly as a tall, broad-shouldered fellow emerged from the thicket, his plump scarlet lips raised in a snarl, tongue slowly sliding over sharp teeth as he began circling you.

This was not good, so damned not good. Cold fear gripped your heart with a tight grip, your hands clutching your basket tightly, shaking slightly at the low rumbling growl that came from the guy. Your frightened, wide-eyed gaze darted from the wolf to the forest path leading to the village; if you tried hard enough, you could get away from him. The boy noticed your gaze and shifted his sharp eyes to the narrow path leading out of the forest. He snorted slightly, as if the thought of you running from him amused him.

"You shouldn't even try, sweetheart. You can't escape me, little Red." The man's husky, deep voice made you flinch, but the way he addressed you by name as if he knew you made you drop the basket and cover your mouth with your hand to hold back your terror-filled scream."

He turned to face you again, and you could see his lips curl up in a predatory grin, revealing deep dimples on his cheeks. You couldn't help but notice how beautiful the wolf was—perhaps the most handsome man you had ever seen—and that fact made you fear him even more. Nothing ordinary and natural could possess such breathtaking beauty, which meant that the guy in front of you was many times more dangerous than any real wolf prowling around this forest thicket that night.

"Why are you so scared, little Red?" He slid his tongue over his lips as he kept his dark gaze on you. "I can almost feel your fear on my tongue." He murmured, the deep sound practically vibrating in the air. "I just want to play with you, beautiful. I promise I won't bite you... hard." His voice trailed off at the last word, his breathing getting heavier as he began to slowly approach you.

You began to back away from him, trying to put as much distance between you as possible, and he clearly didn't like it.

"You're not running away from me..." He growled, and those were the last coherent words you heard before he pounced on you, digging his claws into your skin and tearing at the edges of your cloak and skirt that prevented him from reaching you. The loud sounds of tearing cloth echoed through the forest as you tried to grab onto anything that might help you crawl away from him.

"You'll have no run from me..." He growled, and those were the last coherent words you heard before he pounced on you, his claws digging into your skin and tearing at the edges of your cloak and skirt that were blocking his path. The loud sounds of ripping cloth echoed through the forest, and you tried to grab hold of anything that might help you to crawl away from him.

"No. Please, no. Let me go, please...". But your words fell on deaf ears. In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, and you squealed loudly. Limiting all movement, his broad hand pressed between your shoulder blades. "No!" You cried out again, but a sharp slap on your bottom, which was suddenly bare, made you stop all your movements. You didn't even notice it as he tore off your clothes completely, leaving you vulnerable and naked for him to see. "I-I... please let me go..." All your energy has left your body, and you sob softly. He lifts your hips with one hand and puts you in the position he wants you to be in.

"You were warned, little Red. Weren't you? You have been told to stay out of the woods, especially during the full moon. But have a look at where you are now. A stupid little girl, too self-confident to listen to anyone's advice, and that's what girls like you get. A big, bad wolf will eat them alive." The last sentence came out of his chest in a low, vicious growl before you felt a hot, slippery tongue travel between your buttocks.

The pointed tip slid between your labia, salivating over your tender folds. He removed his hand from your back only to dig his fingers into your buttocks and spread them wide apart, holding you completely open for him so that he could feast on your cunt with ease. Pitiful sobs escaped from your mouth as you felt his rough, long appendage snaking its way between your folds, rubbing against your clit and poking at your hole as it tried to force its way in. His claws dug themselves into your flesh in painful fashion, leaving bloody marks that were sure to become scars.

The sensation of the wolf's tongue licking desperately at your cunt and the wet, feverish breath that washed over your sensitive centre caused your body to react against your desire.

A shameless moan of pure pleasure escaped your lips faster than you could stop it. Covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to swallow the embarrassing sounds as the werewolf's long tongue continued to wash your clit with its warm, viscous saliva. You couldn't enjoy it... it was simply impossible. This guy was dangerous; he wasn't human; he was a horrible, hungry wolf pinning you to the ground in the middle of the night forest. You were terrified, but that didn't stop your body from responding joyfully to his touch.

Every movement of his tongue on your pussy made your hole clench around nothing and ooze juices. This only excited him more as he greedily licked up every drop of sweet slime that flowed from you onto his tongue. Eventually it wasn't enough, and the wolf pressed his whole mouth against your little hole and began to literally drink from your pussy.

Your hips began to shake as you approached your orgasm. Your fingers dug into the loose soil, dirt collecting under your fingernails as you tried to fight the rush of pleasure coursing through your entire body. It was completely futile. Against your will, the werewolf made you scream in blinding pleasure as the first of many orgasms shook your entire body.

As your fluids poured into his mouth, giving him a full taste of your sweet flavour, he growled low as he thrust his tongue into your hole and licked your juices from your trembling walls. This went on for a few minutes until you felt his hands leave your body. A vague sense of relief filled you as you hoped he would leave you now that he had got what he wanted. But that relief was quickly replaced by panic as his clawed fingers pinned your fragile shoulders to the ground and his unnaturally hot and massive length rubbed against your arse, staining it with sticky pre-cum.

He rubbed against you like a dog in heat, his hips pressing against you as if he were too lost in his lust to pay attention.

Hot breath scorched your cheek as he pressed his entire body against you, laborious growls and puffing escaping his throat as his heavy, hard cock dragged between your buttocks. You turned your head slightly to the side to catch a glimpse of the man looming over you, his sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight, and you almost regretted looking.

Every movement he made against you made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and pleasure, and although the rational part of you was in a state of pure terror at the realisation of what awaited you, on some deep subconscious, twisted level you enjoyed it.

The werewolf's cock seemed almost as long as your torso, there was no way you could take it all in. But that didn't seem to bother him tonight. As the head of his cock entered your hole, you sobbed from the painful stretching and squeezed your eyes shut as he began to push his cock deeper into you. It was thick, so fucking thick that the tender edge of your pussy burned when the entire head of his cock was inside, but that was only the beginning.

The first few inches were enough to awaken your senses, pleasantly stimulating your quivering walls, but as he pushed further into you, the pain came. But that didn't matter to the werewolf on top of you. You whimpered and shook your head from side to side as the man above you moaned deeply as he continued to thrust his cock relentlessly into you.

"Please…" You sobbed openly now, hoping this would be over quickly.

"Mmm, look at you, you're acting so nice now. You were warned, little Red, but you decided to be a naughty girl and came to the wolf yourself, knowing full well what would happen to you. So don't play hard to get and take what is given to you." The wolf towering over you growled in your ears.

The more it pressed into your body, the more you became afraid and grabbed at tree roots and plants. For anything within reach that might help you free yourself from him. Your face crinkled in pain and your teeth clenched tightly together, grinding against each other. When it finally settled into your body, you'd never felt so full. You couldn't see it, but you could feel the great bulge in your belly, perfectly mirroring the contours of his cock.

When he begins to move, pulling his monstrous length out of you, you find it strange. His cock entered you much deeper than it could be possibly, and when it was completely out of you, you felt so empty, your cunt clenched around nothing, already missing the warmth of his cock. When he entered your cunt again, you let out a sound mixed with eroticism and a painful cry. It wasn't bad, but not necessarily good. His cock seemed too hot, buried deep inside your body, but every thrust in and out of your pussy rubbed against a sensitive ball of nerves that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"No! I don't want this! Please stop..." The voice in your head did its best to drown out the sensations overwhelming every other sense in your body, but it was useless. The wolf's large body pressed against your back, his feverishly hot, wet skin rubbing against the exposed areas of your skin that were visible through your tattered cloak with each sharp thrust into your body.

His rhythm grew rougher and sharper as he stretched the tight confines of your pussy. Promises to fill you with his cum and give you his puppies came in steady succession with each thrust of his hips.

Wide eyed, you watched his fingernails dig into the dirt beside your head and thanked the gods that those nails were no longer digging into your skin. They pulled the earth a few inches away from your face, reminding you of the strength in those hands. He could have easily broken your neck with a snap of his fingers. Instead, he shifted his stance, his foot pressing your face deeper into the dirt beneath you. You should have been disgusted; it was wrong, but something dark and twisted inside you made you even more aroused, enjoying everything that was happening.

Your quivering, slippery walls tightened around him, and you heard him moan deeply in response.

"You like it, don't you? What a dirty bitch you are, little Red. Do you like it when I claim the rights to your tiny human cunt? Does it turn you on that I'm fucking you like a bitch in the middle of the forest?"

"Please..." Your voice was swallowed by a loud, air-piercing howl as the wolf howled over you in pleasure.

Your entire body shook beneath him as he fucked you with reckless abandon, his hips slamming painfully against your arse, causing the tender skin on your buttocks to become irritated and red. It was disgusting; you had dirt in your mouth mixed with blood from the previous fall, your whole body aching from his assault, but you wanted more; you wanted him to destroy you.

Something hot and tight pushed into your entrance, and you almost mistook this sudden invasion for his balls until you felt your pussy being forced to stretch even further to accommodate it.

"Please, no! You're going to hurt me!!! Don't do this!" Pleasure was replaced by pure terror as you tried to crawl away from him. Sharp nails pierced the skin of your thighs as he clawed at you and growled in warning, making you freeze.

"Take this! You're going to take all of me, and you're going to love it, you little slut." Each thrust felt like he was trying to shove a baseball inside you.

He was determined to complete his task, and when he did, you screamed in pain, tears staining your rounded cheeks and making your face look even dirtier. A loud howl pierced his chest, and his nails dug into your back, drawing blood as he tied you up with his knot and poured his sperm into your waiting body. You could feel every pulse of his cock as it emptied into your pussy, and against your desire, your walls clenched around the invasion, squeezing out all he had to offer you. His warm, viscous cum splashed into your body, making you shiver.

"I hope you've learnt your lesson and won't wander the night woods alone again, little Red." The werewolf whispered hoarsely in your ear, licking the tears from your cheek.

You turned your head to the side, meeting his slanted silver eyes and gloriously sharp cheekbones.

"Maybe I should learn that lesson a few more times, San. You know I'm not good at memorising, love."

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juniperdugong · 4 months ago

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Photobooth - Wonwoo

WC: 2.8k || Genre: Fluff, Angst (?) || Ooo they crushing on each other

A/N: We'll call this a late bday present for him lol lotsa fluff, is this also angst? Idk. This is the song I had on repeat writing this, Imagine it during the climax

You and Wonwoo had hung around the same people for a while, your friend groups slowly merging before you could comprehend it. So it wasn't exactly a surprise that you'd see him here tonight but you're trying your best not to look in his direction all the same.

You guys haven't talked much... or really at all without someone else in the group being there. It's a given seeing as you're both on the introverted side anyway.

Over time you've grown to welcome seeing his face at a party or in a crowd and you've developed a little bit of a crush, one that you definitely did not mean to create. But really who could blame you?

It was Wonwoo. And the way his messy hair hung so perfectly over his face. How his glasses would fog up on occasion. And god... the way he'd lift his shirt up just a tad to wipe them. You might be insane for the thought but there's no way someone that attractive isn't getting gawked at 24/7, like clockwork.

And that's exactly what you're trying to hide as he sits across the table from you. You're drinking more than you had before he got here and you can feel the heat in your face as the buzz sets in. You've been avoiding his eyes as best you can, but you can't help noticing that he's been looking at you very intently since he sat down.

Wonwoo's been nursing a beer for the past 30 minutes, his face still slightly red from the pregame he and the boys did at the previous bar. Now he's sat in front of you. Purposefully he had pushed Dokeyom out of the way to get this seat but now that he was here he had zero idea of how to approach you. He's been trying to catch your eye the entire time but you haven't looked his way once. He goes to speak but is interrupted.

"Guys! I have a great idea!" Your friend stands up to address the table, the fact that most of you are completely out of it only makes it so that several people are cheering her on the moment she rises. "Let's go to a photo booth shop!"

In minutes someone's already handled the bill; No one cares to ask questions this far into the night. And your posse is perusing the streets looking like a bunch of fucked up college students; Not exactly wrong but not right either.

You're hanging back in the pack like you usually do. The cold air hitting your warm face feels so good that you have to close your eyes to take in the feeling. "Hey." You're startled from your daze as you see Wonwoo pull back and wait for you to catch up to him, "The night air?"

"Yeah, feels nice." The silence grows between you two as you continue walking side by side. Neither of you can tell if the heat you're feeling is from the drinks or from the intense blush you feel coming on but both of you are glad that tonight is breezy, the air serving to calm down some nerves. The last time you were alone was that night.

Not too dissimilar from tonight actually. A bunch of your friends were hanging out at a camping-themed cafe where you could sit around a fireplace. Due to how many of you there were several campfires were taken up.

You and Wonwoo sat a few chairs away from each other, by coincidence you had ended up in this smaller group as a close friend also sat here. It didn't take long for either of you to notice the other. Small glances back and forth and flickering smiles when you caught each other's eye.

Somewhere along the way, almost everyone got up to go and order more food, and as people trickled over to the counter you and Wonwoo were eventually left alone.

The tension was thick with unspoken attraction and you were both waiting for the other to make any moves. Finally, with a lump caught in his throat, Wonwoo got up and sat in the chair next to you. "Y/n, right?" You gave a little nod and chuckled, "Yeah and you're Wonwoo?". "Yep, exactly right."

You guys kept talking and talking the entire night, the conversation never dipping into silence or awkwardness, it felt like you could be here forever and never get bored. It all seemed to come naturally with Wonwoo.

Even once your friends came back the chatting didn't stop. Some of them eye the way you guys had gotten close within a matter of minutes, smirks as they could see the connection forming before their eyes. The way that with each new topic, you guys somehow managed to get physically closer. Scooting your chair to hear him better. Wonwoo leaning in subconsciously as you ramble. Both of you are practically knee to knee by the end of it.

More and more of your group dispersed as it got later in the night but you both were too enthralled in conversation to notice anyone had left until it had gotten dark.

"It was nice talking, y/n." The way the moonlight and campfire gleaned on him made your heart race.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun Wonwoo." His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his chest burned whenever anything so much as a smirk was on your lips.

"I'll see you around?" You hoped he was talking sooner rather than later.

"Of course!" He held onto those words like a promise.

It wasn't until you both had gotten into your cars that you realized that you didn't get each other's numbers. Shit!

It's been months since then. You've seen each other at other hangouts but neither of you had the guts to talk to the other again. Something ate at the confidence you had that night and you haven't been able to look him in the eye since. You'd never thought that you'd have a crush this intense at your age but something about Wonwoo made you feel like a highschooler again.

And he's been the same way, although a bit more direct than you. Every time he's seen you since then he'd try to get closer to you, at least be near you to quench his thirsty lovesick heart with your voice... Even if it's not directed towards him. Just staring at you made him flutter, honestly. He's been festering on these feelings for a while, even since before that night if he was being honest, but every time after that his tongue hasn't been able to form coherent sentences around you. It's like a curse.

A curse that it seems some alcohol can quell, at least for a little bit.

"We haven't talked much, have we?" He starts, the shop is just around the corner yet right now he prayed that it was miles away so he could take his time.

"Nah, we haven't. Not since..."

"Not since the campfire?"

"Yeah."

"Hey! You two! Get inside!" A quaint smile forms on your lips as someone yells for you to hurry up. Wonwoo gives a small chuckle but bites his lip to suppress the touch of anger rising now that your conversation has been cut short.

As you get in you can already see that everyone takes charge in claiming different accessories and filing into photo booths in small groups. You didn't really feel up to taking photos, far too heated from Wonwoo's company from before. Looking around, you spot some fun sunglasses shaped like daisies. They were good enough for photos and who knows? Maybe sober you will like the outcome.

After grabbing the sunglasses you dip into an empty booth and begin going through all the different styles. You're slightly hiccuping and now you can definitely feel the alcohol kicking in.

"You mind?" You'd just settled on the only appealing style out of your choices, one obviously meant for couples, one surrounded by red and pink hearts. Of course, Wonwoo had to interrupt. You have half the mind to tell him you do mind jokingly but you're too swayed by him to joke right now, "Not at all."

Now you're sat squished up in the booth with him. The flush on your face could be explained by the drinks but it's more than likely getting redder due to Wonwoo's presence.

"Sorry, all the others were taken and I didn't want to be left out." An excuse, he'd seen you come in here and he was eager to talk to you again. Alcohol really did wonders for confidence.

"It's fine, really." You smiled a bit in his direction and suddenly his heart is thumping like a rabbit's foot. "I don't even like taking photos..."

"Why not?"

"I never like how they come out."

Impossible, you're like the most beautiful person in the world, y/n. He can't even begin to comprehend your way of thinking. You were the most stunning thing in his field of view whenever you were around, how could pictures with you in them ever turn out bad?

"What?" Fuck Did he say that out loud?

"What?"

"Did you just *hiccup* call me beautiful? Wonwoo."

"I don't know." His eyes are wide and suddenly he feels as sober as a dog. He feigns innocence with a confused stare in your direction and thankfully your drunkenness takes him for his word.

"Wonwoo..." A numbness came over you that allowed for words to spill.

"Yeah, y/n?"

"I think I really like you." Great. Now he's sure he's completely sober. He turns to you, the sunglasses hiding your drowsy eyes as you lean against the side of the booth. And he's not even sure if you'll remember saying this. Great!

"You mean that?" Please say yes.

"Mean what?" You're completely out of it and he can see it, as quickly as he resigns to you forgetting what you said you speak again, "That I like you? I do mean that."

His jaw drops and he isn't sure what to do. Does he run away and grab one of the accessories that will cover the intense heat on his face? No, he doesn't want to leave you. Does he tell you he likes you back? No, that's in vain you're already not all here. Well, you are in a photo booth... He presses the START button.

"Will you be mad if I kiss you right now, y/n?"

You look at him with glazed-over doe eyes, letting the sunglasses slip off your face and fall to the floor. You didn't know if this was some sort of sick joke, a hallucination fueled by the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, or worse a drunken mistake on his part. But it was too sudden a question for you to process the options in this state.

3...2...1...Say Cheese!

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He opens the curtain to the photo booth and is ready to get up. This was a bad idea. Nothing you said should mean anything to him but it doesn't keep from the pang of disappointment he feels. Suddenly your hand is gripping his wrist telling him to stay seated, and he does.

3...2...1...Give the Camera a wink!

Both of your hearts are racing. The tension of the moment suffocates you guys but you're too caught up to notice the heaving of your breaths. You grab his face with both your hands, trying your hardest to focus on just him. Your stupor makes it extremely hard but you persist with the small amount of soberness in your body.

It takes far too long for either of you to realize as your lips press together. The shock of plush lips lights you ablaze, it's as if someone held a flame to all the booze coursing through you. You're too far gone to know that you're the one that had leaned into him and not the other way around.

3...2...1...Blast off!

If Wonwoo's eyes could pop out of his skull they would. He's nearly out of the frame of the camera as you push up against him. Your brows furrow as you close your eyes getting more into the kiss and now he's feeling awkward with his eyes wide open. He thinks your focus might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen. God, you are all he wanted, huh? A smile creeps up on his lips before he lifts his glasses and deepens the kiss, placing a hand on the small of your back and using the other to gently wrap around the back of your neck.

3...2...1...Silly Faces!

Maybe it's all the drinks but both of you swear that the other's taste is addictive. Your hands travel from his face and down his neck, pulling him in impossibly closer. You're both hungry for each other, if any of the others saw it'd probably look like borderline cannabilism with how animalistic you were going at it. Mouths trying to trace the memory of each other onto the walls of your cheeks.

It was sensual yet innocent, any trace of lust replaced with an intense passion and love. You can vividly imagine the many kisses that you could share with Wonwoo in your lifetime. Pecks on the cheek, goodbye kisses as you leave the house, intense makeout sessions, all of it. All the little quiet moments of intimacy to the burning giant gestures of love, everything with Wonwoo. It's the only sober thought you think you've had all night.

3...2...1...Big Smile!

You release him from your grip, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. Wonwoo's arms hold you in place but loosen ever so slightly. Foreheads resting on each other you just take a minute to take it in. You let your eyes open and meet his, you feel his glasses fall on between you two.

"Sorry." You say as you back away, allowing his glasses to drop back down fully.

The silence is deafening. Outside you can hear as the rest of the group giggles and chatters on, oblivious to what's just happened. You wipe your mouth as you feel a slickness on your lips, your combined spit coating you both.

You're a lot more aware now. The kiss sobering you enough to maybe be able to remember this in the morning but you weren't confident in that thought.

While you're getting that realization Wonwoo's taken the liberty of doing the finishing steps on the photos. Printing 2 copies for each of you and inserting his own email when it asks him if he wants a video of the photo-taking process. Thankfully you weren't looking when he did that, hopefully, he can show you the video at a better time and you can reminisce on your first kiss.

You startle him as you stand up. A solemn look on your face at the thought of all of this being gone by tomorrow. You really wish you didn't drink tonight. That Wonwoo hadn't sat in front of you. That he hadn't stared at you with those eyes, the ones that made you so nervous that you had to chug drink after drink to just get a modicum of confidence. You wish that what happened in the booth had happened not because you were drunk but because you were ready.

He sees the look and wants to say something... anything if it'll make you feel better. He knows all too well that that look meant that you were regretting things.

You reach out to him, cupping his face in one of your hands and swiping at his cheek with your thumb before he can say anything. Biting your lip you look at him, the feelings are all too overwhelming right now.

"Hey Wonwoo, if you remember this in the morning... remind me of it so we can do it when we're sober sometime, yeah?"

With a slight nod, he leaned into your hand and gave a lingering kiss to your palm before watching you open the curtain and walk away. His eyes stayed glued on you through the window of the shop until the moment your taxi came. A hollow feeling overcoming him as the drunkenness sets in again, although he couldn't quite decipher if this down came from the drinks or from the pure ecstasy you gave and so quickly took away, maybe both.

He walked out of the shop, a group of high-schoolers giggling in merriment as they picked out their accessories and got into their booths. The thought of wherever his friends were was purely background noise at this point.

Getting out and into the cold air he stood with his back against the glass, clutching the photo strips in one hand and his phone in the other, he set an alarm.

"Remind y/n".

A/N: I really really fucking like this one guys, smiling throughout the whole writing process. Also lovelies, for those of you reading Perfection pls know that the upcoming chapter has been delayed till next Saturday! Please reblog and comment your thoughts and as always my asks are open to any and all thoughts!

SVT Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

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thesilmarillionblog · 1 month ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 3

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst, jealousy, tension, language

Word Count: 6043

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'It takes a Lot to Know a Man' by Damien Rice

While it was exhausting in some ways and occasionally involved people who were a little noisy and irate, spending an entire day at the hospital and taking care of patients felt good. It was occasionally unclear which task you had more difficulty with than the other: hunting or nursing. That being said, one of them was a little too dangerous for you.

Your thoughts raced at every word Dean said, hinting that he didn't want you to tear down your bond, as you thought back to the evening he'd spent with Jo while Sam spent his time watching TV. Though he hadn't stated it explicitly, his sharp statements with soft tones made it clear. Although you were happy that he was trying to be respectful and polite, the fact that it hurt so much made his efforts a waste.

Perhaps it would be better for you to listen Sam. Giving new people a chance and meeting them might perhaps heal whatever hurts you on the inside. But when it came down to it, you were a coward for being devoted to someone you never had and never would. Especially when you saw Dean enjoying himself with Jo there in front of your eyes, it didn't even make sense.

As if absolutely nothing happened between you.

It was just too much for you, yet it meant nothing to him. But because you were the one who let everything happen and didn't even inform him that you were a virgin, you had no reason to hold Dean responsible. Nothing at all. However, that was such a burden.

You cleared your mind of thoughts and saw your colleague doing his job while you treated the small girl's hand when she reached you with her nervous mother, who was frequently repeating to her that she had warned her not to play with sharp objects. It wasn't that horrible, but you did your best to soothe her and divert her attention by carefully cleaning her hand.

You informed her mother that there were hundreds of such and even worse incidents in emergency, much like her daughter, after the sharp glass was removed from her arm. You were given the task of stitching, and you began it meticulously and with caution. Sadly, it had to be stitched. Even doing it with adults appeared to be challenging.

She was trying her hardest not to weep when she saw the needle because she felt guilty and ashamed, but you swiftly covered it up and looked at her mother to let her know that she too needed to calm her daughter. Fortunately, she got the message.

I was just wondering what your name is. You haven't told me yet," you inquired, trying to complete your task without drawing attention to your hands.

“Talia,” she sobbed as she turned to face her mother as if she wanted to see if she was still angry with her.

“It's a very lovely name.” You replied, “It's good to meet you, Talia,” and gave her your name. Making sure her kid wasn't gazing at you while you were taking care of her arm, you encouraged her mother to talk to her as well. Not in an angry way, of course.

“It's not very pretty,” she said. Children typically complain about several things.

“Why do you say that, though?”

“It sounds like 'Arya.' I was playing with Aisha when she told me that. I don't even like that name.”

If there was anything positive about kids, it was being prone to share too much. That was really beneficial for handling youngsters during an emergency, though. It would have been better, of course, if they had just been cautious and not gone through at all. It seemed to you that the other girl she was referring to was her closest friend.

“I don't believe so. Their pronouncations are really differently,” you observed. “I has a very beautiful meaning, and it's not a very common name, which is a nice thing. Don't you think so?”

“Yes,” she said after giving it some thought. “Will it hurt?”

“Just a little bit,” you smiled reassuringly at her. “People say my hands are really soft.”

She was unable to conceal her frightened and apprehensive look as you began stitching as her mother went on to remark about how impulsive her daughter might be at times. Additionally, you saw her continuing talking with her daughter about topics that would divert her attention.

She inquired, “Do you have a boyfriend?” with curiosity. She was attempting to cover up the hurt expression on her face so her mother wouldn't say anything further.

“No,” you smiled and stated.

“Why?”

“I'm not sure.” You attempted to respond vaguely in order to get her to stop interrogating you about your nonexistent romantic life. “Adult life is difficult to comprehend when it comes to such matters.”

“Now I'm not interested in growing up. Mine is not difficult.”

You interrupted with, “Good for you,” and carefully cleaned her arm while smiling sincere at her. “It is finished. I told you that my hands were soft, right?”

You felt better as the rest of the day passed, taking care of other patients, listening to them, and doing what you could to help them. It dawned on you that becoming worn out was an effective distraction from troubling thoughts. Making yourself occupied at that moment was definitely the best thing for you because you were going to lose your mind over thinking about Dean constantly, even when you had to pee. Your body was hurting so much that you had no energy left to consider anything but resting.

You were taken aback when one of your closest friends randomly stopped by the hospital where you work right before you were about to leave. You looked him in the eye and saw that, indeed, it was him. You shivered in anticipation as you gazed at him because of the little coolness in the air. Your pulse was pounding with excitement and curiosity as you narrowed your eyes and caught him with such a focused glance that he knew you were the one gazing at him before you could.

In a tone that suggested both shock and joy, you exclaimed, “Robert?” as you approached each other. You could have recognized him sooner, a few minutes earlier, before you left the hospital.

He was your pal from college. Before you left the hospital where you both worked and joined Sam and Dean, you two were extremely close friends. With Rob, everything was simple, and he was a really nice and supportive friend; you would never deny that. But at that point, you couldn't simply bury your desire to go after the family business in addition to your own work, and it was difficult to say no to Dean. He was the one who initially convinced you. After all of your losses, you had also yearned for something different—something that could brighten you up.

During the times you worked together, Rob was a highly professional, talented, and encouraging doctor. Even though there was a hierarchy between you at the hospital, you respected the fact that he never treated you worse than necessary or better than he should have. He was always completely aware of the lines.

But even though you've been in touch with Rob, your connection with him has been weakened since you've spent so much time with Dean and Sam. There's no denying that.

You gave him a huge, tight hug, and he chuckled, “Hey,” as if he wasn't at all shocked to see you. He knew that you were working here after all, but you didn't expect to see him anyway.

Warmly hugging him again, you said, “What are you doing here?”

He winked and added, “I was in the neighborhood,” as you drew back and gave him a suspicious look. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Dean attempted to divert his attention throughout the day while he fixed things and cleaned Baby. He became consumed with a sensation of rage and frustration that he just didn't comprehend. He was thinking about the past three weeks nonstop, even if nothing was wrong. Particularly the last night.

After speaking with Jo over the phone about his intention to stop their connection and his lack of interest in pursuing a serious relationship, Dean was pleased that she accepted his request and that she wasn't interested in pursuing it further either, even though she offered him to go hunting. His and her desire to hunt were similar, but Dean didn't comprehend how different they were in fact. He was glad Jo felt the same.

If Dean had cared a little bit more, he may have been ashamed by his obviously poor performance last night, but oddly, he didn't. He felt a lot of burden when he realized that even for a brief while, he fucked Jo thinking about you. Imagining your body under him. It wasn't fair, and he didn't even mean it. He was aware of that.

The worst thing about it was that he enjoyed it and wasn't pleased with it behaving like this. Clearly stating that one night shouldn't be enough to ruin your friendship, he shouldn't reciprocate by fantasizing about fucking you. About filling you with his—Uh. Whatever.

All day, he tried to find a way a way to divert his attention with Baby and all things mechanical. He sometimes purposefully broke things so he could fix them again. But he also couldn't quit thinking about your most recent conversation.

It wasn't the unclear situation between him and Jo that was causing him the strain he thought it was. It didn't ease him at all to cut his links with her so quickly. He was surprised to see that you were encircling him in his thoughts, imprisoning him there.

“You look messy,” Sam said, observing his ripped t-shirt and dirty face.

As he bent over and looked at Sam, he said, “Thanks,” in a dismissive voice, while searching for the right tool for his car.

“You seem to be quite busy today, aren't you?” said Sam to carefully avoid getting his shirt dirty as he gave Dean the right tool in his palm from afar.

“You think? I guess it was a long time since I took care of Baby.”

“Yeah, for around a week. But why in the world are you behaving like a cranky old lady?”

“Sam, don't get started. I mean it.” Dean shot back immediately, suddenly becoming quite defensive. He felt like the irritation was pouring into him again, but he didn't even understand why, which was making him angrier. “I have too much to do as you see.”

“By the way, when did Jo leave? Even though I got up early, I didn't see her.”

“Yeah, she left in the middle of the night.”

Recalling the evening did not soothe his feelings, but Dean responded to Sam, stating to let the fuck him alone as soon as possible. But Sam seemed intent on playing the part of the curious bitch, as if he intended to test Dean's patience to the maximum extent possible.

“After you two had finished, huh? She's an awesome girl, but her loudness..is definetely something else. I'm not trying to say it in a mean way, but for heaven's sake, Dean. If you two have... kinky stuff, it would be best if you spent the night at her place. I bet you two also probably made it difficult for Y/N to fall asleep.”

Dean shot a look at Sam, who was attempting to say something without coming out as weird about Jo or whatever. Sam didn't dislike Jo at all; it wasn't that he despised her. She was a little too cunning and rebellious for Dean's liking. That was a known fact. His brother was sometimes a bitch; that was true, but not that bitchy for sure.

When Sam brought you up in the chat, Dean found it difficult to focus on his work and became disoriented while lying down beneath his car. Sam was trying very hard to get under his skin for sure.

He had become frustrated in some way by the thought that you heard him and Jo. He wasn't trying to get you to hear something or anything. Dean frowned with distaste, picturing you hearing Jo's exaggerated noises. He shouldn't have brought her home to have sex in the first place, but what is done was done. Even it wasn't right. Fuck that.

Dean attempted to lightheartedly remark, “Women have a hard time with staying silent when I'm around, huh,” in an attempt to divert Sam's attention. He attempted to change the subject at hand.

“Have you seen Y/N in the morning?”

“Why are you asking that right now?” Dean grunted and glared at Sam. He suddenly lost control of the tool he was holding and groaned in pain as it landed across his face. “God. Fuck this.”

Puzzled by Dean's odd behavior, Sam put his hands in his pockets in between his complaints. His recent behavior has been peculiar. Sam was hesitant to confront it since he thought it was likely to do with their father and other hunting experiences, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was still angry with you for what happened on the previous hunt.

Sam was appreciative of Dean for constantly watching out for him, taking care of him, and protecting him from harm—even if there were times when it made him feel like a little child. Sam knew that Dean would always be looking out for him, even if he lived fifty years old. Dean has always been overly protective, and he always will be. However, there were times he was being too much.

“Have you?” Dean was curious and asked. Remembering your swollen eyes, he wondered if you were okay. It didn't appear like you got much sleep.

Sam said, “Yeah,” while keeping his hands in his pockets and observing Dean's struggling with Baby. “She seemed pretty bad though.”

“Why do you say that?” Despite his best efforts to appear indifferent and normal, Dean's tone betrayed him. There was absolutely no stopping it. He was wondering if he was treating you too harshly these days. Neither Dean nor you were ever good at expressing yourself clearly.

“I'm not sure. She was quite exhausted, and her eyes appeared to be red, but I'm not sure. Her having to work and hunt at the same time must be challenging.” Sam thought you were pushing yourself a little too hard since he got to know you; however, he wasn't sure if it was just weariness or something more. He was impressed by your ambition and couldn't help but feel respect and appreciation for you.

“Maybe,” Dean interrupted, reminiscing on the way you looked the previous night. You looked so worn out, but he was too preoccupied with the talk to notice. Even though he wasn't sure whether he would believe it himself, he would prefer to pretend that you were just dizzy or sleepy. He would have said that you had sobbed uncontrollably all night, but he quickly brushed this idea from his mind as a sensation of uneasiness overcame him. “She must be tired.”

“Did you apologize to her?”

“For what”

Sam kept rolling his eyes at Dean because he was becoming a little irritated with the way he was acting. He would claim that throughout the previous two or three weeks, something inside of him had altered.

“For acting like a grumpy old bitch,” Sam shot back.

Dean kept it short, refusing to elaborate on what had happened the night before. “We talked it out,” he said. “She'll start being more watchful now. By the way, is your arm okay?”

Sam kneeled down and attempted to look into Dean's face in an effort to start a meaningful conversation, realizing that Dean was unwilling to acknowledge that his reaction was wrong.

Sam remarked, “It's been a year since she joined us, and she's far too helpful and too kind for how you reacted there," dismissing his inquiry over his arm. Though I'm grateful for your concern, it's wrong. You need to be a little softer and gentler.”

“Do you think I don't know that?” After switching out the tool, Dean gave Sam a stern look.

“No.”

Sam grumbled in frustration, acknowledging that it would be impossible to alter Dean's perspective. “It wasn't very kind to tell someone that you have only one left to care about when they don't even have one.”

For a brief period, Dean's hands paused, and regret overcame his mind. He couldn't recall the exact moment those piercing words, as if he intended to intentionally harm you, came out of his mouth. It was never his intention to do so. Gradually, Dean's hands slowed, and he stood up, recalling that you were the only member of your family still living. For a moment, he stopped being interested in everything.

“Now you know what you must apologize for, huh?” With a broken smile, Sam remarked. At least Dean wasn't so rigid, which relieved him. “Do you know when her shift ends?”

Dean murmured, “Yeah, I guess,” in a tone that was more controlled and calm.

“You need to fix this; I'm serious. Give her a call, and bring her over for tonight. Having a dinner together might be a wonderful place to begin, and she'll be too exhausted anyway.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” Dean hurriedly walked by Sam, messing his hair to annoy him. He returned inside from the garage, determined not to engage in any further discourse.

After a quick shower, Dean changed into new clothing and stood in front of the mirror, making adjustments with his hair until he was satisfied with the way he looked. He bit his lip anxiously and walked the room for a little while, considering calling you, but then decided to come get you because he knew you would be finished with work in an hour. It would be better to give you a call on the way. On the drive back home, it may be somewhat more appropriate for conversation. Driving back after so many hours at work would exhaust you too much. Besides, it was becoming late. Perhaps you might even consider eating in a restaurant.

“But why didn't you inform me about your arrival? You could have called me,” you wondered, your mouth making into a smile. It surprised you too much to see him so abruptly, even though you knew he would let you know if there was another time.

Unexpectedly, he replied, “I actually did it on purpose.” You waited for him to continue. “I thought, surprising you about that, I'm going to work here from now on, and seeing that face of yours would be worth it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, displaying greater excitement than you had expected.

“You can't be serious.”

“I am pretty serious actually.”

When your phone began to ring, you apologized and continued to ignore Dean's calls. Rob then informed you that he had chosen to relocate after his father passed away, and you had attended his funeral around a month prior. You assumed that it must have caused some sort of trauma, but you didn't pursue the matter further since you didn't want to reopen old wounds.

You inquired excitedly, “Do you want to come over? I could make you some food so we can have an actual conversation instead of chatting under that weather. You know, it's kind of cold, and I'm sort of tired as hell,” you joked, hoping he would take you up on your offer. It has suddenly occurred to you that you have been missing your friend, an old friend you haven't fallen in love with despite knowing for years.

Dean eventually lost patience with you and, making an annoyed sound, placed his phone back in his pocket. He thought about giving you another call right after he parked and got out of his car, but if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, you were speaking with a man. He could tell that you had ignored his calls since you were having a heated chat that briefly made him stiff. If he didn't see you giggling and even giving him a firm hug, which caused his body to tense up for a brief moment, he would say it was simply small talk.

Dean wasn't sure if being ignored was the cause of his growing ire. Since his rage had been driving him insane since the morning, he put the blame on his lack of patience. His pride was hurt by your disregard for him as well.

With a sidelong glance at the man you were speaking with, Dean saw his rage flare up. Not feeling calm since the morning was tiring though. The man had a prideful appearance yet exuded a sense of confidence. From a distance, he could express that enough.

His body stiffened for a moment, indicating that the conversation was... intense. So that was the reason that you ignored him for that long.

Dean moved fast but calmly to avoid making a scene, attempting to maintain his composure despite his mind racing with thoughts. As he walked to each of you, he considered lying about his work. Maybe he would pretend to be a doctor in order to create a good impression, or he would claim to be working for the CIA or FBI in order to make dirty jokes about you and him. He would decide that soon enough.

You whispered, “Dean?” in shock as he unexpectedly appeared at your side. It was unusual for him to show up, especially considering how distant you two were in the last couple of days. He glanced in your direction, but then his gaze shifted to Robert.

Dean glanced at you and added, “I've been calling you for some time.” It was a little judgmental, which bothered you.

Robert stared at you both bewildered, and you lied to him, “I wasn't aware,” but he didn't interject. Awkwardness suddenly filled the air. Three of you were waiting on foot as the chilly weather grew more intense. It was a really uncomfortable moment.

As Robert extended his hand for a formal introduction, Dean said, “Can't imagine why,” while concentrating his entire attention on him. Dean talked first: “Dean Winchester.”

Robert also introduced himself quite sweetly and kindly. He was typically really polite and mindful. You hoped Dean wasn't feeling like making uncomfortable remarks or embarrassing you in any way. He wasn't a reckless person, but when he wasn't in the mood, you just didn't know whether he knew the lines.

Robert gave you a long stare when they finally got to meet, but he remained silent. Rather, he said, “So are you two friends or?”

“Yeah, very close,” Dean said immediately. Robert only nodded to him. “How do you know each other?”

“Well, I'm a doctor.” Robert said, giving you a real, heartfelt smile that warmed your heart, “We've known each other for a long time and worked in the same hospital for quite a long time from my perspective since I'm always on the move. She’s a very good nurse, very talented.” When someone you looked up to complimented you, your heart skipped a beat. These days, it's difficult to find someone who values your effort.

You tensed up for a moment when Dean responded, “I know,” in a proud voice and with a sly smile. When he saw Robert smiling broadly at you, he was powerless to stop himself. Licking his lips, he added, “She has very soft hands indeed and definitely knows how to use them.”

Though Dean had no intention of making any inappropriate remarks, his patience with the man in front of him was getting thinner by the moment as he kept looking at you while he talked. Dean felt like he was getting in the mood when he observed Robert's face change. With a confused expression on his face, he seemed to be trying to figure out whether Dean meant it literally or if it was a metaphor or something.

You gave Dean a glare, but you remained silent despite your cheeks turning red from his unexpected and dirty statement. You were shocked that he chose to act this way in order to make you feel uncomfortable in front of your friend. You didn't mind when he made similar jokes when there was just you and him; nonetheless, you felt embarrassed acting in this way in front of Robert. You weren't sure of Dean's actual intentions.

You choose to cut it off in order to release some tension. “Robb, would you like to have an actual conversation with me later, or simply come over? Of course, if you have the time.”

Dean gave you and Robert a bitter look as he realized how fast and recklessly you had welcomed a man to your house at that hour. He knew you well enough to know that you weren't someone who liked to greet guests at your place with such ease. It didn't matter how hard you tried to disguise your trust concerns; you had trust issues. You were so at ease and full of energy around that man that he wondered how close you must have been to him. Dean closed his eyes for a while, pushing the terrible pictures from his mind as he considered the scenarios involving you and him.

“Actually, I came here at that hour to visit with a different friend before spending the night with my aunt. Can we have a call for tomorrow to set up a suitable time?” Robb remarked very politely, “I guess your friend came here to pick you up,” glancing at Dean as if he required clarification from both of you.

You went to offer him a hug by saying, “Of course. I'm so glad to see you again.”

His hands massaged your back as he gave you an even closer embrace, kissing you briefly on the top of the head and telling you to take care of yourself. He promised to text you as soon as he had some spare time.

Dean gazed at you and him confused as he saw you two embrace like lovers who had met years later. He questioned whether the man's irritating conduct was intended for annoying him. He was curious as to how and when you two first connected, as well as why, given that you spent the entire year with Sam and him, you would still be so close to someone a year later. Although Dean was aware that you remained in contact with your pals, he was unaware of how close you were to one of them.

Dean was ready to say something, but he instantly changed his mind and was waiting for you to end the hug. He kind of wanted to break Robert's face and hands when he touched your back. Dean wondered when he'd felt you give him such a yearning hug. Most likely never. Considering all the times he had saved your ass, you were ungrateful. Later, he would speak about this.

Dean turned to face you shortly after Robb departed and said, “I've called you many times.”

You apologized as he gave you a strange look. You had no idea why you sounded so aloof and cold. “I haven't seen him in a very long time. He's one of my closest friends.”

You questioned, “Why are you here?” before he continued.”Has anything happened?”

“Not at all. I arrived here to pick you up.”

“But my car-”

“I will drive you to work tomorrow, alright?” Dean watched as you began to tremble in the chilly weather. As Sam mentioned, you looked pretty tired.

Dean felt his heart melt and sigh as he saw you shiver from the cold and appear exhausted. Even though he didn't mean to come across as so crude and distant, there was still an uneasiness between you that seemed impossible to get past.

“Fine.”

You continued to shake as you got in the car. You knew you were starving yourself to death when you heard the loud sound coming from your stomach. You had hardly had time for an adequate meal because you were so busy with work.

“You need to have dressed properly.” Dean softly remarked, “It's cold outside these days,” observing your attempts to sooth yourself by lightly massaging your bare arms.

You said in a whisper, “Yeah,” while Dean pressed a button to warm the car up.

Your muscles gradually relaxed, and you began to feel much better as Dean drove. He turned his head to face you, giving you a little, pleased look after he heard your little satisfied sound. He liked it so much. “Relaxed now?”

Giving a quick nod to him, you muttered with a hint of gratitude in your voice. “Uhm, yes. Thanks.”

Dean said, “So,” his gaze glued to the dimly illuminated road. “How long are you friends? You and him. You appeared to be really at ease with that guy.”

“I think for four or five years. I find him to be a really caring and compassionate friend. I hadn't seen him in a very long time, so it was a surprise to see him, as he didn't give me a call in the first place.”

You were taken aback by Dean's attempts to have a polite, regular discussion with you. Your pulse beat with excitement and anticipation since it had been a long time since you had spoken to him in that way. All you wanted was for things to be normal between you two again. You might get by with less and normal if you are unable to have more.

Prior to Dean addressing Robert and your friendship, you said, “Baby looks and smells amazing today. Have you just given her a wash?”

“She's a good girl all the time,” he remarked, chuckling. His hands around the steering wheel were more tightly now. “She needed to be clean and nice.”

You eagerly questioned, “Why did you come, by the way?” as the minutes ticked by in quiet. You wanted to make it seem like nothing occurred between you as well, and now it looked like a good moment to sort out things between you and him.

“I decided to pick you up to avoid an accident after Sam warned me that you looked terrible. Are you hungry?” Dean wouldn't say 'no' to a pie right now.

“Actually, I'm starving,” you answered, sidestepping the comment Dean made regarding your appearance. You bet you did.

“Alright.” Dean glanced at you and said, “I know a good restaurant,” in a rough voice, clearing his throat.

Stating, “To be honest, I'm exhausted.” in a sorry tone, you waited for him to offer something else. You instantaneously forced the never-to-come-true visions away from your thoughts, even though you really wanted to go on a date with him. It wouldn't be a date, but it would be a nice moment. However, it would only get your situation worse.

“You wasted the opportunity. After that, you're going to eat anything Sammy orders.”

You smiled and responded, “I'm okay with that,” but you couldn't help but worr if Jo was still there.

Your face sank unintentionally, remembering the noises she'd made with Dean last night and how he'd been distant when you two chatted. You didn't want Dean and Jo's relationship to fail if it would harm Dean in any way, but you were unable to give up and were hoping that she wouldn't be around for tonight at the very least. Undoubtedly, your body was worn out, but your heart was spent beyond comprehension.

Dean occasionally glanced at you, and thoughts of you and Robert were constantly racing through his head. He was thinking a lot of things at once—things that would make him see red, things that would make him angry, and things that would make Dean want to punch Robert in the face.

“Have you slept with him?” unexpectedly Dean asked in a stern voice that made you stiffen in hurt and disgust.

Though he didn't want to sound so harsh and judgmental, Dean couldn't resist posing the question. He had to know the answer, even if he had no idea why.

You said, “What?” your heart thumping with pain. You never wanted to tell Dean that he was your one and only and how much you gave of yourself to him that night. “How could you ask such a question?”

Dean said, “It's a simple question,” as if he were defending himself. His attitude altered upon witnessing your expression transform to one of disappointment and rage. He wasn't sure if it was really necessary to get the answer. “Did you get fucked by him?”

You responded angrily, “He's my friend,” yet both of you stiffened at the words. Your body was filled with shame, and your heart ached from the burden. All you needed was Dean making no mention of wanting to cause you more damage. Wasn't it enough?

He said, “I am your friend too,” which made you tense up in your seat. “But things happen.”

You told him sternly, “You're being too much,” while doing your best not to seem pathetic or reveal how upset you were. “I can't believe you.”

“Why are you not answering the question?” Again, he lost his temper. Dean noticed that his tolerance was wearing thin and that the pictures that were filling his mind were not helping the situation. He was aware that he shouldn't have said those things, but whatever. Fuck that. He wanted to know. He needed to know.

You snapped, “Of course not, Dean!” as a wave of rage overcame you. You wished he would have remained silent the entire way. Both of you should have stayed quiet.

Dean fought himself not to exhale in relief as a sensation of ease exploded in his heart. He didn't understand the significance of your connection with Robert or if it mattered if he really fucked you. However, the very idea was plenty to irritate him. You deserved better than this haughty, dumb man. It was such a simple question. That was it.

You didn't ask Dean whether he loved wounding your heart these days or why he was acting like an asshole. It pained your heart to see his suspicious look, even if you had no intention of telling him that he was your first to not ruin whatever you had from the beginning. If you told him the truth, you weren't sure how he would react. But knowing that he was still distant from you, you were unable to find the trust that you needed. You had no idea how he would react.

You said, “I want to go home,” in an icy tone, though you didn't actually mean it. You desired more time to be with him. It hurt so much to not be around him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you forced them back as your need for him reminded you of how pathetic you truly were to him.

He had an innate ability of ruining a nice moment just when you thought everything was going well. You realized that in order to stop him from hurting you, you needed to find a method to physically separate from him rather than cling to him. If nothing else, perhaps you could convey to him the meaning of his behavior and how easily his sharp words hurt you. Maybe someday.

“We're already-”

But you soon interrupted, saying, “My home.”

When he proposed that you have dinner at a restaurant, you should have accepted. Maybe you would chat about things that could break the ice between you, or even better, maybe you would find a way to bring up the young girl you took care of and her thoughts about love. Maybe he would act a little differently, acting more kind and cheerful rather than staring at you with rage. If only you had known which way to go to win him over, so much may have been different.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Please, let me know what you think about this one. I hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! They keep me going. ^^

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thebestofoneshots · 4 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

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Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.2 K Warnings: MAJOR ANGST MOMENT Prompt: Alone, desperate, lonely. How did you end up like this? How will you recover? Is recovering even possible? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 56: Who Wants to Live Forever

There's no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams,

yet slips away from us

You sighed, it was a game. Your father had designed a game, and if you wanted to get to the other side you’d have to follow his instructions or solve his riddle. The weird thing was, how much it seemed to be targeted to you. As if he knew one day, you’d have to enter the chamber without him, or without the key. It was fishy, but you still wanted to know what was on the other side.

The riddle was way too elaborate for him to have created it since Christmas, so you ruled out the chance of it being a trap. You would have gone as far as to say that he hadn’t even thought about you visiting theVault he’d given you yet, as if he expected that to be way later on. It was true that you’d gotten an obscene amount of pocket money on Christmas, and he did suggest you could save it in your vault. But still, there was something odd about the entire thing.

You read the riddle again “In shadows deep and whispers soft, a secret lies, though hidden oft,” you muttered. “It must be somewhere in here.” You looked around, raptor-like, analytical, and cold. Solving a riddle was a brilliant way to take your mind off everything it was insistent on thinking, and you weren’t going to reject the opportunity. “Whispers soft,” you repeated. In one of the corners stood a long and tall harp. You could barely see it, it was as if it was sucking the light out of the room. You grabbed the star ring you’d seen earlier with a handkerchief and walked closer to it. Nothing seemed to move, but as you walked closer, you could hear it: the faintest sound of the harp, a soft and haunting melody.

You instantly knew what it was, “The Song of Seikilos”. You swallowed, there was no question about it anymore, this riddle had been designed for you. The Song of Seikilos wasn’t the most common song out there, but you knew about it, and Silas knew that you knew. The summer before the trip with the Blacks, your father had taken you and your mother to Denmark for some political business. You’d begged him to let you visit the muggle museum. He said he too was interested in visiting it and told you to wait.

A week later you were all in the museum. They had a special music-related event, and inside one of the showrooms you got to see the marble columns that held the poem. But there was also a man next to it, playing the same song on the violin while a lady dressed in Greek robes sang the song.

You placed the ring closer to the harp, and surely, there were Greek inscriptions on its side. You breathed and took a closer look. You couldn’t read or speak Greek –let alone ancient Greek– but you were familiar enough with the alphabet, and it wasn’t hard to find the “Σεικίλος”.

You were right, it really was The Song of Seikilos.

You tried to remember what the poem was about, the small caption next to the piece said something about it being a dedication for Seikilos’ wife. But this had happened years ago, how the fuck would your father expect you to remember? You went back to the inscriptions on the harp. You looked through the text again, paying attention to each of the letters. Was there anything you could read?

φαίνου? No idea what that might be. λυποῦ? You weren’t even sure how to pronounce that. χρόνος? hronos… Chronos… The titan of time!

“Of course!” You said excitedly. “The song of Seikilos was an epitaph! A poem for his dеad wife.”

It said something about Chronos demanding it’s due. About time demanding his due. Time… time… time… you pondered. “Through twists and turns of mind and fate. Seek the truth, but never late.”

But what could the truth be? Dеath? That was too simple, too obvious.

Silas would never go for something like that. You leaned closer to the harp, the ring held high illuminating as much as possible, the harp still sucked the light out of it. Either way, right in the corner of the room, under a couple of books you saw something that looked interesting. An old journal. But not just any journal, it was a dream journal.

“In echoes of dreams untold, the key awaits, in tales of old,” you whispered and leaned in to take it in between your hands. It was heavy and old. Blue leather cover and silver engravings. You pulled it out and held it to the light of the vault. You checked the clock again. 10 minutes. it had been ten minutes since you took your bag. If only you could slow time or make yourself faster. There were plenty of spells that allowed you to do that, none of which you could perform with her wand.

You took a deep breath before opening the dream journal. Empty. It made sense, after all it said dreams untold. But if they’re not told then… could they be shown?

You looked at the page and placed your hand on it, closed your eyes and waited. The tick-tack of the grandfather clock and the faintest whispers of the harp the only sounds in the room. You waited a little more… tick, tack, tick, tack… nothing… No dream, no visions, nothing.

You turned to the harp again, perhaps you missed something. Maybe on the echos old, instead of in the dreams untold, you thought. But there was nothing on the books either. You grabbed the journal, closed it and started inspecting the cover… there was something odd in some of the patterns. You slid your hand over the spine. and suddenly, something clicked. You frowned and opened the journal again, right there in the middle of the book there were a few hollow pages and inside one of them a small locket.

You grabbed the locket and left the book on the side, on the back, in cursive so small it was almost unreadable, it said:

While you live, shine have no grief at all life exists only for a short while and Time demands his due.

“It’s the poem’s translation,” you whispered. “But why would I need the poem’s translation?” You looked at the book with the poem again. “Through trials dire and trials fair, only the wise shall find it there.”

Echoes old, and dreams untold, you recited. Echos old, could be old books, you’d already seen a few old books, there were very many in that corner behind the harp. You pulled them out towards the centre of the room. The Tales of Beedle the Bard, The Arcanum Codex: Legends of the Ancient Wizards, The Chronicles of Avalon (that one was fae), The Divine Comedy, The Chronicles of Mistwood Manor, The Iliad, Paradise Lost and the Odyssey. So many ancient books: wizard, muggle and fae; but how would you know which one to take?

The poem… the poem was Greek. You took the three books. in your hands. The Iliad, The Divine Comedy and the Odyssey. But which one to take?

The Divine Comedy was about hell, but it was also about dеath, which could have a connection to the Seikilos’ poem. On the other hand, The Odyssey perfectly reflected the “trials dire and trials fair, only the wise shall find it there” line of the riddle.

You were hesitant as you picked the book up, you’d read it before. Your mother had given it to you a few years ago as proof of one of the best muggle-wizard collaborations. With the fact that Homer had been a wizard and because of Circe and Odysseus’ collaboration, proved that while wizards were powerful, and could be evil, they could also be benevolent and help humans. But that was before wizards had decided to seclude themselves from the world, and when they were actually trying to integrate themselves into it.

The book was the version you remembered your mother had given you; green cover, and written in verse. You flipped through some of the pages, and right in the middle of one of them, you found a recipe.

“Shut up,” you whispered as you looked at it. It was sleep draught. “Fine then, that’s it,” you said annoyed. You were stuck. Except, what if you weren’t? You took the locket from the table in which you’d place it, and stared. The key awaits, in tales of old.

What if the locket really is a key? But a key to what?

You spun around in your place, paying a closer look at all the things scattered in the room. The harp and the clock jumped at you at once.

You walked towards the clock: χρόνος. Chronos was such an important character in the poem, it made sense for it to be an equally important character in the riddle. In seconds you were right in front of it. It had been 15 minutes since you started. You placed your hand over the clock, there were many intricacies detailed all over. From a wonderfully sculpted story on the cover to details of the moon, stars, and planets on the face. It had not two, but eleven hands, 2 for hours and minutes, and then one for each planet. They were right around the clock, and moved ever so slightly each day, mirroring the real movements of each of them.

And then, right behind the small cristal, there were the winding ports. You took the locket in your hands and cranked it open. Right inside of it, there was a small winding key. You placed it on a spot, and there was a soft chime you took in a breath. Good, now you had to find the rest of the keys.

You grabbed the book and went over some other lines of the riddle: In silence vast and darkness deep, the answer lies, in dreams asleep. but wake ye now, and heed the call, for time is short, and darkness falls. You glanced at the clock, there was something there now that wasn’t there before. The moon phase section was changing every couple of minutes. It went from crescent to quarter in less than 5. “For time is short and darkness falls,” you whispered as you took a deep breath. “Fuck,” you said when you realised that you didn’t have much time.

It felt like you were spinning around and around and yet you didn’t get the result you’d hoped for. You turned to the rest of the books. You frowned and turned to the riddle again. There was something about the wise: only the wise shall find it there.

“The wise,” you repeated as you pondered. Greek, the Illiad, Wise. “Athena! But where?” You thought of looking in the book, but something told you that might not be the solution, you had already found enough things in books, there was no way the rest were in them too.

You looked around the room again, there were so many things it was like looking for Waldo, or worse yet since when you looked for Waldo you knew exactly what you had to find, a small man with glasses and a red striped shirt. Now thought? You had no idea what you were looking for. Still, you looked around and focused.

That’s when you spotted it, right at the top of one of the huge shelves that held piles and piles of things, there was a statue of an owl. You scoffed when you realised what kind of owl it was, a fucking Athene. You used one of the hundreds of piles of books to lift yourself enough to pull the owl from its place.

That had never been an issue before, a small spell would be more than enough to have it float gently towards you, but you had to improvise now. You almost tripped and fell, but you managed to hold your balance and took a deep breath once you were back on solid ground with the owl in your hand. You started to twist it around, looking at all his sides. But there was nothing, not a single thing.

That’s when an idea popped into your head, you took a deep breath and dropped the entire statue into the ground. It burst into hundreds of smaller pieces, and yet they all looked like they had been designed to crack a certain way. You looked at the floor, they had somehow arranged themselves, one line towards the clock, and the other one towards a small cabinet in the far end of the room. You walked there and started opening all the small drawers.

They had ingredients for potions, and jewellery and– bingo! A vial. Clear liquid, a simple, omnibus label: φάρμακο. You suspected what it might be, the horrifying thought sinking in like a doxy’s fangs. You sighed as you unclogged the cork and brought the potion up to your nose.

You took a deep breath. Nothing. You concentrated a little bit more, you used the same technique you had developed lately, and while you didn’t physically turn into Vixen, you called upon her sense of smell. There it was, cleverly cloaked, clearly done by an expert, it must have been worth a small fortune. But it was clear as day: Valerian Root and Sopophorous Bean.

Draught of Living Dеath.

Rather proper, since φάρμακο is old Greek for both poison and cure, you remembered Slughorn had mentioned that once.

If you thought it through, there was no way you were drinking to a different potion. While a simple sleeping draught would have done the trick, like the one in the small note still in your pocket, there was no way time allowed you to brew such a thing, not with the moon already being full, and with half of your time gone.

Now, you knew how dangerous draught of living dеath could be, and this is when the dire trials came back, you could either drink it, do the brave and reckless thing, or you could try and brew the other potion. With no wand, and barely enough time to find all the ingredients.

You took a deep breath, if you took only a drop, really a drop, nothing more than that, and if the potion wasn’t concentrated enough, then perhaps it would be enough for you to fall asleep and wake up before the moon was dark again.

It was now or never, you took a small hairpin from one of the corners and dipped it in the small bottle. Your breath was short, breathing had become harder as you moved the small, poison-filled pin towards your face. It’s what was expected of you, your father knew how reckless you were, if he had left that there it was for a reason. Not many would be brave –or stupid– enough to drink Draught of Living Dеath, except perhaps someone as stubborn as you or him.

You stuck your tongue out and gently brushed the hairpin right on top of it. You placed the bottle on the side and looked around. Nothing, perhaps I should take more, you thought, and then the walls started to change, coating themselves in a black gooey substance before disappearing entirely.

“So I’m dreaming,” you said, there was an echo of your voice, going all the way to the end of the seamingly endless room you were in before coming back to you, in a voice eerie similar to yours but also vastly different.

Deeper, richer, sinister, “So, you are dreaming.”

You swallowed, it was pointless to ask where this was, or anything regarding the nature of the place, you knew you had a limited amount of time and no matter how different time was in dreams, you couldn’t afford to lose any of it, not unless you wanted Chronos to demand his due.

“I’m looking for a key,” you said, your voice echoed again, louder this time, and then, out of nowhere, something, or rather someone appeared right in front of you.

“We know,” the thing said. It was a figure, almost a mirror to you but with no face, all dark and smooth like a mannequin. Only a sunken mouth, awfully reminiscent of a Dementor’s. It didn’t move as it spoke. “Why do you want it?”

“I need to get to the other Vault.”

“The mirror,” a whisper said.

“She wants the mirror,” another whisper returned.

“I just want the key,” you replied. “I need to see what’s on the other side. It may be dangerous.”

“It is dangerous, child,” the voice said.

“It’s a terrible idea to go,” a different one added.

“Perhaps… I still have to do it,” you retorted.

The creature in front of you smiled, a sharp, shark-like grin, “that’s what we wanted to hear,” it said.

“Two paths lay ahead of thee,” one of the voices started.

“One of us always tells the truth.”

“The other one always lies.”

“You may ask one question.”

“To either one of us but not both.”

“Ask away, little sprite.”

“Or stay in the darkness and relent.”

“It is your choice.”

You sighed. You knew this riddle, your dad had given it to you when you were 10, you couldn’t find an answer and you begged him to give it to you. He’d said one day you’d guess it yourself.

“But what if I don’t?” you’d asked, concerned.

“Then you’ll go through the wrong path and something bad would happen.”

“But you could tell me now. Then nothing bad would happen to me.”

“And you wouldn’t learn a thing,” he had answered indifferently.

You held back a resentful groan, as you bit your lip. This stupid game was getting beyond annoying. If this was his way to have you solve his stupid riddle, if he thought you ought to learn something from putting your life at risk, then he might be even worse than you thought. This wasn’t even tough love, this was a reckless gamble of your safety, whatever lesson you were supposed to learn from it was in no way worth it.

And yet, you’d go through with it either way, and he knew you’d go through with it, you were obdurate and determined, and you had to know what was on the other vault. The dream beings had confirmed how dangerous it was, you could not leave it on his hands. Not on the same hands that had cast crucio on your mother. The action that made you react harshly and cause that fire, the action that had caused her demise.

You turned around, you could hear a faint echo of the clock and the sound of the moon phase section changing again, you were running out of time.

“I–” you staggered. How could you trick them? One question, what could you ask?

You turned to one of the paths and pointed at it, “Would the other Omnius voice tell me that this is the way to the key?”

There was silence, and then the voice said, “No.”

If it was lying, then the truth would have said “yes”, and it would have changed it to “no”, which meant it was the right path. If it were telling the truth, then the lying voice would have said “no”, and it still would be the right path.

“Then this is my way,” you said and walked towards the path.

“Are you sure?” one of the voices said.

“You might be wrong,” the other one added.

“Or you might be right.”

“Logic in the dream world can be different than back on earth.”

“What if we switch?”

“What if we both lied?”

“Then the riddle would have always been unsolvable by logic,” you said with a shrug. You were confident in your answer.

“And magic?”

“Potions?”

“Veritaserum?” you asked. “That would be cheating.”

“Isn’t it worth it? To fulfil your task?”

“Would you drink it voluntarily?”

“Of course not!” the voice said, irritated.

“Then it wouldn’t,” you replied. “Unlike Silas, I do not think things can be achieved by any means necessary.”

The voice laughed, a loud, horrifying cackle that resonated and echoed through the entire room. “She really thinks she’s so much better for following her moral compass.”

“Where has that led you, child?”

“Alone.”

“Abandoned.”

“Motherless.”

“Loverless.”

“Straight towards despair.”

You looked at them, their heinous words echoing in your head, each one stronger than the last. All of them ringing truth to your ears. But you weren’t going to put your happiness above the one of those you loved. You were not going to let them suffer at your expense. Not when you tried to help Nina and not when you broke up with Sirius.

“Well then, I’ll walk there gladly, as long as I can still protect the ones I love,” you replied, tears prickled in your eyes as you ventured into the path.

It was dark and it seemed to grow smaller the deeper you were. But you pushed on, after a long walk, you entered a chamber. You looked around, it was empty, except for a deep plunging drop, and a floating slab of concrete in the middle. And right there in the centre of the island, there was a small jewellery box, with the same engravings as the Grandfather clock in the real world. You knew how dangerous of a jump it was, but you had to take it.

You took a few steps back to build momentum and you ran. You crashed chest-first into the side, it knocked your breath out and you barely managed to hold onto one of the raised tiles in the floor. Tears prickled in your eyes as you struggled up. How did it always look so much easier in movies and comics? This was almost impossibly tough to achieve. And you had relatively decent arm strength. There was a wand lying on the side, just within reach.

You hadn’t seen it before but you took it and pointed downwards. “Confringo!” you shouted, the impulse the spell gave you was enough to flip you upside down and have you crash, back first, onto the concrete, your head slamming with an unsettling loud thud. You groaned as you looked up at the nothingness above.

And then you heard it again, like a faraway whisper: Tick, tack, tick, tack… The ever-so-constant reminder that you had no time to rest. You exhaled wearily and groaned your way into a sitting position. You took the small jewellery box in your hands and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge You were about to smash it into a wall out of exasperation, a riddle within a riddle within a fucking riddle, it was getting out of hand.

But there was a small glistening thing in the side of the box with some kind of engraving: ᾄδειν Σεικίλος.

Of course, you thought and recalled the poem you had memorised just in case, “While you live, shine,” there was a click inside the box. “Have no grief at all,” another click and then a twist, “life exists only for a short while,” a louder sound came from the box, like a small bell, “and Time demands his due.”

The box opened in a second, surely, there was a key, mirroring the one that had been inside the locket there. You grabbed it, expecting to wake up, but nothing happened. You looked around, there were other trinkets scattered all around, but none of them had anything that could help you wake up on the outside.

There were unlabeled potion bottles, there were other wands like the one you’d used earlier, there were some bones in the corner and there were even a few books– the same ones that had been next to the harp. But there had to be a way to wake up, there had to be a way to get out.

And there was an infallible one, one that you had heard of before and that your father had made sure to drill into your head in the past.

“Darling, our little girl is having nightmares.”

“She is?” he asked as he leaned down to look at you, you must have been four or five.

“There’s dragons, and trolls and big scary dogs that want to eat me.”

“And where are you in the dream?”

“Running through the forest, and then I reach a cliff, I can’t run anymore, they,” you sniffed. Those small child eyes, normally filled with wonder, were filled with tears, “they eat me. It hurts.”

“A cliff you said?”

“Yes!”

“Then jump.”

“Ju-jump?” you staggered. “But it’s dangerous and there are pointy rocks at the bottom, I would diе.”

“Is the best way to wake up from a dream.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Wouldn’t being stabbed by rocks be less painful than being eaten alive?”

“Silas!” your mother chided.

Your father threw her a look and then one at you, a small smile playing on his lips, “Then… You learn how to fly!” he said as he took you in his hands and twirled with you in the sky. Your laughs filled the room, your mom was clapping and he looked at you with the purest of smiles when suddenly, out of nowhere, he let go of you and you plunged into the floor. Of course, you fell into a mattress he had apparated there, but the fall hadn’t been any less jarring.

On the floor, you looked at him with a terrorized expression.

“Silas!” Avis said angrily.

“It’s so she learns it’s not that terrible to fall,” Silas responded as he pointed at you, a dismissive sort of look. “Children like it.”

“She’s horrified!”

“She is not! Look at her!”

Both of them turned to you expectantly. You were small, but you knew if you said the wrong thing, the two of them would fight, and you could never tolerate their fights. With your heart hammering in your chest, you smiled faintly and then started to laugh. The tears that left your eyes, were considered laughter-induced rather than the terrified ones they actually were. “Again,” you managed to say, to sell the idea further.

That’s when you decided you had to become an expert at flying, you couldn’t allow Silas to throw you again.

And yet, here you were, back in a dream and you would not only allow Silas to push you down a cliff, but you were about to plunge into the dark abyss, willingly. “He always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?”

You leaned over the edge, looking down, there was no breeze, nothing that could indicate how far of a fall it might be, if there was an end to it at all. You had learned how to fly so you wouldn’t fear the fall. You hadn’t been afraid when you fell from your broom and you wouldn’t start being fearful now.

You extended one of your legs, your feet dangled over nothingness, you took a deep breath and then you plunged. If you screamed, the hollowness of the place made the sound disappear. The rush of the fall was there, the same plunging sensation you felt sometimes on a broom, it was beautiful and harrowing at the same time.

And then, you woke up. Your breath was short, there was a thin coat of cold sweat over your limbs and the place seemed way brighter than you remembered. The key, was in your hands, it was lighter here than in the dream, but it was there nonetheless.

You opened your palm, it was almost the same as the other one, except for a slightly darker colour. You stared at it as you tried to catch your breath, you wanted to laugh and you wanted to cry, but you glanced at the clock instead. Third quarter, you sprung up from where you lay and ran towards the clock, placing the key straight on its spot. The moon phase went from Third Quarter to Waning Gibbous. It wasn’t much, around 4 more minutes than before, but four minutes were enough to make the difference.

You took the book with the riddle and went through the last lines, the ones that you hadn’t used before Paths diverge, yet all converge to where the truth and secrets surge. Choose wisely, seeker, lest you fail, and in the end, your efforts pale.

“Choose wisely, seeker,” you thought. Could he mean?

You turned around, looking for something, and right there in the middle of one of the bigger shelves, there was a golden snitch. When you stepped closer to her she released her small wings and started to fly around the room.

You had no broom, but you had experience, if she thought you weren’t looking at her she would lean closer to taunt you, that was what they always did. You walked towards the pile of books you had left in the centre of the vault and grabbed one of them, flipping through the pages while keeping an attentive eye on the clock. The moon was back in Third quarter. You were running out of time. You were just looking at the pictures in the book, the Peverell bothers talking to Dеath, Dеath giving them the hallows, you’d heard the story many times before. You waited: one look at the pictures and a short glance at the clock, the tick-tack almost maddening as the small snitch kept buzzing around the room.

And then it happened, the small golden ball flew close to you, right in front of your face. You were as quick as humanly possible and took it with one of your hands. You could feel it melt at your touch, suddenly you no longer had a snitch but a small shiny key. Its colour lighter than the other two.

You turned to the clock: Waning Crescent. The tick, tick of the handles seemed to get thicker as you approached it, louder, so loud it was almost deafening, but you never stopped walking and lodged the key straight into the one remaining hole.

Three paths, three keys, they all converged into one single clock, into a master of time. The bottom door of the clock opened itself, and on the other side you could see nothing but darkness.

You had solved it, and yet the next step was as daunting as some of the trials you’d already accomplished. You took a deep breath and walked inside. Darkness, darkness, darkness, and then… light. Not blinding but enough to make you squint. A vault, twin to the one you had been on, and yet vastly different. All the things had been piled to the side, and in the centre back there was a large something covered by a thin fabric, it draped down the sides of it, allowing you to see a shape, it looked like some kind of door.

You walked outside of a clock, exactly the same as the one in the other room, and towards the large thing at the end. You didn’t hesitate to pull the thin white sheet from it, there was a small cloud of dust that wafted through the air due to the harsh movement and then, once the dust settled, the sheet fell on the floor with a gentle thud. Not a door, but… a mirror.

Except it wasn’t quite that either, you could see your reflection, but there was something odd about it, it was you, but, there was something about it that looked different.

You looked at the mirror, there seemed to be an inscription at the top “riapsed dnaht urt d niflla hsuo yt ini htiwt nemrot ren niruoy tubega sivruo y ton tcel feri ”

It was English text, which surprised you since you assumed it would also be Greek, everything seemed Greek that day. You read it aloud, it didn’t sound like Greek either –you thought it could have been the pronunciation rather than the spelling. You pulled back a little, trying to get the big picture. The mirror was tall, far taller than you, even Remus would have fit inside of it perfectly, and it would have surpassed him. It had a silver frame and it had pointy ends, it reminded you a lot of Hogwarts Architecture.

You wondered if you’d ever seen a mirror like that, and you didn’t quite remember such a thing. Yet, it was oddly familiar as if you had seen it before, perhaps in a dream. You reread the words again, and that’s when you realised what it said. It wasn’t Greek, it wasn’t even a different language, rather, and quite proper of a mirror, it was in English, but spelt backwards.

"I reflect not your visage but your inner torment, within it you shall find truth and despair,” you read aloud. There was a slow chime as if it had come from the clock behind you and not the mirror itself. The reflection in the mirror wobbled as if the screen had turned into a silvery pool instead of glass.

You walked closer again, you knew reading the inscription had activated whatever was inside of it, but the idea of seeing your inner torment was not something you were eager to do, it wasn’t something that you wanted to face. You’d been running from it incessantly since Christmas, and you did not want to stop now.

But you had to.

Whatever was inside the mirror was reason enough for your father to make that dreadful riddle, and if it had been that hard to accomplish, then there was definitely something worthy inside of it. You looked at the mercury-like screen ahead of you and took another step towards it. You placed your hand on it and saw how the entire thing wobbled alongside your small push. It seemed to almost stick to your finger before releasing it and going back to its place.

You remembered what one of the voices in the dream had said, the echo so present in your head, it was as if they were speaking to you again, “Straight towards despair.”

Right in front of you stood a mirror of despair, and you would walk right inside of it. Head high, and breath calm, even as your heart hammered inside your chest. You took a deep breath and took another step, and then another. The metal liquid surrounded you completely, and suddenly you were somewhere else.

You were falling, and then you crashed onto a mattress. Avis and Silas were there.

“Mum,” you said, tears prickling your eyes. “Mom, you’re here!”

“Look what you’ve done!” She said angrily at Silas, “She’s crying.”

“No! No, I’m–” She looked younger, far younger than you remembered, far younger than she’d been when your chimaera swallowed her.

“She can barely speak.”

“She must learn! She must become stronger! If she wants to survive she–”

“Silas!”

You knew what this was, you didn’t want to see it. You stood up in an instant, “It’s fine, I’ll go to my room,” you said before exiting the living room as far as you could. You locked yourself in one of the closets, and things were calm only for a second. The doors opened, your room was different, and you, or another version of you was there, writing something furiously on some parchment, bunching it up and throwing it on the side.

Regulus’ letter was on your bed, you walked towards it and picked it up, you now knew what it said, how much heartache would have been spared if only you had given Reggie a chance. “Read it,” you told her.

She turned to you, tears in her eyes and a scornful smile, “you have no business here,” she replied, snatched the letter from your hands and threw it towards the fire.

She watched it burn with a tear sliding down her cheek and then went back to writing the letter she was working on, you looked over her shoulder “Sirius, This is the last letter I write. I’m sorry for…” you knew exactly what she was writing, what you had written.

You sighed, and walked toward the door, next thing you knew, you were in the shack. Remus had a cloak, and he was panicking, looking at the bIood in his hands, breath sharp and desperately looking at James and Peter.

“Where is she?” He asked, you could hear the desperate crack in his voice.

“She’s okay, she’s with Sirius,” James said with ease. Peter was looking at the broken metal door with a confused face, and trying to place it back into place with a spell.

“Don’t lie to me,” he pressed, there were tears prickling in his eyes, he looked livid and terribly upset. “This is her bIood,” Remus said, his voice breaking near the end. “It smells like her!”

James licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Yes, you accidentally scratched, nothing else. You know,” he said. “You remember.”

“No, I–” Remus breathed, he was entirely forlorn. He frowned, “I lost track of them! She was there and then she wasn’t and then–” Remus shook his head and sat back on the bed “–There was a fox.”

James nodded, “She’s the fox.”

“Moony was trying to bite her!”

“That didn’t happen,” James reassured. “There were no bites.”

“So, she’s okay?”

“She needs to get patched up,” James said, “but she’ll be fine, she’s tough.”

You wanted to walk towards Remus and give him a hug, to tell him that you were all right, that you would be all right. That it wouldn’t even be the hardest thing you’d go through in the past few months, but the scene dissolved into another one. Remus, James and Peter turned into dust, so did the room, and it slowly rearranged into a larger room.

You heard the door close behind you and then turned to the only person remaining in the room. Evan. He stared at the door dumbfounded, a mix of hatred and relief evident on his face. You weren’t sure why you were there, and you were about to follow yourself when you heard a sob. You turned around to look at Evan hesitantly, a small confused frown knitting your eyebrows together. He was crouching down on the floor, face hidden in his hands and a stream of tears leaving his eyes.

You stared at him confused. A part of you wanted to place an arm on his shoulder and tell him things would be all right –not that you could actually interact with him– the other part, the one still sad and angry about what happened in November was almost thrilled he was crying. But the first one won over the second and you approached him cautiously.

He was muttering incoherent things as he spoke, something about Arkalis, about you saving him, about hate and compassion and Merlin knows what else. You swallowed, when you implied to his father that he was straight, when you manipulated Arkalis into thinking you had kissed his son to get him off Evan’s back you were just doing what you considered was right, you never expected for that to mean so much to Evan. Let alone break him down into tears.

It made sense now, that he and Barty had helped, what you’d done there was a lot more than you initially thought, your simple, almost dutiful act of kindness had meant a lot more to them than it had meant to you. You had earned the help they’d given you, simply by being kind.

You stood up, it was not your place to be here, in fact, you assumed Barty would be here soon anyway, for some reason you seemed to be surrounded by tragic love stories. You looked at the clock in the corner, and then you heard a scream.

You were paralysed by it, your breathing caught in your throat, a small sob leaving your lips. You knew what that was, you knew who that scream belonged to.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, no,” you repeated, breath sharp and chest heaving. “Not this again, I don’t want to go through this again.”

Suddenly Evan wasn’t on the floor anymore, he –or a distorted shadow of him– was right in front of you. Tall and imposing and as terrifying as he seemed that night in the forest. “Go,” he said, although it wasn’t quite his voice.

“I don’t want to,” you replied, voice small, filled with anguish.

The world around dissolved and you were back in the hall. Nina was being held by two wizards while her mom was being tortured on the floor.

“I don’t want to see this!” you insisted. The door from the terrace where you were with Reggie was still closed. You were both still there, this was before you arrived. Nina was crying, and screaming and her mom’s jarring shrieks were even louder. You closed your eyes, but the sounds became even more vivid, louder and overwhelming, you felt like your ears would bleed if you didn’t open your eyes again.

Bellatrix shouted, there was a blinding green light and then Nina’s mother fell on the floor with a hollow thud, eyes shiny and completely defocused.

Nina let out a shrilling cry, something so loud and harrowing that you knew instantly what it was. The one you had heard from the terrace. Bella started saying several things, and you saw yourself leaving Reggie on the chair and speeding to the area, determined to do something, determined to save her. If only you knew that determination would lead you nowhere.

The second you spoke, and Nina turned to you, the entire scene dissolved. Now it was your father looking at your mother after she’d been stepped on by the Chimaera, you gulped, his screams had been swallowed by the commotion that day, but today you were closer to them. In your father’s gaze, there was anger and desperation and he looked both irked and terrified as he held your mother’s charred body.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes as you saw your father filled with despair. “I’m so sorry, I just wanted to do what was right, all I wanted was to–”

The scene dissolved again, now it was Nina taking your face in her hands and telling you that you had to keep moving. You looked completely appalled, desperate, borderline hysterical; but Nina looked at you with a loving gaze, a calm, lake-like balminess emanated from her celadon eyes as she spoke, loud and clear. It hadn’t felt like that in the moment, but Nina had spoken to you for several sentences before you caught what she was saying before she told you to look at her, to really look at her and then told you how it wasn’t your fault.

The scene dissolved as you and Nina walked towards the window. The scorching heat of the Chimera dwindled and was replaced with an eerie coldness. Your heartbeat paced rapidly, you knew what was coming, and you didn’t want to face it again. You shut your eyes as the scene around you started to darken, “Please,” you begged. “I don’t want to live through this again, please.”

But if there was an architect to this ordeal, he either didn’t hear your pleas or chose to ignore them. You felt something cold graze your cheek, and when you touched it you realised it was snow. You sighed, you were surrounded by hedges, the moon high above you, bright but nonetheless harrowing. You knew that moon, you knew what she’d witnessed, what you were about to witness again.

Suddenly you and Nina passed by, running fast as Lucius appeared, throwing a spell and taunting you over the dеath of Cygnus Black. You fought, fierce and determined and strong. Lucius wasn’t all that great of a duelist, but you were weak, marred and using a stolen wand. Had he been any better you would have lost to him after the first couple of spells. Then he made the hole in the ground you threw a spell on him and started to repair it. Nina saw Lucius get out, she saw him pointing his wand at you, and then she saw something else. Something behind Lucius. Whatever she saw, you hadn’t seen it then and you still weren’t able to see it now.

She nodded and pushed you, the spell hit her and she fell on the floor. You –the other you– instantly crawled towards her with a raw scream, the bright shining light was there again and then from behind Lucius appeared Evan and Barty.

You were crying and pleading and telling her it would be all right even if the two of you knew that wasn’t true. You turned your gaze to the side, trying to avoid looking at it again, but then you turned back, tears streaming down your face as you stared. You wanted to see Nina alive again, you wanted to hear her voice, even if it was her last breath that you’d hear.

Seconds later you were crying and trying to use the wand to revive her, but nothing worked. You knew nothing would and yet you harboured an inch of hope that maybe in this dream, Nina wouldn’t diе, that she would wake up and run the hell away from that hedge with you.

Barty approached you and tried to pry you off Nina’s body for a few minutes before he actually managed to do it. Nina became butterflies and you saw one of them lean closer to you, to the real you, not the dream you crying on the floor; but the spectator of it all.

“Nina,” you whispered, the butterfly batted her wings and flew along the rest of them.

The scene dissolved and you saw Sirius, he was in what you quickly recognised as James’ bathroom. He was on the floor and panicking. He was saying something about it not being a dream and about you being in danger.

“It was real, and she’s alone, in the snow, pretty much passed out, we have to do something. Maybe I can apparate there or–”

“You’ll splinch.”

“Damn it, James!” Sirius snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

He looked absolutely desperate, terrified, you wanted to hug him and tell him things would be all right but then James spoke. “Remus!” he said. The scene dissolved again. Now it was Remus running through the shack, looking at the fence and then at the window you had used to save the butterfly. He ran through the snow, desperate, out of breath until he found you.

You had been too numb to see his reactions, but when he touched you, with that tenderness that he managed to always pull off, you saw how scared he was, as terrified as Sirius as he pressed his hand onto your face and realised how cold you were. He had stuttered several times until he managed to get proper words out, he carried you. And then, just as he apparated away, the scene dissolved.

This time it took longer for the next scene to appear, all of the mist around you changing colour and slowly solidifying into something else. It was you and Sirius, in the Potter’s kitchen. You sucked in a breath. The entire scene passed over, how you asked Sirius if he liked Remus, how you told him you would leave, and how he begged you not to do it.

Sirius’ tears were gut-wrenching, you wanted to run and hug him and hit the person who had made him cry like that. The problem was, it had been you, you had been the one to make his eyes well up in tears, the one to make his voice crumble, and the one to cause him all of that distress.

You held back the tears, “I get it!” you said loud and clear, your voice heavy with emotion you tried to conceal.

“I get it!” you repeated as you turned around. “I cause despair, I’m the source of it on everyone around me, people cry because of me, people diе because of me! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Nothing, absolute silence. The scene in front of you, of Sirius plopping down on the floor with tears in his eyes, of Sirius crying and in distress, was there, and then it wasn’t. It dissolved, leaving you in an eerie nothingness. It was so vast you weren’t sure where it started and where it ended, there was silence, and it was cold. Not as cold as the snow but cold enough to send a chill down your spine.

It felt like you were not only alone but forsaken.

“You get it,” an echoing voice rang in your head.

“She thinks she does,” another said.

“She’s wrong and she’s right and she’s confused, and so, so alone,” a third voice said, mocking pity on every word.

You looked around, but there was no one, the voices seemed to slam directly onto your head.

“But you don’t have to be,” the first voice said.

You did not like where this was going. You had read plenty of ghost stories, any offer too good to be true was probably laden with some secret evil. This place, the entire trial felt exactly like a horror story. And yet you felt so lonely, that you listened.

“There’s rock,” the second voice said.

“It will help you bring me back, my love,” you froze, it was your mother’s voice. You turned around, tears welled up in your eyes as you saw her. It was not your mum, but the charred remnants of her that the Chimera had left, but it had her voice, and it had her eyes, your eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at her. Trying to think of a way to help her. You were walking towards her when there was another voice from behind you.

“You can bring us back.”

You sobbed and turned around, you had recognized her voice, you had missed that voice, a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at her. She was as you remembered, cheeks pink with the cold and blonde waves stained with crimson. She was looking at you like you were the last hope she had, the one thing that would stop her from despair.

“Nina,” you said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, you sniffed as you tried to breathe.

She smiled, the smile you knew so well to be hers. “With this,” she said softly and extended her hand towards you. “Spin the stone three times, and we’ll be back.”

She extended her hand, she was holding a ring in between her fingers. You looked at the ring, you were hesitant, but you took it. Her hands felt like Nina’s, but cold. You looked at the ring, a dubious frown accompanied your sniffing.

“Spin it three times and bring them back,” one of the voices said.

“Bring us back,” both Nina and your mother said at the same time.

“You will bring me back, won’t you?” Nina asked, her voice soft, hopeful.

A stone that can bring someone back from the dеad if you spin it three times. “It’s a Dеathly Hallow,” you said in a soft, surprised exhale.

“It is, dear,” your mother said. Her charred hand was upon your shoulder. You turned your head to look at her, out of the corner of your eye you could see how burned her entire body was, “you can use it to bring us back,” she added, with a smile that looked so much like her and so much unlike her with all the charred skin that you shivered.

“Mum?” you said, your head cocked to the side, your voice nothing but a whisper.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.”

“Save us,” Nina said.

You tried to hold back the tears, but it was useless, you took a breath that got stuck in your throat. You had read the Tales of Beedle the Bard, you had read other muggle fables, doing it was a bad idea, and bringing someone back from the dеad was about the worst thing you could do to both them, and to yourself. But with your mum being charred and with Nina’s hair turning crimson rather than blonde, both because of you, you wanted nothing more than to fix your mistake.

You desperately yearned to have them back, to hug them again, for their scent to fill your nostrils like it had so many times before, the light wood-like smell of your mother and the blue lily and lavender perfume Nina used to wear. The images in front of you, although faithful to the last time you’d seen them both were nothing other than a brittle and shallow reflection of them.

The imitation was almost perfect, the slight ups and downs from the way they spoke, the colour of their eyes, the way their faces moved, the way the light hit Nina’s freckles. They were so similar it was easy to be fooled by them, but beyond that and if you looked closer, they were nothing more than a mirror of who they really had been, a frail reflection of the women you’d once loved. A projection, beaming at you from the distance, light shining from a dеad star.

You had read that once in a book, and you hadn’t quite grasped the magnificence of it until you too, felt it.

“Darling?” your mother said, cocking her head. “Spin the rock! What are you waiting for?”

“Three times, and then we’re back,” Nina chimed.

“Are you not going to bring us back?” Your mother asked, it sounded angry.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Nina said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I thought we were friends.”

“No,” you said to yourself as you shook your head. “No, no, please don’t do this to me.”

“Darling,” your mum said, her voice was that of a reprimand, cold and stern, she sounded more like Silas than herself. “Spin it now, bring us back!” she urged.

You were taking steps back, away from the two of them but they stepped towards you as you did. Your mother was angry, even beneath the charred skin you could tell she was seething. Nina was sad, crumbling, cheeks red and stained with the track of her tears.

“Please,” you begged.

Nina fell to the floor, knees crashing onto nothingness with a loud thud, “I don’t understand… We were friends. I loved you. I was in love with you, why did you not love me back? If I were Sirius or Remus you would spin that stone in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? Am I not enough?”

“Nina,” you said.

“I diеd for you!” she screamed. “I’m dеad because of you!”

You stopped cold when she said that. She was right, and she was dеad because of you. You took the stone ring in your hands, held it closer to your face and touched the stone, tentatively, only with the tip of your finger. And then, out of nowhere, a small blue butterfly landed on your finger. You looked at her, it was the same butterfly you had helped enter the shack.

“Have you also diеd because of me?” you asked bitterly. “Do you also want me to bring you back?”

You put your finger back in the stone, but the butterfly got in between, not letting you touch it. You frowned as realisation hit you. That was not Nina, Nina would never say those awful things to you, no matter how many times you had said them to yourself.

The butterfly on the other hand? The one trying to stop you? That was a lot more like the Nina that tried to snap you from your destructive thoughts back at Evan’s manor. Like the Nina that had hexed Bellatrix without hesitation to defend you, like the Nina that had pushed you out of harm’s way, like the real Nina.

Nina whispered your name, and you looked up at her. “Bring me back,” she said. “I want to live again.”

“No,” you said.

“What?” your mother asked, the steady but furious tone you had come to know so well.

“I said no,” you repeated louder this time. “I can’t help you.”

Nina’s face fell to the ground, a tear streaming down her face while your mother stalked towards you angrily. Nina looked up at you, anguish and despair so evident that it was almost heartbreaking. “Is it because I’m not good enough?”

“It’s because you’re not her,” you said simply. “She wouldn’t want me to do it.”

“But I do!” She said distressed. “I do! I want you to bring me back! I want to live again! I want to feel the sun on my face and hear the hollow sound of the wind and taste chocolate on my tongue and see you.”

“I can’t.”

“But you kiIIed me!” she said desperate, her face morphing into an expression that you weren’t sure Nina was capable of making. “You murdеred me, I diеd because of you! Why won’t you bring me back?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT NINA!” you shrieked, your voice breaking near the end. The figure pulled back. “You don’t know how much I wanted you to be her. How much I wanted to see her again, how much I craved to hear her voice again. But your voice, although similar, is not hers. And your eyes? They might be the exact same colour, but they don’t twinkle in the way hers did. You,” you looked at the charred figure.

“You both are nothing but an illusion of who they both were, of what they were…And you could never be anything but. Because…” you hesitated, you didn’t want to say it. “Because you’re both dеad.”

The figures dissolved in an instant.

You crumbled onto the floor and sobbed. The nothingness embraced you like an old friend and you allowed your tears to stream down your cheeks in a cascade of pent-up emotions. All the denial you had forced through them, all the times you had blinked them away.

You cried and cried and mumbled incoherently how sorry you were over a hundred times. Nina was dеad. Your mother was dеad. They were both gone, and they would never come back. You pulled the ring from your fist, you’d held it so tightly that the shape of the stone had etched itself onto your hand. You held it between your fingers and stared.

Not even this rock would bring them back, even if it was a real Dеathly Hallow, even if it had the power to bring people back from the dеad, you were sure the price you’d pay for it would be far more devastating than the crumbling ghost of the person you knew that it would bring back.

“Truth,” a voice said, echoing in your ears the same way it had done inside the dream.

“She saw past despair and looked at the truth,” the other continued.

“You may go now, child.” A third one said. The reflective-like screen appeared in front of you. You could see the colours of the vault on the outside. You blinked and then turned your eyes back to the ring. You extended it right in front of your chest, holding it in the palm of your hand, before turning your hand upside down and letting it fall to the floor.

“You won’t bring it with you, child?” the second voice asked.

“No,” you said simply. “Something like this shouldn’t exist.”

“Destroy it then.”

“I can’t,” you said, you had felt the power within it. It was dark and dеadly. “You know I can’t.”

“Then someone else might take it. Use it.”

You let out a breathy scoff and then sniffed, your nose was still filled with snot from the tears. “Not if it’s unfindable,” you said and stepped out of the mirror. When you turned back to look at it, Nina and your mother were tapping at the crystal desperately. As if they too wanted to get out as if you were the only one who could help them.

You reached inside your pocket and took Nina’s wand in your hands. You looked at it with a sort of sorrowful look, eyes glassy with tears and then pointed it at the mirror. You took a deep breath, “Reducto!”

A flash of light came from Nina’s wand and crashed onto the face of the mirror, turning it into shreds. The wand had worked better than any wand you had ever used in your life, as if she had been made for you.

Unbeknownst to you, your spell hadn’t trapped the ring in the mirror forever, but rather, transported it back to its original place, Gaunt House. And it would remain there for years, until someone else, someone much weaker to the whispers of the dеad, tried to use it.

There's no chance for us

It's all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever

Who dares to love forever

Oh oo woh, when love must diе

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3

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carlsangel · 5 months ago

Text

STUPID

carl grimes x reader

(you punch negan at the lineup.)

tags: angst, fluff

masterlist here!

Sometimes, you do things without thinking which was very prevalent during the lineup. Sitting there silently while watching Negan torment and murder your family was complete torture. Coming along on this trip wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Carl didn’t even want you to go in the first place.

During the lineup, the two of you were separated which somehow made everything much worse. You were sat between Michonne and Abraham. That definitely wasn’t the most ideal position to be in. Directly next to Abraham. You didn’t look, you couldn’t. You knew Carl had probably watched it all to make sure he’d remember it.

You thought it couldn’t get any worse but Negan decided to torment Rosita about it. You knew they had some sort of issue before all of this, that they’d broken up. But it was still cruel and just as hard to watch. Negan thought he was funny. So you clocked him in the jaw which is fair, who wouldn’t?

You were tackled and pinned to the floor as expected, you had heard the others protest while they screamed at Negan’s men telling them you’re just a kid. They weren’t planning on having mercy on you, but Negan did. He scolded you and told you there’d be consequences to your actions. You sometimes wish it was you. Glenn was a huge loss to the group, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

After everything you thought you’d be given the liberty of going home with your family. But he took you as punishment. He’d told you on various occasions that you were brave. Brave makes a good soldier, so he would try and break you. Turn you into a savior, into Negan. You were under the control of Dwight who locked you in a room and basically starved you, feeding you dog food and made you suffer by repeating songs over and over. He made you spend time with the dead, and that was the next time you’d see Carl.

You saw him through a gate first, he killed some of Negan’s men and that already stressed you out to no end. You were worried about what he’d might do to Carl. You finally got to leave the dead to service Dwight and Negan once again. You held a tray of snacks for the man, it was quite humiliating to say the least. But you were able to see Carl. The look he gave you was heartbreaking. He was so worried to see you there in that state. “Why’s he here?” You ask Negan. He sort of laughed at your question. “Well the last time I checked, that was none of your business. Don’t make me take out the only eye he has.” He teases. So you stay silent, that was probably the first you’d spoken in a while.

Later that day you were able to see him two more times, once during the iron and right before he left back to Alexandria. You knew that if he didn’t have his bandage, Negan had definitely tormented him. Eventually you were back locked into your cell, but not for long because you were soon given the supplies you’d need to leave. So you do, effectively disguising yourself and escaping. You made to ur way back to Hilltop, thanks to Jesus.

There you were well taken care of, you were given a shower and real food. Somewhere to sleep. You had nightmares about the Sanctuary, about Negan and Dwight. It sounds stupid but you were worried, you’d thought about it and realized you were still an escaped hostage, they could look for you at any moment. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to see Carl. Your plan was to leave Hilltop early in the morning to head back to Alexandria. You wake up early and grab a couple things you’d need in a bag. You sneak off to a side wall and before you can start to try to escape, you hear Maggie calling you and Sasha.

You walk further into the settlement to see that the gates are opened and he’s there. Carl is there. You let your bag slide off your back and the both of you make your way to each other’s embrace, still sort of shocked. He hugs you so tightly, tighter than he ever has before. He shoves his face into your neck. “Thank god.” He mumbles against your skin. After a moment you pulled back to look at him. He looks at you a bit wearily as the last time he’d seen you it wasn’t in the best condition. He leans forward and plants a kiss to your forehead, his eyes shut as he feels a wave of gratefulness flood his body.

Soon you guys would be sitting down in Barrington house while you guys caught up. Although, he seemed to be doing most of the talking. You were very silent. “After the Sanctuary…he went back to Alexandria. People died. He took Eugene.” He explains solemnly. He looks at your face for any expression and there is none. “Cmon you gotta say something.” He examines your face and realizes how much pain you’re in.

“I just…I feel so stupid.” You mutter. He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “If i hadn’t done what I did…Glenn would be here. I wouldn’t have gone to the Sanctuary. It was bad Carl it was so bad.” Your voice trails off as tears fill your eyes, you can’t help but cover your face but all you can think of was the cell they’d keep you in, constantly being taunted and picked on.

He immediately went to comfort you, running his hand over your back to calm you down. He wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t know how to help you. But all he knew was that you needed comfort. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It was almost like he was telling you that you were safe now.

Negan wouldn’t hurt you again, and he’d make sure of it. “Whatever happens next…you have to sit out.” He tells you, still holding on tightly. You pull back and look at him puzzled. “Sit out?” You sniffle, “This isn’t a game, Carl. This is war.” He breathes in deeply and considers your response, although he can’t agree. “That doesn’t matter to me…but you do.” You shake your head and stand up from the couch.

“That’s unfair. I can fight and I’m going to.” You retort. “No. You’re not. Not like this.” He demands. How doesn’t he understand? You can’t let whatever it was stop you, not now. “Is this for revenge?” He questions. You turn back to look at him with a small glare as he remained on the couch. “If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. But to me it’s justice. Not just for me… but for Abraham and Glenn.” Carl keeps quiet and looks at you intently.

“Even though what happened to Glenn was my fault.” You say sort of quietly, looking. down at your feet. Your words struck Carl hard. So he stood up and forced you to look at him, just to make sure you understood. “That’s not what happened- we were put in a shitty position. None of that should’ve happened anyway.”

You say nothing. It’s hard to feel any other way. Like it wasn’t your fault. Carl took you in his arms anyway, it was probably the most comforting hug you’d gotten since the start of it all. He pulled away from you to hold your face gently in his hands. “If fighting makes you feel better then you can fight. But you have to stay by my side. Can you promise me that…please?” His voice was gentle and reassuring, it really made you feel better.

You nod. “I promise.”

a/n: the rest of the match ups are gonna be done somewhat soon, i’m having quite bad mental health issues currently so they’re kinda getting hard for me to get through T-T

anyway mannnn 0-0 this was FUNNN it was just so depressing but i suppose that’s the point shrug THANKS FOR THE REQ ANON IT WAS BANGER also sorry for it coming out A MONTH LATER HDHDHDHD

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #twd carl #carl grimes angst #carl grimes x gn!reader

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cheeseceli · 6 months ago

Text

I'll be waiting

Pairing: idol Bang Chan × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friends to potential lovers, fic (1.6k words)

Prompt: "Even ten years from now, if you haven't found somebody I promise I'll be around. Tell me when you're ready. I'm waiting"

Warnings: for a short moment there's a bit of unrequited love, happy ending tho. Mentions of insecurity back to the trainee days.

A/n: the longest fic I've ever done, I'm kinda proud of it ngl

Patience might be Chan's biggest virtue, he thinks to himself. By seeing where he's right now and where he was ten years ago, he smiles. He couldn't agree more with that statement.

2014

He still remembers the first time he saw you.

Monthly evaluation. At this point, Chan should already be used to this whole process of the trainee life. However, that day felt particularly depressing to him. Hopeless, he would say.

He had found out that JYP was about to debut a new group. A girl group. And as much as Bang Chan tried to be completely happy for his friends who could finally try and debut, he had to admit he was somewhat jealous. Four years of training and he felt like he was heading towards nowhere.

Still, he tried to practice. He sang the song he would showcase so many times he reached the point of not even feeling the words leaving his mouth. He was so lost he also didn't notice the presence of someone else in the practice room. That is, until you clapped.

Chan turned his head towards you, low-key surprised. He recognised you as the child of one of the Got7's staff. He couldn't remember your name though. He doubted he even heard it at all.

"Sorry" you finally spoke. Your voice was pretty "I'm looking for my dad. Your voice is very beautiful though. You're doing well." And with a thumbs up you went away.

Chan couldn't help but laugh. Now that was random. He could barely process what happened. But you complimented him. It had been a while since he last heard a genuine compliment.

Somewhere inside his mind, he repeated his words nonstop, filling him with motivation and hope. He also was trying to remember to ask your name later.

2016

He did remember to ask your name after all. Y/n L/n. The pronunciation of your name was beautiful, almost like a melody. Honestly, after two years of knowing you, he could affirm that your existence itself was like a sweet melody.

You both became friends, good ones at that. He also found himself developing feelings for you. That was the saddest part of it all in his opinion.

Even though he hadn't known you for so long, he couldn't see life without you. To live without your horrible jokes (that he always found funny), without your sunshine-like personality (even though most people wouldn't describe you like that. Maybe you were his personal dose of light) felt like a nightmare.

However, it felt a bit cruel that he needed to live like that. He wanted to be an idol. You were the one who was his biggest incentive. Then why, to have a romance with you, could bring problems to his career? It was almost as if destiny liked to make chan suffer.

Pick one.

Happily, Chan was patient. So patient that he decided to wait for you as long as needed. He had hopes that any time now, you would come to him. And he would be ready.

Meanwhile, he focused on becoming an idol. He couldn't give up now, especially given the fact that he knew you'd be in the front row, cheering for him louder than everyone else.

2018

He kept his promise: he followed his dream, finally achieving the so exciting debut, and still waited for you, his crush developing into the most sincere love he ever felt.

However, you had other plans. Of course, you were still there for him. You were probably the one who got the happiest with the results of the survival show. You spent countless nights with him on the practice room and in the studio. You were seeing his dream come true in first hand.

But this time, there was someone else besides you: your current boyfriend. Chan really doesn't know why he didn't think this could've happened. Of course, you were dating. You were smart, beautiful and had so much love to give. Someone else would've fallen for you at some point. And it was unfair of him to expect you to be single, waiting for an empty promise.

The saddest part of it was that your boyfriend was a nice guy. It was clear he loved you. He even made an effort to love everyone who you loved, including Chan himself. You were happy around him.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Chan got the job, you got someone to love - someone who could adore you without being scared of the media - and you both still got each other in the end.

Maybe that was what Chan could have. It's okay, right?

2020

The downfall of Chan's patience at last.

Although you both were still as close as you always were, life was leading each of you in your own direction.

You had a job, he had a job. You had your friends, he had his members. You had your own house, he had the dorms. You had your boyfriend, he didn't have a partner. But it was okay because he didn't even have the time after all.

Still, he tried to fall for someone else during this period. Being in this industry for two years now, he had the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Some fancied him, some tried to take a step further in a somewhat relationship. Some even wanted to just have fun. Chan swears he tried to give in most of the time.

Needless to say he failed at every try. He couldn't come close to someone without wishing it was you instead. His short answers were compared to how sweetly he talked to you. He didn't even bother to call people or have long conversations. He knew it was only a matter of time until his mind started the undesired comparison.

Maybe it was what the job required. Maybe it was because of his lack of time. Han disagrees though. Chan remembers how his friend insisted on the fact that his leader wouldn't even try with other people. But it wasn't his fault either, as it was a subconscious thing. Chan's mind was still wrapped around you. And his heart wanted to disagree, but it all goes down the moment he finds out you and your boyfriend, now your ex, had broken up.

Although he tried hard to deny, he couldn't help but still wait for you. No matter if there was a light at the end of the tunnel or if it was only darkness. He would wait.

2022

Something in your brain has switched, and Bang Chan can't say he really liked the difference.

Of course, you were still the greatest person he ever met. You were still his sunshine. But it seemed like you were tired. Your conception of life and love wasn't as bright as it once was and Chan couldn't help but feel worried about it.

For him, who has loved you deeply for over eight years now, to see you giving yourself less credit and affection hurt him. He doesn't know why and when it happened, but your brain was trying to shut down all genuine feelings one could offer to you. You thought you were, maybe, undeserving of it all.

Honestly, to see you slowly losing your light has wounded Chan way more than all his past experiences: from his fear of failure to his disappointment upon meeting your ex boyfriend. Almost as an instinct,he tried to solve the situation. This time, patience wouldn't do.

Without even noticing, he started to love you more. To actually show you how he cared for you, to put his feelings into words and actions. At first, your heart tried to deny any possible affection, but it soon realised it wasn't possible. Not when Chan didn't even hesitate on showing the entire world how you were worthy of love. And not once he showed it as a challenge or a burden. He was by your side, and he never made it seem hard.

The best part of it all was that none of you noticed it. He started to open up to you to try and protect you,and you opened up to him in order to heal and protect his feelings. Maybe that was patience finally showing itself as a virtue.

2024

Ten years later, it finally happened.

Honestly, Chan was still a bit suspicious. There was no way he was actually seeing this, right? Maybe he was becoming delusional after all. Maybe he started to hallucinate because of his desires. But at the same time, it felt too real.

The way you looked at him, that is. It was just a normal conversation between old friends. Between gossips and laughs, there was absolutely no reason for you to look at him like this. So lost in thought, with this shimmer in your eyes that Chan knew way too well. He knew it because he had it too.

It was love. Not the one nurtured by friends or family. The one shared just between lovers. And he was so sure of it because he knew he looked at you in the exact same way you were looking at him right now.

He smiles. For a moment, you're a bit lost, wondering if you lost a joke or an important moment. That, however, makes him laugh. He couldn't believe he just saw you fall in love on the first row.

Ah, he's been patient. Now, he can't wait for you to realise what just happened. Either way, he knows with a smile on his face that he'll be waiting for you.

I promise I'll be around.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: summer with you

Thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think about it!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Dividers by @dollywons

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

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bisexualiteaa · 3 months ago

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Nobody Gets me, You Do

Older!Logan Howlett x Fem Reader (ANGST TO FLUFF)

CW: post Deadpool and Wolverine, breakups, brief mentions of seggs in the past, mentions of alcohol, mention of death, mutual pining, cursing, kissing, angst w/ fluffy ending! Possible spelling and grammar errors

AN: came across this song again after a while of not hearing it and it just all came to me. It came to me very quickly so my apologies if it isn’t up to par with my usual works! 😅 I don’t own the song or characters. If anyone has any requests for our men Logan or Wade, please feel free! My asks are open! Enjoy!! 🥰

The song followed him everywhere since the break up. When he would get in the car, the radio would come on and play it for a few moments before he could switch the station to his usual 80’s rock. When he would come to the bar to drink, it would play at least once per night, making him groan each time he heard it begin to play. Sometimes he would even hear it in the stores he went to, and it pissed him off how much it managed to wedge itself into his brain. It was an ear worm that perfectly managed to place salt on a wound that could never truly heal. Losing you. It was a fitting song he had to admit, recounting the days of when you were together and how you used to cherish every memory and now all he has of you are those memories to look back on. It made his heart wrench in his chest and his throat fill with bile at the thought that he managed to chase you away. The one person who cared for him the most, not only in this time line, but in his previous one too. The only person that brought him a semblance of happiness and he managed to fuck it up completely. He’d come to learn that he was quite good at fucking things up, perhaps it was just the curse he carried with him. He managed to take a healthy relationship, with someone who felt like his most perfect match and fucked it up completely. He hated to admit it, but out of everything, there was one thing the song got right.

“Nobody gets me, you do”

One night he decided enough was enough, the lyrics had been lingering in his mind like a haunting memory. He needed it out, needed to just sit down and fully listen to it so he could rid himself of the sound on repeat. He grabbed his phone, getting lost in the picture of you two together on his lockscreen. You were both so happy then. The way you looked at him with all the love in the world, and the way his hand rested upon your hip that told you he would always keep you safe. The smile that rested on his lips as he looked down at you, it was gorgeous. It wasn’t the best picture, but it was a candid moment Wade managed to capture out on a mission together in the woods. One he’d never forget because it was the last one he’d get with you. Once he could manage to tear his eyes away from the picture, he searched up the song, bracing himself for the emotional rollercoaster that was bound to come with. He gave a deep sigh as he sat up listening to it on the couch, a beer in one hand, looking down at his dog tags that you had given back to him the day you left in the other.

Took a long vacation

No makeup, just Jay-Z

You were balls deep, now we beefin’

Had me butt-naked at the MGM

So wasted screamin’, “Fuck that,”

Love me now, but I’m anythin’

Hurry now, baby, stick it in

‘Fore the memories get to kickin’ in

That portion of the song reminded him of the last time you were intimate together. His mind wandered to the way you both came barreling through your apartment door, so ready to pounce on each other that you could hardly get to the bedroom and decided to do it on your couch. He remembered the giggles of excitement, the gasps, moans and groans as you lost yourselves in one another. He remembered the way that you complained of the pain in your legs and lower back the next day from how long you two stayed up going round for round. He was never very good with intimacy, but with you it felt natural. With you, everything felt natural, everything felt like he was in his own personal heaven.

It’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

Those lyrics hit him the hardest, because they were true. He clung to the last little things he had of you, from the still lingering smell of your perfume on some of his shirts, to the pictures he had of you together in his wallet. Even down to the dog tags he held in his hand. You always kept them tucked under your shirt, keeping it “as close to your heart as you kept him” you would always say. The day you handed them back was the day he knew he lost you for good. He hoped that maybe somehow you still had a space left in your heart for him to reside once more, praying someone else hadn’t come along and taken his place. He couldn’t bear the thought of you with someone else, the thought leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You were his girl, he would always see you that way, even if you didn’t want him anymore.

Took me out to the ballet

You proposed, I went on the road

You was feelin’ empty, so you left me

Now I’m stuck dealin’ with a deadbeat

If I’m real, I deserve less

If I was you, I wouldn’t take me back

I pretend when I’m with a man, it’s you

And I know that it’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

This one wasn’t far off, he understood after everything that he said, after the way he treated you if you didn’t want to take him back. He didn’t even like himself, how could he expect someone to love him in such a state? Closing his eyes, he thought back to the times before your break up, allowing the song to finish.

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

He released a long shaky breath, feeling his eyes begin to grow wet with tears he hadn’t noticed began to well in his lash line. He tipped his head back after he took a drink of his beer, trying his hardest to fight the tears from escaping but he could only do so much to stop it as the song played on repeat.

“Well, now that’s a sight I never thought I’d see” Wade said, making Logan groan as he took another hefty swig of his drink. “Fuck off” he responded coldly, but of course, this was Wade he was talking to. Things were never that easy with him. “Easy Wolvie, I’m here for you” he said, placing a hand to the man’s shoulder only further agitating Logan as he shrugged it off. “I’m fine” he replied, trying to get him to leave but as usual, his efforts were fruitless. “Yeah, totally. Listening to a sad song on repeat while drinking is exactly the definition I think of when someone says they’re fine” Wade quipped, making him roll his eyes at his sarcasm. “Fuck you” Logan responded, not wanting to put up with his bullshit but lacking the energy to fight back full force. “I still live in my angsty teenage years every now and then, though I didn’t picture this to be the music of choice for you” Wade said. “It’s fuckin’ everywhere. Like I can’t get rid of it. It’s followed me everywhere since…” he started to say before stopping himself, not wanting to share with Wade of all people but he really didn’t have anyone else. “The break up?” Wade asked, making Logan grunt in acknowledgment. “Yeah” he answered.

It happened so long ago now, but he remembered it like it was yesterday, the sour memories of your usually soft, sweet voice screaming at him. The tears that streamed down your face not only from sadness but from anger. It haunted his dreams at night on repeat, hearing those words leave you as you stormed out, and hearing the awful response he only wished he could take back. You had every right to be angry with him, to break up with him like you did. It was his fault after all. He’d left you in one timeline already, dying before you had the chance to even tell him one last goodbye, and then he nearly left you in this one. Sacrificing himself to try and save Wade and his world without a second thought of leaving you behind again. So this time you left him. He couldn’t be mad at you, not when your anger was completely justified. “Want me to invite her over? Give you the chance to talk with her?” Wade asked, genuinely wanting to help. It was a wishful thought, but your relationship didn’t end the way Wade’s did with Vanessa. A simple meet up wouldn’t take back the hurtful words he’d said to you and he knew that. “Even if you did, she wouldn’t want to see me. Not after everything I said that night ” Logan replied, finishing off his beer. “Can’t be that bad! Right…?” Wade asked, making Logan look at him. “Good god man, what did you say?!” He asked, making Logan sigh. “Told her I was just trying to help, but that if she couldn’t handle me and the dangerous shit that comes with me, then to find someone else. You can imagine the rest” he answered, making Wade hiss in pain at the words his roommate said. “Ouch” he commented. “Well…it could still be worth a shot. How long has it been?” He asked. “Eight months, haven’t heard a fuckin’ word from her” Logan replied gruffly. “Double ouch” Wade said, making Logan shoot a glare in his direction. “Oh fuck off. Stupid of me to think you of all people would fucking help” he grumbled angrily. “No, no, no! C’mon you helped me, let me help you. Just trust me and give it a shot” Wade begged him, making him sit and think on it. Or at least pretend to, he didn’t need to think on it, the idea of speaking to you finally after so long left him anxious but he wanted you back so badly. “And if it doesn’t work?” Logan asked gruffly. “You can brutally beat the shit out of me and get black out drunk and forget it even happened” Wade responded, leaving Logan rather skeptical but at least it was worth a try. “Let’s turn off the sad music though, you’re scaring the hoes” Wade joked as he text you and asked you to come over.

When Wade invited you over to his place, Logan could hardly believe that you actually showed up. He figured you would rather be the farthest away that you could possibly get from him after everything that had transpired between you two. Yet there you were, looking as gorgeous as ever. A little tired maybe, like stress had been hounding you for some time, but otherwise you seemed to be doing well. He wished he could say the same about himself but he’d been nothing but a wreck since you left. Your eyes flit across the apartment, subconsciously searching for Logan. You found him in the kitchen, cooking what looked to be his own dinner, seeing as Wade and Althia got high, while drinking a beer, and the sight made your chest grow tight. You missed coming home to see him like that on occasion, missed when he would cook for you, especially on holidays or your anniversary. You thought back to Valentine’s Day when he made you dinner after a rogue mission gone sour, walking into your apartment to the smell of your favorite meal being made after a long and troubling day. You missed coming home to him, sharing your bed with him.

You missed him.

You weren’t sure how to speak to him after everything you’d said, and with the distance between you, you hadn’t spoken to him since the night you left. He could hate you for all you knew. You couldn’t blame him if he did, you’d hate yourself too if you were told the awful things you’d said. You couldn’t help but pray that somewhere deep down in that gruff exterior of his, that maybe he could forgive you. That maybe he would take you back, allow you a chance to apologize and mend what had been broken. The scent of a warm, hand made meal snapped you from your thoughts, filling the air as you bravely stepped into the kitchen. The minute you did, your heart slammed against your chest, unsure of where to go from here. “You came” Logan said, sounding almost surprised to see you here in front of him. You were thankful that he started the conversation for you and spoke first, you felt almost as if all words were trapped in your throat. “You called” you answered surely, looking at him with a kind, almost apologetic smile. “Wasn’t sure if you would” he replied, and it made your heart ache to know you made him feel that way. “I’m here now” you answered softly, your hand coming to rest gently on his upper arm, making him look to you with an expression that held so many emotions you didn’t know which to read first. Tension hung in the air between you as you stood and looked at one another, this was the first time standing before each other in nearly a year. You could see longing in his gaze, sadness in his body language, but an unrelenting passion in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the words to say it. So this time you spoke for him.

“Smells delicious, I see you’re still a wonderful cook” you complimented with a nostalgic smile, trying to start up a conversation the best you could with him to see where you stand. “Want some?” He asked without hesitation, tilting his head towards the food before grabbing a plate for you. You didn’t even need to answer. Maybe he didn’t hate you like you first thought, maybe this could go well after all. You surely hoped it would at least. “That’s your dinner, I don’t want to take it all. I know how much you love that dish, I don’t want to take it from you” you said, reminding him of all the times you would make sure he ate, always fussing over him. At the time he used to tell you he could take care of himself and that you didn’t need to worry yourself over him but now? He’d give anything to hear your sweet voice beg him to eat, to be safe, and take care of himself again. “There’s plenty, bub. ‘sides, I remember how much you liked it too” he replied, making you smile a little at the fact that he remembered how much you liked his cooking before fixing you a plate and then himself one. God you fucking missed him. “Thank you” you responded as you sat down and ate with him in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by the occasional small talk. A few stories here and there, some shared laughs, all almost felt completely natural again. Like you’d fallen back into your normal routine as if it had never been broken, but you knew the pining glances hadn’t gone unnoticed. You needed to talk with him, really talk with him. You couldn’t go about this life without him anymore.

Some time had passed after you both finished dinner, the tension between you and Logan had dwindled a bit as you both made your way over to the couch but there was still an invisible wedge between you. One you weren’t quite sure how to cross. You watched as Wade picked up a set of keys from the kitchen counter and made way for the door, claiming he and Althia were going to get dinner for themselves. “We’ll leave you two alone, but try not to wreck my apartment if you decide to have messy make up sex, ‘kay?” Wade said, making Logan almost snarl in anger and you even shot him a nasty glance. “Wilson!” Logan barked, sending Wade flying through the door with a giggle to be out of his line of sight and potentially his wrath. “He never was the king of reading a room” you said, making Logan scoff in amusement and agreement before taking a swig of his beer. “I did want to talk to you” you both said simultaneously, making you chuckle before you both stumbled over telling the other to go first. It was like being a teenager in love all over again.

“Logan I-“ “you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I don’t deserve an apology, not after I hurt you” he said, making you look to him with sympathy in your gaze. You knew that you were hard on him, but you didn’t realize truly how hard you’d been. “But you do” you responded softly grabbing his hand in yours, making him look down at your smaller hand wrapped around his much larger one. “I was selfish to be mad at you. I was selfish and cruel for saying the things that I did. What you did was something beyond heroic, something that I’m sure no one else would have ever even contemplated doing, much less actually have done. You did it because you knew what it was like to lose everyone that ever mattered to you in your timeline, and you didn’t want Wade to have to suffer the same” you added. “I was so blind by the thought of losing you again that I didn’t stop to think what a wonderful thing you’d truly done” you continued, shame lacing your tone as you admitted your wrongs, hoping and praying that he would accept your apology as you presented yourself at the most vulnerable you’d ever been. “I should’ve thought of what I would be leaving behind” he tried to say, and you stopped him before he could finish. “No, you have no need to apologize to me or think that way. I was wrong for treating you as if you’d left me that day, because you didn’t, you’re still here. You’re alive” you replied, your hand coming to rest softly on his cheek as you spoke to him, looking deep into his honey brown eyes that enchanted you since the first day you’d met him. “But I hurt you. I screamed at you, said terrible things that I regret every fuckin’ day. You had every right to walk away” he tried to say but again, you weren’t taking it. “Walking away from you was the worst mistake I have ever made, and I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am for making you feel wrong for trying to help someone in the way you helped Wade and this whole timeline” you replied, seeing what looked to be the starts of tears welling in his lash line as he looked to you while you spoke. “I’m so sorry Logan. And I know those words will never be enough undo the wrong and the hurt that I’ve caused but I hope you know that I mean it” you added, searching his eyes for any means of anger, any means of rejection. Yet you didn’t find it. All you found was longing. “I love you Logan. I love you so fucking much and I’m so fucking sorry” you apologized, hands cupping his face softly and tears welling to your eyes as a sob caught in your throat, praying it wasn’t too late to mend the bond you broke. “I’ve missed you so much…I don’t want to live this life, or any life without you in it. Nobody gets me like you” you spoke, your voice cracking slightly as tears streamed down your face. “I don’t want to lose you…” you whispered repeatedly through your cries, feeling him press his forehead against yours gently. “You won’t. I’m here, I’m right here bub” he said, and it was everything you needed to hear for so long.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere bub, I’m here” he assured, making you pull back enough to gaze into his eyes. “You promise?” You asked through sniffles and hiccups from your cries, searching his eyes for deceit but once again, you found none. “I promise. Missed you too much to ever do that” he said, making you smile the best you could through your tears. “C’mere pretty girl” he said, his large hand pulling you in closer before his lips slotted against your own. You were quick to loop your arms around his neck and keep him close against you as you kissed him back. It was passionate, filled with desire and warmth but intimate all the same. You chased each other’s lips with your own, not caring for the need for air that made your lungs burn from oxygen deprivation, caring more for the way you finally had one another again. Once you did part, you both panted to try and catch your breath, looking to one another as if to ask what next. “Think this belongs to you” he spoke, holding his dog tags out to you, making you chuckle as you looked down at them. “Are you sure?” You asked, but before you could even finish asking, he was already slipping it over your head, admiring the way it dangled from your neck. “Never been more sure” he answered, making you smile as you held it in your hand before kissing him once more. “I don’t deserve you” you said, pressing your forehead against his once more. “No, I don’t deserve you” he said, making you chuckle. “Yet we get each other in every timeline. Funny how that works, isn’t it?” You replied, making him laugh. “Wouldn’t want it any other way” he responded making you hum as you closed your eyes to enjoy the peacefully intimate moment with him. “Good, I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me” you said, making him laugh again at the irony that it was a lyric from the song that haunted him for the past eight months. “Don’t worry, never gonna happen” he responded, and for a moment he understood the perfect response.

“Nobody gets me like you, bub”

#marvel wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #angst with a happy ending #angst #fluff #happy ending #mutual pining #logan x reader #logan xmen #Spotify #deadpool 3 #deadpool #wade wilson

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k-slla · 10 months ago

Text

With You At Last

A/N: so I wrote this last night after work. I just had one song on repeat for the whole day and for some reason it made me think of Ben.

Song used for inspiration

Word Count : ~690

Pairing : Soldier Boy x Supe!Reader

Warnings: angst, language

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is appreciated 🤍

My Masterlist

You were there in Nicaragua, in 1984. You were there when Ben was taken from you. You were there when he was betrayed by your own team.

Actually, you couldn't say that they were your team, considering how Edgar kept you fighting from the sidelines, not putting you on the team. He did admit that you were and had always been very useful to them; you just didn't have…a certain appearance to be part of the official Payback team.

Those were his words to Ben, when he tried to get you on the team, to fight beside him. And as answer to Ben's boldness to question him and threaten to bring you to limelight, he spitefully coerced him to date the Countess for the tabloids. For showing his attitude.

And that fucking hurt. Seeing him with her on the covers of every magazine. Knowing that behind the closed doors he was yours, didn't help at all.

You knew that simple bullets couldn’t hurt him, but then again you didn’t know what could. So when you saw Ben being dragged away from the field, you assumed the absolute worst.

Everything around you collapsed. You were kneeling on the ground, completely shattered as you saw the rest of the team fleeing from the scene, clearly unbothered by the loss of their leader. All but Swatto, but even his death meant nothing to them, as long as they got rid of Soldier Boy. Or so at least it seemed to you.

Ben always hated the fact that you were kept in secrecy. He hated that you couldn't get the recognition that you deserved, just based on your looks.

"Who the fuck cares about our looks? " He had tried to reason with Edgar, who still wouldn’t budge, even after admitting your value to the team.

You had the power to manipulate people's perception. You were present on every battlefield beside Payback, helping them in the most useful ways with your ability. While Payback attacked, you deprived them from their physical awareness, so Ben and others could fight them without getting injured. To him, you were the one who made Payback’s conquests possible.

Ben honestly didn’t know what the fuck had happened that day. Everything went to shit in a split second. Mallory’s base was under attack and you were nowhere to be seen. And then there was nothing.

Until he woke up, restrained to some table, and about to be experimented on. For almost 40 years they held him there.

And all that kept him borderline sane during that time was you. And planning the payback for his former team. But all that was secondary next to you.

He had never thought that he’d ever find someone who would make him want to have something meaningful in his life. Something real. Something that no one would be able to take away from him. He just wanted you.

He wasn't even sure how he was capable of loving you as much as he did. He never received any love or affection from his father. Ben was abandoned, and had been alone since childhood. But he knew he loved you, otherwise he would have forgotten you. Otherwise he would’ve already given up on everything.

He waited for the day he’d finally be free. He knew it was coming and he’d be ready for that.

Still, his hope had started to waver, and he lost himself to loneliness. Hopelessness of seeing you ever again started to take power over his love for you in his mind. And he couldn't fight back to it.

After years of imprisonment and torture, Ben was certain that they had managed to kill him somehow. Or that he’d finally lost his sanity. He wasn't even sure which he would've preferred.

The air was knocked out of him when he saw you standing there in front of him. Even when you held him in your arms after all the years of being separated, he had a hard time believing that it was real. One kiss from you was all it took to convince him. It was real. You were real.

Finally, you had found him and he was not alone.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @il0vebeingdelulu @alternativeprincess94

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fic #ben x reader #x reader #x you #ben x you #jensen ackles #jensen ross ackles #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys one shot #Spotify

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calumsargwife · 1 year ago

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"You Are In Love"

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: the journey of how you and Calum found out you are in love.

warnings: use of cigarettes and mentions of alcohol, a little bit of bad language (if i let something out let me know!)

word count: 4.7k (damn)

note: well this one is completely based on the song from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. i know it took a while but here it is, it's the longest i've ever written. i don't know if someone's gonna read this since it's so long but since you guys seemed to like the first one i wrote i decided to post this one. i never wrote something like this, so i hope you like it!! (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back. Light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

It was one of the many parties that took place at Ashton's house, people gathering for some reason to celebrate. The man honestly loved being the host, always making sure all of his guests were having a good time. The house was in a homely atmosphere (something Ashton always made sure was there), there was a little alcohol involved but nothing too crazy, the music was just the right volume and it was something everyone could dance to. There was good food and probably some fun board game that would make everyone a little more drunk.

It had all started about an hour ago when Calum decided to show up. It was cold, a November night where despite the weeks in advance, you could already feel the Christmas spirit.

Calum would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was going to see you after the last date you two had. Before knocking on the door of the house, he briefly remembered the last outing that you shared, it was incredible.

After so long Calum had finally dared to confess his feelings for you, one of his best friends in the whole world. And you, who was completely surrendered at the boy's feet, said that you felt the same. You two met five years ago and connected instantly, not knowing how or why but it happened and both of you were so happy, you felt that the time you had with each other was never enough to stop being surprised. Being friends first had given the two of them a kind of comfort like no other.

And that's how it was, in the last few weeks you shared several dates and everything was going great, you already knew each other but with all this that was happening, you learned even more things. Everything was getting more serious and Calum was scared, but he liked it.

Once inside the house, Calum took off his coat and scanned the room looking to meet your eyes, and the moment that happened, he gave you a look that was meant only for you. A look that Calum only saved for when he looked at you. A look that made you blush in the best way.

However, Calum quickly found himself being greeted by his friends. You sighed but didn't complain, you repeated in your mind the moment in which your eyes connected and you couldn't help but feel how your breathing stopped slightly because of those eyes that you had learned to love so much in this last few years.

It all ended up being just a quick glance. The night continued and after a while, you ran into Calum (well, he ran into you). He was wearing a black shirt that accentuated his figure perfectly, you would have loved to take him in your arms at that very moment. He knew that, he had worn this shirt because he knew you would like it.

You met about an hour after Calum had arrived, he was having a good time with his friends but at some point he felt that they were holding him back too much from being able to have a chat with you. 'Who am I kidding?' That was the first thing he thought when he saw you again, Calum had been wanting to talk to you all night. You were turning your back on him while looking at the big city from the balcony of the apartment. You had on a beautiful black silk dress, it left your back bare, something that drove Calum crazy.

"Missing me already?" Calum joked after he finally found you alone "I bet you're getting bored without me." He assured in a teasing tone. He approached you and analyzed you, you were wearing a gold necklace and your nails were painted red, you held a glass with some alcohol. His hand gently brushed your arm and you could feel an electrifying touch that woke up every fiber inside you. You love how he makes you feel.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his very confident statement. "I was getting along pretty well without you, actually." You smiled and looked sincerely into his eyes this time. "I missed you." You could see how his eyes were filled with intrigue at what you had said, waiting for a reconfirmation. "I really did."

Calum smiled sweetly and couldn't help but look away from your beautiful eyes for a second to calm down. He really didn't want to blush right now. "Well, I'm glad. I've been thinking about you all night."

It might seem like a simple thing but it really makes you happy to hear that he thought of you the same way you thought of him. You liked knowing you were on his mind.

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight. The light reflects. The chain on your neck. He says, "Look up". And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

Of course your night didn't end there. Calum proposed that you spend the night at his house and you immediately said yes. The truth is that the time you had spent at the party had not been enough for you two.

You felt a kind of excitement as Calum drove home. You guys weren't talking much in the car, the background music set the mood perfectly and you didn't need anything to talk about either. Small talk was enough to keep you entertained along the way.

Once at Calum's house, you guys set about relaxing. Still formally dressed, you were sitting in the chair that Calum had located on the terrace of his apartment. A perfect place to look at the stars.

Two cups of coffee at midnight, one for you and one for Calum. Drinking coffee gives you the little hope that you could stay up longer just to spend more time together, because it wasn't enough, it was never enough. You two loved to talk, you always had something to talk about and it never got boring. Maybe at some point you didn't have a topic of conversation, but you guys invented something so you could have an excuse to be together. Because it wasn't enough. Calum didn't know how to explain this insatiable feeling of wanting to always be chatting with you, something that really surprised him since he was normally a person who enjoyed silence.

You smiled sweetly at something Calum had said and looked away from him so you could look at your phone for a few seconds to see the time. It was half past twelve at night, already entering the early morning. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of being calm with the boy you liked.

You were wearing a gold chain with a 'C' charm on it, a cheesy and stupid gift Calum had given you for your birthday a couple of years ago. He could appreciate how it shone in the moonlight.

Speaking of the moon, Calum realized that it was at its highest point. He looked at you and spoke to you softly, since you were still looking at your cell phone. He said "Look up" and you immediately looked up from your device. You settled into the chair with the cup of coffee in your hand and you felt how his shoulder lightly brushed against yours.

And that was it. That was enough to know what you felt.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you.

Calum was fully focused on the moon, leaving you a perfect view of his profile. The place was silent and you could still clearly hear the feeling that you now knew you had. You were afraid of being stunned by this, but actually, the opposite happened, it was all you wanted to hear.

It was so clear, so loud and so strong. You felt a pressure in your chest, that pressure was just letting you know that what you were feeling was actually true. Your insides were full of heartwarming thoughts in just a second, but you loved every single second of it.

The fact that the place was completely silent and that Calum had no idea what you were thinking about added a bit of fun to all this, if only he knew.

You were completely immersed in this new sensation, which was leaving you completely cut off from all the other things that might be going on around you.

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You returned home only the next day in the afternoon, the sky was beginning to darken. After a little argument about Calum wanting to take you home and you saying it wasn't necessary, you were finally making your way home on your own. You wanted to get some air and think about what had been revealed to you last night.

As you walked home you could feel the refreshing air in your hair and in your arms. You clung a little more to Calum's sweatshirt.

And that pressure in your chest came back. You've never liked a sensation so much. You couldn't help but smile in love as you looked at the scenery around you. The night was beginning for some.

You loved him. You loved Calum. You love him.

You just couldn't believe it. The idea of falling in love for you was something that was long gone and not something you expected to find again. You especially didn't expect to fall in love with Calum.

But at the same time you were not surprised. Loving Calum was so easy, he was just perfect. You couldn't not love him. He made it look so easy. And you loved loving him, it was something that just filled you up inside and you were so happy that the person you love is Calum.

You continued walking down what would soon be a dark street. Focusing on the sound of your shoes or how the things you found on the way home reminded you of him. Everything reminded you of him.

You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love. You are in love.

Once you got home you closed the front door and leaned your back against it. You sighed while smiling. The whole room was dark, the lights still not on.

In one of the furniture where you had photos with your friends you came to distinguish your favorite photo of the whole house. It was a photo of you and Calum hugging in front of the stage where he and the boys were going to give their show later. There were hours left for the concert and you took advantage of the moment to take pictures. You smiled to yourself remembering.

God, you are in love.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word.

It was a Sunday morning at Calum's house. The night before for the two of you had been magical. The two of you hadn't felt this connection with someone in a long time and you knew it.

You were lying on the bed, giving each other lazy kisses on the lips, on the neck, on the cheeks, on the arms, everywhere. Calum wanted to kiss every inch of you.

Calum sighed and moved slightly away from you. "I'm gonna make us breakfast, okay?" He said to then give you one last kiss on the cheek while inhaling your sweet perfume.

"Okay" You replied with a goofy smile as you watched him go to the kitchen.

A little later you stretched one last time and got out of bed too, looking for something to wear. You looked at one of the shirts Calum wears to train, you decided on a navy blue one.

As you walked to the kitchen you remembered what Calum had told you before you guys fell asleep. "I'll be here in the morning." And he kept his word, he was there. You looked at him before entering the kitchen, he was making coffee and toast for the two of you.

"The coffee smells good." You said as you walk into the kitchen. Brushing his arm with your hand when you passed by.

"I hope it tastes just as good as it smells." He answered with a smile without turning to look at you yet, taking another slice of bread to toast.

You chuckled softly, remembering the times Calum had been disappointed in how his own coffee turned out.

At the sound of your laughter Calum turned and looked at you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you in his shirt, admiring how well it looked on you. He would be lying if he said he doesn't want that to be his sight every morning. He loved having you in all his everyday things.

"That color suits you." He said admiring you while he wrapped his arms around your waist and left you a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." You answered while looking away so that your blush is not so obvious.

Calum chuckled very softly, keeping the smile on his face. He tucked one of the hairs that was on your face behind your ear and that made you turn your head to look at him.

Calum couldn't help but get completely lost in your eyes, it was something that completely mesmerized him and he knew it, he always knew it. From the moment he met you, your eyes were what he liked the most about you.

You were also completely lost by him, admiring the details of his face, seeing how there was a slight beard on his jaw, something that you knew he was going to shave later. You analyzed the small freckles around his nose, they had appeared after spending a day in the sun at the beach with his friends.

Then you raised your eyes to his and they stayed that way, looking at each other. Calum absolutely watching every move you made, admiring everything.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you could smell the burnt smell of toast and Calum's scared face, who broke away from you in a second and immediately went to see the toaster.

A moment later he turned around and looked at you with a pout. "They burned."

Let out a laugh and you approached to give him a kiss on his pout. "We can make pancakes." You proposed with a sweet smile.

Calum smiled, completely melting at your smile. "We can, but none of those cute little eyes of yours when I'm cooking. I don't want burnt pancakes."

And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much. But it said enough.

Today was the day. 5 Seconds of Summer would release a new song. One that Calum personally wrote. And to say that the boy was nervous was an understatement.

He was feeling very scared for some reason. He didn't understand why. This song was beautiful and he was very proud of it, it was also an extremely vulnerable song that had taken him months to write, he was afraid of looking too fragile in the public eye and that people might not like it.

To be honest, it's a song he wrote for you, although he doesn't know if you were aware of this. The song talked about what it was like to let someone into your heart again and how scared he was to suffer again and to let go of all those ghosts from the past that haunt him.

God, he was nervous.

The boys had proposed to meet up for the launch, but Calum declined, declaring that this time he'd rather stay at his house with you by his side.

You two were sitting on the terrace of Calum's house. He was smoking a cigarette for the nerves and you were having some vanilla tea (it was your favorite and Calum had bought it especially for you). His leg was bobbing up and down as a sign of his current anxiety. You put your hand on his thigh wanting him to stop and you looked at him with a little tenderness.

"Cal, what's going on? You've been very nervous for the last few hours." My God, Calum hated how well you could read him.

He never talks about this, with anyone. Talking about his feelings is something he struggles with a lot, always in the end transforming what happens to him into songs. But Calum knew that talking about this with you was the right thing to do, knowing that if he wants to be with you then he has to start trusting you with these kinds of things.

"It's just... It's been a while since I wrote something like that, y'know... I know I always write about past experiences but this song is about the two of us and I don't know..." Calum sighed trying to collect his thoughts. "I guess I'm afraid of looking weak in front of everyone, I guess, I don't know..." It made him angry that he couldn't tell you exactly what he was thinking, he didn't know what he was feeling at that moment.

"Calum, the song you wrote is great, it's vulnerable, yes, but that makes it even more meaningful. I think that's going to make people like it more, you know?" You caressed his leg in search of being able to give him comfort.

"I know, I know..." Calum prepared himself for what he was going to say, it seemed to him something very stupid and meaningless but he knew it was necessary. He took another drag on his cigarette and turned so he could look you in the eye. "I think it scares me that once you know how I really feel you're going to run from me." He explained with a slightly shaky voice.

You couldn't help feeling how your heart softened for him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned into it. You felt him visibly relax at your touch. "That's not gonna happen and you know it, right?"

He nodded as he studied your face with those sweet brown eyes of his. Calum didn't tell you but he really felt a weight less on his shoulders. He could feel how he was getting closer and closer to a certain feeling that he had been avoiding for a long time.

"I don't want to write a heartbroken song about you."

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight and you talk.

Calum loved walking with you down the street. Unlike his past relationships, this time he was not afraid to go out with you and show how much he liked you, he is not ashamed and wants to show the world who he's with.

But at the same time he wants to protect you, he doesn't like how public his life can be sometimes. He liked the feeling of his hands rubbing against yours when you are walking down a street with a lot of people, he liked having something just for him and that no one else can take it away from him.

His favorite part is when you're finally on some empty sidewalk and he can finally kiss you freely, he's dying to kiss you anywhere, but he knows that if he wants everything to remain as private as it is now, then he has to take certain precautions.

However, this has brought several discussions in the relationship.

"Why are you so angry?" Calum asked once he closed the door to his apartment, you glared at him a few feet from him.

"It annoys me that every time we walk into a room with the least amount of people, you immediately let go of my hand as if I were some kind of plague!" You knew why Calum was doing it but at the same time you couldn't help but get frustrated. Sometimes you wish Calum wasn't a public figure.

"I don't treat you like you're a plague! I just want to keep things between us!" Calum was frowning and breathing heavily.

"I understand that you want to have your private life but sometimes I feel that you exceed yourself! You don't want anyone to see us at all and it's tiring me!" You felt like a fool wanting to cry about this, but you couldn't help but make your eyes go glassy with anguish.

Calum sighed before answering, thinking about what he was going to tell you. The other day you guys had a fight over the exact same issue before going into a party. "If you know why I do it then why are you angry?!" He yelled at you, feeling how anger began to enter his body.

"Because sometimes it seems like you're ashamed of me!" You angrily yelled at him all your frustrations, trying to make him understand.

"You know that's not how I feel." He stated with a rather serious tone, you've never heard him talk like that.

"I would know how you feel if you would just tell me!" You are not going to deny that you felt a weight less after saying that. Calum always had trouble expressing his feelings but with such crucial things it was important that he tell you.

He clenched his jaw. "Are you always going to reproach me for the same thing? You know it's something I'm working on! It's not easy and yet you keep insisting!" Calum ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Of course I'm going to keep insisting if I don't see any change! It's always the same, I have to pressure you to tell me what's wrong with you and I don't want it to be like that anymore." You ran your hand under your eyeliner to wipe away a stubborn tear that had escaped. "I feel that you don't trust me to tell me your things and I don't know what I have to do anymore..." Now your face was covered by tears in a matter of seconds.

Calum completely collapsed seeing you cry. He quickly approached you and took your head in his hands to kiss your hair and then snuggle you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're right, sorry." He gave you small kisses on the temple in search of giving you comfort. "I'm sorry, you're right."

One night he wakes. Strange look on his face. Pauses, then says. 'You're my best friend'. And you knew what it was. He is in love.

It was another one of the nights where Calum stayed the night at your house. You two were asleep in your bed, snuggled up to each other, him being that natural warmer that he is.

Calum was lying on your chest, you were cuddling lying on your bed. About an hour ago he had fallen asleep after a tiring day in the studio with the boys. You, on the other hand, weren't sleepy, so you stayed on your phone, fooling around on social media.

Suddenly, you felt how he moved over you and how he began to wake up.

Calum moved off of you to lie next to you, he had a weird look on his face, you were trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Then he looked at you. "You're my best friend."

And you knew, you knew what was happening to him. He was in love. In love with you.

"You're my best friend too, Cal." You smiled sweetly at him and he could feel how he melted, your smiles always killed him in the best way. You put your hand on his jaw and brought him in for a sweet, passionate kiss, making sure it was one that would take his breath away.

"You're going to kill me one day." Calum hid his smile against your arm and blushed. You laughed and stroked his curls tenderly.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you. You can feel it on the way home, way home, you. You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love.

It was days later where Calum was returning from the studio to his house, he was driving and found himself stuck in traffic. Too distracted thinking about you to be bothered by the number of cars.

You guys hadn't seen each other all week due to your respective jobs and he couldn't miss you more. It was night and not having the lights on inside the car made everything dark, his mind was too busy to put on music, so he enjoyed the silence there was.

Not getting you out of his head, he started humming your favorite song. Giving little taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

And that's when it hit him.

"Oh, shit." Calum stopped everything he was doing to focus on what he was thinking.

He couldn't help but think a 'really?'. Hell, he hadn't felt this in a long time.

Unconsciously his heart began to race. His head was going a thousand an hour and the only thing that appeared in his mind was your name.

He couldn't believe what he was feeling. A kind of pressure settled in his chest and he loved it. Calum couldn't help but smile as he ran his hands over his face and tried to hide the smile he had, even though no one was there to see it.

"I love her. I fucking love her." Calum declared as he looked out the window, the car in silence after his confession. He felt himself blushing even though no one had told him anything and how he had an incredible desire to see you.

And for the first time in his entire life, after so many broken hearts and failed relationships, Calum wasn't afraid to love. He didn't feel that irreparable fear that something was going to go wrong, he felt love, true love.

He used to be scared, so, so scared. Fear that leaving another relationship will leave him completely destroyed and without any hope of ever being loved again. Calum always had that feeling that perhaps he was destined to be alone, believing that this had been proven after so many situations in his past.

But everything changed when you arrived. From the first moment your eyes met, he knew that you had come to change his life. You became the light of his life in just a second and that scared him at first. But he didn't care, he thought if he had to have his heart broken for you then so be it. However, now he knew that it would not be like that, you were not going to leave and he knew that you were going to take care of his heart perfectly like no one had ever done before.

Calum was sure you were meant to be together.

Because he was in love.

And he wanted to believe in love for once.

#calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum x reader #calum blurb #calum imagine #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood #5sos x reader #5sos blurb #5sos fic #calum hood fluff #calum hood one shot #Spotify

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majikkulu · 28 days ago

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━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

i'm not a professional astrologer, and this may not resonate, so please take it with a grain of salt, especially since this topic is very sensitive. this is my first time doing an astrology reading like this, and if it feels overwhelming or leads to negative reactions, i’ll take it down!

𓂃⋆.˚

i can't believe that liam payne is dead, aged 31. i used to be a one direction fan as a kid. the energy this past 3 weeks has been insane! so much unexpected stuff is happening, not just to me but to others too, and it’s not good at all! it’s safe to say that i don’t follow liam payne at all, and the only song of his i know is “strip that down,” which i was really obsessed with a long time ago

so, i looked into his astro chart. some sources say that his birth time might be inaccurate. he was born on august 29, 1993 at 1pm in wolverhampton, england, and what stands out to me is that he has pluto at the 22° in his first house, a degree often associated with to be killed or to kill, and it's in scorpio as well conjuncting his ascendant.

currently, transiting pluto is in conjunction with his moon in aquarius, located in his third house. i think that he was struggling with something deeply dark and overwhelming—emotions and feelings buried inside him. he may have felt a loss of control over his emotions at times, where things that shouldn't have bothered him would trigger unexpected reactions. this is a challenging aspect, as pluto tends to strip away protective barrier we build around ourselves, forcing us to confront our hidden issues and fears. with his moon in aquarius, he might have approached these emotions with a sense of detachment, rationalizing his feelings and becoming distant from parts of himself that he needed to face. this detachment could have been a way for him to maintain control. the third house represents communication, thoughts, and close relationships, which suggests he might have had significant struggles in expressing himself. this transit likely pushed him to confront long-avoided emotions, even if it meant feeling exposed and vulnerable. i believe he faced deep-seated issues he may not have been ready to tackle, leading to power struggles in his relationships and obsessive thinking.

additionally, with saturn transiting in opposition to his sun and mercury in the tenth house, i think he was under considerable stress regarding his public life and career. he likely felt the weight of expectations from himself and others, facing numerous setbacks and delays in achieving his goals. this transit can lead to misunderstandings and communication difficulties, which likely fueled his frustrations and anger. i suspect he experienced transformations in how the public perceived him, accompanied by self-doubt and negative self-talk about his accomplishments, leading to stubbornness and rigidity.

mars and jupiter are transiting his eighth house, which is traditionally associated with themes of death. the intense energy brought on by mars can be dangerous if not handled carefully, as it often leads to impulsive behavior and conflicts. given that mars is a physical planet, this transit raises the potential for injuries, accidents, or health issues. jupiter’s presence in the eighth house amplifies these risks, increasing the likelihood of dangerous situations. furthermore, transiting pluto is opposite his natal venus, which can create obsessive behavior, possessiveness, and power struggles, potentially leading to feelings of insecurity and jealousy in his love life and with others.

although it might be not relevant, but worth mentioning that the transiting south node is conjunct his mars, which often brings up unresolved issues and intense emotions from the past. he may have struggled to let go of certain things, repeating patterns that weren’t beneficial for him instead of recognizing the lessons he needed to learn. this transit typically urges individuals to release grudges and find closure. he might have encountered many opportunities and people to address unresolved conflicts or aggression from his past, and the challenge was to confront them directly.

#astrology #intuitive readings #astro tumblr #astrology blog #astrology notes #astrology signs #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astronotes #astroblr #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology readings #divination

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chosetherose · 6 months ago

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Two Graves One Gun

So Long London continues the saga of celebrity versus soul. The only way to cure Taylor’s sadness is for her to bid farewell to bearding, and perhaps the closet.

If you can look past the red herrings in this song, you will find a deeply layered masterpiece that illuminates Taylor's battle with herself; how past plans made to maintain her celebrity have marred her soul. She doesn't want to live life like this anymore and is willing to burn her brand down to the ground to free her soul.

As always, the analysis I've written here is only one interpretation of this song. I'm not claiming it is "correct" but I encourage you to plow through (this is a very long post) and consider what I've laid out.

For context, I believe London is a metaphor for bearding. Here is some background for the new folks:

For most of her career, Taylor’s beards have been from the UK. Specifically, from 2012-2023 her beards were Harry Styles then Calvin Harris then Tom Hiddleston then Joe Alwyn.

The beginning of this stage was right around the time she started crossing over into pop music. Red is her first real leap into pop music and to do this successfully she needs to expand both domestically (to pop audiences that don't listen to country music) and internationally (her first opportunity for this since the rest of the world doesn't listen to much country music).

She started bearding with Harry Styles in late 2012, within weeks of Red's release then milks that short lived stunt for 1989 as well. What a way to capture a new pop audience made up of fans abroad and at home. Rinse and repeat until her priority changes to long-term privacy and she finds that aided by an unknown actor named Toe. Even though Taylor's current beard is American, suffice to say one can look at London as a metaphor for bearding given history.

[Intro]

So (So) long (Long), London (London) [repeated]

Pay attention to how she sings this...She breaks "London" into "Lon" and "Don".

So SO / Long LONG / Lon LON / Don DON

This is a sneakily beautiful way to emphasize: So! Long! Don(e)! ...Like "I've been bearding for so long and I'm done with it" or "So long, bearding! I'm done!" Yes, this is a reach but read the rest of this post and circle back. As this intro closes the final "Don(e)!" fades into the upticked beat.

[Verse 1]

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

Taylor seeing fairy lights through the mist sounds like she sees daylight at the end of a tunnel opaque from lavender haze. She keeps focused on this goal, carrying on with all these beards over the years. Although she's able to appear calm during these stunts, living life like this has forged a rift within herself. She beards because it's advantageous for her brand but her soul despises the ruse.

Side note: “Keep Calm and Carry On was a motivational poster produced by the Government of the United Kingdom in 1939 in preparation for World War II.” -Wikipedia. A bit of history that I think furthers the idea that Taylor was battling to keep going.

Tayor has to balance these aspects of herself continually - Too much stunting? Her soul needs a break. Had a good break from stunting? She needs to feed the grocery line Swifties to keep them at bay. It's an idea that got me thinking about yin and yang, "an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle." (Wiki). I am not an expert on this concept but I know I've noticed it has come up throughout conversations about TTPD. If yin and yang is relevant for this album, as I believe it is in multiple songs, in the context of this verse it feels related to Taylor's constant need to find balance between the celebrity version of herself we see on our screens and the true version of herself only she can see in the mirror.

This cycle wears on Taylor so much that her spine splits from the weight. She has been slogging through stunts, dreaming of freedom, for years. It's been storming so long her clothes are soaked and she feels the chill down in her bones.

Because of the pain she decides to change strategy. Theres no more attempts to make her situation lighter or find ways to deal with it. And think about this - if you're trying to drill the safe open it means either A) you feel like you've tried all the codes and are resorting to brute force, and/or B) you're running out of time and growing desperate. Taylor is past even those points and is giving up entirely.

[Chorus]

Thinking how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You’ll find someone

The chorus reminds me of talking to a past version of yourself that made plans for a future you. We know Taylor must plan her life years in advance so perhaps she is asking her past self something like, “Why did you think I could handle continued bearding? Did you really think I could handle all the sadness I'm feeling today?”

Then I think the second half of this chorus is saying goodbye to bearding, symbolized by London, because she can’t bear the sadness anymore. Maybe the "you'll find someone" line is aimed at the fans a la "you should find another guiding light" like you guys will find someone else to fawn over in the tabloids.

Side note: I love the double entendre here. Because so long means goodbye but it has also been so long that she’s been bearding (largely with British men).

[Verse 2]

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

I don't have a strong opinion on the first two lines of this version. What comes to mind is she didn't opt in to be an openly LGBTQIA+ artist, she chose to closet and beard. Then other younger closeted celebrities have looked to her as a blueprint.

In the process of bearding for stardom, her soul abandoned all she knew. I think there is a red herring here as Heath could reference Hampstead Heath (which has connections to Toe) but it’s also continuing on the house theme that Taylor sings about. Here, it doesn’t sound like this house is a home. She’s not singing about chandeliers flickering inside, it’s “the” house by a heath -- “Heathland is characterized by plants such as heather, bilberry, gorse and bracken, which occur on infertile and well-drained soils. Open heaths have been highly modified by humans for centuries and are maintained by grazing or cutting.” She’s stuck somewhere that’s by drained her via death by a thousand cuts lol.

Again, it's weighed on her. So she's decided to stop trying to revive the disconnect between her soul and her celebrity, it’s no use trying anymore. She’s realized they could never fully come together.

And she’s pissed off she let her celebrity rob her of an open, free, youth where she could live truthfully. Recall that in Peace she sings, “a coming of age has come and gone” which to me means she feels she can’t explain a coming out via a youthful awakening angle. She’s at the age where people will understand she’s known this for years but hasn’t shared with the world. This will raise questions she won’t be able to answer because it’s all too tangled (NDAs, outing beards, etc.).

[Chorus]

For so long, London/ Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

For so long, she’s been bearding, stunting, hiding her true self to reach and/or maintain celebrity. It’s caused her stitches to come undone. This wording is interesting because it implies she had a wound from living this life hiding her truth, they tried to fix her up as her celebrity status soared, but it didn’t work because the sadness was too great.

Perhaps there's two graves and one gun because on the path to daylight she will kill both her celebrity and the sadness of her closeted self. Not how she switches from "you" will find someone to "I" will find someone. This is because she will destroy every version of herself that she's ever known if she comes out one day. She will rise like a Phoenix through the ashes to discover a new version of herself in the daylight.

Note that the Spotify clip for this song, from the Fortnight video, feels significant. First, Taylor looks up toward the daylight. Then, with heavy breaths and a concerned face, she rifles through her art (words written out on a typewriter). We know in the rest of this scene she is lighting her art on fire. Two graves one gun on a path to daylight.

[Bridge Part 1]

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

I imagine these first lines of the bridge to be aimed toward those in her life, on her team, etc. that steered her toward closeting to gain/keep fame. Maybe she has plans and they are saying by coming out she is abandoning the ship (her celebrity) they've all worked hard to build. In Miss Americana we heard her team tell her that coming out as a Democrat would halve the numbers of her next tour. Can you imagine what would be said about a coming out?

But what they don’t understand is that living this life is killing her. She’s been holding on to all the subtle ways they’ve told her over the years that her career will sink if she comes out of the closet.

[Bridge Part 2]

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

When she confides with her friends about it all they tell her she shouldn’t be afraid to take steps toward the daylight because look where she is now. She’s been stunting for years (love affairs in the tabloids) and it's awful for her. So terrible that she's grasping for breaths, unsure if she can still survive in this atmosphere (thin/rare air means its not a hospitable environment for Taylor).

[Chorus]

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you think I'd go

Before I'd self-implode?

Before I'd have to go be free?

Again, I think she’s talking to her past self here. “How could I have thought I’d survive sinking this low? How could I not realize I’d reach a point where I’d self-implode?” Which here, self-implosion is telling a similar story as I think the two graves one gun lyrics do — the result of the self implosion is being free. If she blows up her celebrity and she will be free to live her truth, curing the sadness that has been ruling her life for years.

[Verse 3]

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

I imagine this verse is aimed at her fans, the grocery line Swifties who believe her beards are real boyfriends. I read “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” as a sarcastic jab because she’s been screaming 🌈 for whoever is willing to listen. The fans claim to love Taylor but they aren’t willing to really listen to her.

Most people here “altar” and think of a wedding but the definition is much broader, “In religion, a raised structure or place that is used for sacrifice, worship, or prayer” (Wiki). So Taylor was up on the altar, a place of worship, waiting for clues that these fans actually loved her. But what started as worship became sacrifice as these fans never found love for who Taylor really is all the while the bearding and hiding were causing Taylor deep sadness.

Despite all this, she loves her job and her fans. The sadness is too much though. She is about to self implode and feels its time to take steps toward a brighter future. It’s maddening as hell to metaphorically blow up your life just as your fame is escalating to new heights you’ve reached for your whole career.

[Chorus]

For so long, London (So long, London)

Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You'll find someone

For so long, she bearded. She had a good run, getting away with it all, reaching levels of fame she always dreamed of. But she's not the one to keep the charade going (as opposed to her heroes who unfortunately 'died' closeted). Goodbye, bearding. The wound was too big to fix. With one action, I will kill the version of myself you (the fans) know and the version of myself I know. You (the fans) will find someone else to worship.

...

I could keep tweaking this theory for weeks but these are my initial thoughts on this song about two weeks out from TTPD's release. This album is incredible complex but for me the signs we keep getting are all pointing toward significant change. There is a momentum going right now that I haven't felt since the early Lover era. No matter what happens or how long it takes, I hope our fearless Chairman gets the chance to bask in the sun shiniest daylight. She deserves the warmth.

💕 CTR

#forgive me there are probably minor edits needed #but #I can’t proofread this again I just need to press post

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grapejuicestyless · 9 months ago

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Could You Imagine That?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: You failed. The gold, the cross, the fame, the fortune. But really, who cared? Not when you had the best gift of all. Inspired by the song: Forever by Noah Kahan

We listen to Pope and Kiara argue about who knows how to build a fire better, throwing logs into a heap by a pile of rocks and lining stones in a circle in the sand. John B and Cleo make beds for everyone to sleep on and Sarah works on some sort of spear for us. Yet, JJ and I haven’t even given a second thought of how long we just might be here for.

Maybe a few more hours, a couple days or years. In the end, did it really matter? We’d been just fine so far and we’d swear the feeling of freedom was worth it no matter how starved we became or how cold the nights were. We’d screamed about Poguelandia hundreds or times already, calling out the name of this great island and hoisting the flag we’d painted with rocks and the mud packed beneath them. Our hands pruning from the salt water and our shorts left on the edge of the shore line while we ran around in our underwear, splashing around like little kids and laughing like old friends should.

“We’re broke!” We laughed, finding the fact that we failed more funny than anything. Because had we really failed if we got a greater gift than what being filthy rich could give us?

“But real rich in our heads!” JJ would scream back, chasing me down along the edge of the ocean. And when the waves slowed my strides he lifted me from my waist with his tanned arms, not minding how our wet bodies stuck together like glue and our clothes would surely stink like ocean for as long as we’d be here.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” I laughed in his hold, and his grip restricted my lungs but I would take the ache that came with it over any other feeling in the world. Because even after he loosens his grip, he never really lets me go and I am reminded of how he’s always within arms reach. Ready to make me smile, make me laugh. And it’s worth more than anything money could buy.

“Can you guys help us?” Kiara calls out desperately, but even she can’t hide the smile on her face, how much she loves the idea of it just being her and the Pogues all together and safe for just a small moment in the grand timeline of adventure ahead. No parents, no threats, no blood or tears. Just the sun and sand beneath our feet. A good cooked fish roasting over the fire and beds woven with leaves under our heads.

“Come in the waters just fine!” JJ splashes, catching a glare from Pope as the salt water briefly tames the fire they just started. And when Kiara catches his line of vision, we don’t have to look back to know their broken laughter is because their stripping to join us in the sea. Ready to splash around carelessly like children do, like we do.

“Can you imagine being here, like this forever? No more window shopping or late rent!” I laugh, bearing all my teeth in my smile when Kiara wraps her arms over my shoulders and places a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” She repeats my words back to me, eyes shining with the glow of the sunset that casts a warm hue over her sunburnt cheeks.

“Poguelandia forever, baby!” JJ’s arms pull Kiara away from me, and like glue, I’m stuck to him with nothing more to offer than the sweetest smile and the world shining in my eyes. I feel more alive than ever and theres not an ounce of gold that could replace it.

“Oh my god!” Cleo laughs at the scene in front of her, dry wood under her arm and a soft blush in her cheek from the sun. We’re all drenched in salt or sweat but we can’t help but feel absolutely okay with it.

You could fly over head at that very moment, on the search for miserable teens in need of help and you wouldn’t even look twice. The way everyone laughed like brothers and sisters and cherished what the world gave them, you’d think we were on some vacation. Like we hadn’t washed up here by accident.

Broken bones and aching muscles worth every moment that led us to this island and this life.

Looking back at JJ, I see the stars in his eyes and the world under his feet. It’s all we’ve ever wanted. A simple life by the ocean with all the people we love. So, we might be broke, we might be hungry and by god we might smell but by god are we richer than most.

“Poguelandia forever.” JJ whispers only for my ears to hear, forehead pressing against mine and his eyes observing the crinkles by my eyes. His thumbs lift from my hips to rub against my cheeks. Then he kisses me, kisses me in a way I hadn’t felt since before death looked at us in the eyes and grief was all we knew. Like we both knew finally that it would all work out and we would be okay.

When we pull away, we share the same hazy look we had plastered on our cheeks before and his hands plant themselves firmly on my hips once again. Squeezing the skin between his fingers playfully and drowning out the world around us.

“Could you imagine that.”

#jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #jj maybank fluff #p4l #jj maybank x pogue!reader #poguelandia #the pogues #pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader

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kit-williams · 3 months ago

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Anrir Husbandry

Husbandry tags: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @the-raven-lady

@bispecsual

Edit: forgot to thank @justahuman1757 for help with some of the translations and other help

Song on repeat: Cradles by Sub Urban (also most of the remixes for this SLAP)

tw: smut, yandere, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Anrir cooed at the little human in his arms finishing up singing them back to sleep знішчыць.... знішчыць... His voice carried low and softly. It was naptime... they needed to sleep as it was good for them of course they didn't seem to realize that. His long back hair was tied back into a slightly messy bun as his nearly completely black eyes dart around the pastel colored room just looking for anything wrong. His Dragă wanted to work with children in childcare and perhaps it took a couple of years to get here since he had first found her.

She was so much happier since he had first found her... happy about their bond... no more worry in her eyes... no more stress making her hands tremble or her loosing sleep... no more worrying about her next meal or if her car were to break... no more crying... well no more senseless crying. He puts the child down looking around at the sleeping forms but he cant help but grin as this really was all possible because of him, Anrir purrs softly at the satisfaction of how well he has done his job... and how he has covered his trail...

5 years prior

Anrir was a drifter... he drifted around as he had yet to find his own bonded, which given how some legions seemed to be more inclined to get a bond; with Night Lords being one of the ones with very few "feral" Astartes it was only a matter of time before Anrir would find his. But Anrir in all definitions was a feral Astartes having been unbonded since he arrived forty years ago. However, it was fine as Anrir hadn't spent that time just moping about he spent a majority of his time politicking and reuniting with other Terran Night Lords long dead and of course reuniting with those who were under his knife when they were aspirants and scouts which he affectionately called them his kids.

He was also using this time to take a break, a forced break, from running his warband; not that he could run it right now anyway. But he would mull over plans for when he returned back to his time period... if he did was another thought. His eyes moved up to the sky as he could smell the water gathering in the air. Which meant that the group he was with would start a debate on if they were going to settle down or continue on despite the weather. He did not care too much and decided to wander off to look around at where they were.

He walked out of the tree covering that the group was skulking through as he looked at the abandoned parking lot he had walked out into. It was rotting away neglected and abandoned as the painted lines were faded and practically gone, the pavement was cracked with plants growing through cracks; with the asphalt under his feet turning to gravel as plants come to reclaim this section of human infrastructure. And Anrir... he savored this reclamation of nature and decay of it all. Compared to the prison pit he was born into on the other side of the globe; he had already made his pilgrimage to the eventual site of his birth... a town full of people whose existence was never known as a great chasm of the guilty was there.

But that dark pit in the ground was not there now... there were no babies being born in that dark hellhole... his neck tattoo had a phantom itch as he is reminded why it was put on his neck... as he is reminded that at some point he was truly innocent... he is reminded of the hand gently petting his head... the soft voice cooing at him telling him how brave he was being... as he remembers having tears in his eyes as the ink is shoved into his skin... he gently starts to suffocate the memories of a child long gone and a woman paradoxically long dead and yet had yet to be born. His eyes flick to the far side of the quiet parking lot as a car just sits in the dark. The only other thing in this lot, far from the flickering road light... he could hear the annoying buzz of the light as it flickered... the flick... flick... flick... as it finally goes out. He moves with soft steps towards the vehicle as the summer insects scream their sonorous songs it was almost overstimulating for some of his brothers with how alive this planet felt with no foe to focus down on. Anrir felt his gums itch like he craved an oral inhalant and the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as he wandered closer not giving into the craving.

Anrir had seen many homeless humans both back in his own time and here. His eyes looked through the windows of the car seeing how it was lived in, he could hear the soft breathing akin to how someone was asleep... the slow beat of a heart was barely audible to him as the insects continued to scream their songs. There was nothing special about what he saw as it was a baseline female just buried under an assortment of clothes, a towel, a jacket, and some blanket... a bucket with a strainer lid to collect the impending rain... he chuckled at the cleverness but he understood the need to just survive. He turned to walk back to the others but something rooted him in place. He could practically taste the misery mixing with the rain. His throat tightened as it silently moved in foreign ways but he knew what he was trying to do... to mimic the noises they make at humans.

He lets out a dark chuckle as they were right... it really was something that he would know when it happened. Worry soon festered in his gut as his eyes roamed over her vehicle and while he hardly knew about how it worked he could see the signs of disrepair. His nose wrinkled for a moment as he unclipped his helmet from his hip, slipping it over his head as the rain finally let loose. He listened to the rain slap against the metal roof of the car, the way she moved inside her comfortable cocoon for a moment, and the way water was gathering in the bucket... Anrir had to do something.

You did your best to ignore the Night Lord that was hanging around. Affectionate bastards you were told as you remember those videos of just them being friendly. You shiver at the memory of that one gang member who thought he was so big... being homeless you quickly learned how sleeping near warbands meant that you had to ignore certain things... certain sounds especially at night. Astartes always scared you... you couldn't point to any incident that had happened involving them just that you got bad feelings from them... a certain type of dread. So it wasn't exactly like a fear of dogs but the way they looked and acted they were so human... why were they here... you make yourself look smaller as the Night Lord with what looked like a metal spider on his back sat next to you.

You hear him coo and trill at you trying to get your attention, his head tilting slightly as you could hear the slightly distorted trill to his voice from his helmet, and you did your best to ignore him. Eventually he did leave you alone and you had hoped that would be the last you saw him. But, every day for the next week he kept finding you... he would click and coo at you beckoning you closer with those armored claws of his. It was the last day in the week that you broke and approached him as you chose to fill your car with gas over eating and he had shown up with food. You feel tears gather with each bite as he trills down at you and you feel him hold you close... you hear his purr... you've seen this display online it was a bonding display. You do your best to not choak on the hot food as you can feel tears gather in the corner of your eyes, really the last thing you want is an Astartes bonding to you.

You feel the Astartis petting your head as you eat, trilling at you and you're certain if he wasn't in armor he would be purring. When you look up at him miserably he coos at you trying to sooth the clear distress you were in. His hands flexing each time you try to pull away from him, "You don't want me to be your bonded buddy," You finally speak up and that just breaks something in you and you feel those heavy tears roll down your cheeks even as you try to use the heel of your palm to rub your eyes clean they still fall, "I can't give you anything." Your voice cracks as you admit that.

Anrir sat there silently as you tried to reject the bond… he could feel it fraying at the edges like a lighter had been taken to it. But Anrir was calm even as his entire existence seemed to reel on its axis as you try to push it away. Your voice cracking gave way to the tears that ran down your face, his black eyes darting over your face as baselines crying was familiar to him given what he was but it felt so different… so wrong. Why are you letting her cry Anrir? A soft voice in the back of his mind seems to say. He could feel it fray more and more… but Anrir was aware that when a bond frays… it never attaches back normally. There was also a small high for him as would this be how he tasted death? Not after millennia of being alive just some mortal woman would be the death of him? He would have laughed if it actually broke but he pulled her against him and you did not make the effort to pull away… and so the bond repairs wrong. He did not need anything from you except you.

How you lean against him trying to hide away. So he was okay if you couldn’t give him anything now. He didn’t expect you to give him anything in the first place… but a wicked thought plants itself in his mind. Perhaps it was old fashioned… after all he watched the radical social changes in a mere 40 years and yet like always the Astartes remained unchanged. But… why couldn’t he provide for you? Anrir was a capable Astartes and he did not survive this long by chance but memories flicker by of how generous others were towards their humans. He grinned darkly as he could recognize the signs now… oh… he had intensely bonded to you… he had read the manuals and grimoires both in person and on the noosphere… he had helped write some of those too… so he knew what to look for in terms of side effects and was filing away mental notes about his deviances. And as much as he wanted to act on those feelings Anrir was patient, he was an Apothacarion after all, and his Dragă needed to be taken care of. He purrs and chirps at her to calm her down and gets her to finish her meal.

Thrones, credits, souls, cash… it was annoying dealing with baselines as most societies revolved around needing a good or currency for things and this was not their reality or time period where refusing an Astartes was suicidal. He noted his lack of desire to skin the man yelling at his Dragă to get him to stop “loitering”. But he, like most Astartes, relied on each other and the complex network and ecosystem they built like a parasite on the infrastructure of what was already there or was it the other way around? The Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists would say they laid out efficient infrastructure… but he found resources; since it was no longer allowed to simply take humans as serfs anymore and just have them live in a base full time… not that the Night Lords had one yet. It would be a few more years till the base was operational and that would be a mustering point for most Night Lords in the area. But Anrir noted how jumpy his precious Dragă got at the idea of getting help from Salamanders or staying in a shelter; he was fine with her choice. He wrinkled his nose as her car was falling apart and he couldn’t fit in it and him being a Night Lord did not help his goal of getting money. However, Anrir had a long reputation having worked in the Consortium with Bile too being a prominent figure in his legion’s hierarchy, no matter how much he tried to stay out of the politicking, so when the Alpharii approached him he wasn’t too surprised.

There were treaties and edicts that any Astartes had to agree to if they wanted to stay near the humans. Besides the obvious of not killing any humans; which before Anrir was bonded was a surprisingly hard ask, but they were not allowed to mettle with them. Technology was to be kept away from them at all costs, no extending their life spans, no augmetics beyond simple necessary prosthetics, and a few others. It all made sense as it was clear they were not ready at all for the horrors of the wider galaxy… no they would not play a hand into accidentally smothering humanity in the cradle because they helped them reach the stars earlier than they were ready for. But just like how human killers existed… and Night Lord trafficker Hunts happened… there was always some bending and breaking of these rules.

The Alpharii couldn’t help mettle in the affairs of the baselines, it was their legion’s expertise, they were information brokers and information hiders… they modified records to hide the sudden birth of a child from a woman and a Astartes… to all the way of covering up when forbidden technology falls into the hands of baselines and there needs to be a raid. They had their fingers in many pies as the saying goes… and Anrir could not play the moral high ground for their request. They weren’t supposed to extend the baselines lives… there was the crude method of giving them a transfusion of Astartes blood and hope they survive all the way to getting the chemicals and components needed for rejuvenation treatments. The latter took time to get what they needed as they could only synthesis so much being limited to what was only on this one planet; and it was hard to keep the Iron Hands from getting eager in “helping” them be able to colonize the Sol system.

But… Anrir looked down at the old corrupt man. Such greedy creatures humans could be and Anrir could never be like his kin who were able to see themselves as being above humanity… Anrir was far too aware of his own humanity and also his own lack of humanity too. “How do I know it will work?” The old man interrupts Anrir’s explanation of what he will be doing in transplanting his heart, “You could be some… con artist.” He says with malice in his frail voice.

Anrir never liked nobles… and he was always surprised at how… self important they could be. His smooth voice answers the question before one of the Alpharii can speak, “My reputation,” He had asked the Alpharii before this and he was not bonded to any of them… he was very much a pawn that the Alpharii weren’t ready to loose yet, “your… companions wouldn’t have gotten me if they doubted my skills. The heart is made for you so there is no chance of rejection.” He says truthfully as it was child's play growing the organ for him.

Anrir voxes one of the Alpharii, “As for my payment for this?” He hisses letting his displeasure bleed through as how dare he speak to Anrir in such a way.

“Everything is set up in ways that won’t tip off the government officials to the sudden influx of wealth. And conveniently set up so that if you choose to help us again…”

Anrir waved his armored hand over his shoulder as his medical mechadendrites unfolded like a spider on his back, “Yes yes you lot have me for several surgeries,” He goes through the process of setting everything for fine movements and working on humans, “But please be aware should anything go wrong in the payments that I can be quite spiteful.” He threatens and enjoys the place of power he is able to come from given how specialists are in such short supplies here and he is certain there is only one other Consortium member on the planet… he knows his expertise is invaluable he is certain he is on many lists to be kept alive.

“Of course Anrir.” Is all one says and that was good enough as Anrir headed into the prepared room.

You were happy that Anrir returned as he did keep you safe and maybe you were feeling those good vibes that people always say they get around Astartes. But now? You looked at what was holding out to you with apprehension. You’re sure that it was a thousand dollars in his hand and you felt hesitant to take it from him as no one just gives people money and not expecting something back… your spine crawls at a memory… He just sighs looking at you passively and perhaps a little annoyed, “Dragă. Go get your car looked at and get it fixed.” He says and you take the money from him as your AC had died and you’re certain that also meant your heating was gone… “Unless,” Your eyes returned to his face as your eyes picked up the bit of white at the roots of his sideburns, “You want to get a bigger vehicle?”

“But I can’t-” You start.

“Don’t worry about money for a second Dragă.” He says putting his hands on your shoulders.

You squirm under his gaze as you considered rejecting it as Anrir gave you such feelings that there was something else he was after… then again you never felt truly comfortable around Astartes… always a lingering sense of dread but… “Maybe… maybe we get something you can fit in as well. Wouldn’t that be nice?” You say softly as you’re certain those cars are far beyond what you can afford and from what you heard basically never break down.

You hold your breath for a moment as Anrir cups your face, you could hear him trill at you, as he grinned down at you with a smile that you’re certain the devil himself would envy, “What a thoughtful Dragă.” Was all he cooed at you.

After that, with much fussing from him, he made you use the money to stay in a motel for a week and you don’t remember when the last time you ate so much food. Anrir in the meanwhile took care of things. You were torn on letting him do such as wasn’t this the reason you had a fallout with your family? Your hands shake at the memories… he ruined your life. Yet while you’re certain Anrir is doing the same thing… it feels different. Anrir only suggested what you use the money for never using it to tell you what to do… Anrir confused you but you took comfort in the thought that he wanted something from you that he could get at your absolute lowest… everyone says bonds are precious things so maybe you should trust him more.

Anrir makes sure he always has enough money on him as he was making sure that there was a positive association in your mind that he was able to provide for you. The fuss you made when he got the car customized so that you could live out of it as long as you wanted, he hopped it wouldn’t be much longer, but it was your choice and all he could do was nudge his Dragă. The excitement he felt rush up his spine when he heard you say “Anrir” in a specific tone… a tone he associated with his Dragă needing something… Dragă needed him to provide. Sometimes you were like a skittish animal only staying for the exchange but sometimes you lingered like an animal and he could get what he wanted from you too. He felt that dopamine rush as you tolerated his touches, the joy he felt when you let him cup your face, how loudly he purred as you let him nuzzle you, petting your head, or rubbing your back. He could still see the hesitation in your eyes… he could tell you weren’t as (warp blind) (bond blind) as other humans were and Anrir is fine with that in fact it made this all the more enjoyable for him.

Winter always comes too soon and once again Anrir brings up places you can stay over the colder months and as hard as you try you still can’t get rid of the feelings that if you acquiesce he will want something. Anrir himself is disappointed that you wont ask him for much more; he does use winter to get something he does want. He finally gets to hold you for as long as he wants, usually your whole sleep cycle. He’s slept in far worse spots and just being a little cramped is hardly anywhere near the list of worst rests he has had. He purrs loudly as you’re glued to his side or his chest at night. Cooing to you as you drift off each night with a full belly in his arms. Its hard not to drift off with how he purrs and the rhythmic beating of his twin hearts… this feels like it’s going to be an easy winter for once so of course you get sick as a dog.

“Poor Dragă.” Anrir’s voice breaks you through your sick haze as the chills don’t help but Anrir being so warm helps. “I know you won’t like this suggestion but as a health specialist I do recommend that perhaps it is time for you to live inside more regularly again?” You can barely hear the quiet engine over the Heater going, Anrir not allowing you to fuss about anything right now once more saying he had it under control, “Arata mizerabil... (Miserable looking…)” He says in Nostroman letting his tongue click as you bury yourself closer to his chest, feeling those ports dig into your skin, “At least something temporary, yes?” He says sounding a little worried, “Wouldn’t that be nice? A temporary place to stay till you find what you want to do?”

“Daycare.” You croak out.

“Hmm?” Anrir looks down at you cocking his head to the side surprised you answered him.

“I want to take care of kids. I like taking care of kids. Don’t know why… so I want to start a daycare.” You say but you soon get weepy, “But who is going to let me do that. Look at me! I’m living in my car running away from my family and I can’t -” You stop your distressed rant as you cough and your nose plugs up again making it hard for you to breath and you can’t help but squirm in Anrir’s grip.

“Shh Dragă, I’ll take care of you.” Anrir says softly a uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice you weren’t expecting from a Night Lord, “You don’t need to worry anymore, Dragă.” Again it’s a soft and warmth to his voice you didn’t know he could have, “Do you trust me?” He asks in a tone you have trouble reading.

Bonds are supposed to be good things… that’s what everyone says… you have a companion for life… and you can tell that they get so much out of what we give them as they were clearly made for something far more violent. But… did you trust Anrir. No… you did not trust him as that feeling never goes away… “What do you want Anrir?” You finally say after a minute of silence.

“You, Dragă.” Anrir says quickly breathlessly.

Again you lay there silently thinking… you didn’t know what he wanted… was it really just being with you? You’ve been with him for months at this point and you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. You did research on bonds from what little you could find and everything kept coming back to just wanting to keep their bonded alive and safe. You were scared to let someone in your safe little world but you were so tired of keeping everything so tight to your chest. Maybe it was because you were sick but you nod and let out a heavy sigh softly saying, “I trust you Anrir.”

His reaction was immediate as he pressed his cheek to yours and you could feel the purring in your teeth as it was so loud, your finger bones felt like they were vibrating, but you didn’t feel the quick kisses that he leaves on your skin. You whimper at the sudden affection. It was anrir’s quirk as he was odd with his affection as whenever you would seek him out for affection he would smother you in his affection but you were okay with it because it was on your terms… your gut wouldn’t stop at the feeling that sometimes it was on his terms luring you in… He presses a kiss to your forehead trilling, his accent thick, “I don’t want you to worry any more my Dragă. I will take care of everything.” His black eyes seem to glitter in delight as he makes his declaration. And you just let go of that tension a bit more.

You don’t know how Anrir found this place, it had a horribly short lease but you knew that it was just to get you out of the weather… you’re certain this place wasn’t built for Astartes in mind so usually that meant they weren’t allowed. You guessed that the landlord looked the other way if said Astartes was paying in cash. It was small and cramped... but it was warm and you could store more than just a bit of food. You were sitting in the tub as Anrir sat on the side shirtless as his hands were massaging shampoo into your hair. You didn't need help with your hair but that didn't stop you from leaning into his hands as he helped you feel clean.

Anrir chuckled at your gentle groaning and moaning as it was clear you were enjoying yourself. He enjoyed helping you feel this way helping you clean and take care of you in this small way... he shivered as he was cleaning his Dragă... he wrapped his Dragă in a nice fluffy towel... he carried his Dragă to the bedroom and savored the laugh that left your mouth as he just tossed you onto the bed with a bounce.

You just laid there, eyes closed, enjoying yourself... sure there was only one bed which was fine as you had spent most of the winter snuggling up to Anrir in the car, it was not the most comfortable mattress in the world... the apartment was quiet...no it was never quiet not with the thin walls... but Anrir was quiet. You became aware of how you were just laying naked on the bed... alarms were going off in your head as you feel his smooth hands run over your knees, feeling his thumbs push into the side as he spreads your legs open slowly. This wasn't normal... and yet this felt like what everything was building up too... but you were always told that bonds were selfless things, right?

Your skin trembles as his hands move over your drying flesh, your breathing shivers, you can feel the bed shift as Anrir climbs onto it. Your throat bobs as you swallow the nervous energy but your eyes open as you feel the bare skin of his legs as he had divested himself of his pants. Anrir's silent still as he presses his scarred lips against your cheek, his body leaning over yours as he settles between your legs, and you feel his hand move to your chin to slowly turn you to meet him. His lips dragging against your flesh as the scarred flesh presses against your own lips. You were close enough that you could tell that his eyes were not fully black... you could see the dark blue of his iris darting with micromovements as he took in your face. But, you could see the predator in his eyes... but it was something more the term hyper-predator comes to mind because what monsters would someone like Anrir need to hunt?

Anrir presses his mouth to yours more and you close your eyes allowing the kiss to deepen. Anrir had been nothing but good to you... but you worry... would he use this against you? You desperately hope that he wouldn't. "Mina..." His voice rumbles like thunder as his hands drag across your flesh in a way that feels dominant and possessive. You can't stop the shuddering moan that leaves your mouth as his mouth moves against the front of your neck, licking the way your throat moves in its swallowing motion. "Toate ale mele… (All mine...)" He says whispering to you in a language that you don't know, "Fiecare parte din tine… toată a mea… trupul și sufletul tău. (Every part of you... all mine... your body and your soul.)" He says again as Anrir presses his cock against your entrance. His mouth continuing its worship of your neck and chin as you open your eyes slightly and just watch Anrir with lidded eyes. He cups your face as his tongue presses hard on your lower lip before pushing his tongue back into your mouth just kissing you hard.

You knew you had fringe thoughts about Astartes... Anrir was just proving to you one thing... that they were far too human to ignore. Far too human and far too predatory... you could never get that feel good emotion from Anrir... from any Astartes really. They were all predators... they were man made monsters made to fight monsters that you didn't know would exist beyond the silver screen of Hollywood or the writings of horror writers. He pulls his mouth away trilling at you and pausing when he sees the look on your face. You were looking at a predator looking at prey a malicious looking thing that tried to play the part of a friendly thing... a wolf playing the role of a dog. "Anrir."

"Yes Dragă." He says as a hand cups your face.

"What do you want?" You again ask... because... you don't think he's lying about the bond but this wasn't normal? You felt everything rushing anxiously to a point.

"You, Dragă." He says devotedly.

You were tired... so tired of being on your own for years before Anrir came. Oh how much Anrir had helped beyond just the money he gave you and the food... just being here... even if it was wrong... even if... you were so tired. You pull Anrir into a kiss as you didn't want to think anymore! You didn't want to worry any more... you whimper as Anrir just purrs loudly as you decide to let Anrir take care of it... take care of you... just for today you tell yourself as you melt into the embrace.

You feel the slight discomforting sensation of your walls spreading open as his cock slowly pushes in. When it becomes too much your hand or foot pushes against his chest which makes him stop till your brow stops furrowing and you for him to continue. This continues until his hips are flush with yours and Anrir hisses in delight, "Atât de strâns atât de bine cu mine… draga mea… a mea. (So tight so good to me... my dear... mine.)" You once more don't understand him but you decide to not worry about it as he starts moving. Your thighs burn slightly at the stretch to have them spread open wide for Anrir to thrust into you. Your eyes close as you focus on the feeling and enjoy that he doesn't ask you to look at him but that doesn't stop him from talking, "Mă simți fată frumoasă? (Do you feel me pretty girl?)" He trills in that unknown tongue, "Te concentrezi pe penisul meu din interiorul tău? (Are you focused on my cock inside of you?)" He asks something else perhaps not realizing or caring that you don't understand him.

He picks up the pace as he pants down at you and you just yowl and moan in pleasure. Porn making everything feel so fake when real sex sounds so unsexy at times but you had no need to make things sound sexy or be perfect. You could hear Anrir chuckle at an unflattering noise you make as he slams his hips into yours again making you repeat it. Eventually things feel tighter and more anxious as Anrir tilts you slightly so his cock pushes into you at a downward angle and you just laugh at the unflattering squeak and squawk that you make. Anrir laughs with you at all those weird and all those distinctively you vocalizations but you just don't care as no one is telling you that you're being unappealing... you throw your head back and arch up as you earned the right to not worry. You moan loudly moaning his name as you feel so good! You earned this reward! You deserve this... you deserve to just let go... you orgasm with little fan fair... just a simple gasp.

You feel so good... everything feels so good as Anrir continues to chase his release, the feeling of a bed against your back, the fuzzy climbdown from an orgasm, the oily drop of sweat from Anrir that lands on your shoulder, and the comforting stutter from him that stutter causes you to open your eyes to watch his brow furrow and you watch how surprisingly expressive he gets as he cums.

The apartment is mostly quiet... as quiet as you can get with thin walls... you lay there with him not thinking about anything... not thinking as you feel his cock softening against your inner thigh. He lets out a loud breath as he lays back in bed in his spot as you meanwhile are pushing away the worry about the consequences of sleeping with Anrir. You cuddle against his side, his arm wrapping around you, you feel the cum ooze out of you ... you're still tired of thinking... you're so tired of it... so tired of worrying why and what Anrir was doing for money... You put your head against his chest over his hearts ignoring the discomfort of the ports against your face... you just listen to the way his hearts beat.

Present day

You were in a much better spot than when you were a couple of years ago... you actually came into money, no it wasn't a rich distant relative dying but it was another person you had camped with when you were homeless. They had actually won the lottery and were being smart with it, which you think was more so their Ultramarine had helped in making smart choices. Though you had your suspicions... the Alpharii... a few seem to come by every few months some to coo at the kids, eager to find a bonded, and some to talk with Anrir as you watched them take containers from your home. But being given money you sudden just kept finding yourself with more money and it was stupid how much money you got after investing some of it... you didn't want to question it and Anrir was very good at distracting you.

Oh speaking of Anrir... he got you so many gifts. He would still give you random bouts of cash but he was finally acting more and more like how a bonded Astartis is supposed to act. You also were seeing how talented he was with his hands as besides his occupation you discovered his macabre hobby that all Night Lords seem to have... bone scrimshawing and taxidermy. You could point out all the time that he acted like a normal bonded Astartis and yet at the same time... how many gestures were more. You got outfits, jewelry, wines, your current house, and hell even your job you know he had a hand in financing... it spiraled out of control with his gifts that your friends noticed and asked who your 'sugar daddy' was or rather if he had any friends.

You smile warmly and wave goodbye as the last child finally gets picked up. You head back inside letting out a soft exhale and start picking up the room not getting very far into cleaning up when Anrir wraps his arms around you and purrs into your shoulder... purring into where he tattooed you years ago. You feel him give a playful tug onto the choker collar that he made for you, expensive thing and you know he liked you wearing it. You were lucky that no one asked you what Anrir was... everyone just assumed he was a Raven Guard...

"I can smell your worry Dragă." He says nipping your earlobe.

"I'm just tired Anrir."

"Then lets go home." He kisses your cheek.

"But I have stuff to pick up-"

"And this is why we hire others to clean," He says gentle cocking his head to the side, "You're worried about something." Anrir takes the toy from your hands as you pick at the seams.

You let out a heavy sigh bringing your thumb to your lips, "I'm just scared everything is about to go wrong." Anrir takes your hand to stop you from biting your nails.

"And if it does... I will take care of it." Anrir says with such certainty and authority that makes you believe him.

The breath in your chest you let out with a heavy sigh, "Okay." You nod.

He tugs on your choker bringing you close for a kiss as he trills softly, "I will always take care of you my frumoasă dragă (beautiful darling)." And you chose to believe it.

#space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #oc: Anrir #darling: Draga #carnal bond #intense bond #yandere bond #tw: smut #tw yandere #tw: obsessive behavior #I have been working on this for so long #the smut was debatable on adding it #but the longer this took to get out the more I was like #“Fuck it”#because momrad hasn't been able to write a lot #and so its like here's some smut guys #also Raven being super ovulating right now and just being unwell for my guy so yeah another thing to convince me to keep the smut in it #also sorry about the POV switching between Draga and Anrir #I enjoy letting people see what both of them think and feel and I know its probably messy but just... yeah #no beta we die like horus #no beta we die like sanguinius #no beta we die like ferrus #no beta we die like the emperor #these tags are a mess #these tags are getting silly #im just so happy that im finally done with this and can move onto other projects

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mangomonk · 1 year ago

Text

i caught myself

↳ summary: remus goes to a coffee shop for the first time ↳ content: fluff, oblivious idiots x idiots, coffee shop au, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i wanted to write something fun and i've been listening to too much of my punk rock playlists from when i was 15. feel very free to listen to "i caught myself" by paramore (or any paramore song) while reading..! i love portrayals of remus as an earnest loser where the reader/sirius is ridiculously infatuated with his endearingly awkward ways. in other news, i've given up on using 'y/n,' it killed me every time i had to type it so i just chose a random name, feel free to make a mental edit to 'y/n' if you're more comf with that.

It's rush hour when she first sees him. She almost doesn't — it's just her and her coworker today and her eyes are only moving from the cash register's buttons to each cup as she hastily scrawls names and orders onto the plastic.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks half-distractedly as she finishes writing Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino before sliding it over to her coworker with an apologetic look. Frappes are the worse to make, and it doesn't help that the line is nearly to the door now. She almost doesn't look up but the silence to her question is a little too long, so Winnie darts a quick look up, hoping to see no one standing there.

What she's not expecting to see is a man with wide brown eyes and equally brown hair squinting at the menu above her head. Winnie thinks he's the most good-looking man she's ever seen. As she tries to recap the Sharpie, she stabs her own hand. "Shit," she mutters automatically.

"Sorry?" The ridiculously good-looking man asks politely, his gaze flickering from the menu to her. His eyes are the same color as caramelized sugar and Winnie thinks he looks just as sweet as she watches him pull at the frayed collar of his knitted jumper.

"Nothing, nothing," Winnie says with a dismissive hand as she puts on her best customer-service-smile. "What can I get you today?"

His brows furrow as he turns his gaze back to the menu. "What—" he begins, drawing out the word slowly. Winnie takes his hesitation to steal another appreciative glance at him — he's tall, his frame somewhere between lean and lanky, though it's hidden by a jumper that's clearly been knitted to be a few sizes too large for extra comfort. "—would you recommend?"

"Well, what do you normally like?" Winnie asks, casting a glance behind him. As much as she'd love to talk to this cute stranger for the rest of her shift, the line has started to wrap around.

The man rakes a hand through his hair, tousling already-tousled waves of brown. He looks sheepish and a little panicked. "I've never really had coffee before," he admits. A little strange, but Winnie's not one to judge, especially when he's looking at her with deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

"How about I get you my favorite drink then?" She suggests, already reaching for the sharpie and another cup. It's a trick she's learned from working in the coffee shop for the past few months — customers are less likely to be unhappy with their surprise drinks if they think it's your favorite drink.

The man nods, his shoulders sagging with apparent relief. Matcha latte, she scribbles before looking up at him again. "Can I get a name?"

"My name?" He repeats, looking dumbfounded as if she had just asked for his number.

She lifts the cup and shakes it a little to draw his attention to it. "For your order."

"Remus," he says, straightening. He clears his throat. "Remus Lupin."

"Got it," she says as she writes it down. Remus Lupin. She's never had a customer give her a full name before, but Winnie doesn't have time to ponder it as she slides the cup to her coworker. "That'll be $4.50."

He fishes out a $10 and when she tries to hand back the change, he shakes his head with a soft, polite smile.

"Come again," she calls after him, pleased, before turning back to the monstrous line that had managed to form behind him. "I can help the next customer."

— — — — —

The next time she sees him, it's just her behind the counter. Since the rush died down an hour earlier, she's been leaning over the counter squinting at an eight count that she can't quite get right. When the door jingles, Winnie puts down her pencil and moves back behind the register.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?" She asks before she properly looks up. It's the fluffy-haired man from last week. Today he's wearing a scarlet and gold jumper bunched at his wrists and slacks the same brown as his eyes and hair. She doesn't recognize the lion emblem embroidered on his chest — it doesn't match any of the mascots of the nearby universities. When he unwraps his scarf, she can see that his cheeks are flushed red from the cold. It's a good look on him. "Cold outside?"

"Getting there," he says with a soft sigh.

"I can't wait," she says conversationally. "I love autumn."

"Hm," he says, ending the conversation rather abruptly.

Winnie tries not to grimace at the awkward silence as she pulls out her sharpie from the pocket of her apron. "So, what can I get for you today?" When he hesitates for a moment too long, his gaze darting back up to the menu behind her, Winnie tries for conversation again. "How was the matcha latte last time?"

Remus hesitates, his gaze darting to her. "It was very green."

The response is so unexpected that Winnie barely bites back a bark of a laugh before she catches herself. She wasn't a gifted conversationalist, but Remus was making her seem like a total extrovert. "It was," she agrees, smiling now. Up close, she can see shadows below his big eyes. Maybe he needed an espresso? Or less coffee and more sleep. "I'm guessing it wasn't to your taste? I'll let you order today—"

Remus seems to catch himself because he straightens hurriedly. "No, I'll have a matcha latte," he says firmly, already fishing out five dollar bill.

Winnie punches the numbers into the cash register and nods him along, but he hesitates, looking at her expectantly. "Don't you need my name?"

"Not unless it's changed from Remus Lupin," Winnie chirps cheerfully, biting back a smile as he blinks at her rapidly. "Has it?"

"No," he says, clearing his throat. "It's still Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up, Remus Lupin," Winnie says with a mini salute as she turns to start making the drink.

After he leaves, she notices a strange looking coin in the tip jar that hadn't been there before. When she squints at it, she can make out the carved word, Sickle. With raised brows, Winnie slips the strange coin into the pocket of her jeans.

— — — — —

The next time she sees Remus Lupin, he's wearing a long coat over a sweater vest. Winnie thinks he looks like a cute little professor.

"Hi, how's it going—" she's beginning to say just as Remus says choppily, "It's cold outside. Now."

They both blink at each other for a moment before Winnie grins a little, inwardly pleased that he remembered their last conversation. "Yeah?" She turns to squint critically out the window. "On a day like this, I'd kill to be in bed with a warm cup of tea."

Remus nods thoughtfully before pausing. "Not matcha?"

"Matcha strikes me more as a spring-summer drink," she muses.

He nods again, eyes darting to the menu above her head. Winnie is used to this now, so she waits patiently for his order. To her surprise, he looks at her again tentatively, his brown eyes startling bright. It feels as though she's been sucker punched.

"I'm not much of an autumn or winter person," he says. It takes her a moment to realize that he was still referencing their previous conversation. "The cold gets to my joints," he adds, looking a little sheepish.

"Ah," she says dumbly, nodding, before blurting, "Well, did you know that matcha has antioxidant and anti-inflammatory effects?"

Remus blinks at her as though she's clubbed him over the head. "Anti-ox-i-dant," he repeats slowly, as if saying the word for the first time.

Winnie inwardly grimaces. Why was she still talking about matcha? She had been so caught off guard that he was continuing the conversation and that his eyes were stupidly pretty that she had fumbled a little. "Er, so what can I get for you?"

"A cup of matcha then," Remus says, fishing a five dollar bill from his pockets. "For it's anti-ox-i-dant effects."

Winnie's cheeks burn a little as she waves him off. "It's on the house today," she says.

Remus looks surprised as he hesitates. "No, I can pay—"

"No, no, it's on the house," Winnie says firmly, thinking inwardly, For my piss poor attempt at conversation. Before he can insist, she takes her Sharpie and writes Matcha latte, even though it's only her behind the counter today. "Name?" She asks, half-teasing, half-hoping to distract him from trying to pay.

He blinks, looking startled. "Remus Lupin," he answers automatically, straightening.

"Just making sure it hasn't changed," she hums, smiling a little as she gets started on the latte.

To her surprise, Remus laughs, the sound low and rich and warm. "It hasn't yet," he says, glancing down at her name tag for a moment before looking back up at her, his brown eyes wide and bright as he drops the ten dollar bill into the tip jar. "Thank you, Winnie."

Winnie is too stunned by his laugh to complain.

— — — — —

Remus starts to come by more frequently. She can never quite figure out his schedule — it's sporadic, sometimes during rush hour where they can only exchange a few words, but mostly when the coffee shop is empty. She's grown so accustomed — and perhaps, has quickly begun to look forward — to seeing him that she can't help but look up hopefully when someone comes in.

Their conversations at the counter gradually grow less halting. She makes a point to always ask his name and Remus dutifully plays along each time, his lips twitching each time he gives her his name.

"You're always working on music," he observes one day. He must have come in without her realizing because when she looks up, she finds Remus nodding down at her paper.

"I am," she agrees mournfully. "I study music at the local university," she tells him, straightening her apron.

"That suits you," he says with the soft smile that she's grown terribly fond of.

Pleasure warms her chest as she tries not to beam at him. Though their conversations are mostly quiet and simple, it feels as though she's always trying not to smile a full-teeth smile at him.

She learns that he's only recently graduated from some sort of private boarding school. From his vague references, it sounded like one of those preparatory schools for gifted students. It doesn't strike her as much of a surprise — from his responses, Winnie can get a sense for how knowledgeable and bright he is, though to be fair, he always seems to bring a new book in when he visits. It might also explain how awkward and closed off Remus is, Winnie decides — she thinks public schools build thick skin. Winnie doesn't really mind the occasionally halting conversations though — Remus, for his credit, is a wonderful listener and always asks her questions when she talks about her band. And something about the attentive way Remus looks at her makes her feel comfortable about talking. She's almost worried that she talks too much — it's a welcome reprieve from the quiet slowness or the repetitive "Hi, how are you?'s" of the coffee shop.

"Sorry," she says one day when she brings him his drink. "I realize that I talk your ear off whenever you're here and I'm sure you've got things to do, books to read."

Remus shakes his head, sending his fluffy brown hair falling against his brow. It's gotten longer since the first time she's met him, the ends beginning to curl down the nape of his neck and around his ears. It's a good look on him, though admittedly, Winnie finds herself thinking that whenever he comes in.

"It's no problem," Remus says easily. Winnie nods, about to return to the counter when he clears his throat. "I... enjoy your company," he says with an impossibly tiny smile. At the sight of it, Winnie wants to fall to the floor, but she hasn't mopped it yet, so she opts to stand perfectly still instead. "If you ever feel inclined to take a break to chat, the chair is always open."

Some days when the shop isn't too busy, she takes him on his offer to sit and chat. Some days their conversations are long and winding, about nothing in particular, and on some days — mostly the days where he looks strangely exhausted — they both sit in a comfortable silence with Remus reading his books and Winnie laboring over her music.

One day when she's put all her focus on composing, Winnie nearly jumps out of her skin when Remus speaks up. "New song?"

Winnie looks up from her sheets at his question. A little thrill runs through her body when she sees that his book has been discarded to the side as he looks at her curiously. "Old song," she sighs. "I've been trying to finish these lyrics," she says, giving a frustrated glare to the paper. "I wanted to finish it in time for my band's next show, but I can't seem to get anywhere good with it."

Remus hums thoughtfully. "What's it about?"

"It's a love song," Winnie says before thinking. She darts a quick look at Remus as her ears burn, but fortunately, he's looking down at her lyrics thoughtfully. To be fair, she reasons with herself, she had started writing it before meeting Remus. "I've been stuck for ages now though."

"Hmm," Remus hums, leaning back in his chair to stretch his lithe limbs before letting his arms settle on his head. It's an effortlessly attractive motion — Winnie tries not to stare. "I'm sure you've tried already, but maybe you can draw inspiration from experience?"

Winnie clears her throat. "Oh, er, well, I actually don't really have..." She falters, feeling her cheeks burn. She's undeniably red now. "—experience in that realm," she finishes lamely.

"Ah," Remus makes a sound, his eyes widening a fraction as he re-rights himself to sit up straight in his chair. "Sorry, I just figured that you... That there'd be..." He stops himself, looking sheepish.

"That I what?" She presses, arching her brow to deflect from her reddening face.

"I just thought that you'd have experience in relationships," Remus coughs, his cheeks pink now. It's cute enough that it nearly distracts her from the mortifying conversation they're having.

"Ah, no," she says, swallowing. Then she adds hurriedly, darting a glance at him, "It's not that I don't want to date. It's just the type of guy I've attracted in the past has always been—" Winnie cuts off her rambling abruptly as Remus leans forward, brown eyes trained on hers.

"Has been what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face, grimacing. "You know, tattoos, eats cigs for breakfast. Maybe my nose ring gives the wrong impression," she lets out an embarrassed laugh, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole to stop her nonsensical babbling.

"I see," Remus says slowly in a tone that very much sounded like he didn't.

"What about you?" She blurts. Remus looks startled, so she shoulders onwards. It feels as though she has nothing left to lose, anyways. "I'm sure you were popular in school."

"Ah," he says, making a noise at the back of his throat. He rubs the nape of his neck, looking embarrassed as he looks down as his discarded book. She bets he wished he never stopped reading. "Not really," he says. "I was always busy with school and, er, other things, so I never..." He trails off, making a vague motion with his hands. "Yeah," he finishes lamely.

"That's a surprise," Winnie says, inwardly relieved that he wasn't dating anyone. "I'm sure you had plenty of admirers."

Remus smiles at her wryly, a flash of embarrassment flickering across his face. "My mates had plenty of admirers," he says, though not enviously. Winnie waits patiently for him to continue — one thing she's gathered from Remus was that he often deflected talking about himself through talking about his friends. Sirius, Peter, James, she had learned were their names. "Sirius, in fact, was plenty popular." He darts a strange look to her, his brows knitted together and contemplative. "You'd get along well with him, I reckon."

— — — — —

Another day, during rush hour. She can see him waiting in the long line stealing glances at her that sends her heart stuttering. When their gaze meets, she offers him an apologetic smile. Remus just returns her smile and shakes his head, sending his hair down across his brow.

When he finally reaches the counter, he doesn't leave her any time to say hello. "I have a mate," Remus starts, pausing long enough for her to raise a brow.

"A mate," she drawls, trying to decode the peculiar expression on his face. He's visibly hesitating, his brow furrowing and relaxing as if he's overcoming some inner dilemma. Winnie waits patiently.

"A mate," he says again, rubbing the base of his neck. "That wants to learn how to play the guitar."

"I see," Winnie says slowly, patiently.

"It's Sirius — my friend that I told you about before," he adds, not quite looking at her but not quite looking away either. "Obviously, you can say no, but I thought that since you played the guitar, that maybe you'd...?"

Winnie thinks about it for a moment, an idea forming in her mind. She felt a twinge of guilt briefly for having an ulterior motive, before reasoning with herself that she was about to give a free guitar lesson. "I can give him an intro lesson," she says. "But only because he's your good friend."

Remus relaxes, his face breaking into a smile that only makes her feel better about her choice. Lord, she thinks, her eyes tracking his dimple. She thinks if he smiled like that at her, she'd do anything. "Brilliant," he beams.

A customer behind him clears her throat meaningfully, jolting Winnie out of the conversation. She had entirely forgotten she was working.

"So, a matcha latte?" She asks loudly. When she looks back at him, she's expecting him to sport his normal embarrassed half-smile, but she's caught off guard to see him grinning at her roguishly. Remus never fails to surprise her.

Remus nods, clearly trying not to laugh as he fishes out a bill. Winnie goes through the motions of punching in the numbers and preparing the cup. "We can do it at my flat, I have an extra guitar," she tells him as she finishes his order.

Remus smiles and nods, turning to leave when a thought occurs to her. "Oh, and Remus?" She calls after him.

He whirls around, brows arched and eyes wide and attentive. "Hmm?"

"You'll be there right?"

"Me?" Remus blurts, looking startled.

Winnie bites back a sigh. As she expected. Doubling down, she nods. "I'm not going to let a random man into my flat," she tells him, brows arching. She tries to ignore the customer behind him huffing impatiently.

Remus hesitates. "Sirius isn't a random man." Despite herself, Winnie likes this stubborn side of him.

"I've never met him," she sniffs, jutting her chin out mulishly.

"So you'll feel better if there's two random men in your house?" He counters archly.

But Winnie had been expecting this. She gives him a smile. Remus blinks, looking startled as any semblance of resistance dissipates. "You're not just a random man," she says meaningfully.

Remus blinks again. Then he turns, clearing his throat as he begins wrapping his scarf around his neck. Winnie thinks she can see a pink flush crawl up his neck before he covers it with a scarf, but she might just be seeing what she wants to see. "I'll be there," Remus says gruffly with a stiff nod.

Winnie mimics his stiff nod and bites back a smile.

"Thank you for waiting," she says to the next customer with her best customer-service-smile.

Before Remus returns for his drink, Winnie makes a split-second decision to write her number on a napkin. The idea has her stomach doing a dangerous, giddy flip in her stomach, but she does it anyways and slips it under his drink waiting on the counter.

— — — — —

The next three weeks is grueling for two reasons. The first is that she doesn't see Remus once, despite taking extra shifts. The second is because she waits for a phone call that never comes.

She's never given her number to anyone before so she doesn't quite know what the socially acceptable amount of time is before getting a call, but after the first five days of radio silence and his absence in the coffee shop, she's sure that she's made a terrible mistake.

She feels embarrassed and a little foolish, wishing she hadn't gotten swept up in her hopes and his stupid brown eyes. She had been silly — she was just an overly-chatty local barista and he was just a nice customer with a nice smile and nice eyes and nice everything who put up with her rambling. It's a little mortifying to think back on, so Winnie tries not to think about it, though every time the door's bell jingles, she's caught in a vicious cycle of hope, disappointment, and embarrassment.

She reckons that if he did ever come back, she'd either just pretend as though she never gave him her number or she'd hide in the storage room. The latter option sounded the most appealing the longer she went without seeing him.

She's closing up the shop one night when the door bursts open, the bells jingling loudly. Startled, Winnie nearly drops the bucket she had just finished mopping with. Her heart drops to her stomach.

"Hi," Remus says, pink-cheeked and breathless. "Are you closed?"

Winnie stares at him wide-eyed. She has a brief irrational flash of self-consciousness as she holds a mop and bucket in her hands, her hair and makeup unruly after a long shift. "I—" Winnie bites the inside of her cheek, looking at the clock. She was just a local barista, and he was just a customer, she reminded herself, swallowing back the growing burn of embarrassment in her belly.

As if sensing her hesitation, Remus straightens, clearing his throat. "I mean, you don't have to make a drink or anything actually, I just—"

"I can make a quick drink before I close up," Winnie says hurriedly, not quite able to look him in the eyes as she moves behind the counter. Memories of her giving him her number is seared in memory and it takes all her willpower not to crumble in mortification in front of him.

"No, it's alright," Remus says hurriedly, following her. "I'll help you close up."

"No, go sit over there," Winnie says, her voice a little too clipped. Remus hesitates, floundering before stubbornly following her again. Too close. She whirls around on him, exasperated and embarrassed. Pride wounded. "Remus, I'll make your drink just—"

"Winnie," he cuts in softly, his eyes tracking over her face carefully, quick to pick up her emotions. Winnie diverts her eyes mulishly. "I didn't actually come for a drink today," he says in a patient tone that only amplifies her growing embarrassment that she hides under irritation.

"Then I'm guessing you came to mess with a small local business," she grumps unfairly to herself, stomping behind the counter to drop the mop and bucket into the storage closet. Remus follows her doggedly.

"No, that's not why either," he says, huffing out a good natured laugh. Winnie ignores how smooth and honeyed it sounds.

"Then why'd you come so late? Seeing as how you haven't come in the past three—" Winnie cuts herself off, mortified, before stalking past him to busy herself with wiping down the counter.

"That's exactly why I came," Remus says from behind her. "I haven't seen you in three weeks and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Winnie swallows, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. And then she continues to scrub the counter aggressively, refusing to turn around and be swayed by him, though she could feel her grievances begin to dissipate. "Well, you could have called," she grumbles pointedly.

"I, er, don't have a telephone."

"You don't have a telephone," Winnie repeats automatically, before turning to balk at him. He looks embarrassed, his fingers fidgeting compulsively with the sleeves of his lumpy cardigan. In disbelief, she squints at him suspiciously. "Listen, Remus, I really won't be offended if you weren't interested, so there's no need to make up an excuse—"

"It's not an excuse," Remus interjects, straightened. He looks visibly affronted, his lips twisting into a slight frown. "I don't have a telephone."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly, her voice small. And then she frowns, still skeptical. "How do you get into contact with your friends? Carrier pigeon?"

Remus lets out a huff of a laugh, mirth flickering in his brown eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

For some reason, she believes him, so she drops it. It's probably the warm fondness in his eyes that neutralizes her. "I see," she says finally, unsure about whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Remus seems to notice because he clears his throat. "I would have called you, really," he says. He's looking at her with those brown eyes again, big and earnest, and Winnie can't help but stare.

Flustered with the way he was looking at her, she turns to grab a tray of milk cartons. "I thought you were ghosting me," she grumbles. "I mean, I give you my number, you don't call and stop showing up. What's a girl supposed to think?"

Remus follows her, even closer now, close enough that she can smell his cologne — he smells good, she notes distractedly — and gently takes the tray of milk cartons from her hand, his big hands enclosing over hers briefly. Winnie nearly drops the whole tray. "You're not getting paid for that," she says, flustered and embarrassed and—

—and Remus is smiling at her with an impossibly patient and endeared smile, the sort that softens his eyes into little half-moons. Lord, Winnie thinks, her mind going unhelpfully blank as any memory of her mortification fades quickly.

"I would have called you," he says again, turning to look at her properly. He clears his throat, his eyes snagging on to hers intently. "I wanted to call you." He's holding the tray of cartons and she's trapped in the corner and the whole thing feels a little ridiculous, especially with the way her heart is stuttering under his gaze. He steps closer, his shoulders curving over slightly as he tries to match her height to appear less imposing. "I'm sorry for not giving you a heads up — I got swept away for work, but I'll let you know next time that happens."

"There's no need," she mumbles, flushing now. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. "It's not like we're..." The words die on her lips. She doesn't really know what she wants to say. Were they friends? She sure hoped so, but she could see how she was just a local barista and he was just a regular.

Remus ducks his head a little so that they're looking at each other properly again. They're close enough that Winnie can see his long lashes fluttering across his cheeks. She can see the splay of freckles across his tan skin. The thin shadow of a scar across the bridge of his nose. It's like she can't escape as her mind goes unhelpfully blank again. His eyes are warm and apologetic and earnest and Winnie feels like she's being seen right through. "How can I make it up to you?" He asks, looking entirely sincere.

Winnie's mouth — her heart — moves before her mind does. "My show," she blurts.

His brows furrow ever so slightly. "Your show?" He repeats, understandably not following because she was barely coherent.

"Yes," she says, straightening and doubling down. "I'm having a small show. With my band. This weekend. You should come." God, Winnie thinks, grimacing at how choppy her words were. Remus is looking at her with those distractingly pretty eyes again, so she steels herself, taking a steadying breath. "I mean, I'd love it if you came."

Remus nods, his lips twitching as if she hadn't just given an awful word-by-word monologue. "I'd love to."

— — — — —

The venue isn't terribly large, but even on stage staring into a dark crowd of faces, Winnie can spot Remus immediately. That's how she knew she was in trouble. Well, maybe she had already known she was in trouble the first time she heard Remus laugh properly.

She's had shows before, but this one feels different. It feels as though it's only her and Remus. So as Winnie plays her guitar and sings her songs, she gives in to the enamored thrill blossoming in her chest and pours it into her music. She hopes he can hear it.

The show passes by in a euphoric blur. All Winnie can really remember is Remus beaming at her from the crowd — and her beaming back — but she thinks it went well. Backstage, her bandmates are energetic and grinning widely, clasping each other on the back. "One of our best," their drummer proclaims, cheering.

Winnie tries to smile and listen, but the excitement of the show has started to turn into a bundle of growing nerves as she waits backstage with her bandmates.

"Waiting for someone today?" Doreen, their bassist, asks astutely as she starts moving some of their equipment.

"No," Winnie blurts unconvincingly, only gathering delighted hoots from the others.

"I knew this one felt different for a reason—" Doreen shouts gleefully, before falling silently abruptly, her eyes falling on someone behind Winnie. It takes all of her willpower to look casual and not whirl around. "Oh. He looks like he should be in a band," Doreen's voice drops into a hushed whisper. "Can we please add him? He can... play the triangle or something. He can be the face of our band. Our new mascot—"

At this, Winnie frowns and turns around. She wouldn't exactly say that Remus, with his soft jumpers and fluffy hair, looked like he'd be the face of a rock band—

"Hi," A voice, smooth and pitched low, says. "Winnie, right?"

Winnie stares at this stranger uncomprehendingly. He's strikingly handsome, his eyes the color of mercury and his hair the color of ink. He's all sharp angles and perfectly unruly curls and devilish smile, the type that Winnie has seen before. It comes with the crowd a rock band attracts, though this man in particular looks as though he was carved out of marble with his aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

Winnie blinks at him. "Yeah," she says uncertainly, scratching her cheek. "Er, do we know each other?"

"Winnie, this is Sirius," a familiar voice cuts in from behind the dark-haired man. Winnie straightens, her eyes snagging immediately on him as he steps out from behind Sirius.

Unlike Sirius's leather jacket and tattoos, Remus looks so painfully out of place in his sweater vest and slacks. She's impossibly endeared at the sight — in fact, all she can really do is stare dumbly at him. He's holding a little bouquet of yellow flowers. Her heart gives a dangerous squeeze.

Doreen clears her throat, jolting her out of her fixation. Winnie tears her eyes away from him to give his friend a polite smile as she shakes his hand. "Hi there." Distractedly, she turns back to look at Remus. "I didn't know you were going to bring a friend—"

"We love friends," Doreen says brightly. Winnie bites back a laugh at Doreen's lovesick scheming as her gaze snags on to Remus again. "Friends are always welcome here."

"I've heard loads about you," Sirius says smoothly, flashing her a charming smile. She swears she can hear Doreen faint next to her. "Remus, in fact, doesn't ever stop—"

Winnie's stomach does an Olympic-gymnastic-level flip as she watches Remus indiscreetly dig his elbow into Sirius's ribs. Sirius seems unbothered, but he stops and gives Winnie a smarmy grin.

"How was the show?" She asks, her gaze darting to Remus. It's like she can't stop looking at him.

"Brilliant," he blurts, beaming. "Absolutely brilliant. You were amazing," he says, eyes bright. "I mean, I knew you loved music, but seeing you in your element..." He stops abruptly, looking embarrassed. She isn't sure if it's the lighting, but his cheeks look pink. Or it's a reflection of how red her face has turned. Pleasure blooms in her chest so violently she feels a little dizzy.

"I'm glad you liked it," she manages, uncharacteristically bashful. She can feel her bandmates staring at her, slack-faced, and forces herself to ignore it. "I wasn't sure if it would be your type of music, but..."

"No, it was," Remus says hurriedly, turning to look at Sirius. "Right?"

Sirius nods, looking between the two of them with great interest. "Remus was practically on his knees—" Another jab into his ribs.

Winnie bites back a laugh, flushed and pleased, before nodding down at the bouquet in his hands. "Are those for me?" She asks, half-bluntly, half-hopefully.

Remus looks down at his hands as if he only just then remembered what he was holding. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he says. Winnie thinks she's dreaming for a moment, until Remus thrusts it into Sirius's hands. "They're from Sirius."

She blinks. Sirius blinks, an equally baffled expression on his face though he covers it up quickly. "Oh," the dark-haired man says slowly, his silver gaze flickering to his friend. "I guess—"

"—as a thank you for agreeing to the lesson," Remus cuts in hurriedly as Sirius hands it to her uncertainly.

Winnie takes the bouquet, bewildered now, but she plasters a polite smile on her face. "Er, it's no problem at all," she says, unsure about whether to say that to Sirius or Remus.

Sirius takes it in a stride though. "I would kill to play the guitar like you," he says, voice dripping with charisma. "How'd you—"

"You can try my bass, if you'd like," Doreen interrupts from behind her. Winnie's jaw goes a little slack — Doreen's the most protective with her bass — but her bandmate shoots her a meaningful look.

"Brilliant," Sirius says brightly. Winnie turns to watch Doreen in disbelief as they disappear into the backroom.

"Now he's not a random man, right?" Remus murmurs to her, his breath coasting against the shell of her ear. She nearly jumps out of her skin at the proximity.

"I suppose not," she says, trying to keep her cool but Remus is looking at her with bright eyes. It doesn't help when his lips quirk triumphantly, smugly. "But—" she interjects before it can widen any further, "—if it turns out that your friend is horrendous at the guitar, I think it's only fair if you also have to suffer through it."

Remus's brows shoot up. "And if he's good at it?"

"Then you get to witness my masterful teaching."

He huffs out a laugh, a little disbelieving, a little amused. "Fine," Remus sighs, but he's clearly trying not to smile. She finds herself wishing that he did. "I'll be there."

— — — — —

Sirius, as it turns out, is awful at the guitar. Winnie tries to chalk it up to it being his first time trying it out, but even then, he seemed... challenged.

She had been teaching him for an hour now — her sitting on one of the kitchen stools she had pulled into her flat's shoebox of a living room-bedroom situation, Sirius sitting on the couch with her old guitar precariously balanced on his knees. Remus tried to excuse himself once he realized his friend was musically challenged. Feeling merciful — and also realizing that Remus's presence was making her too nervous to focus on teaching Sirius — Winnie nodded him towards the kitchen. She had spent all morning meticulously cleaning her flat — even she knew she was being a little ridiculous and overly nervous when she started scrubbing at the oven — in preparation for the session. Even then, the knowledge that Remus was in her flat filled her with a different type of nerves.

"Let's take a break," Winnie huffs finally, setting her guitar down.

Sirius rises to his feet and stretches, looking relieved. "I'll get some water for us?" He offers, already making himself at home. Winnie nods, waving him off as she tries to fight back the incoming migraine from stressing over Sirius snapping her strings. At the reminder of his hand-eye coordination and all the glass she has in her cupboards, she springs to her feet quickly.

"Maybe I should just charm the guitar," Sirius is murmuring when she walks in to the kitchen.

"No amount of charisma will charm the guitar," Winnie says, amused. The boys straighten, looking strangely guilty.

"But Sirius is particularly charming," Remus supplies abruptly, darting a quick look to Sirius, who just looks startled by his friend's sudden proclamation.

"I see," Winnie says slowly, exchanging a baffled glance with Sirius.

"Right, well, I ought to practice some more then," Sirius says, giving a salute as he leaves the kitchen.

"Is he that bad?" Remus asks once Sirius leaves.

"It's like he's never used his hands before a day in his life to do anything," Winnie whispers to Remus with a solemn nod.

Remus makes a choking sound as though he's trying not to laugh. Winnie wishes he did. "You don't know the half of it," he huffs, lips curling as if he's sharing a secret.

"He's not really not very good with his fingers," Winnie admits honestly, lifting her cup to her lips.

"That's not his reputation among the girls," Remus blurts.

Winnie chokes on her water and starts coughing violently. Alarmed, Remus reaches out and pats her on the back. "What?" She rasps around a sore throat as she turns to give Remus an incredulous look.

His expression is too carefully neutral as he shrugs at her. "Sirius has always been Hogwart's most sought after bachelor," he recites, as if she's supposed to know what this meant.

"What's going on, Remus?" Winnie questions, her brows shooting up higher. "You've been acting strange recently. It's like you're trying to sell me this poor boy or..." She falters, turning to look at Remus. To his credit, he looks sheepish as he looks away to inspect her cabinets. "Remus," she begins, her voice dangerously low. "Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with your friend."

Remus goes pink in the face and it's all she needs to confirm her suspicions. Inwardly, her heart drops a little, but outwardly, she just stares at him, waiting for a proper response. As if realizing there wasn't a way of getting out of this, the brown-haired boy sighs a little, raking a hand through his hair. "I just thought you two would get along well together," he says, looking at her with earnest eyes.

It hurts. Much more than she cares to admit. Trying to swallow back the disappointment, Winnie turns so that he can't see it on her face. So that's what this has been about. "For how long?" She asks, her throat dry. She can feel a headache coming on.

"How long what?" Remus asks. He sounds confused.

"How long have you been thinking about setting us up? Did he even want to learn the guitar?" Winnie thinks back to Remus's reluctance on coming to her flat. She thinks back to him bringing Sirius along to the concert. She thinks about how much she likes Remus and how she thought he felt the same way. So it had all been one sided. Humiliation burns in her stomach as she stares down at her hands.

"No, he did, he did want to learn how to play the guitar," he says quickly. "Or, er, he was interested in learning after I told him about you. Sirius is a great guy, really!" Remus, all too late, seems to sense something amiss when she doesn't respond. He straightens, an expression of growing alarm on his face. "Are you... upset?"

"No," Winnie says. She wasn't, for once. In fact, she just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her hole. "I'm just..." She trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose before exhaling quietly.

"Sirius is a great guy, I promise," Remus says again, slowly as if not to spook a wild animal. But Winnie has already been spooked.

"Yeah, he is," she says, her voice pitched just slightly too high and just slightly too clipped as she turns to flee the kitchen. "But not very great at the guitar, so I'd better go check up on him. I suspect he'd find a way to set fire to my flat with just a guitar."

"I'm an idiot," she mutters to herself, closing her eyes for a moment.

A cheerful voice chirps up from the couch. "So, when can I join your band?"

— — — — —

Winnie doesn't go to work for the rest of the week. She asks her coworkers to cover her shift with a fake cough and a groan of a headache. The headache part isn't really a lie — ever since her conversation with Remus in her kitchen, she's felt a dull ache drumming behind her eyes. So she's holed herself in her apartment — specifically her bed, under lots of blankets — sulking and moping by herself.

By the fifth day, Winnie realizes bitterly that she can't keep this up. She has rent to pay. On the day that she's decided to come back into the coffee shop, her phone rings. "Winnie, are you coming in today?" her coworker asks.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better," Winnie lies as she stuffs her apron into her bag.

"Great," her coworker says before pausing. "There's been a bloke coming by asking for you."

Winnie can feel the headache come back full force. "A bloke," she repeats, knowing full well they both knew who she was talking about.

"Tall, brown hair. I told him you've been out sick, but he seems worried, so you ought to give him a ring."

To her chagrin, Remus is there the first day she comes back.

"Hi, welcome," she says, her voice tight. Winnie plasters a too-bright smile on her face to compensate. "What can I get for you today?"

Remus blinks. "A matcha latte. How have—"

"Coming right up," she says, punching in the order with rapid speed. Still smiling brightly. "That'll be $4.50—"

Remus hands her a five before she can finish.

"Here's your change, sir—" Winnie tacks it on at the end of the sentence before she can help it. Remus's face crumples in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowing together as he watches her for a moment longer. It feels as though his eyes are burning through her.

"You can keep the change," he says softly, still looking at her.

Winnie forces out a thank you. She feels as though her smile is starting to look like a grimace. Her cheeks are hurting. He's still looking at her with those stupidly pretty brown eyes. She knows he's waiting. She forces herself to look back down at the register before straightening. "Next in line, please."

— — — — —

To her relief, she's not on cash register duty the next time he comes. Winnie ducks her head with forced concentration as she makes an order. She's definitely too concentrated on making the drink that she doesn't notice the way his face brightens again when he sees her as he nears the counter. She's definitely too concentrated to hear her coworker take his order of a matcha latte. She's definitely too concentrated to feel his eyes on her as she busies herself behind the counter. She definitely wasn't paying attention.

This game of concentration can only go on for so long, Winnie realizes belatedly after she finishes making his drink. She stares down at his name on the cup glumly for a moment before putting her best customer-service smile back on. "For Remus," she calls out without quite looking up. Though she knows that he's sitting patiently at his normal table.

When he comes, Winnie puts a straw on the lid, trying not to look as tense as she feels.

"Hi," he says, looking at her fully in the face.

"Hi," she says back, not quite looking at him, but also not quite looking away. This time, there's no line and nowhere to escape to.

Remus fiddles with the straw wrapper slowly. "How..." He falters, his eyes imploring as he tries to catch her gaze. His brows are furrowed slightly. "...have you been? They said you've been ill?"

"Ah yeah," Winnie says weakly, busying herself with tidying up the straws and napkins by the register. "Caught a cold."

"It's not Dragon Pox, is it?" He says, his brows furrowing even further, a crease of concern between them.

Winnie blinks at him. "Dragon Pox?"

Remus blinks back at her. "Oh, maybe not then," he murmurs hurriedly before clearing his throat. "Er, if you're still feeling ill, I have this—" He reaches into the pocket of his long coat and pulls out a small vial. Winnie stares at it blankly. "—that helps with cold symptoms."

She squints at it, dubiously. "Is that medicine?"

Remus fiddles with the little glass vial. "Something of the sort."

"You just carry that around... in your pocket?"

"Well no," Remus says, looking embarrassed now. He clears his throat as his eyes dart down to the vial. "I wanted to give it to you, but I thought that dropping it off at your flat might be too much."

"Oh," Winnie says dumbly. Her stomach does a traitorous flip and she forces herself to also look down at the vial as her last defenses against him begin to crumble. She should've known this was going to happen. "That's sweet of you."

"It's nothing," he mumbles, setting the vial on the table. "Er, are you busy today?"

Winnie swallows. "Yeah, I've been out, so I ought to pull my weight around here," she says, though she thinks the both of them knows that it's a lie. The coffee shop barely had anyone else in it. But Winnie doesn't look up at him to see his face fall — she knows that if he just flashes her his doe eyes, she'll be back at square one. She forces a smile on her face.

Remus nods. His disappointment is clear on his face as he stuffs his hand back into the pocket of his coat. Winnie tried not to think about it. "Right, well, I'll be over there if you need a break."

— — — — —

Her landline rings again for the third time in the past fives minutes as she tries to get the chord progression correct. Though she's been trying, she's hit an even bigger music-block recently. Winnie squints at the number — it's the same one that's been trying to dial her. With a frustrated sigh, she sets her guitar to the side and picks up the receiver from the landline with a little too much vigor. "Hello?" She asks, the irritation in her voice cutting through clearly.

"Winnie?"

She pauses, taken aback. "This is she," she says after a moment. Who would be calling her nearly at midnight?

"Sorry, were you sleeping? I just got a telephone and I wanted to call, but I didn't realize it was this late—" The person on the other end sounds a little out of breath.

"Sorry, who is this?" She asks, bewildered now.

A pause. "It's Remus."

Winnie nearly drops the phone. "Remus?" She repeats.

"Yeah," he says uncertainly. "Remus Lupin," he adds, as if that'll help.

"Of course I know who you are," she says, a little disbelieving.

"You didn't sound like you did a few seconds ago," he says good-naturedly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a call from someone without a phone."

He huffs out a laugh, soft and quiet. Hearing it close to her ear through the receiver makes a warmth spread through her chest. This was dangerous. She settles back on the couch as Remus continues talking, his voice soft like he's trying not to wake up his flatmate. "Well, to be fair, I did just get it."

"I never thought I'd see the day," she murmurs despite the danger bells tolling in her head. "What made you take the technological leap?"

Winnie can almost hear his eye roll through the receiver. "Well, I may have offended a girl at this coffee shop I frequent by not having one. Thought I should right my wrongs."

Her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She's glad he can't see her because she can feel a pleased warmth flushing across her face as she lies down on the couch and kicks her legs over the armchair. She wants to scream from the giddiness. And then scream again for having no dignity. The thought that he had gotten a phone to call her is entirely absurd, but Winnie almost lets herself believe it. "I see," she says after she collects herself for a moment. "Sounds noble." A pause. "So you kept my napkin."

"No," Remus says automatically. "Sirius threw it away."

Winnie frowns, her brows furrowing. "Then how'd you get my number?"

"I memorized it."

She nearly falls to the floor at that, the phone rubbing against the couch as she sits up swiftly.

"Hello?" Remus's distant voice calls uncertainly through the speaker. "Winnie?"

"Hi!" Winnie chirps into the phone quickly, too brightly. She's beyond glad Remus can't see her face — she knows she's bright red now. And she's trying hard not to grin ear to ear. "Sorry about that, poor connection," she fibs.

Remus pauses. She can almost hear the frown in his voice when he speaks up again. "Is it my phone? The man at the store said it might—"

"No, no, that was on my end," she says quickly, fanning herself now. She needed to calm down. Immediately. "So, why did you call?"

A pause. She can hear him shuffling like he's sitting down. "No reason," he says. "I just wanted to hear your voice. I like this. It feels like I can hear you smiling."

To hell with calming down. She was getting no sleep that night with the way her heart was palpitating. "Holy hell," Winnie murmurs out loud, very sure now that Remus was trying to kill her. Death by heart attack. Remus Lupin, the secret ladykiller.

"What was that?" Remus asks through the phone.

"Nothing," Winnie mumbles, closing her eyes.

They both fall silent, though Winnie is sure he can hear her thumping heart through the receiver. "Er, Winnie," Remus speaks up finally. "The other reason I wanted to call was I suppose it had felt like it's been ages since we last spoke and I missed talking with you."

Winnie's heart does a dangerous quiver. And then she catches herself, all too soon, and all too suddenly.

Even after the past few weeks of trying to get over her unrequited crush, all it took was a few sweet words from him for her to cave and start at the beginning again. She couldn't keep being pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled. If she wanted to properly move on, she needed distance. Proper distance.

As if sensing something, Remus speaks up again hesitantly. "Did I do something?"

"No," Winnie says, closing her eyes. She can almost hear him breathing on the other end of the call. This would be easier to do over the phone, when she can't see his big brown eyes staring back at her earnestly — although she feels as though she's committed it to memory and can imagine it. "It's me, I— It's nothing that you've done or anything, I just need space."

"Space," Remus echoes quietly.

She tries to let out a light laugh. "Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind recently. It's nothing you've done."

Remus is quiet for awhile before he speaks up again. "I'm here to listen if you ever want to talk through anything," he says softly. "We're friends, after all, right?"

"Friends," she murmurs to herself before straightening. "Right, of course."

More silence. "Well, it's late so I'll let you go." A pause, as if he's waiting for a response. Waiting for her to keep talking like she always did. Waiting for a reason to keep talking.

"Good night, Remus," she says instead, her fingers tightening around the receiver.

"Good night, Winnie." Winnie can hear the disappointment in his voice and lets it sink into her like a dagger. She needed to remember it to move on. Then maybe they could properly be friends. Winnie hangs up the phone first.

— — — — —

"Morning, Winnie," a bright voice chirps.

Winnie looks up, startled to see a pair of striking, but familiar gray eyes peering back at her. Sirius Black is standing in front of the counter, grinning at her widely. "Sirius," she says, surprised. "What can I get for you?"

Sirius gives the menu a cursory glance. "Huh, matcha," he says to himself thoughtfully.

"That's what Remus normally gets," she offers, trying to be helpful.

Sirius looks back at her, his eyes bright and startling astute. "You know," he says, dropping his voice to a secretive murmur. Despite herself, Winnie leans closer curiously. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

Winnie recoils, bewildered. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. "Grass?" She repeats, a little affronted now. "It does not taste like grass—"

"Winnie," he says again, arching a delicate brow at her. "Remus thinks matcha tastes like grass."

She shoots him a baleful glare that goes against her customer service training. "Okay," she exhales. "So what drink would you want then?"

Sirius sighs as if she's being terribly daft. "What I'm saying is that Remus hates the taste of matcha but comes here nearly every other day to drink it. Isn't that strange?"

Winnie blinks. Once. Twice. It's as if Sirius can see the thought forming on her face because he starts to grin. "But," she says stubbornly, mulishly. Sirius's grin falters. Winnie takes secret pleasure in that. "—he drinks it every time."

Sirius's expression goes slack, but Winnie refuses to be deterred. She had already tricked herself twice into thinking that there could be more between her and Remus, she wasn't going to put herself through that again. "Merlin," Sirius exhales, scrubbing a frustrated hand over his face. "You both are so bloody stubborn—"

"No, he doesn't," a voice cuts in from behind her. Her coworker steps in with an equally exasperated expression. "Winnie, I'll be honest with you, he only ever drinks it when you make it. Whenever I hand it to him, it just sits there."

Sirius's grin returns, full force, as he nods excitedly. "I'm only telling you so that you can both stop dancing around each other. And so he can stop playing your bleeding cas— casserole... Merlin, what are they called? The little magical music squares?" Sirius flounders and turns to her coworker for help.

"Cassettes?" Her coworker supplies uncertainly.

"Cassettes!" Sirius agrees, looking relieved before he rounds on Winnie again to continue his berating. "So he can stop playing your bleeding cassettes around the flat!" And then he pauses. "Er, no offense, your music is great, but I just can't keep listening to the same album—"

"He has my cassettes?" Winnie whispers, wide-eyed.

Sirius stares at her like she's being impossibly dumb. "Yeah," he says, solemnly. "Everyday I'm a little tempted to throw them—" He seems to catch himself because he shoulders on smoothly. "Anyways, while he's been sulking around the flat, I finally found out that Moony was being ridiculous and was trying to play cupid. He can be incredibly dense for someone so smart," Sirius sighs, grimacing. "By the way, I actually was interested in learning the guitar."

Winnie stares at him dumbly, a little shell-shocked. "Oh," she says as Sirius gives her a wink.

"He's coming by later," he says as he turns towards the door.

"What?" She blurts. Remus hasn't come by or called her ever since she had asked for space, expectedly. She had been ignoring the empty feeling since then, reasoning it to be a necessary development for her to move on.

"I told him you had called on the — what's it called? — phone-tele saying you wanted to see him."

"What?" Winnie exclaims, but Sirius is already fleeing through the door. Dimly, she thinks that he didn't even order a drink.

"Go easy on him, sweetheart! He likes tea!"

— — — — —

"One matcha please."

"Name?"

A small, uncertain smile. A hesitant hint of a dimple. Her heart quaking again. "Remus Lupin."

"Coming right up."

Winnie tries to still her shaking hands as she makes him a drink. It doesn't help that she can feel her heart bursting through her chest. She takes a steadying breath and rakes a hand through her hair before taking the drink to his table. "For a Remus Lupin," she announces, setting the cup down in front of him. It's near closing time and there's no one else in the coffee shop.

Remus looks up, his brows shooting up below his waves. "What's this?"

"Earl gray," she says, matching his gaze.

His brows furrow. "But I ordered matcha."

"It's a personal recommendation from the kitchen," she says, nodding down at the tea. "I heard that matcha tastes like grass."

Remus's face pales, but he manages to cover it up with a nervous laugh that only confirms her suspicions. And her hopes. "Matcha doesn't taste like grass—" he begins, but his voice falters when he catches sight of her smiling.

"Remus," she says brightly, her smile broadening. "I finished the song."

"The song," he says blankly, looking startled as if he's trying to keep up. He blinks at her rapidly.

"The love song I've been stuck on," she reminds him impatiently.

"Oh! Oh! See, I knew you'd be able to finish," Remus says, still looking bewildered.

Winnie smiles at him. "It was inspired by you."

"Inspired by me," he parrots for a moment, nodding, before his eyes widen fractionally. "Inspired by me?" He blurts.

"What I'm saying is," she begins, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. "I like you."

Maybe the only way to move on was to be properly rejected. Or maybe the only way to move on, Winnie thought selfishly, was to give in to the hope that Sirius had planted.

Remus's face goes slack. And then, wonderfully, a soft pink flush begins to crawl up the nape of his neck, dusting his cheeks in two brilliant splotches. "I— Winnie— But you're—" he flounders, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Dimly, Winnie thinks it's a little unfair how adorable he looks flustered. She also thinks that she wouldn't mind always seeing him flustered.

"But I'm so what?" She asks, tilting her head to the side casually, despite her thundering heartbeat.

"But you're so, so—" he's stammering now, flushed and a little wild-eyed. "—incandescent."

Winnie thought she had control over the conversation, but at his admittance, she feels a little dizzy. "Incandescent," she repeats in a wide-eyed whisper. In that moment, she knew that no boy would ever call her anything as meaningful. That there would be no other boy that would mean anything to her.

Remus's face only turns a brighter scarlet as he backtracks. "I mean, you're you and I'm— I'm Remus," he says nonsensically.

"Remus Lupin," she corrects with a weak laugh, heart still thumping dangerously.

Remus nods earnestly, as if that's supposed to make any sense. "Yeah," he says, throat bobbing as he swallows. "And, and you could do so much better." Winnie's heart clenches a little at the way he can't meet her eyes. "I'm— I'm not good with people— I wouldn't be good for you."

Winnie chewed the inside of her cheek uncertainly. "Remus, I can't tell if you actually think that or if you really don't like me and are just using that as an excuse because I'd rather it if you just rejected me outright—"

"Of course I like you," he blurts a little frantically with a disbelieving laugh. Winnie's heart trembles so violently that she thinks she needs to take a seat. Remus, on the other hand, pales a little at his outburst as he scrubs a hand over his face. "I mean, anybody would. But you could do so much better. I mean, I'm not good with people or talking and I don't—" She can see that he's begun to work himself up into some sort of frazzled frenzy. "I don't have tattoos or eat cigs for breakfast," he blurts.

Winnie does a double-take. "I know?" She says, bewildered. "Where is this coming from?"

"You said the type of guy you're attracted to has tattoos and eats cigs for breakfast."

Winnie balks at him for a moment before she realizes what he's talking about. She wants to laugh but instead holds it in as she stares fondly at the man in front of her. "Remus," she sighs again, stepping closer to him. The knowledge that he liked her back sends thrilling waves of adrenaline through her. Even though he's taller than her, she feels as though she's the one towering over him.

Emboldened, Winnie takes a deep breath, rises to her toes because he's so bloody tall, and grabs him by the cheeks. Remus's mouth clamps shut as his eyes widen. She wishes she could pour all her emotion into her palm and just press it against him so that he would understand.

"I said that those were the guys I attract, not that I'm attracted to. And I think you're lovely, to say in the least. You're kind, brilliant, a wonderful listener. I think your eyes and your smile are stupidly distracting— Actually, I think you're just the prettiest boy I've ever seen. And I wish you could see these things for yourself, but if it means that I have to love you for the both of us, I would be happy to. If you'd let me."

"Oh," Remus blurts, two bright scarlet splotches flushing on his cheeks. Up close, Winnie can see the way the light catches like gold in his brown eyes.

"Sorry, I'm always talking your ear off," she whispers, her fingers curling a little in the waves his hair. His skin is soft and warm beneath her fingers. "It's fine, really, if you want to reject me. But it's not fair for you to make the decision based off what you think I should want. Because I know that I want you and that's enough for me, yeah?"

Remus parts his mouth and Winnie is so sure that he's going to say something stubborn again.

"Can I kiss you?" He murmurs, brown eyes blown dark and wide as they dart to her lips.

Caught entirely caught off guard, all Winnie can do is make an assenting sound before his head is dipping down towards hers swiftly, as though that was all he was waiting for.

There's no soft, chaste exploration she had expected — instead, Remus kisses like he's burning up from the inside, like he's melting into her. His mouth is warm and sweet — he tastes like the earl gray tea she had made — and his lips are soft as one of his hand rises to catch her jaw, his other hand slipping gently to cradle the back of her head, his long fingers in her hair, as he tilts her face up.

Winnie's mind went blank the moment his lips slotted against hers, but she's rendered entirely useless when his teeth tugs at her bottom lip gently. All she can do is cling onto his neck and shoulders — she doesn't even know when her hands had moved from cupping his face — as Remus tries to guide her even closer to him. Winnie doesn't even have the capacity to feel embarrassment at the appreciative sigh that's pulled from her lips when he deepens the kiss.

To her mingled disappointment and relief — because she's started to run out of air and was feeling light-headed — Remus pulls back just far enough to peer at her with wide eyes. "Sorry, was that too much?" He whispers, voice wonderfully hoarse, his lips still brushing against hers. His brown eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back around as if he can't decide where to look.

Total ladykiller, Winnie thinks dimly. Somehow, he always managed to catch her off guard even when she thought she was in control. "Um," she manages, breathless, her heart nearly giving out now. "Wow."

When she catches sight of him properly, another thrill runs through her. His pretty eyes are dazed over and his lips reddened and flushed. He looks a little dizzy. "Yeah," he murmurs back, equally nonsensically. He brushes a thumb across her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine. Catching this, Remus just smiles at her, as if impossibly endeared, and it does little to calm her heart. "How about a date tomorrow?"

"Not a coffee shop, I hope," Winnie says mulishly in an attempt to deflect from her warming cheeks. But Remus, as always, can see right through her.

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest as he smiles down at her fondly. "We can go wherever you want."

— — — — —

It's rush hour again. There's a dozen cups lined up for her to make and she's begun to lose track of what she's doing. When she glances down at the name of the one she just finished, Winnie doesn't bother hiding her grin as she calls out, "An earl gray for a Remus Lupin!"

Winnie's smile widens when she catches sight of him in his knitted sweater. And then, "I'm missing a drink."

Her smile falters in confusion as she looks down at the earl gray in his hand. "Hm?" She hums, frowning now.

Remus nods down at the other drink she had finished making, his lips twitching. Winnie blinks at his smile distractedly before peering at the cup. "Matcha latte for Cariad?"

Remus just smiles innocently at her, his eyes warm and fond. "That one's for you."

a/n: hope you enjoyed! love love love hearing your thoughts, so let me know what you think! <3 i feel like i could make a whole remus coffee shop -verse of oneshots now... if that's something.... we would be interested in............. i love the idea of wizards interfacing with muggle society and how shite they would be (re: sirius not knowing how to do anything). even though remus's mom is a muggle, i imagine since he's been at hogwarts for most of his life from 11-18 and spent his childhood moving around a lot and living in the more rural areas, i wanted to play off the idea that though he's been in muggle society, he's probably awkward as hell in a muggle city. edit: more remus x winnie oneshots on my masterlist! >> my masterlist!

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