#I had been listening to this song on repeat while drawing this

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

The Revenge Of Two Hands One Mouth - O2 Academy Bristol (November 27, 2013) by Adam Gasson

After 11 years of not finding a single photo from this show, I found these yesterday! I can not begin to express what this means to me, I nearly cried and I couldn't sleep last night. I was still a rather new fan and this was my first time going to a show in the UK, the first show I went to see with a friend, and my first time meeting that friend, too. And these above photos are SO GOOD! Not much was preserved from this show at all, there was no recording allowed (no charcoal drawings either), and to my knowledge not even the full setlist for this specific show was preserved anywhere. So better late than never, but here's what I remember (with some help from these photos!) and the things I've puzzled back together:

If there was opening music or an opening act, i don't recall, but Russell entered the stage alone. It was dramatic and impactful, and it went quiet as he gave an intense stare into the audience and did a drawn out "ahhh" into the microphone. After a little moment of quiet, it turned out the microphone had been connected to a sequencer which now started repeating "ah ah ah ah ah ah". Suspense, excitement. Russell added: "Hold, hold, hold, hold". (...I was definitely freaking out.) While that started looping on top of the ah ah ah sequence, he made stop signs with his hand as we all listened. A few repeats passed. "I'm getting mixed signals, mixed signals - mixed, mixed, mixed signals".

^ the only seconds of this show I recorded as I didn't yet know it wasn't allowed - security signed at me and I put the camera away. It was fine. (Here's a recording of it made during the US tour later that year - recording seemed to be less frowned upon at that point.)

I don't recall when Ron entered the stage at this show, whether it was during the song or after, but what a way to open! And what an amazing song choice!

The performance that left the biggest impression on me at this show though was Nicotina. It was a choice I didn't see coming, but also the way Russell sang it! Falsetto heaven. (Sadly not a single video is to be found of Nicotina from this tour. But for your falsetto heaven needs, I hope you can find a video of Here In Heaven that they also performed on this tour, because that will also kill you.)

As everyone here probably knows I am quite big on Bergman, which at the time was heavily promoted during the tours, and, the excerpts they played on this tour were different from what they played during Two Hands One Mouth! They played "I Am Ingmar Bergman", The Studio Commissary (my favourite song on Bergman), Limo Driver (but sang by Russell, and HOW!) and "Oh My God". (Here's a video of it from one of the American shows. It's extremely good. People who've been around for a while have seen me lose it over this video many times.)

The most unexpected song choice was probably Katherine Hepburn. Me and my friend had been joking for absolute months that we were going to see Sparks and they'd play Katherine Hepburn (as if that would ever happen, we were obsessed with that song though!). And here we were, and they were playing Katherine Hepburn right in front of our eyes. (What is reality.)

Falling In Love With Myself Again had me losing it over the organ sounds, always a fan of Ron on organ, and I LOVE that song. Russell sang a line in my direction (I died), and he managed to throw another line at me during Those Mysteries ...I died a few times that night. As you might expect. That was kind of the whole THOM/TROTHOM experience anyway. Lots of dying. But the variety of dying where you end up in heaven. (You're at a Sparks show after all.)

They wrote a song especially for this tour, which was not released but only ever played live: Revenge Of Two Hands One Mouth. What a thing to experience! A very dark song, but wonderful. (REVENGE! REVENGE REVENGE!)

At the end of the show Ron took a photo of Russell with the audience. I don't really remember that happening, but the photo exists and it really was not a thing they did often back then. We had been a good audience :)

Here's all the songs that were probably played that night in random order:

Your Call's Very Important To Us. Please Hold., B.C., Good Morning, Here In Heaven, Academy Award Performance, Those Mysteries, Falling In Love With Myself Again, Big Boy, Nicotina, Popularity, This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us, excerpts from The Seduction Of Ingmar Bergman, Tryouts For The Human Race, Katherine Hepburn, Revenge Of Two Hands One Mouth. They likely also played The Number One Song in Heaven, When Do I Get To Sing 'My Way' and Suburban Homeboy. (I see mentions of How Are You Getting Home? and How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall? in setlists for this tour as well, which they very well might have played but I very sadly have zero memory of ever hearing those songs live.)

This tour had a real air of mystery, possibly even more so than Two Hands One Mouth, as the lack of existing footage definitely adds to it. But luckily some of it *is* out there, and I am so grateful for these photos :) On top of the songs I especially mentioned above, I would also advise people to look for recordings of Tryouts For The Human Race and Popularity from this tour, because the arrangements are probably not going to be the way you expect them to be. And as you might expect: B.C. is stunning live. (I could start a whole rant about Good Morning and Suburban Homeboy live but I think I sufficiently screamed about both in my personal notes on THOM the year prior.) Final note: I know Russell had some sort of dance move for Big Boy because me and another friend couldn't stop talking about it for months. I don't remember what he did, but both THOM and TROTHOM were wonderful for Russell dances <3

[krizariel]

All the stars are coming out tonight,

They’re lightning up the sky tonight

For you, for you..._ _

Lyrics from Rule the world by Take That - Stardust OST

[vyibunni]

screencap redraw after finishing a dn rewatch~

[dykethevvitch]

"Oh my drunken southern star

How you tried to hide in darkness

Slipped from orbit

Now you’re dangerously close" (Southern Star by Gregory Alan Isakov)

~

"I always wanted to die clean and pretty

But I’d be too busy on working days

So I am relieved that the turbulence wasn’t forecasted

I couldn’t have changed anyways" (The Last Words of A Shooting Star by Mitski)

~

[oftidheard]

hmmm an idea could be a coryo x reader where he’s readers mentor (just like he was with lucy gray) and he gradually loses his shit cuz he’s worried for reader lmaoo

i really enjoyed writing this and exploring the differences in how coryo sees the reader and really just anything/anyone else ♡ general warning for him being typically nasty + references to death

❄ where i told you to run ㅤ⠀coriolanus snow x reader ㅤ⠀↳ 1.3k ↳ angst ↳ gender neutral

coriolanus is sat in one of the chairs provided for the mentors in front of the array of screens, displaying tribute's statuses alongside the hunger games broadcast, and he's convinced the seats were specifically designed to be as uncomfortable as possible.

it doesn't help that whenever the screen shows you, you appear to be dedicatedly searching the underground tunnels, without a single weapon in hand and not even bothering to look behind you once in a while in case someone might be following you; you're practically asking to be hunted down and killed.

he leans forward slightly as once again your image flashes on screen now showing you jogging through the tunnels, and grits his teeth. up until now, his emotionless façade has remained unwavering, appearing to anyone else in the room as though he's perfectly apathetic about your recklessness. but truly, he is anything but.

he remembers the night he saw you before the games, when he'd reiterated that as soon as the bell rung that you were to run as far away from any other tribute as you could, and to hide until absolutely necessary.

you'd commented a crisp, "wouldn't that make for boring television?" meant almost as a jest, but which had made coriolanus rethink everything he was doing for a moment. he didn't voice the realisation that he now found himself valuing your survival more than entertaining the capitol, but instead remained steadfast in repeating the instructions; making you swear to listen.

you'd hummed a — retrospectively noncommittal — "mhm," and whether it was tiredness overcoming him drawing him to not read to much into it, or the way you'd smiled saccharinely and reached through the bars for his hand in a moment that made him forget what he'd even come there for in the first place; he hadn't pushed beyond that, and instead indulged in your playful smile.

now, bitterly, he realises he should have been horribly annoying about reminding you what you needed to do to survive, if only for the possibility that you'd actually have listened.

one hand grips the table in front of him as he watches you barely trying to conceal your thundering footsteps in favour of speed, and turn corners without even stopping to check around the corner first.

unlike your own heavy breaths that just loudly contribute to the siren song bound to draw tributes far stronger than you right to you, coriolanus's breaths are stiff; not unlike the rest of his body as amongst the frustration and worry he frailly tries to remain at the very least outwardly calm.

his composition shatters, however, when out of all the things a tribute trapped in a death arena could possibly do; you start whistling.

the broadcast focuses on you again — your sudden performance the only remotely entertaining thing to happen since coral's pack gave up on lucy gray and jessup — and the room erupts in whispers as everyone watches you slow down to a walk once more.

coriolanus's reaction is less restrained, and the moment the first note of an eerily familiar song leaves your lips, he's pushing up from his seat and staring ice cold at the screen.

his thoughts are frozen in place, all stuck on one word; stop. you need to stop whistling right now, you need to turn and run back to where you'd been hiding earlier, and selfishly, coriolanus needs you to do all of this so you can survive.

even as you continue your song echoing through the tunnels, he forces himself to untense and keep up the illusion that he's perfectly okay with this — as well as playing along with everyone else, who seem marginally unimpressed by whatever it is you seem to be doing.

it only dawns on him when he's stepped back from the small table and readjusted himself with neat composure and tall posture, that he knows where he's heard this song before — and it takes everything in him to not scream his anger at the mentor of the little district eight girl.

you'd hummed the tune over and over again when you and the rest of the tributes had been locked in that cage, when wovey — coriolanus strains to remember the name of such an inconsequential little girl — had been sat near you. you'd noticed her fear, and though the two of you weren't district partners nor had likely ever spoken before, you beckoned the frightened girl to sit with you.

before one of coriolanus's visits, as he'd been approaching the dilapidated zoo, he'd heard your vocalising of the simple tune floating through the humid air, and neared the bars to find the sight of you hugging wovey close with a kind smile, as she joined in humming the tune with you.

it had been a conflicting moment for him, as he'd watch you good-naturedly comfort a girl who'd soon be your enemy, he'd found he couldn't look away from the captivating upturn of your lips and tender twinkle in your eyes. but wholeheartedly, he despised your friendliness with a fellow tribute, especially such a weak one, who could never be a worthwhile ally.

but you'd returned to comforting her after coriolanus left, and you'd told him you'd been humming all day and would do it 'till your voice was rough if it meant the girl's final moments were warm ones. he was drawn to the softness of your voice, but didn't hide that he was unimpressed with the empty compassion.

now, he turns his head to hilarius heavensbee — wovey's mentor — as if the boy would have half the mind to recognise the link between your whistled search and his own tribute. but he glares at his classmate across the room nonetheless, as if if he were to glower in the boy's direction for long enough, it might fix coriolanus's mountain of problems.

the blonde turns back to the large screen again when your search for wovey — coriolanus still scowls at the notion — has yet to prove fruitful, and you resort to whisper-shouting her name.

now, hilarius turns to coriolanus with confusion at his classmate's tribute calling his own tribute's name, but the latter simply ignores hilarius in favour of glaring at your figure still searching for the lost cause of a girl.

he wishes, now more than ever, that he could contact you in the arena, that he could tell you to be quiet and for goodness's sake stay alive. but all he can do is watch helplessly as your determination only grows stronger the longer it takes for you to find the girl you swore to yourself you'd protect.

the thought occurs to coriolanus at noticing your ever-furrowing brows that you might start to think wovey is dead, and give up. he prays you do, and hopes the girl actually dies for good; to cease being a burden on you.

but nothing in these games ever seem to go coriolanus's way, it seems, because when you turn your next corner, an echo snakes up from behind you, and brings a dissonant but undeniably similar call of the very same song you'd been calling out with.

waves of relief accompanied with vexation wash over him just as your own features brighten. he's relieved you will finally quieten down for your own safety, but is by no means thrilled for the extra weight that will now be dragging you down with another life in your hands.

coriolanus is about to ease back into his stiff chair now that you've run to near wovey's call and have stopped whistling in search, when the screens flash to another camera view.

the broadcast now displays coral, tanner, and mizzen waiting just around a corner you're bound to turn any moment now, as tanner mimics the tune of your song with his own deceptive whistling.

coriolanus pales and grows lightheaded in realisation; that you're walking right into a trap, and he cannot do a thing to help you.

[scribblingapparition]

El Dios de la Brisa (K'uk'ulkan x reader) (1)

Summary: You are a passionate Marine Biologist who has lived in the Yucatan Peninsula for some time now. An accepted and welcomed member of the local village, you've been working through the heartache of losing your mentor and friend. You were not prepared for how your life would change and the discoveries you would make.

[Word count: 5,654]

. . .

There were many aspects of your profession that you adored. 

You loved the time you spent doing fieldwork, gathering information about the diverse wildlife that inhabited the oceans and letting hours pass you by while you swim among them. You loved aiding in the restoration of habitats and looking at problems from all the different perspectives brilliant minds brought to the table to find solutions. You adored rehabilitating injured animals and felt a great sense of accomplishment and pride each time you released an animal back into the water where it belonged.

All of that is your driving force behind wanting to make a difference and take responsibility for the planet we all share and have to take care of.

There were threats to that passion.

Phone calls.

“The funding that your mentor left you won’t last an eternity. Listen, I know you are grieving her loss. We all are. But you need to stop finding excuses to push aside the real work that needs to be done elsewhere. Your technique of lab grown coral has completely revived the coral reefs in Culebra. You really impressed everyone in Puerto Rico with that. We need you here.” Enrique sighed, you could hear him shuffling papers as he spoke. “You’ve taken all her things back to her family and gotten a look at what she was working on in Yucatán. It’s time to move on.”

“It’s really nice of you to call in every week to repeat the same thing. Really keeps the conversation interesting.”

“You always have to take things the wrong way.”

“I’m not taking anything any sort of way. I’ve already told you, there’s something interesting here that’s got my attention and I have no intention of leaving until I’ve understood as much as I can. Funding or not, I’ll figure it out. I always do. Like I did before her, alright? So, thank you for the call but I don’t need you worrying about me. You or anyone.” 

You didn’t enjoy being the sort of person that spoke to others like that but it’s what they brought out of you. You came from nothing and you had no one. Everything you had ever earned in your life you achieved through hard work and perseverance. You put yourself through school, through college, and with no help from anyone you managed to be taken under the wing of one of the world’s most brilliant marine biologists: Altagracia Alvarez-Delgado. 

Paralleled stories and a common goal had united the two of you and together a real change happened in the world of ocean conversation. Your mentor had a way of inspiring crowds with her mastery in storytelling and she could create empathy in the hearts of others that got them to care – to truly want to join the cause of being responsible, intelligent, beings that could change the planet for the better. For everyone. 

You had never admired anyone more. You never took a moment for granted, you never took her advice for granted, and you never took the many lessons you learned through her grace and humility for granted. You don’t experience loss when you don’t have anyone; her unexpected death sent you through a downward spiral you could not have predicted. It was in her honor that you traveled to her village to deliver the news of her passing and the last of her belongings. Her family had welcomed you, encouraged you to take up residence in her old cabin across the bay from the pyramid and gave you advice on how to find peace and comfort when you felt like you would never have it again.

It had never been in your plans to stay.

Now you couldn’t seem to leave.

You were naturally a curious person, always were. The draw to the sea called out to you like the hypnotizing melodies of a siren song. It didn’t matter if you never truly had a home because as long as you were by the ocean and allowed to get lost underneath its waves you would feel at home. There was something about the bay that called out to a part of you that was in tune enough to listen.

The first couple of months of living among the villagers you had taken to conduct undisturbed research of the area. Multiple times a day, Ines Delgado (your mentor’s mother), would spot your pack resting in the same place it always was in the shore line while you dove to the depths with your gear to spend time around the reefs and exploring the extensive cave systems. Each time you shared your discoveries with her over coffee. 

There is one thing you could not get over.

“Ines, sinceramente, he viajado por el mundo y he visto todo tipo de ecosistemas y hábitats. Con la forma que están los océanos ahora, muchos de ellos están en diferentes estados de sufrimiento, pero estos…los que veo aquí son casi perfectos.” You had told her both in a state of disbelief and admiration, knowing that whatever your mentor had started here was working incredibly well. “Lo que su hija ha comenzado aquí es brillante. Ella es brillante.”

(Ines, sincerely, I have traveled around the world and I have seen all types of ecosystems and habitats. With the way the oceans are now, a lot of the ones I have seen have been in different states of suffering, but these…the ones I have seen here are almost perfect. What your daughter started here is brilliant. She is brilliant.)

Shaking her head, her hands trembled slightly due to her age as she brought the cup to her lips to drink. “Es la protección de el que la ha guardado.”

(It is all due to his protection, that has kept it safe.)

“Quien es el?”

(Who is he?)

“K'uk'ulkan. La serpiente emplumada existe. Lo he visto. Inspiro miedo en mi, cuando lo vi. Estaba vestido en trueno y oro, plumas y perlas. Alas en sus pies y rabia en sus ojos. Espero que nunca lo tenga que ver otra vez. Mi niña, tienes que tener cuidado por dónde exploras cuando estás debajo de esas olas. Rara vez estás sola. Nada existe en el océano que la serpiente no permita.”

(K'uk'ulkan. The feathered serpent exists. I’ve seen him. He inspired fear in me, when I saw him. He was dressed in thunder and gold, feathers and pearls. With wings on his feet and rage in his eyes. I hope to never have to see him again. My girl, you must be careful where you explore when you are underneath the waves. Rarely are you alone. Nothing exists in the ocean that the serpent does not allow.)

You promised Ines you would be careful. In a world where aliens can snap their fingers and change the course of life in the universe it never hurts to be aware and respectful of the myths and the gods others believed in for you never know what you might encounter. You had smiled and taken her hand in yours when the words left your mouth and a promise to be extra careful was made.

☀

It did feel as if you were breaking that promise now as you left behind your phone, not wanting to answer any more annoying phone calls, grabbed your pack and gear and headed up the trail to the base of the pyramid.

There was no escaping the heat. 

It was simply impossible.

There was little solace to find in the shade provided by the thick foliage of the trees and the ocean breeze did manage to move leaves in gentle sways enough to reach you but your prayers to Kinich Ahau sadly went unanswered as the heat of the sun did not lessen. There were guided tours around the pyramid during the busy seasons where tourists invaded the peninsula in hopes of seeing, but never truly appreciating, the history that can be found in this land. One of the guides had befriended you and had mentioned a cave opening surrounded by an arch of hieroglyphics that housed the clearest water in the area.

It was believed to be a gateway to an ancient city forged in the depths of the ocean where the sunlight could not reach and many who still believed in the ancient gods left offerings for K'uk'ulkan.

Not only that but there were said to be schools of fish that pulsed light like eye catching signals that were rumored to be found deeper within the system. It had been mentioned a while ago and you had always had it in the back of your mind to see if you could spot and observe the fish. 

What better time to do it than after a call reminding you that you might have to leave this paradise behind soon because of funding, of all things?

It had taken some time to reach your destination as it was not a well traveled path. Making sure you were hydrated and ready to go, you began to suit up. Your diving ensemble was state of the art. The suit itself worked wonders for helping you camouflage to your surroundings allowing you for the best sights of the marine life that happily swam around you after they got used to your presence. You didn’t have to wear a heavy tank that limited your time in the water thanks to the mask your mentor’s genius friend had invented and the fins you swam with actually worked pretty well when you were in a hurry.

Making sure your pack was hidden away in case someone else decided to explore the area, you carefully stepped into the water. The mask you wore covered your face entirely allowing you the luxury of not having to let your eyes adjust to the water. You did close your eyes for a moment, however, to take in how amazing it felt to be completely submerged.

This was home.

You were beneath a pyramid that was built somewhere along the 3rd and 9th AD by a powerful and rich civilization, miles away from where others would consider your actual home, sinking into an unknown darkness without any fear of what might be waiting for you. So many others would not find this particular situation comforting at all but you did.

The water called to you.

Like the soothing song.

This was home.

- 

“Mi niña, tienes que tener cuidado por dónde exploras cuando estás debajo de esas olas. Rara vez estás sola. Nada existe en el océano que la serpiente no permita.”

(My girl, you must be careful where you explore when you are underneath the waves. Rarely are you alone. Nothing exists in the ocean that the serpent does not allow.)

-

Detaching the flashlight strapped to your thigh, you brought it up to shine at the cavern walls. You had been swimming for some time now, alone in the darkness, and though you had encountered some animals none of them were the glowing fish the tour guide had mentioned. What you had found, however, were intricate hieroglyphics that seemed almost untouched by time. Your eyes widened as you took in the absolute artistry in front of you.

How had they not been eroded by the currents after centuries?

You touched them and allowed your fingers to trace through the creases of the smoothly carved images. Had these been above water at some point? What did they mean? You could only make out a few images. Pushing back to get a wider view and moving your hair so nothing obstructed your vision, you listened to the sound of your own breathing as you moved the light further down; eyes eagerly searching for new wonders when suddenly your breath caught in your throat.

Eyes. You had seen eyes staring up at you and the moment your light hit them, whatever it was moved out of the way quickly. They weren’t the eyes of a fish, it looked human, it looked like a person.

You immediately moved your light all around you, twisting to see if you could catch a glimpse of what had run away from you. You had felt the water move and push against you as whatever it was swam away but it was back to nothing. It was just you in the darkness and the sound of your racing heart but you were no longer fooled. You were not alone.

Years of diving experience have made you become extremely well aware of your surroundings. You had to be when you spend as much time as you do in the ocean where the animals that lived there have evolved over millions of years to perfectly exist within the places you were not fully equipped to be in. That’s why you weren’t shrugging off what you saw as a figment of your imagination or a construct of your mind adjusting to the dark.

You saw a man. The eyes of a man.

And now you were seemingly alone but there was something there, something in the quiet shadows and you could all but feel his gaze. 

Movement came from underneath you and into the path of your flashlight calmly wandered a nurse shark. Large, brown, and gentle; most definitely a nurse shark. Your brain began to give you facts about how many different species of sharks are cave dwellers and how nurse sharks are most definitely one of many different kinds found in the peninsula. You tried to calm your breathing to the almost lazy movements of the animal before you who was not frightened at all. It was home, it felt safe.

Yet you could not just simply calm your mind enough not to worry.

There it was again. You could feel something beneath you. Remaining calm, you closed your eyes as tightly as you could, reminding yourself of so many different situations you had been in where the danger level had been much higher and never had you felt this much fear. Never once had you feared even the biggest ocean creature but a man, this man…

You pointed your flashlight beneath you.

Below, curling up ready to attack, was a giant serpent.

Its tongue extended past its wide open jaw and around the head sharp triangle-like spikes circled around it in layers like a lion’s mane. The light only reached so far but it was clear that it was posed in action and ready to devour you whole. 

K'uk'ulkan

Fear moved you before your mind could rationalize the giant feathered serpent to be nothing but a statue. You had never complained about the quality of the swimming fins you wore but quickly kicking your feet to get away from your perceived threat, you had moved too quickly right into a protruding hieroglyph that smashed into the shield protecting your face, your mask. You didn’t think that you hit it hard enough to crack but water began leaking into your mark by your eye, causing you to move both hands quickly to try and stop it. Your flashlight drops into the darkness. You cannot believe how unprofessionally you are acting and how stupid your decisions have been when you know better. She taught you to know better.

The water was now gathering beneath your chin. Your body was pressed against the cave wall, one hand trying to cover the crack in your mask while the other maneuvered around your bags around your waist to find something to fill the crack. Your hair bunched in front of you as you moved and during that movement something that went down to the cave floor and retrieved your flashlight.

You bet it wasn’t the nurse shark as the light turned off and the darkness did what the serpent wanted to do.

It swallowed you whole.

You centered yourself as much as you could and the water stopped as it reached your lips thanks to the plaster you had which you securely placed on top of the damaged part of your mask. It was not a permanent fix and you needed to get out of the caves. Now. Your heart was racing and you could feel your hand trembling as you gripped another flashlight from where they were strapped to your thigh but before you could turn it on strong hands grabbed your own and pulled you forward.

Instinctively, you thrashed against their hold hoping to escape but it felt like trying to pull your arms away from steel. You were pulled forward again and in the darkness your hands reached out and you felt…were those beads? A necklace? A chest? There wasn’t much time to determine what anything was before you were pulled further into the darkness. Whatever had you moved with the ease of an eel and the strength of a shark. It was disorienting being pushed around in total darkness with the water inside your mask splashing around, making you cough it out when your hazardous breathing accidentally made you swallow some of it. You could do nothing but let yourself be led.

You should’ve listened more carefully to Ines.

It felt like an eternity later but eventually you saw light. This cave you did not recognize but that mattered little as you were released and you began swimming towards the surface. You must be somewhere close to the surface as it seemed to be more than an air pocket where you were in. In the center was a platform, a perfect circle made out of stone that sat above the water and you gripped onto the edge with all your might ignoring the pain as you raised yourself onto it.

Your mask was the first thing to be removed as you moved to the center of the circle, coughing up water and breathing lungfuls of air. You were greedy after almost being sure breathing air was something that would never happen again. On your back, eyes facing the stalagmites reaching down towards you from the cave’s ceiling, feet still protected by the fins, and mask discarded next to you. You counted yourself lucky to be alive.

You had said it in your call to Enrique what seemed like forever ago even though it was just that very day. There was something about this place that refused to let you leave and your need to discover it, to understand it, had almost landed you a watery grave in the place you felt most at home.

Turning yourself onto your stomach, your wrists hurt where you had been grabbed and dragged through the water. Whatever it was, whatever that humanoid was, had the strength of a killer whale. You sat up and looked into the water. There was nothing there at first but then out of the water emerged a king.

You didn’t know who he was, what he was, but instinctively deep down you knew you were in the presence of something ancient, something above a human. It was like the water both clinged to him and helped him rise; a pure display of power just right there before your eyes. His hair was darker than the shadows of the caves, his neck adorned with gold and pearls, his eyes contained the rage of a summer storm, and on his feet…wings. 

Fluttering white wings. 

It can’t be…

He spoke in Yucatec Maya that much you were sure of. The pronunciation and formation of the words you were familiar with as the locals had tried to teach you one several occasions. It was too fast for your less than basic knowledge to pick out any words you knew but you did not need to be fluent in his language to understand that what he was saying certainly wasn’t good.

Then he surprised you.

“You have wandered around my home as if it belonged to you.” The anger in his voice was palpable yet he remained right where he rose from the water. “For many months, you pushed past the boundaries set in place and ignored the warnings to satisfy your own greed. My people have kept a close watch on you. You have trespassed for the last time, surface-dweller. What do you say for yourself?”

“I…” You struggled to find words, any words, in the presence of his might and fury. It may have been the incredible situation that you were in that made your mind override the need for survival with boundless curiosity and amazement. It was the only explanation you could think of for the way you sat up to look directly at him while your mind went wild processing and connecting what you now had knowledge on.

“It’s you. You’re…him. She was right. They were right! They truly had seen you. But the stories span hundreds of years, that must mean you’ve been alive for quite some time! A-and the reefs, the fish, they’re in abundance here. A thriving healthy community amidst so many disasters. If your people were watching me then-it was their work! I knew it! There was no way everything could be that pristine with the level of tourism, even with the help of the locals. It’s unfortunate to say that but it-it makes sense, you-”

He roared in Maya t’aan; though you may not have understood him exactly, you did understand context and his call for silence as his patience diminished. The cavern walls amplified his distaste as he stepped onto the stone circle before you. You bowed your head in fear of looking into his eyes again and kept your hands close to you in an attempt to stop them from trembling.

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I am a marine biologist and I never once intended to trespass into your territory. I have dedicated myself, my life, to the betterment of the oceans.” You explained through a shaky voice as he neared you, eyes firmly placed on the stone before you. “I may have wandered too close to places I should not have been at but I swear to you I meant no harm. Not to you, your people, or any creatures I may have encountered. Meent' uts, K'uk'ulkan.”

((Please, K'uk'ulkan.))

It felt to you as if an eternity had passed in the quiet that followed.

He wasn’t unaware of the state of the surface world. To be prepared for your enemy meant keeping yourself knowledgeable on their movements, their advances, their whispers. The reports he had gotten from his Talokanil is that you had an understanding of the oceans in ways they had not seen other surface dwellers have before. The ocean creatures calmed in your presence, almost welcoming it, seeking you out when you entered their home. You did not seem hostile or aware at all of their existence yet you chose to explore many of the routes created to lead to Talokan. You could never reach it. Not with your mask and suit that would do nothing to protect you from the pressure of the deep or the frigid temperature.

Your good deeds preceded you and just as your curiosity led you, unknowingly, to them it was his curiosity to meet the one his scouts spoke of that had led him to you.

“I have many names. My people call me K'uk'ulkan, but my enemies call me Namor.” He spoke with a deadly tone, causing your eyes to close as your mind jumped to the worst. “You have caught my attention as many surface dwellers have not. You are not welcomed in these waters and it will do you well to remember my words. Nothing roams my oceans, close to my people, without my permission and you do not have it.”

☀

There were many aspects of your profession that you adored.

Phone calls serving as reminders that your funding was running out was not one of them.

Being banished from the place you most loved by an ancient feathered serpent god was not one of them.

It had been a full moon cycle since that fateful encounter and you had taken a lot of that time to think about what the future held for you. It was difficult ignoring the call of the sea but that time had been spent being more involved with the village and carefully listening to all of the parts of their culture they chose to share with you. There were those that believed and those that did not heed the tales of the elders. You did your best to remain neutral but interested.

He had disappeared into the water after forbidding you from telling anyone of his existence and of what you had now come to know. Your mask had also mysteriously vanished. You had made it back to your cabin by the time the sun dived deep beneath the waves and for the rest of that night you could not sleep.

“Estos turistas! ¡No tienen respeto por nadie ni por nada!”

((These tourists! They don't have respect for anyone or anything!))

That’s how you had been woken up by a young boy named Mateo that you had befriended during your time in the village. He told you that there had been a big boat, painted in bright colors, that had been rented by some tourists a couple of times over; the boat was filled with men disturbing the wildlife and the boy had seen them wrestling a sea turtle out of the water. Mateo had shouted at them to stop from the shore but that did nothing as they did not listen.

The wind blew your hair behind you as you steered your boat in the direction of where the boy had seen the turtle go after it had been thrown back into the water. They’re fast swimmers and with only the light of the moon it would be a miracle if you spotted the injured animal but you had to try.

You were around the area of where the boat had last been seen by Mateo and looking back at the bay, you had moved farther away than they had been by a lot. But this is where your heart had guided you and you never doubted your instincts. You prepped the boat and lowered the anchor, quickly working on lifting the heavy ramp off the side of your little vessel preparing to have to lift a decent sized sea turtle. The bay was the home to many beautiful green sea turtles and though they were stunning, they were large heavy animals. Usually a rescue like this would be done by a team but it was just you.

You in the middle of the pitch black ocean you were told you weren’t welcomed in.

You were steady as the boat rocked and you held onto the railing of the steps leading down as you looked all around you and placed your hand in the water. This world had many living in it with special abilities forced to be kept secret for their safety. You did not believe you had any. You were sure there was nothing special about you until your early days on the field proved you wrong. You couldn’t communicate with sea animals but they did seem to come to you when they needed help. 

Too many things happened that had no real good explanation for you to brush them off as coincidences.

The ocean was a completely different world from the one you lived on, now more than ever you were aware of that fact. Regardless of what you believed was real or not, you knew you could not go searching for the injured one so you closed your eyes, gripping onto the side latter until your knuckles hurt, and called out to the animal.

You felt ridiculous.

You weren’t special. 

It wasn’t going to work.

Moments passed with no result and you had to fight the urge to just jump in the water, knowing the search would not be fruitful without your equipment. Your eyes watered and you scoffed at yourself becoming emotional. It had not been easy spending a month away from your research, away from laughing underneath the waves as fish darted around you and intelligent little octopi tried to steal your stuff. Just as it had not been easy to lose the one person who understood your need to be in the water.

A head with large eyes and hexagonal shaped markings popped out from the dark and soon the entire body came with it. The shell had been cracked, almost cut into. It wasn’t unheard of for tourists to try to remove the shells off the turtles to keep them as souvenirs and it angered you that it had even been attempted.

Your gasp of surprise quickly became gentle words of encouragement.

“Hi, beautiful, hello. It’s okay. It’s okay. You found me and I’m going to help you, okay? You’re a big girl aren’t you? I gotcha, beautiful. You’re so smart, all turtles are. I’m going to take care of you, let me just-” You had turned to face the deck and yelled.

K'uk'ulkan stood on the deck of your boat. Water rolled off his body and the moon silhouetted his imposing figure, allowing the pearls around his neck to glow on their own. The wings on his feet shook the moisture off of themselves and in his hand he held a scepter (or was it a spear, there wasn’t much light) crafted of gold and jade.

“You scared me! I didn’t even hear you-wait, your majesty, wait! I didn’t go back on my word. I need your help. Please.” You pleaded while frozen to your spot on the stern. “She’s hurt. She came to me for help. I can’t lift her onto the ramp and then onto the boat alone but if you could help me. Not for me. For her. Meent' uts, K'uk'ulkan.”

You had said it again. You had begged the god the same way you had done in that cave.

For the second time he was inexplicably moved to spare you.

The green sea turtle was young and healthy, you estimated around 200 to 250 lbs just by her sheer size. He showed absolutely no difficulty lifting up and placing the animal in the containment tub.

“I kept my word, you know.” You said as you quickly moved to grab a flashlight to inspect the shell. “I didn’t step into the water once. But this is my job, what I’m passionate about. I can’t just sit back and stay inside my cabin knowing there’s someone out here that needs me. If this gets me killed, so be it. Just let me make sure she gets treatment, an open shell like this is dangerous. I don’t want an infection to set in.”

You lost yourself in your work. Quickly diagnosing what you could without your equipment, writing it all down, and making preparations to get back to the cabin and contact the right people before you noticed that he was still there; watching your every move as you made it, concealing whatever he felt behind the strong confident body language of a god.

“You are different.” His head tilted to the side as he allowed himself to see you, to truly see you. “Her pain is soothed by your touch and you called out to her in the water. I saw you. How?”

“No, I didn’t do that. I was just, um, trying something. It’s a coincidence.”

“How did you know where to guide your boat in the darkness?”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“I’ve got good instincts. I have to take her back to land and call the closest rehab facility. Will you allow me that much?” You asked, not wanting to rush him and ask the deity that may or may not decide to end your life to leave so you could get the turtle to safety as quickly as possible.

He bowed his head in agreement and you did your best not to sigh in relief right in front of him. It was left unsaid but it was understood and this would not be your last encounter and that it would not be the last time the conversation was brought up. You didn’t think about that now, or you tried not to at least, as you started bringing in the ramp and calling up the anchor to start your return to shore. 

You had a job to do.

The god’s sentencing would have to wait.

☀

You had caught the attention of a god unlike any on the surface world had before.

There were no early signs of how much your life would change in the simple refusal of leaving the place you were slowly carving out a home after a lifetime of denying yourself one. The things you wished you could change were how you had gotten there; you would do anything to bring back your mentor. The past could not be changed but the future could be forged into whatever you desired.

There were so many stories to tell of how you got to where you are and you intended to share them. It’s been a long journey to get here.

To your boat sitting alone in the middle of dark waters, welcomed, with moonlight shining overhead.

With you sitting on the stern, hand in the water, calling out to the depths to the king that had stolen your heart as if it had always been meant for him.

It always took a moment and you could not see into the inky black waves but you could feel him approaching and your heart melted when a hand took yours within the water and laced your fingers together.

“You came.” You smiled, using your other hand to move his hair away from those eyes you loved so much.

“I always will when you are the one calling. Join me. I have much to show you.”

☀

((A/N: I'm excited to be actually inspired to write for the first in so many years! This is part one of many one shots that won't be tied to each other so they can be read in any order! If you got to this point and you want to talk about the movie, I'm just one message away! L'iik'ik Talokan!))

[chrollohearttags]

bestie i love your version of eren sm!!!! could you give like a deep dive on his personality and his hobbies? i'm so obsessed and i can't get enough, i've been listening to the ej core playlist on repeat! tysm for writing him so well he's such a comfort

thank you sm bestie!!! I can’t believe somebody else actually listens to it besides me!! But of course I can 🥹 I’ve missed him so bad.

so I’ve talked about this forever ago but eren was always a very introverted person. Even as a kid, he stayed to himself and he just struggled with interacting with people. But mainly because he just loved music over everything else so he shut out the rest of the world. He had Mikasa and Armin for a little while but they were also the kids of famous billionaires so they moved around and were gone once he became a teenager. Eren used to despise small talk and had lowkey terrible communication skills (still love him though! 😭). But he’s honestly just not used to having people around him that he could truly relate to. Another thing about him, even though he left home really young, he is a mama’s boy! He and miss Carla are best friends and he don’t play about her. She has songs with voicemails of her hyping him up on it. She comes to his shows and y’all know Mrs. Jaeger is a baddie so she gets mistaken for his sister or his fans will try to get with her lmao!! His dad on the other hand? Not so much and it’s been hard for him to mend their relationship (for reasons coming in the later chapters). It’s affected a lot of his adult life but he doesn’t like to talk about it much. Which made him really guarded. He started putting all his feelings into his art to help not only himself but others heal. So many fans hear his music and says it’s helped them through the hardest times. To his core though, Eren is truly a sweetheart. Behind his black clothes and nail polish, all the jewelry and emo look, he’s so nice and is also very sensitive. It may take him a while to open up (and trust, he will damn near push you away) but he is such a loverboy to his core. He’s a natural protector and will go to the end of the earth for the ones he adores. Someone said that (y/n) truly healed his inner child and I agree 😭

As far as his hobbies, outside of music of course..he LOVESSS cars! Specifically older muscle cars. He goes to car shows and races all the time. Fans will spot him and ask him for autographs, whole time he’s geeking out over the different motors and vehicle types. He tinkers with old ones and tries to fix them too. He also has a CRAZY collection of new and vintage that’s worth millions. He loves drawing and has actually drawn a lot of the tattoos he has. Like his dragon piece, one he designed for (y/n) and a couple others. He’s an all around creative and he has to be doing something all the time. He’s also big into video games and he and his friends stream on Twitch.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Can you do a fic where Hobie and reader are really good friends and she's just horny af at the moment so she asks him if he has a friend that'll fuck her with no strings attached cause she don't want a relationship. Hobie ends up doing her.

Oooooooh! I actually have never written something like this before!

No Strings Attached

(Like literally also listened to the song by *NSYNC while writing this don't judge me pls I still like boy bands :'>)

Hobie x Fem!Friend Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: HOBIE IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, PIV sex, condom usage, safe sex (wrap before you tap!), friends, FWB(?), marijuana/weed smoking, some booze is involved, hook-ups, nipple piercings, nipple play, sensitive nipples, Bratty(?)Reader

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

It was a typical Saturday night, you were chilling in your flat with Hobie, shooting the shit, watching some stupid program on the telly, drinking some foul-tasting beer and passing joints back and forth between the two of you.

There was an uncomfortable silence that annoyed the fuck out of you.

So you decided to break it.

"Hey, Hobes?" You coughed slightly, passing the rapidly shrinking smokeable to your friend.

"Yea?" He asked as he took the last drag as deep as he could, letting the smoke out through his nose with a soft sigh.

You leaned down and got your grinder and papers, beginning to prep another joint to be inhaled by the two of you; Hobie taking another swing of his beer as he watched you and waited for you to finish your thought.

The sickly almost sweet scent of pot wafted the air around you like a foul incense; but you two were hardcore potheads so the smell was more comforting to you than anything.

"I really need to get laid." You sighed boredly, and look at him as you blindly roll the paper between your fingers, bringing it to your mouth to lick it before giving that final twist.

"Fuckin what--" Hobie choked on his beer, setting it on the coffee table as he looked at you, his pierced brows raising just to check if he heard you right.

"Look, it's been a while and a vibrator can only do so much before it gets boring. And forget shit like Bumble, can't trust freaks on the web." You snort, rolling your shoulders before you look back over at him.

His jaw was hanging open slightly.

"You got any friends that'd be willing to hook up? Not looking for a whole thing... just a one time or even just like... fuckin' booty calls at this point." You finish.

"Uh..." Hobie settled back on the sofa and looked at you, his mind drawing a blank. Both for available friends he knew you could trust and words to finish a thought.

"It's alright if you don't, I just figured it'd be faster to ask you." You smirk at him like it was the most casual request in the world.

You let Hobie drop his head back as he looked at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought; lighting the joint and taking the first hit.

Interesting. Not often you were able to render Hobie Brown speechless. Not since he walked in on you walking around in nothing but your panties that one time because he didn't fucking knock on your front door before letting himself in--

"Shit." He mumbled. "Hell... I'd do it, 'f ya comfortable."

You almost drop the joint onto the sofa.

"Wait, what--"

"You got rocks in ya ears?" He grinned, suddenly regaining his momentum.

"I said I'd be willing to fuck you if that's what ya want. Hell, it's been a while for me, too."

He leans forward and takes the joint, pulling it between his lips before leaning back comfortably, taking another nice deep drag as he breathed it out in a cloud.

You blink dumbly.

"Oh."

"Is that an I'm not interested "oh" or a Shit, really? "Oh"?" He smirked, coughing a bit.

You chew your cheek in thought. You didn't trust anybody more than Hobie, you'd been friends for years. You had so much dirt on each other you could probably pin murders on either one of you (metaphorically).

"This doesn't have to be anything more than sex." You tell him.

"I know." He replies.

"This isn't some kind of declaration of love--"

"Noted."

"I still want to be friends."

"Good, cause s' do I."

You fall into a silence again, before looking back at him.

Hobie had his head tilted expectantly at you, waiting patiently for your decision, not wanting to make a move without your go-ahead.

"Ah, fuck it." You say, turning so you can crawl over him, straddling his lap, splaying your hands over his chest before pushing him down into the cushions.

"This is just a... casual thing. Nothing else has to come of it. We can still go back to just bullshitting like we always do."

"Already said that, luv. Read ya loud 'n clear. So's that mean you're in?" Hobie smirked, his large hands quickly grabbing and kneading your ass through your pyjama shorts.

You finally grin back down at him, gripping your t-shirt and swiftly pulling it over your head, the chilly air of your flat sending goosebumps up your spine as your nipples hardened.

"Hey hey hey!" Hobie said, sitting up so his face was right at your breasts, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at them.

Hanging from your cute, perked nipples were two stainless steel bars with little chains and a small metal flower hanging from them.

He was immediately transfixed.

"When did ya get these?"

"I got them like, six months ago when--"

Your voice dies in your throat when his mouth latches onto one of them, pulling the chain between his teeth, tugging it with his tongue as he pinches the flesh with his teeth.

"Shit!" You gasp, being caught off guard.

You always had sensitive nipples, and deciding on going with piercing them had not been easy. The artist at the shop however loved it, she kept bringing up previous clients who were the same.

Since you had those bars put in? It made everything feel worse. That's secretly why you liked the chains. The way they gently tugged on the fabric of your shirts or bras always had your head a little fuzzy in the best way.

And Hobie? Right now, Hobie was downright abusing your nipples, his tongue and teeth tugging, rolling, flicking and nipping at them; taking great care to make sure the chain didn't get snagged on his own piercings, both tongue and lip.

You already felt a heavy pool of arousal start to drip straight from your core, and when Hobie turned his mouth to the other neglected breast and toyed with the chain between his fingers on the one he left, your hips bucked against him of their own accord, the friction from the growing his jeans sending searing jolts right through your shorts, panties, and straight to your clit.

"Fuck..."

Hobie's hands were both occupied now, one hand gripping and squeezing the tit he was biting and sucking now, the other toying with the piercing on your other nipple.

One of your hands gripped at your hair and the other held onto the back of the sofa as Hobie continued to abuse the sensitive flesh, and you whimpered when you felt a wave building up already just from the stimulation he was applying there, alone.

"Fuck." Hobie growled into your tit, the vibrations from his voice making your breath hitch. "You're fuckin' soakin' through."

"C-can't help it--" You panted, urging him on with a roll of your crotch onto the bulge in his jeans.

"You gonna cum like this, eh?" He grinned, looking up at you with your nipple between his teeth, his fingers snaking down to press the soaked fabric of your shorts and panties into your aching sex.

The sight alone has your pussy drooling lasciviously.

You manage a breathless nod and he moves his mouth back to the other nipple, tugging the chain he just abandoned with his fingers.

"Then fuckin' do it. Don't jus' grind in 'ta me, luv."

Hobie presses hard, your swollen clit craving the friction he was promising as he strokes it through the offending garments with his hand.

You make a mewling nose as you buck into him, his mouth latching on and sucking your nipple, as if he enjoyed the metallic taste of your piercing on his tongue as he pinched and tugged forcefully, drawing your orgasm out sharper and faster than any previous sexual partners had from you.

"Hoo-oollly shiii-iit!" You moan into the smoke-heavy air.

Hobie grins and bites down a little harder this time, and that sends you careening over that edge, your mouth opened in a weak groan as you cum, gushing through your clothing and onto his hand, the excess dripping onto his jeans.

Hobie continues to stroke you, helping prolong your orgasm as you dumbly hump into his hand.

He pulls away to allow you to breathe, bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth and slides them in, his tongue laving around each digit as he sucks them clean.

"Not bad. Sweet. You must be drinkin' that pineapple juice again, eh?" He grins up at you.

You smirk down at him and shake your head.

"Fuckin' git." You chuckle.

Hobie grunts and grabs you by the thighs, practically knocking you onto your back, narrowly missing the arm of the sofa as he lifts and pins you down, all but ripping your shorts and panties off.

He looks like the cat about to eat the canary.

And you're the canary.

"You gonna sit there or do something?" You challenge.

Hobie laughs at you and leans in, the promise of a kiss barely there on his lips, before he pulls back, unzipping his fly and tugging his aching cock free.

"Uh, hey Hobes--"

"Yeah, I know. I got one or two." He waves you off, reaching for his old beat up leather wallet (that was honestly more duct tape than wallet at this point) and tugged out two gold-foil packages from between some notes.

He tears them apart and tosses the spare onto the table with his wallet and rips the other open with his teeth.

Hobie rolls the latex down his length, the rubber promising a good time with the ridges and bumps along the length of it.

You grin and bite your lip. This was promising to be a great night. You wonder why you haven't asked him to do this sooner.

Before you have a second to realize what's happening, Hobie deftly picks you up again and spins you around, so your back was pressed against his chest as he spread your legs over his thighs, your pussy bare and exposed as he reaches down and spreads your lips with his fingers, toying with the delicate, weeping flesh, there, avoiding your puffy clit entirely.

"Jus--fuck--Hobie!" You squirm, gripping his forearms with your hands with an impatient whine.

"Ay, you're the one bein' a brat, luv. Brats don't get rewarded for bad behavior." He hummed, continuing to play with you like he had not a care in the world, teasing your hole, gliding back up again--but still avoiding your clit.

"N-now you sound like those fuckin' assholes in charge!" You grunt, impatiently trying to arch into his touch to get the friction you crave so badly.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that.

"Oh, am I now?" Hobie hummed innocently, his mouth at your shoulder.

You could feel the bastard smirk as he pulled his hands away from your slick and aching cunt, making you whine in protest.

You were quickly silenced when one of his hands smooths between your shoulders and forces you forward a bit, his other hand guiding your hips where he wanted it as he lined his cock up.

"Y-yeah you f--ffffuuuuuck!" Your voice raises in pitch when he slams you down on his dick, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible.

He groans at how tight you are, feeling your velvety walls squeeze and flutter around him through the condom.

"Oh, fuck, luv. Goddamn." He hisses through gritted teeth.

When you tried to straighten back up again, his hand goes back to in-between your shoulder blades, forcing your upper body forward again, his other hand kneading your ass and spreading your cheeks as he started ruthlessly snapping his hips up into yours, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched his latex-wrapped cock get swallowed by your greedy cunt again and again, already leaving a nice, creamy little ring towards the base of the condom.

Fuck. This was hot. One minute you two were hanging out, chilling, and now you're pitched over as Hobie just ruts into you like a horny animal.

"Fuck!" Hobie grunted, pulling you back against him, one of his hands snakes around you to tug on one of your nipple piercings, making you moan pathetically.

"Don' make me do all the work, luv. Help me out." He pants in your ear.

The only sounds you can let out are breathy little "ah's" and "fuck's" with each grind of his hips.

Your arms have to stretch to grip at something, anything to give you a bit of leverage as you just keep bouncing on his cock with everything you have, the ridges and bumps of the condom combined with his calculated thrusts hit every single spot inside of you; his hand fondling your piercings sending fresh sparks down your spine, driving your second orgasm closer and closer to crest.

"Fuckin'... damn. Look at you go." Hobie chuckles heavily in your ear, sweat beading and dripping down his brow.

"Taking me so nice... Bouncing on my dick a good girl." He hisses when he feels you tighten up around him.

"Shit, you're so fuckin' greedy--" He growls, fucking up into you with more force, your tits bouncing so much now that one more tug of your piercings send you over the edge, your vision blurring slightly as you cum around Hobie's cock, still pummeling your cunt with purpose.

Your pace slows a bit as you whimper and whine, and that isn't enough for Hobie.

He forces you back over again, gripping your hips in his hands as yours grip the coffee table in front of you for stability.

"Not... fuckin'... done yet!" He grunts, his hips completely lifting off the cushions with each roll and thrust as he chases his own orgasm, the squeezing muscles of your pussy choking the air out of his lungs as he feels his balls draw taut.

He grits his teeth tightly, his abs flexing with effort as he fucks into you, his cum spurting and filling the condom as he huffs and groans, riding his orgasm out like you were some sex toy.

He pulls you against him, his cock still inside you, twitching as you both breathe heavily, your head leaning back against his shoulder.

"Fuck... god." You groan with satisfaction.

"Yeah, you just did." Hobie grins like the cheeky shit that he is.

"Fuckin' git." You laugh, smacking him with the back of your hand softly; his hand catching yours as his thumb caresses your knuckles.

"Wanna go for round two?" You snicker.

"Well, we got one condom left." He tilts his head.

"What are friends for, right?"

[causenessus]

Cherry Wine. | Nakahara Chuuya

nakahara chuuya x reader <3

written in 2nd pov

song recc: cherry wine by hozier

word count: 700 words

my apd couldn't even understand what hozier was saying until i looked at the lyrics so let's ignore the real meaning of the song okay? tyvm ˊᵕˋ ✿♡

Sometimes he came home and wanted to let off steam. 

But other times he just wanted to love you. 

He just wanted to be a human. To act like one and be treated by one. 

Perhaps it was like what Dazai had said all those years ago; he had let others take control of him and his ability despite him being stronger than them. 

There was nothing wrong with his job, or using his ability, but it was nice to be separated from it every so often.

To use his hands to hold yours, run them up your arms, and wrap his own around you. To protect something rather than to hurt.

It was nice, not to have his life on the line, but to have his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck. To be close to you and your warmth. To keep you safe while he himself was safe.

It was nice to be holding you, trailing soft kisses up your skin to your lips that still tasted of sweet cherry wine rather than spilled blood evading all of his senses.

These were moments that grounded him. During the days that dragged on for too long, he reminded himself of what he would return home to. When work was becoming numb and routine, you reminded him that he had a heart. He was not an ability. Not just a part of the mafia. Not a cruel, heartless man.

He was yours.

And you were his. 

Something he needed to return home to.

On nights like these, he took his time making sure he could give everything to you. He made sure his hands were clean, and that there was not a spot on him that reeked of the day. He made sure that he was just himself, and that you knew he loved you.

“Chuuya,” you’d murmur as he finally came to you.

He hummed in response, beginning with a kiss to your forehead.

You always knew him well. Knew how the day had gone as soon as you heard how he opened the door. 

There was already a glass of wine on the table for him, he noticed, as you pulled him to you on his couch, hands running through his damp hair.

He didn’t want it. He just wanted you.

Your hands were gentle and warm as they combed through his hair, undoing any knots. There was love in every touch, in every gentle press against his scalp. He rubbed circles against your sides, the side of his head resting on your chest. He could hear the steady, constant beat of your heart. It slowed down his own, relaxing him further.

“Was it a day?” you asked softly.

“It was a day,” he mumbled back, turning and lifting his head to look at you. He brought a hand up, running it through your own hair as he pressed it against the back of your head, bringing your lips to his. “I love you,” he drawled with a small yawn. “I love you,” he repeated, kissing down your jaw and neck. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y’know,” he was talking instinctively now, but none of it was a lie. He laid his head back against your chest, listening to your heartbeat again.

“I love you, Chuuya,” you said back, running a hand through his smooth hair. “I could never put into words how much you mean to me.”

He replied again with a hum. His hand that had been in your hair moved back to drawing lazy circles on your skin while the other moved to intertwine with one of your own hands. “You could never love me as much as I love you,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

Your chest rose slightly as you laughed, “Yeah, yeah. I know you won't stop until you’ve won and declared you love me more.” Her hand squeezed his as her breathing started to slow as well. “Or more like when you think you’ve won,” you teased. He looked up at you with a playful glare before you brought his head back down onto you.

“Sleep well, Chuuya,” you whispered.

“I love you, [Y/N].”

[mangomonk]

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!

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: merry christmas eve and happy sunday! the promised andrei christmas fic (written extremely fast and edited even faster lol) title is from cher’s new christmas song which is a bop and a half so i suggest listening. going to be quiet the rest of the year to stockpile some writing, but happy new year everyone, i’ve been beyond grateful for the love my fics have gotten this year 😘

word count: 3.9k

tw: minimal smut, unprotected sex, brief fingering

summary: christmas eve at the svechnikov house is a chaotic but fun affair

“Mama?”

“Yes, my love?” You look up from the bowl of cookie dough batter. Evie was supposed to be helping after waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but the lure of rearranging all the decorations on the small tree in her room was more appealing. Your little perfectionist oldest daughter had shifted ornaments no less than fifteen times since you’d put the decorations up right after Thanksgiving.

Alina hops from foot to foot and you don’t necessarily love the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “I catch Santa!”

You squint at her. “You’re catching Santa? Santa’s not a lizard in the backyard,” you say gently.

“I catch Santa,” Alina repeats. “Tonight! With presents!”

It clicks in your head - she means that she wants to stay up late and catch Santa leaving presents - and you laugh. “Oh, baby, you can’t stay up to see Santa, otherwise he doesn’t leave presents, remember?” You set the bowl of dough aside and scoop Alina up into your arms, sitting her down on the counter. She pouts at you, chubby little fingers reaching to play with the strings on your hoodie.

“Wanna see Santa,” she huffs. Her little pout is identical to Andrei’s and it makes you smile. You love seeing your husband’s traits and mannerisms in your girls.

You lean in to whisper conspiratorially, “guess what? Someone better than Santa is coming in a little bit.”

“Who?” Alina perks up, eyes going wide as she bounces a little. “Mickey Mouse?”

Another laugh bursts out of your mouth and Alina giggles with you, always ready to laugh with whoever’s around. “No, not Mickey Mouse,” you giggle, tickling her sides lightly and enjoying her childish laughter. “Babushka and dedushka!”

Alina shrieks happily and you catch her when she launches herself forward off the counter. The kids love when Elena and Igor come to visit and they don’t know that this trip will be extra long, as they’re staying for nearly three weeks. Once Andrei finishes his workout, he’s supposed to be going off to pick them up from the airport.

“Bring puppy?” She asks, little arms locked around your neck and wide awake considering it’s not even seven in the morning.

“No,” you shake your head, “they’re not bringing the puppy. He has to stay home where he has his bed and all his toys.”

That would be the last thing you need in the house - in-laws, three kids, a husband who’s traveling several days a week, and to add a dog on top of that? No, thank you.

“I share my toys,” she says sweetly.

You press a kiss to her cheek. “Yeah, you do share your toys with Evie and Kira. But puppy toys are different. Why don’t you go draw a picture to give Babushka when she gets here?”

Alina nods wildly and wiggles her way out of your arms and down your body before running off to the kid sized table you have set up in the den with all their craft supplies. She’ll be distracted for at least ten minutes, which gives you enough time to get the cookies on a baking tray and in the oven. Why you waited until Christmas Eve morning to make the cookies for Santa is a question for another day.

You’ve been awake since 4:30 already and your energy is starting to flag, so you make a quick mug of coffee before portioning out the sugar cookies and dipping them in the green and red sugar sprinkles. While you sip at the drink and finish the cookies with your other hand, your mind wanders to everything that has to get done today. There are a few more gifts that have to be wrapped, but for the most part you’d managed to get everything you and Andrei bought for the kids and his parents wrapped at night. You’d also wrapped all the gifts Elena and Igor had bought for the girls and had shipped directly to your house.

Dinner tonight is going to be chill and Elena had insisted on handling most of that, so you don’t worry too much about the menu. You’ll be helping her, since most of the recipes are from your childhood, but she loves cooking when she visits so you don’t mind letting her.

You decide that you’ll have Andrei take all three girls with him to the airport so you can have a minute to shower - hair wash and shaving included - without little hands knocking on the bathroom door.

Otherwise, you have to iron the girls’ outfits and tidy up the chaos before the girls hopefully go to sleep early so you and Andrei can set out the presents.

“Thinking hard?” Andrei’s teasing voice startles you out of your mental to-do list. You turn away from the counter and take him in with a smile. He’s sweaty from his workout, hair falling over his forehead that he swipes back with his free hand. Kira is on his hip, a giant four-toothed smile on her face. You nudge at her round cheeks with your knuckles, grinning back at her.

“Were you Papa’s workout buddy?” You ask her in a bubbly voice. “How’d he do?”

“Papa!” She yelps, smacking at Andrei’s chest with her hands and cuddling closer to his side. She plants a smacking kiss against his cheek, her favorite party trick to get adults coping over how cute she is.

Andrei kisses the top of her head and rests his cheek against the crown. “She’s a good cheerleader,” he laughs. And as if they practiced it, Kira waves her hands in an imitation of jazz hands. You laugh and kiss your youngest on the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

“Give me the baby and go shower,” you say, already taking Kira into your arms. She transfers easily, snuggling into your neck, one hand splayed over your chest. “I need you to take all three with you to the airport and you’re going to need to get going if you want to get your parents on time.”

He looks at the clock over the stove and frowns a little. “They don’t land until 9:30, plenty of time.”

“Yeah,” you nod, untangling your hair from Kira’s grip, “but you have to shower, the girls have to be changed and put in the car, and you have to drive to the airport. Time goes faster than you think, please just get everything going?”

Andrei nods and grips your chin in his hand to tilt your face up for a kiss. You melt a little, humming quietly. “Okay, solnyshka. We will go when everyone is ready. Do I need to pick anything else up?” He asks, tickling Kira’s back.

You shake your head, “just your parents. Next year they’re coming here earlier. None of this flying on Christmas Eve business.”

“I will tell them,” Andrei laughs before heading upstairs to shower.

Four hours later, after you’ve finished taking the cookies out of the oven, showered, and pulled together a quick little breakfast spread, Andrei’s car pulls back into the driveway. You pull open the front door with a huge smile on your face, laughing when Elena’s dragged into the house by Evie and Alina, Kira held on her grandmother’s hip. Andrei and Igor are back at the car, handling all the bags.

“Moya devushka,” Elena greets you with a warm smile and a tight hug, Kira squeaking and complaining when she’s caught in the middle of the two of you. “Ah, prosti, myshonok.” She kisses Kira’s head.

“Mama!” Evie dances at your feet, tugging on your sweater. “Babushka said she’s staying forever!”

“Mid-January, at least,” Elena shares a smile with you, helping you usher the girls inside. Kira clings to her like a koala and you love how much the girls love their grandparents.

Evie widens her eyes - Andrei’s eyes - at her grandmother, “that’s like forever! And look,” she grabs Elena’s hand, pulling her to the living room, “r’member we showded you our tree on the phone? Now you can see in real!” Alina trails along after them, clutching the stuffed Grinch that she’d recently decided was her new best friend.

Confident that the girls are handled, you head back outside to help Andrei and Igor with the bags. Your father-in-law greets you with a kiss to the cheek and waves off your help, “you have strong men. Go with Elena and girls.”

You know from past experience that it’s basically useless to fight with him, so you grab up Elena’s oversized purse from the backseat of the car and run back inside with it, wearing a sneaky little smile, before Igor can chastise you. Andrei’s laughter follows you inside.

“Elena,” you call out, “do you want your purse or should I put it in your room?”

“Oh! Bring it here,” Elena looks over her shoulder at you from where she’s sitting on the ottoman, having been oohing and ahhing over the drawings the girls made for her. “I have surprises.”

You hand over the bag, talking over the girls’ excited squeals, “you shouldn’t have. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Elena waves a hand in the air at you and if it were anyone else, you’d be annoyed at the dismissive gesture. “Small things,” she explains, reaching into the bag and drawing out little toys and Russian candies for the girls. “These were your Papa’s favorite,” she explains, handing Evie a wrapped chocolate.

Andrei appears behind you and leans forward, snatching another candy out of his mother’s hand. “Still are,” he winks at the girls. He unwraps the chocolate and pops it in his mouth before giving you a quick kiss. “I’m going to clean out the car,” he gives Kira a faux-glare, “one of the myshonok spilled her Cheerios.”

“It was Kira,” Evie pipes up, chocolate smeared around her mouth. “She spilleded out the whole bag!”

Kira, recognizing her name, giggles and chants, “Mama! Papa!”

“Our messy little girl,” you ruffle her hair gently. “Not too much candy, okay? It’s still really early.”

You know you’re going to be ignored, but you have to say it if only to stave off the mom-guilt. With the girls distracted by their grandparents - Igor’s wandered in and is telling Alina a joke she surely doesn’t understand yet - and Andrei busy with the car outside, you take the opportunity to slip upstairs and finish wrapping the few gifts that had been delivered in the last few days.

When you come back downstairs after finishing up and taking a few extra minutes to just breathe in the relative quiet, everyone’s huddled around Elena’s phone FaceTiming with Geno and his family. Everyone chatting in rapid fire Russian, even your kids, and you smile. You love that the girls are fluent in Andrei’s native language and it’s good practice when they talk to his family. The girls giggle with their cousins and you pull out your phone to snap a candid shot before joining the call, waving to Geno and his wife.

You stand behind the couch, looping your arms around Andrei’s neck and resting your chin on his shoulder, just enjoying the lively conversation. You’ve learned some Russian over the years, but you’re nowhere close to fluent and once they all start talking so fast, you’re basically lost at sea.

Andrei leans his cheek against yours, holding out his hand while he talks to block Evie’s foot from hitting him in her attempt at showing off a cartwheel. She pouts at Andrei when he tells her to sit down - that you understand, at least - and Andrei huffs in exasperation when Elena turns right around and clearly reprimands him for stopping Evie. Your head is starting to swim a little from all the noise and you press a kiss to Andrei’s cheek before standing up and heading into the kitchen.

A dog barking joins the chaos and you know Geno’s brought Igor’s dog on the screen. The girls squeal with delight and you know this means you’re going to get a barrage of begging for a puppy.

“Mama,” Evie skips her way into the kitchen, “can we show Babu and Dedu Belle’s christmas?”

The call with Geno is either done or the girls had gotten bored of sitting in one place. You nod, knowing she means the Beauty and the Beast Christmas movie, and say, “sure, bunny. Ask Papa to put the movie on the TV.”

The movie keeps them occupied for a little bit, even after Elena leaves to come help you in the kitchen. You work quietly with your mother-in-law, chatting easily about the girls and the plans for their extended trip. You’ll have a more involved celebration on January 7th - when Christmas is traditionally celebrated in Russia - with Elena making dishes that Andrei remembers from his childhood. But with the girls being raised in America, it’s easier for them to have Christmas traditions in line with their classmates and friends.

You’re incorporating some of your holiday traditions - namely the relaxing aspects of the day, watching movies and spending time with the kids - and it’s nice to not have to worry about going super over the top. Tomorrow, Andrei and his dad will grill steaks and you’re making a few side dishes and Evie helped make some cookies during the week. More than anything, you’re just excited to see them get into Christmas and to make memories with them.

The girls go down for their naps and you and Elena get to finish prepping dinner. It’s a quiet rest of the day, until suddenly it’s after dinner and the girls are bathed and changed into their matching pajamas - little candy canes printed on a white background - and Alina’s chattering about catching Santa.

“Where did she even come up with that?” You ask Andrei, laughing a little. “She said it this morning too.”

“Ah,” he gives you a sheepish smile and you’re instantly on guard, “maybe I said something. They asked about Santa and magic.” He shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain so I said to stay up and see how he does it.”

You snort a laugh, filling Kira’s bottle and closing the lid. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Better hope she knocks out like usual or we’re going to have a long night.”

Andrei settles his hands on your hips and pulls you close, kissing you gently. “I think there was enough excitement today. They will sleep, solnyshka, don’t worry.”

Resting against his chest, you loop your arms around his lower back, excitement bubbles up in your chest for the girls to see their gifts. “I know I’ve said it before,” you mumble into his chest, “but thank you for agreeing to do two Christmases.”

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he replies, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. And then you’re interrupted by the two older girls, running in and begging to set out the cookies for Santa. Andrei lets you go and lifts both girls up onto his hips, telling them, “make sure you pick good cookies. I think he likes ones with a lot of sprinkles.”

He winks at you over the girls’ heads and you suppress a little smile while you put the cookies the girls select on a special plate. The plate of cookies is carefully arranged on the coffee table, next to a glass of milk that Evie had very carefully carried from the kitchen.

“Can we watch Frosty, Mama?” Evie asks, giving you puppy eyes. She’s already tucked up on the couch in between her grandparents, one little hand wrapped around Elena’s forearm and the other clutching her Stormy plush - this version has a little Christmas sweater on and you’d tried to resist buying it but you’re weak when it comes to saying no sometimes. Alina’s already looking like she’ll pass out any second, head resting on Igor’s chest. Andrei has Kira in his arms, rocking from side to side so she’ll fall asleep.

“Okay,” you nod, “but as soon as Frosty’s over, it’s time for bed. Remember, Santa doesn’t come if you’re awake.”

Behind you, Andrei snorts a quiet little laugh and you know exactly why, but you refuse to dignify him with a response. You press your lips together to smother a laugh of your own.

“I’m not gonna sleep,” Evie informs you, apparently on Alina’s side with wanting to catch Santa. “I’m not even sleepy, Mama.”

Her sentence is punctuated by a huge yawn and you catch Elena’s eye, both of you muffling laughter.

“It would not be so bad,” Elena says, stroking Evie’s braided hair, “to close your eyes a little, zaychik.”

Evie wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, but you’re not surprised when all three girls and both grandparents are all passed out before Frosty even gets on the train to the North Pole. Andrei’s already brought Kira up to her crib and now he helps you bring up the older girls, lifting their combined weight easily into his arms while you wake up Elena and Igor.

“Jet lag,” they both laugh tiredly, Elena giving you and Andrei kisses on the cheek before retiring to their room. Igor offers to help bring the gifts down to the tree, but Andrei says something in Russian and his father nods, closing the door behind him.

You leave the doors to the girls’ bedrooms cracked a little, hoping you’ll hear them in case they get up. Tossing Andrei a Santa hat you’ve kept around just for this moment, you grin, “let’s get this done, Saint Nick.”

Andrei jams the hat on his head and gives you a crooked smirk. “Red is my color, solnyshka,” he teases and swats at your ass gently when he follows you to the second guest room that’s been serving as your gift and wrapping room.

Between the two of you, all the gifts are brought downstairs in less than an hour. Andrei likes to deposit the boxes randomly, leaving the huge box that you know is a Barbie Dream House for the girls to share right in the middle of everything. You shake your head and move it towards the back, making sure the presents are arranged nicely and there’s room to walk around all the furniture. You spot a handful of gifts labeled in Andrei’s messy scrawl and it makes you smile.

“Last one,” he says, setting a smaller box on top of the rest. “Time for bed?”

You survey the scene, skipping over the gifts and landing on the plate of cookies. “Oops, no! We almost forgot the cookies, take a bite out of one or two,” you suggest, knowing his massive sweet tooth. Andrei bites off half of a tree shaped cookie and holds out a second to you for you to bite.

A yawn escapes as you’re chewing and you cover your mouth immediately, mumbling an apology. Andrei scoffs and rests his hand on your lower back to guide you up the stairs, “let me take my zhena up to bed.” His voice is low and deep, warm despite the tiredness lacing his tone. The Santa hat is crooked on his head and it makes him look boyishly handsome. You recognize the look in his eyes and you add a little sway to your hips on your way back to your bedroom.

“Your parents are right down the hall,” you say quietly, even as you pull your pajama top over your head and push your pants and underwear to the floor.

Andrei raises an eyebrow at you, hungrily taking in the sight of your bare body. Your nipples tighten under his scrutiny and you feel a rush of warmth between your legs. He steps forward, crowding you until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fall back, landing flat on the mattress with your legs splayed open. He leans one knee in between your legs and covers your body with his to kiss you deeply, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You moan softly when he pulls back, one of his hands sliding up your side, over your chest, to rest at the base of your throat, “guess you’ll have to be quiet, solnyshka. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, hooking your ankle around Andrei’s hip and pushing at the waistband of his joggers. “Get rid of these,” you demand and Andrei kisses you again before standing up and stripping, his clothes discarded to the floor in seconds.

“Remember,” Andrei grins, running his fingers over your sensitive clit, making your back arch off the bed and a sharp gasp escape your lips, “quiet.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip to prevent any noise from escaping as Andrei pumps his fingers inside of you, curling and flexing them until you’re dripping down the curve of your ass. “Andrei!” You can’t help but moan his name when his fingers press up against your g-spot.

“Ah,” he tuts, pulling his fingers from your cunt and covering your mouth with his palm. “Quiet.”

With his hand muffling your noises, Andrei kneels between your open legs, lining up his cock at your entrance and sliding into you with one smooth thrust. You whine behind his hand, clenching immediately around his length, legs coming up to wrap around his waist. Sparks dance behind your eyes, pleasure building low in your stomach.

Andrei fucks into you with a steady rhythm, his hand warm over your face. You roll your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust and before you realize it, your orgasm is building and cresting, flooding your veins with fire. You bite down on Andrei’s palm and he hisses, finishing inside of you with a few more thrusts.

Everything is hazy and sticky and you blink up at Andrei, trying to focus on something other than the selfish desire for a second orgasm. Andrei’s hand shifts from your mouth to cup your cheek. His eyes twinkle with mischievous glee and you brace yourself for whatever he’s about to say.

“Santa was not the only one coming tonight, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you burst out laughing, push at his chest, “I hate you.”

Andrei kisses you sweetly, laughing too. “Sorry, that was bad,” he climbs off the bed, pulling you to your feet so you can both shower quickly and he can change the sheets before you go to bed.

It feels like you’ve only gotten ten minutes of sleep - thanks to a pair of wandering hands on your husband - when your bedroom door bangs open and Evie’s screaming, “SANTA BROUGHT PRESENTS!” She jumps onto your bed, bouncing on her knees in between you and Andrei, shrieking with delight. Andrei catches her around the waist and pulls her into a big hug.

“You’re going to wake the whole house, zaychik,” he teases, giving you a sleepy smile over her head.

“Everyone’s awake! Babu’s makin’ coffee and she said I had to wait five whole minutes before I woke you and Mama,” Evie informs him. “Can we pleaseeeee go open presents now?” She throws her arms around Andrei’s neck and pokes her lip out in a pout until he nods and she scrambles off the bed, racing for the stairs and screeching, “Papa said we can open!”

You yawn and slump against Andrei’s side, grinning tiredly, “I wish we could bottle her energy.”

“I will work on it for your birthday,” Andrei teases, kissing you warmly. “Merry Christmas, solnyshka.”

“Merry Christ—“

“MAMA! PAPA! PRESENTS!”

[xcherryerim]

Intoxicating Admiration

gn!reader vocalist x hard!dom Billy | word count: 2.7k

“Short breathes a whisper, and everythings new. Your still thoughts, cant walk.” — Where The Night Ends by Together Pangea

SMUT ONE SHOT - MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: choking, oral sex (only Billy womp womp) | quicky, unprotected sex (I can’t stress this enough y’all, wear condoms pls) | Penetration (no genitalia specified) | tying up reader’s wrist | porn with plot. | Car sex.

Notes: Wrote this a long time ago and I revised it like 2 times so… sorry for the repeated words and stuff :)

Also, the song reader sings is the one I linked at the beginning! You don’t have to listen to it but yk…

Summary: Running from the police, Billy finds himself hiding in a grunge bar, unsure of what to do next. He decides to stay for a little while longer and as he watches your band's performance, He is instantly drawn to you.

Billy's attempt to rob a gas station had gone wrong. The adrenaline pumping through his body kept him going for a while, but soon his legs gave out and he was forced to stop. On the run, he approached a strange bar that looked grunge and worn-out. But he had nowhere else to go, so he snuck inside to hide from the police and plan his next move.

Billy felt out of place in this dark and messy-looking bar, not used to its laid-back atmosphere compared to typical barn-looking ones. He'd been here for almost an hour and couldn't think of a good reason to stay. Even though the police were probably no longer searching for him, something was telling him to stay.

Everyone was watching him, some checking him out while others judging his cowboy-looking attire, but he didn't care. He was drowning in his regrets. It was all caused because he chose to get involved with those bikers, and now he was living off of stolen money. He hated it, hated his life, his choices, and himself. But it was too late to make things right, he was too deep in it now.

Out of sheer frustration, Billy blurted out "What do you want?" when someone stared at him.

The sudden outburst sent them jumping away, startled. After that, Billy sighed and ordered another scotch. His thoughts were plagued by doubt and uncertainty. He couldn't figure out how he'd get back home, how he'd pay off his debt with the bikers, or what to do with his life. He was overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness and just wanted to forget it all with alcohol.

Billy was too immersed in his thoughts to notice the subtle change in the lighting, or how the other people in the bar were focused on the stage. The loud electric guitars pierced his ears, drawing his attention toward the stage. He turned his face with annoyance and confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. The bar was no longer a casual, laid-back environment, but a scene for a performance.

You started playing your guitar abruptly as the cues for the song came in. Your fingers moved gracefully and fluidly to the beats of your bandmates, weaving an intricate mesh of rhythm and melody. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, filled with equal parts of anxiety and excitement as you knew your turn to sing was just a few moments away. You needed to put on a good performance, for the sake of the band and your reputation.

“Your long stares. You don't care. I know you want to. Short breathes a whisper.”

Billy was unsure how to react. Alternative music wasn't his thing, it was too loud and too chaotic. But there was something about the vocalist that captivated him. He couldn't quite explain it - it was as if the sound of your voice and your presence lured him in, taking control of his senses. The sight was addictive, intoxicating, and beautiful. Billy felt a strange tug inside him, urging him closer and closer, and for some reason, he couldn't resist.

Billy grabbed his scotch and navigated through the crowd, pushing people out of his way in a desperate effort to get as close as possible to the stage. The lure of the vocalist was overpowering and he had to get closer, even if it meant trampling on other people. The scotch was the only thing helping him maintain his composure, but all the alcohol in the world couldn't stop his mind from spinning and his heart from pounding.

As the lights change color and intensity, you suddenly notice an unfamiliar face in the crowd. The man is staring at you with a passionate, adoring look, his gaze fixed on you. You're not sure if it's your actual self or your performance persona, but you decide to wink at the cowboy-looking fella, encouraging the admiration. You keep on singing, your voice echoing through the entire bar, but you can't help but be aware of his presence, the intensity of his stare, and the heat his gaze is bringing.

“I wanna have you. Tell me where the night ends.”

Once you winked at Billy he felt so intoxicated, so much that the rest of the world faded. His vision was clouded, and he could see nothing but you. Every movement was hypnotic, and the vocals were perfect. Your voice was calling him, calling him to get closer, and no matter how much he fought it, it overpowered him.

You saw him, and you loved the reaction he had toward you. You couldn't help but smile and shake your head lightly, trying to dismiss him. However, his presence was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. You took a deep breath and belted out the high note, hoping it would catch his attention. But instead of looking at him, you focused on the performance, giving it your all. Despite wanting to acknowledge his admiration, you couldn't afford to lose focus on your performance.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers, their energy and excitement overflowing. You took the microphone and named the band once again, acknowledging the crowd for their support. However, amidst the celebrating and revelry, the mysterious man remained still, his eyes never swaying from you, his gaze fixed and intense.

After the show, you gathered some of your equipment and started cleaning up, but one of your bandmates stopped you in your tracks. "Hey, go get a drink, you deserve it. I'll pay." You wanted to say no, but after the demanding performance and the pressure of trying to impress the cowboy guy, you accepted. Walking to the bar section, your mind wandered back to that man with the intense gaze.

As you turned your head to the right Billy approached you with confidence, settling himself in the seat next to you. His face was full of a sense of determination and conviction as if he'd been waiting for this very moment.

"Hey," he said, as his gaze bore into you, searching for a reaction. "Would you mind if I join you for a drink?"

The way he looked at you instantly sparked a flicker of excitement deep within you. "Sure," you replied with a calm smirk on your face, playing it cool.

“I loved your performance.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it," you added, your eyes never leaving him for a second. In this moment, he was all you could see.

The details of his appearance, from his bruised knuckles to the way his veiny hands played with the rim of the glass, stirred up something inside you. Your head was wondering about the possibility of what those hands could do, and you were overcome with temptation. The intensity of the heat he was radiating made it impossible to stay seated, and your body was beckoning you to be closer to him.

I'm Billy," he introduced, extending his hand towards you. You shook it, your fingers brushing against his, and felt an electric current run through you. You couldn't help but let your eyes linger on his bruised knuckles, wondering about the story behind them.

You introduced yourself back, your voice low and sultry, matching his intensity. You took a sip from your drink and gestured towards your bandmates. "We usually hang out here after the show, care to join us?"

The heat of his breath hit you, bringing a shiver to your spine. He leaned even closer, his face just inches away from yours. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and something about the intensity of this encounter was drawing you closer.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding tone. "I'd love to. But I prefer spending some time alone with you if you don't mind…”

The way he leaned in made you catch your breath, and his words just added to the intensity of the situation. Your mind was going a mile a minute, trying to process what his words meant. You played dumb as if you didn't know exactly what he was implying. You sipped your drink for another moment, hoping to calm your nerves and not appear too flustered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, acting innocent as you raised an eyebrow.

His gaze was intense, his words low and seductive, bringing a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours.

"It means that I find you irresistible," he said, his voice rumbling through you. "I want to know more about you without prying eyes." He raised his glass to his lips, taking another sip, but his eyes were never leaving yours.

You felt your heart race at his words, a flush spreading across your cheeks. "You know, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, but you had to be cautious.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding whisper that made you tremble from the intensity. "Let me show you a good time," he murmured, sending shivers through your body. You were powerless in this moment, swept up by the passion and overwhelming attraction you felt for him.

The heat and tension were overwhelming, and the adrenaline rushed through you as everything unfolded quickly. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the backseat of your car, with Billy next to you. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of forbidden desire and overwhelming chemistry, creating a steamy and passionate atmosphere.

Billy spread, comfortable in the backseat of your car as he looked at you. He was relaxed and confident, but something about the atmosphere still felt forbidden and naughty. His words were flirtatious, with a hint of arrogance, but his tone was teasing and playful. "I don't bite,"

“But what if I want you to?” Your teasing response took things to the next level. It was a simple, yet charged statement, making him wonder just how desperate you were for anything he'd do.

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, finally giving in to his desire to kiss you. Your bodies were pressed into each other, skin against skin, as the heat and intensity of the moment swelled and surged between you. His kisses were passionate and demanding, leaving your lips tingling. As he sucked and bit into your lower lip, you could feel the sting mixed with the rush of pleasure coursing through your body.

His rough hands gently grazed your neck, not too tightly but firmly enough to leave a lasting impression. The light choking sensation only added to the intensity of the connection.

"You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat," Billy murmured.

With shaking hands, you tugged at his belt buckle, desperate to feel his heat against your fingertips. As you pulled his pants down, his cock sprung free, twitching in anticipation. It was even bigger and thicker than you imagined, and your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him.

You leaned in closer, taking in his musky scent as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, tasting the mixture of pre-cum and salty skin. With each passing moment, you took more of him into your mouth, savoring the feel of his hardness against your softness.

Your hands roamed over his thighs, up his abdomen, and finally rested on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your palms. His hips bucked forward, pushing his cock deeper into your throat, and you gagged slightly before pulling back to catch your breath.

With a lustful growl, he reached down and gripped your hair, pulling your head back towards his cock. "Suck it," he demanded, his voice rough with need. You complied, taking him deeper into your throat, bobbing your head up and down as you worked him.

You could feel his length throbbing in your mouth, his desire pulsing through you. His hands were in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat. You could feel him twitching, and the sensation was overwhelming.

Billy's breath hitched, and he groaned, his hips bucking against your mouth. "Fuck, you're good at this," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "I've never had anyone suck me off like this before."

With a moan of pleasure, you pulled back slightly, your eyes never leaving Billy's. His cock twitched in anticipation as he gripped your wrists tightly with his belt. You couldn't help but grin, the feeling of being restrained only adding to the excitement.

"Please," You whispered around his hardness. "Do it." You begged, your voice shaky with desire. With that, Billy pushed your wrists together even tighter, the leather digging into your skin. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure you felt as he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You sucked harder, taking him as far down your throat as you could. His hips pounded against your face, the slapping sound echoing in the car. Slowly, he pulled your head back, releasing your mouth from him.

Billy’s hand closed around the leather belt that encircled your wrist. With a swift tug, he pulled you closer to him, the rough texture of the belt against your bare skin sending shivers down your spine.

As he sat you on his lap, his hard cock, already leaking precum, rubbed against your entrance. You could feel the heat emanating from it, the anticipation of what was to come almost unbearable.

He spat into his hands, the saliva glistening in the dim light. With rough fingers, he spread the moisture around your entrance, preparing you for his entry. You arched your back instinctively, begging for him to take you.

Finally, he positioned himself, his cockhead teasing. With a forceful thrust, he pushed inside you, filling you up in one swift motion. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, your body adjusting to the sudden intrusion. His hips pounded against your back, driving him deeper with each passing second.

“Your thighs are shaking so much,” Billy added.

You couldn't help but laugh, your body still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. "I can't help it," you panted. "It's been a while since I've been fucked this hard."

Billy's hips pounded harder, his thrusts growing more demanding. Each time he pushed into you, the sensation was overwhelming. You gripped the seat, your nails digging into the rough fabric, as you arched your back, begging for more.

Your breath hitched as you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours. His voice was thick with lust as he groaned, "You feel so good. I'm not going to last much longer."

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. "I want you to come inside me."

The words sent a jolt of excitement through him, and he thrust into you harder. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you to the brim. With a primal roar, Billy let himself go, emptying himself inside you.

"Damn, that was good," Billy panted, his breath ragged as he pulled out of you. You could feel the stickiness of his come between your legs, the evidence of your passion.

You grinned, your heart racing. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you said, your voice low and sultry. "But I think it's time for me to go."

“No,” Billy wrapped his arms around you, his body leaning into you as his lips kissed your back. The way he held you was comforting and protective, but there was also a sense of possessive desire in his behavior.

“How about we go back to my place?”

It was clearly what Billy was trying to do. His question brought you back to reality, and the urge to be alone with him for the rest of the night overtook you. You wanted to go with him, to be with him, to be his, at least for the whole night.

“Fine.”

The heat and excitement of the moment had passed, but the passion and desire remained. You quickly changed back into your clothes, adjusting them as best as you could. Billy followed your example, getting himself ready as he sat next to you in the passenger seat.

“Good,” He leaned in again, pressing his lips against yours, taking control of the situation. That single kiss was an indication of what was to come.

“because I’m not done with you.”

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed this 🫶🏻 … Part 2?

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

tag list: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo (If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!)

[writingoddess1125]

Dancing at Home

Soap, Ghost, Price, König x GNReader

Fluffy Fluff Unicorn Ass Fluff 🦄

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Ghost-

Lounging in the livingroom you and Simon were listening to music and relaxing. He had gotten home a few days ago and had simply wanted to lounge about- it had been a hard few months for him and he wanted nothing more then to rest and be lazy. Which you happily supported.

That afternoon was no different, You were scrolling through your phone reading as Simon leaned back in his big chair what you assumed was him taking a nap- both of you full from the nice lunch he had cooked the both of you as music blared from the TV.

As you both enjoyed the domestic moment you heard the old song come on, Smiling softly as you began to softly sing along.

"Put your head on my shoulder~"

Simon opened one eye to peer at you, Hearing you sing along to the melody.

Simon stared at you, watching you sing along to the old song- His gaze softening as he rolled himself up from his chair and walked to you, still in his shorts and old shirt as he scooped you up.

"Simon?-" You question with a surprised Squeak as you are set carefully on your feet. He carefully wrapped his arms around you and began to sway the two of you together, a smile blooming on your face as you followed him- Letting the large man lead you.

"People say loves a game-"

He had a beautiful voice, deep and rich that seemed to fill the room. A gentle smile tugging on his lips as he knew you loved to hear him sing-

"A game you just can't win~"

You lay your head on Simon's big shoulder, smiling happily as the two of you rocked together your eyes closed as the world faded around you two.

"Whisper is my ear Baby~" He sings as he lays a kiss on your neck, whispering the line into your ear which makes your heart flutter.

"Tell me that you love me too" You sing back to him, He smiled down at you and placed a soft kiss on your lips. The two of you humming along to the sweet song once you pull away and just sway in each other's warm embrace.

Soap-

You stood in the livingroom cleaning up the area while listening to your music, humming along as you went- Johnny had had gotten home from deployment not too long ago and it had been a joy.

You'd missed him so much, him being away for so long periods with the injuries he always sported had hurt your heart everytime you saw it. Him being home now- everything was finally right... even if he was fucking messy-

You'd sent Johnny to clean out the shed which he used to hoard his many 'treasures' aka his junk. You'd taken up the livingroom since that had been were you had camped out when he was away-

Dancing around the livingroom as you picked up your clothes and sang along to the trashy club hit.

"Enjoying yourself?" Johnny chimed as he saw you standing there dancing.

Johnny began to laugh at this as he watched your rather terrible grinding motion- Doubling over in broken snorts and giggles.

"Baby Grind on me!" You sing out, rocking your hips in awful fashion which Johnny joined in of course- You'd never seen a person so bad at moving their knees before and laughed out a few more lyrics.

"I never noticed how dirty this song was actually" You giggle at you hear the lyrics and Johnny nods wiping away some tears.

"Very! Whipped cream and all" He laughed out as the two of you went down in the livingroom.

"Whats cherry drawe's?" He repeated not knowing the slang for it which made you laugh and keep the poor club dancing. He rocked his hips and tried to sexy way-

"You have to do the lip bite!" You protest which makes you both laugh and Johnny smooths his hand over his Mohawk and bites his bottom lip as he sings along.

"And ohhh your Grinding on Me!!" He sank/voice cracked out- his wheezing out a laugh immediately after as you start to laugh harder then you ever had before at the train wreck you'd just witnessed.

Tears rolling down your cheeks at how hard your laughing and quite literally have to take a kneel- Johnny was no better as he fell to his knees smacking the floor.

"I can't fucking breath!-" He wheezed out inbetween laughs as you nod in agreement. Johnny moving over after he was able to get in a few breaths and pulled you back up to your feet to pepper some kisses on you. You and Johnny giggling between kisses as he smiled and held you close.

"I love you" You say softly Johnny kissing you once more-

"I love you too~" He said softly, Rubbing your back as the two of you held each other. However Johnny gave you a mischievous wink and smiled.

"Wanna try out that whipped cream thing?~"

Price-

It was your night to cook dinner, staring the heavy pot of pasta as you drifted off in thought. You were so happy to have John back home- It was scary when he would leave for such long periods of time but you were just greatful he was here now-

The sound of music filling the house being evident of that.

John loved to collect records, he often blared them when he was home and usually smoking in the lounge-

Hearing the smooth sound of Stevie Wknder echo through the house lifted your mind of your worried state as you hummed while stiring dinner, unknowing of said Captian coming behind you to wrap himself around you. His arms tightening around your waist as he pressed his body against your back.

"That smells good" He hummed softly, Leaning his head on your shoulder as he enjoyed your warmth.

"It's your favorite, Ziti" You say with a smile hearing John's muffled humming as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. You hear the song on the record change and you feel John immediately sut up a bit more- This was his favorite afterall.

"I don't want to boorreee " John sings, he wasn't much of a singer but he often tried with you. You smiling widely at this and begin to hum along with him- swaying the two of you to the beat.

"With my troubles~" He sang as the two of you rocked together, Him pulling away enough to turn you drawing a giggle from you.

"There something about your love" you sing back at him as the two of you rock to the beat, looking up at your Goofy husband who was clearly having the time of his life.

"That Knocks me off My Feet-" He sang back, peppering hisses over your face as the two of you danced together.

"Oh but I love you I love you~" You both sing together, swaying with each other as he gives you a playful twirl.

And the two of you danced in the kitchen, in your own world. The sweet love of the Reckrds filling your home as the two of you moved together.

Till it shattered when the sound of the fire alarm going off in the flat shook you both from your dancing- Seeing the dark smoke rise from the shaking pot.

"Shit!" John yells as you scramble to turn off the now thoroughly burnt food and John cracking open a window and fanning the fire alarm with a mitten.

Both of you with stupid grins on your face as you look at each other and then what used to be pasta on the stove.

"How does Take Away sound?"

König-

You had been doing your hair that morning, having some errands to run later on that day so you wanted to get your hair out of the way.

Mainly wanting to go to the market to stock up on supplies since it was an hour drive to the nearest village and you Boyfriend hated going out there.

König was on leave for the next two months, saying he wasn't taking up any contracts since he wanted to spend some time with you which ment you needed to restock on everything since this man ate like a horse.

Which of course wasn't a problem since he was a damn giant- and a sweetheart wrapped in one perfect package. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner to add you groan as you feel it's lightness and realize it's empty.

"God Damn it-" You grumble, knowing König must have uses the last of it-

Secretly you were jealous- He had such pretty hair that he either buzzed or tossed away to deal with for another day. Only recently did he allow it to grow since you liked it so much- Silk like auburn curls that grew like a weed, In just a few short months it was long enough for him to throw in a small bun ontop his head.

While thinking about his hair your music changed and you began to hum along to the upbeat music which was about hair.

Thinking of how curly his hair was you couldn't help but smile-

"Konig! What is the word for Perm?" You called out, Hearing the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend making his way to the bathroom- dressed in only gray sweats and not sporting his usual mask he raised an eyebrow at you as his gray eyes watched your half ass dancing figure.

"Perm?" He questioned, clearly going through the rolladex of English words in his brain for a second.

"Er Dauerwelle- Why?"

You shrug and point to him mouthing the words, him smirking as he watched you get into the funky music. You take König's hands and start to move with the music, The large man awkwardly swaying with you.

You doing a rather unflattering shuffle while holding his hands to have him join you- You giving your poor attempt of a Michael Jackson spin which forced a laugh out of him.

"Theres that smile Im looking for! Now was that so hard?!" You say in perfect time with the song. He laughed at this as he smiled brightly and continued to shuffle with you.

"WOAH!!" You say in sync and start to laugh as the big man began to relax before you- Shuffling his feet to match yours with the best of his abilties.

You pat your own hair down and he mimics you to match the song while the both of you dance out of the bathroom and down the hall, the wood floors creaking over König heavy feet and heavy shuffle. The whole house being your guys dance floor as you both dance through it.

"You need to Activate you Sexy!" You both say and snap on time.

"Pat Pat Pat!!!" He touches his hair again and spins around to face you- understanding in his eyes as the song comes to a end.

"You think my hair looks permed!" He correctly accused making you smile brightly and laugh running from the big Austrian man who was now chasing you.

[volturiprincess]

To love You in an Old Way

Jasper Hale x human mate reader

Summary: Reader is a fan of old school love Warnings: None, just pure fluff A/N: This one-shot was inspired by this song I been listening on repeat lately, its called "Amarte a la Antigua" or "To Love You in an Old Way" by Eslabon Armado. I added lyrics from the song onto this (Spanish is my first language so translating was easy) From just that song theres another song I listen from this group and another one shot idea came to idea. There will be another A/N in the end. Enjoy :)

(You can never forget your first love for a Vampire)

“Today we no longer write letters to fall in love

Today the flowers are no longer seen”

I have never been serenaded by gifts or even experienced all those old school love gestures. I always said I had no interest in being serenaded but secretly I wished that everything you see in the movies could happen to me. The endless romance books I have drowned myself in so that I could try to picture myself in those romantic scenes leaves me with an unsaid desire. But it is an unrequired thing, guys at school just don't work like that anymore 

“Where has that romance gone?

There are no longer poems to conquer each other

Now only emails are sent”

That is until a certain cowboy came into my life, Jasper Hale. I always admired him from a distance and didn't really approach him in any way until he awkwardly but oh so adorable came up to me one day and said “Hello y/n would you like to go out with me to a bookstore in Port Angeles”. The way he had a hint of anxiety in his eyes and how he flexed his arms behind his back left me curious as to why he was so nervous to talk to me. From that moment 2 years ago today, we have been together ever since, and yes I do know about him and his family being vampires and his past even. There are days where he has to be away from me to control his thirst but I never feel disappointed or hurt. I do always praise him for how far he has come to being able to be around me without the feeling of wanting to drain my blood in a second. 

But the thing I absolutely love about Jasper is he is an old school lover, makes sense since he is old but he does everything you would see in the movies. At first it started with just short poem phrases left inside my locker or in the books I would read, 

“Loving you the old way, stealing your smiles

Hold your hand, open the door for you, write you poems

love like before”

And from that he started to write full on poems, one of them being called “To love you in old way”, which just hits my heart in every way. He then started to give me little gifts, nothing fancy yet unless you count chocolates but he would give me little drawings he's done throughout the day or once he gave me a bracelet he made that had a small heart and rose charm. I still wear that bracelet to this day. 

“Fill you with roses, sing you songs, paint you caresses”

When he writes me poems, he leaves them in my bedroom with a bouquet of my favorite flowers each time. The way he loves me is something I never knew could exist, he's so suave with his southern charm  and the way he can sit for hours listening to me talk just makes my heart swell. Many would assume just because he's the reserve type he lacks being a romantic type, but when me and him are alone he says some of the most dazzling and mesmerizing things that can put any poet to shame

Like just a minute ago he said this line 

“In you, I have found the love that fills my soul”

And with his Texan accent, it made it more personal.

“Was that an Edgar Allan Poe quote?”

“It was, I figured you would like it for the reason being you love his works”

“Oh you know me so well cowboy”

He smirked slightly and pulled me into his embrace so my back was against his chest while he was leaning against a tree. 

“I like how you learned quotes from his works to woe me, even if he focuses more on the dark and terror of life”

“Well one thing I have grown to know about you is books are a key to your heart”

“Yes true, and food, don't forget food”

The way he laughs makes me melt into him more, his laugh is quiet like the sounds of small bells ringing, so angelic yet at the same time so bewitching.

“I could never forget that about you darlin”

I thought about our first date, I was internally panicking and was overthinking constantly of what to say to him, I was debating to just be myself or my quiet self. What made me loosen up with him was he gave me this aura of calm, at the time I didn't understand how but with that feeling I relaxed and was able to finally be myself. Since our first date was at a bookstore, he held all the books I wanted and he didn't protest or anything, actually he would recommend books or I would catch him sneaking books into my growing pile. After that date, we just knew we fit like a puzzle, it was then confirmed later that Jasper and I are mates which confused me since I am human. 

We would spend hours either in his room or mine reading and then talking about it afterwards. He really is my missing piece to my soul. My parents even approved of Jasper and would be happy to have him over or even letting him stay the night or vice versa. They knew Jasper was the perfect gentleman and wouldn't do anything to hurt me, which is true in every way, even if he does have his days where he struggles with his thirst control.

“Penny for thoughts?”

At hearing his voice through my mist of memories I answered “I was just thinking about our first date”

“What about it?”

“Just thinking how we fit like two puzzle pieces”

He kissed the top of my head and mumbled quietly

“You have no idea how true that is”

I grabbed his hand and traced his visible veins. I would often do that to make him relax more and in a way it comforted me. As for him I noticed he would bury his face into my hair, he says my hair smells like flowers and I could feel him melt everytime he did that. 

“Can I ask you something”

His sudden voice in our quiet bliss startled me

“Yea? What's up?”

“Well I have a supplication for you”

I raised an eyebrow at that word but pulled away from him so I could face him.

“Supplication? You never fail to amuse me with your formal words but continue with your supplication”

His radiantly affectionate smirk spread onto his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small box out, seeing that box my eyes widened slightly, is it what i think it is? With opening the box I can already see the twinkling diamond shining through 

“Darlin’ the moment I meet you I felt I could finally breathe again, I felt somewhat human once again and my dark past did not cloud my mind as much, I don't know what I would do if I were to ever lose you or let you do, that might sound selfish but damn dang it I love you doll, Will you do me the honor and marry me?”

My tears were already building up when he barely said his first words. The man of my dreams is asking for my hand in marriage and the way the sunlight was hitting him made him look so surreal, it felt like we were in a dream at that moment.

“YES Jas, YES!!”

His smile widened and he placed the ring on my finger in an instant and pulled me into a deep kiss. This kiss didn't feel like any other kiss we had in the past, it felt like all our past deception vanished and it was just me and him in this whole world. And to think this all started with me craving for that old antique love gestures. 

“Love you the old way, love you like before”

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

A/N: I love Jasper, as I said in one of my past post, he was my first Vampire love until well I discovered Felix but I still love him never less. I have another idea for a one shot with another song but this time it will be about Caius, hence to why I have one of his quotes in my bio.

[hydrngea]

before the party

request : omg I was looking through your blog and I saw you listen to Rauw Alejandro, who is one of my current obsessions! Can I request an imagine with Rafe where the reader is listening to Rauw while getting ready for a party and he just loves watching her sing along and dance to the songs without having any idea what they mean?

a/n : i’m so glad i got this request bc i’ve been so into rauw lately!!! hope you guys enjoy this kinda smutty fic 🫣 this is a repost bc for tumblr was being annoying w it!

notes / summary : rafe didn’t realize your spanish playlist had such horny lyrics. reader is spanish speaking, but i left race/ethnicity to interpretation! pls be 18+ when reading!!

——-

rafe remembers absolutely nothing from high school spanish.

well, with seniora baldwin as a teacher for four years in a row, there’s no way he remember more than two percent of what he learned.

kinda ironic that his girlfriend is fluent in the language.

there’s no reason for him to be annoyed that you speak spanish. your knowledge comes with a bunch of perks.- acting as a free translator during deals down in florida and mexico. makes navigating vacations much easier too.

there’s one thing though; he can’t understand for the life of him what you’re saying when you start speaking it. or in this case, when you’re singing it.

your voice echos from the bathroom into your shared bedroom while you sing along to your playlist which is mostly consisted of some latin party music. b

rafe walks into the restroom to grab some hair gel when he finds shaking your hips and dancing along as you draw on your eyeliner in the mirror.

he lets out a chuckle, panning his eyes over your figure. “what’s he saying about the party?”

your reflection tenses at his question, and a flush begins to pool over the face of your skin.

“he’s saying…things.” you drag your response while you clean up your eyeliner.

“sure.” rafe rolls his eyes before exiting into the bedroom, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

he sits down onto the bench in front of your bed and searches up “party” by rauw translation. he clicks the first link and starts reading the translated lyrics line by line.

he has to hold in the laugh that grows in his throat while he takes in the absolutely vile lyrics.

“i’ll smack that ass” he repeats outloud, and the music from the speaker immediately pauses as you push your head out the doorway with a confused look on you face.

“what?”

rafe almsot chokes at the next lyric, eye widening and brows lifting. he gets up and walks towards you while reading it out, “that booty is for me to use.”

you relax once it clicks in your mind that he’s reading off something, letting out an annoyed sigh before stepping back in front of the mirror.

you notice rafes hand approaching the backside of your skirt from the reflection of the mirror and you swat at it before he can touch it.

“uh uh! vamos a llegar tarde a la fiesta por tu culpa!”

rafe blinks at you in confusion. you turn around, facing him “it’s your fault we’ll be late to the party.” you reiterate so he can understand.

“i didn’t realize this rauw guy sung such horny songs, baby.”

you roll your eyes, unpausing the music on your phone and resuming with patting on your blush. “well, if you’d learned spanish by now you would’ve known.”

rafe gets closer behind you, putting a hand on your hip and forcing you to turn around and face face him. your back leans against the edge of the vanity and you set down your compact onto the counter.

“you’re going to ruin my clothes!” you squirm as his hands begin to run over your bare thighs, trailing up under your skirt.

he leans forward to bring his lips to your neck, pressing kisses down to your collarbone “i don’t care.”

“rafe,” you shudder when his lips reach the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

he shushes you, his breath grazing over your skin while he starts pulling down your bottoms.

you lean your head back which allows him greater exposure to your skin, giving into his actions.

“we need to make this-“ a gasp cuts off your words, two fingers slipping up your entrance and hitting deep against your walls. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and use them to keep you steady while he plunges them in and out and a deteriorating pattern, slowly cracking down on the tension in your body.

“you like that, y/n/n?” he questions as he quickens his pace, thumb grazing over your nub. rafe’s lips catch yours in a hard embrace, and he swallows the moan that falls from your throat. you tighten your grip on his biceps and arch against his fingers, enjoying the sensation of his slender digits pumping into your core.

a familiar burning feeling forms in your abdomen, and your begin to writhe on-top of the counter, bucking your hips up to meet the him as he curls his fingers inside you.

you let out another moan into his collarbone and he smirks, pulling his fingers out right before you cross the edge. “baby, please-“ you cry but he retreats from you, walking away while lapping at the wetness left on his fingers with concerning nonchalance.

rafe shrugs, walking out of the bathroom into where he came from. “we’re gonna be late to the party,”

he abandons you on the vanity with your skirt pooled on the tile floor, your chest heaving and wetness dripping down you leg into your calves.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

of course rafe would do this—he loves teasing and making sure that you know who you belong to, even though he knows he has no competition.

——-

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) : @maybankslover @mrsstarkey1 @a-aexotic @penny4yourthoughts @poguesworld @tee-swizzle @sangytv

masterlist / recent fic

[shsy7573]

Random Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) Character/Song Analysis Kinda Thing… I Guess

Okay, so yeah, Luci has 100% taken over this page. So what? I’m not obsessed, you are.

Anyway, I’ve been listening to “More Than Anything” on repeat since it dropped, and like a lot of the fandom I tear up every single time… but unlike a lot of the fandom, it’s not because of the sweet father-daughter moment (which, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t help the situation because it’s just so damn wholesome).

No, what gets me is how, just through a couple subtle moments, the show is able to convey just how absolutely shattered Luci is as a character. And, you know, because he’s my favourite, bestest, snek-baby-duck-boy, it makes me a little emotional…

So now you’re all gonna hear about what goes through my mind every time I listen to it. YAY!

“Charlie! You don’t understand, Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me. They won’t listen to you!” / “You don’t know that—” / “I do!”

It starts before the song even truly begins. When I’m listening, it’s usually these first few lines that grab my attention. I end up replaying the first 4-5 seconds of the song over and over again because the pain in that “I do” is so fucking good! (And because I like to suffer apparently cuz I end up sad. Life of an angst lover I guess).

It’s the first time we see him with actual tears in his eyes. The raw delivery of that line is so attention grabbing, and manages to say so much in such little words.

I think the reason this particular scene tickles my brain so much is because it’s the breaking point for his character in a way. I am, and always will be, a sucker for moments where a character’s walls finally come down, and we get to see what’s been festering inside. When their deepest thoughts and how much they’re hurting are revealed. The entire song is what that is for Lucifer, starting with these two words right here. I truly cannot put into words just how much my breath is taken away by Jeremy’s delivery of this line. I cannot articulate how much I love it, and how important it is for Luci’s character. it just hits so deep and so right for me and I love it.

Lucifer isn’t just saying that he knows Heaven isn’t going to care about her plan (I don’t think anyone thought that’s all he was saying but whatever). He is saying that he knows what Heaven does to dreamers. He knows what they’ll do because he has already been there, and it destroyed him. They took his ideas that they saw as too outlandish, and they squashed them. Cast him aside. And he paid the price for it when he went bashing their back and did his own thing anyway.

Luci is a broken dreamer. Throughout the entire episode, and the series as a while, we are given very strong hints of this. However, it’s not until this song that we really see it in action. It’s not until these moments that we are able to see past both the veils of “Imposing King of Hell” and “Goofy Guy who’s trying his best but not great at Dadding,” and get a look at how genuinely depressed this man is.

“My dreams were too hard to defend.”

This scene eight here. The more I see it, the more I fall in love with it. Just a great example of ‘show don’t tell.’

He’s talking about having big ideas, he’s talking about giving people a chance and reaching outside the normal, he’s talking about being cast out of Heaven. I just love the parallel he’s drawing between Charlie’s mission, and his own past.

Charlie created the hotel in an attempt to give people who have been seen as lesser to all of Heaven some sort of chance. She is choosing to have faith in them, and to open up opportunities for them to lead a better life.

Lucifer, when he gave Eve the fruit, was taking a chance to allow humanity the chance to have free will. He wanted them to experience everything life had to offer for themselves like angels got to. He offered a chance for them to lead a better life.

He had everything, and he had complete faith that what he was doing was right. All the light and hope of his dreams was right in the palm of his hand. He had so many ideas that he thought, if they were saw through, would make the world a better place.

But it didn’t work out for him.

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again.”

Now, the first seconds of dialogue may be what I keep rewatching, but this has got to be my favourite visual of the entire song. It’s such powerful imagery, and I fangirl over it every time.

Look at how small he looks in that shot (I know, I know, he’s tiny regardless, but like seriously). He is completely outnumbered, hopelessly overpowered, totally at the mercy of all his Heavenly superiors… and he’s all alone.

He lost everything because he had the gall to dream. It’s not hard to look at the song (and the episode at large, really) and find not only his feelings of being wronged, but also his immense guilt. It shows in how much he hates Sinners. They are basically the worst of what he did, a constant reminder of the day his mistake caused him to lose his home and everything he held dear, and they are all he gets to see. Only being permitted to see your failures for all eternity? No wonder he’s fucking depressed.

The day Heaven cast him out was the day he stopped dreaming. Because dreaming big only leads to pain, failure, and suffering.

“I just don’t want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.”

This next moment is kinda self explanatory and obvious and really doesn’t need any commentary, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway. Because I love it, and I love him, and… you know… angst. I’ve mentioned my lust for it several times now throughout this post, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

I just feel so bad for him. Lucifer made one mistake. One simple, misguided mistake that ended up introducing evil into the world, and all of Heaven came down on him for it. And, you know what, in the narrative presented by the show, what he did wasn’t that bad. He just wanted to give the world’s newest creations the same freedom angels had, and it backfired horribly. Lucifer, like Charlie, was an idealist who saw the best in people and wanted to help.

And what did he get for his good intentions? Shoved into the cesspool he unintentionally created, and forbidden to ever see anything good that came from his dream.

If I had to guess, Lilith was the only thing keeping his mental health afloat for a long time… and then they had Charlie.

“The tales about your lofty dreams. I’d listen breathlessly, imaging it could be me.”

His daughter became the light of his life. Something that he cherished and indulged more than anything else in the world. To him, she was perfect, and he wanted to do right by her in any way he could.

Lilith told their daughter stories of all her father’s dreams regardless of what he thought of them, and when the little princess came asking him… how could he refuse? How could he refuse her anything?

So he shared them with her. All the tales of grandeur, and fantasies of everything he wished the world could have been. All the dreams he had long since let go.

“And in the end, it’s the view I had of you that show me dreams can be worth fighting for.”

Now, the scene where Lily take’s Charlie away has always been excellent brain fodder for me because of how somewhat ambiguous it is. You could interpret his sadness to have SO MANY meanings. However, I have inevitably decided on two potential head-cannons/theories to share here for what could possibly be going through Snek-King’s head.

One: Lucifer loves his daughter, but he feels estranged and like he’s failed her in some way. She’s such a joy, such a wonder, and in a way it's his fault she’s trapped down here with all of human ties worst. He wasn’t to be close to her, and to make the world perfect for her… but he already feels like he’s failed her in the most unforgivable way. He keeps his distance because part of him doesn’t want her to have a super high of an opinion of him. It’s kind of his depression manifesting, saying that ‘she shouldn’t admire you and your stupid dreams when they’re the reason she’ll never see true light and happiness.’

The angst addict in me likes this one more, but still I’ve got another one that always pops.

Two: He feels like he’s selling her false hope, and he can kind of see the place her innocence is headed. He’s seen the horrors of the world, and he knows the more he indulges her dreams and fantasies, the more she’ll suffer when she sees that’s not what the world is like. He knows from personal experience how much it hurts when your dreams come undone, when you lose hope in the world.

Listening to Charlie’s actual lyrics, she tells him that he was the one who inspired her to dream, that he was right to dream, and that she’s not going to back down. In the song, Luci realises that 1: maybe he didn’t fuck us as badly as he thought and that she actually doesn’t blame him and wants her in his life and/or 2: she has her mother’s willpower, and she’s never going to stop dreaming or let her world be sullied like he did. She’s so much stronger than he was.

So he lets her in.

(Side note… AWWW, look how TINNYY he is! He’s so small. The start contrast in the second image gets me every time)

There’s a bit of symbolism in the song which I ABSOLUTELY adore, and it has to do with the wings. In the flashback, Charlie mentions his “lofty dreams,” when we see the duck, which later transforms to have multiple sets of wings. Later in the song, when Lucifer finally lets her in, he also sprouts those wings.

And I just love this, because I think it acts as the perfect symbolism of him finally opening his mind again. Not just to his daughter, but to the possibility of dreaming in general.

He takes her to a circus, a place filled to the brim with spectacles and thrills, a place where humanities wildest imaginations seem possible.

But even though he’s beginning to open up, and he’s willing to help her in whatever she does, he’s not ‘fixed.’ His depression and self doubt and feelings of hollow emptiness and guilt and apprehension aren’t gone.

And he’s still terrified of seeing her spark go out like his did.

This tiny smile break is so addicting to watch for me. It speaks volumes. Once again, my angst loving heart eats it up every time. It says, “I’m still worried, and there is still so much shit going on in my mind right now about all of this, but I’m here for you.”

And that’s what counts.

Luci’s character showed a lot of colours, and came a long way in this singular episode, but he’s still got a big uphill battle to climb. He still has to come back into his own where dreams are concerned. Maybe he never will, not completely. Realistically, he’ll never go back to the way he was.

But maybe, just maybe, in helping his daughter he’ll find something worth believing in again.

That is, of course, if they decide to give him a character arc beside ‘Dad who is trying and doing better,’ but for that only time will tell.

—

And THAT concludes my rant on the Rubber Ducky Ruler. If you stuck around this long, good for you! I wrote this whole thing on a limb at midnight, and NO I’m not going to go back and edit it because why would I ever want to see all the horrid grammatical and spelling errors I’ve inevitably made.

Maybe I’m off the mark on all of this. Maybe I’m head-cannoning too much. Maybe I’m just trying to suck out every hint of potential angst out of a song that’s supposed to be sweet and wholesome. That’s for you to decide. But for me, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with this analysis. In the end, I just needed to express all the thoughts bumbling around in my head SOMEWHERE before I exploded, and unfortunately, I feel like I’ve run all my friends dry talking about this baby to them, so now it’s your turn. But, anyways, I think that about wraps things up. It’s time to go to bed.

Farewell, stay hydrated, and have a lovely rest of your day/night :)