#I've been here an hour we open in another hour now the call count is about 25

[hussyknee]

THE LEFTIST THIRD PARTY HAS WON SRI LANKA'S PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

WE HAVE A PRO-LGBT, PRO-UNION, ANTI-ETHNOFASCIST, ANTI-IMPERIALIST PRESIDENT. MY ANTHROPOLOGY PROFESSOR IS GOING TO BE PRIME MINISTER. A COMPETENT ACADEMIC WHO HAS WORKED ON FEMINIST INITIATIVES AND RESEARCH ALL HER CAREER.

please please please please god don't let them fuck this up don't let them turn into a bunch of cunts to retain their new voter base don't let them fuck up the economy don't let them let the minorities down please please please they won't ever get another chance if they ruin this one we'll be stuck with more idiot corrupt nepo babies till we die please please please PLEASE LET THIS BE THE END OF THE EXECUTIVE PRESIDENCY AND PREVENTION OF TERRORISM ACT AND PERSECUTING THE NORTH please please please let them decriminalize being gay and not bury LGBT rights please please please let there be a god I can't take anymore of this shitshow please please please don't let hope be something that keeps pissing in our faces please please please please please please please

ANURA KUMARA DISSANAYAKE WILL BE THE NINTH PRESIDENT OF SRI LANKA. TAKE THAT YOU TWO PARTY VOTING MOTHERFUCKERS.

Edit:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FUCKING COLOMBO WENT TO THE IDIOT NEPO BABY???

AKD HAD 52%!!!!! HE WAS ALL BUT SWORN IN?????

THEY HAVE TO COUNT THE SECOND PREFERENTIAL VOTE FOR ONLY THE SECOND TIME IN HISTORY??

There is a very real chance that nobody will get over 50% of the vote. That would be really, really bad.

Fuck.

I HATE YOU MOTHERFUCKING URBAN MIDDLE CLASS LIBERAL CUNTS SO MUCH. PLAGUE ON THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY. FUCK YOU.

Edit 2:

Ok so first counting gets AKD 42% and SP 32%. It's very likely the preferentional vote will put him over the 50% line.

It's so poetic that Ranil's greed for power ended up handing the country to the very Marxists that his uncle hunted like animals. You love to see it. 🥰

Edit 3:

So the preferential vote didn't give anyone a 50% majority and we're still at AKD 42% and SP 32%. But apparently that's enough to declare AKD President as per the Constitution. I don't think that's ever happened before. He was sworn in an hour ago.

Point of clarification: The NPP are not Marxists. Foreign news is just uncritically regurgitating the pro-government Red Scare propaganda. AKD and his JVP party used to be Marxists back in the '80s and '90s. They're now more very pro-union socialist. The NPP is their coalition, which is even more mildly social democrat and just happens to be a little more left than the other two. Calling them a Marxist is like how MAGA thinks the Dems are commies. 😂

I truly don't have great hopes that much will change, but there's a chance one or two important things might. Which is more than we've been able to hope for in decades.

See this post for a run down of the what's really been happening.

Edit 4:

I retract the "openly bisexual" part with many apologies. I completely misremembered. It wasn't AKD but JVP senior K. D. Lalkantha, who said in a 2018 interview is that he has also had same sex encounters with his friends as a boy and young man, and that he knows others who have had as well. And he specifically said he doesn't see the need to maintain a label for his sexuality. Still, the fact that his party allowed this in a country that still criminalises homosexuality, to a Sinhalese magazine, speaks to a commitment to LGBT rights. He also explicitly stated his support for women's rights, trans rights, polyamory, open relationships, explicit sexuality in media. It's impressively progressive for this country. The interview is in Sinhala and you can read it here.

Here's an excellent write-up of AKD's career, political outlook and creation of NPP in The Hindu by correspondent Meena Srinivasan, a journalist whose reporting I've always liked.

[urbandokkalfar]

If you gotta call a business and ask if they're open on a holiday please for the love of fuck, ask if they have an item in stock or carry a brand instead of asking are YoU oPeN??

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[3nni3]

What happens in teledisko, stays in teledisko...

cw: +18, nsfw, rpf, consumption of alcohol, smut (handjob), cursing, lowkey exhibitionism. f! reader

a/n: when the idiots get an idea for a story, i make it happen. this is my first smut i've ever published, and english isn't my first language, but i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. also if you find any mistakes, no you didn't 😅

no word count because idfk i wrote this in my phone's notes app👍🏻 kinda short one

okay let's go

----------------------------------------------

The night had started out with getting drinks at the nearest Späti. You two had been wandering around Berlin for a few hours now, getting drinks at every corner store. After seven different spätis, and six beers (one stop was to get a bottle of water, even though the tall man who accompanied you wasn't that excited about your drink of choice) you started feeling tipsy and tired.

Sightseeing in Berlin was amazing, but tiring. You felt the energy being drained from your body and ready to return to your hotel, but the man who was sat next to you in this tram had other ideas.

--

"Found it!" he basically dragged you after him, holding your hand gently but firmly as you approached the teledisco booth. This was a mutual agreement earlier today, before you felt too tired, but your time together was getting closer to an end so you pushed past the exhaustion and enjoyed the moment.

You stop in front of the screen to choose a song, and he stands next to you, his hands now in his pockets.

Scrolling through the music lists, looking for the perfect one, you find something. "Can we do Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA?" you ask and press the button, without waiting for an answer. He grabs you by your shoulders and pushes you in the booth, closing the door behind him laughing.

The first notes of Gimme Gimme Gimme starts playing, lights flash and the vibe is intense. You scream out the lyrics together, your arms against each other as you feel the beat of the music in your body.

The space is small, not much air left between you two as you glance up at him, noticing his eyes on you, the hot air in the booth making him sweat and his face glisten. 'He looks so fucking hot' you think to yourself as you suddenly get pressed against the wall, startled. His chest is flush against yours as he gently tilts your head up, feeling his breath against your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." his voice is a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, the music fading in the background as you feel his tongue brush against your lower lip. The intensity of the moment drowns your thoughts and your mind gets blurry. The blonde man's hands explore your body as yours find their way to his hair, pulling slightly as he moans against your lips. That must be the most gorgeous sound you have ever heard. You pull away to breathe, he smiles against your lips as the song nears it's end and you hear the last chords of it playing.

"Another song or do we get the fuck out of here?" he asks smirking. You push him away, laughing, as you pass him and step out of the booth, going back to the screen to choose another song. Joost stands behind you, and you feel him take a step closer. His chest pressing up against your back and you feel lips on your neck, making your breath shaky. Shaking him off of you, you open the door to the booth. "Ladies first," you joke as he rolls his eyes laughing, entering the booth.

Stepping in the booth after him as Call Out My Name by The Weeknd starts playing, and everything feels like a fever dream. Beautiful man in front of you, smiling his charming smile, you both surrounded by music and flashing lights.

"So this was your song of choice huh?" his voice low as he presses you against a wall once again. You feel his hand dragging down from your chest, over your stomach, to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up as his fingers trace your inner thigh. Whimpers leave your mouth as he grins at you, pressing his lips slowly against yours.

"What's up with all the teasing?" you ask, pulling away for a moment, playing with the buckle of his belt, and it opens...accidentally? Oops. Your fingers find their way to the waistband of his boxers, sliding ever so slightly underneath it. As a shaky moan escapes his lips, he laughs quietly, his eyes closed and his head slightly tilted back, mouth staying open. You slide your hand a bit further and his eyebrows furrow as he whimpers, begging for any kind of friction with the desperate sounds leaving his mouth. He drags his hand up your thigh, thumb getting dangerously close to your heat, turning the tables as you're now the one who's desperately trying to hold back the whining.

"Oh so this is how you wanna play?" you smirk as you slide your hand fully in his boxers, placing your fingers firmly around his length as your thumb brushes over the tip. He lets out a loud moan, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the beautiful sounds as you stroke him up and down. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut and his concentration drifting away enough so he drops his other hand down from your thigh, fully at your mercy now.

"You sure you wanna keep doing this here?" you ask as he moans again. "I truly do not give a fuck." he answers with his head still tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. You grin and move your hand faster, as he grabs your shoulders to gain some kind of balance. As if it wouldn't be hard enough to maintain your own balance with how tipsy you are, you now need to hold up the man who's literally towering over you. His head falls forward on your shoulder as your thumb brushes over his tip again.

"I'm not gonna last much longer, liefde..." he lets out a chuckle, but not amused one. More like an 'embarrassed about how strongly he reacts to your touch' one. Proud smile creeps up on your lips as you try to hold the man up while he moans shakily in your ear. "The song isn't that long either." you remind him, and the exciting realisation hits you both that anyone could open the door any second and see this all.

You feel yourself getting more wet by every moan he lets out, every breath you feel against your neck. He presses his mouth on the soft skin of your neck, nibbling as he tries to muffle out his begging whimpers. You work your hand up and down, earning more and more beautiful sounds that get louder by every stroke.

You feel him twitch in your grip, his teeth on your neck making sure there's going to be a mark to remind you of this later. "Don't stop... please liefje, please don't stop," his weak words can be heard repeatedly against your neck as your strokes get faster and faster. His hips thrust up to meet the movement of your hand, chasing the high. The last chorus of the song starts playing in the background and your hand works it's magic on his length, feeling the twitching again.

With a final few strokes you feel your hand being coated by his warm release. High pitched whimpers leave his mouth, turning into breathless chuckles as his forehead remains rested on your shoulder. "Fuck...liefde..." he tries to catch his breath, "you're insane..." he finally manages to mumble, still chuckling, as he lifts his head up from your shoulder to meet your eyes.

You laugh, pulling your hand out of his pants and fixing his belt as the song's final chords fade out. He opens the door, places a soft kiss on your lips and steps out as you walk behind him, wiping your hand to a tissue you found in your purse.

[chvoswxtch]

stakeout

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: going on a stakeout with frank doesn't go anything like you thought it would.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, a lil steam ;)

word count: 9k

a/n: fun fact: I originally started writing this specific idea as a standalone fic months ago & then when i started doing this series, i knew it would be perfect for it, & i've been excited to finish it & share it with y'all ever since. grab a snack & a drink, get comfy, bc this is almost 30 pages of yearning & pining for our favorite soft bad boy frankie. thank you so much to my darling angel @spoodermain for being my wonderful beta reader & offering your genius feedback that really made this part shine. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

How you had managed to talk Frank into letting you join a stakeout with him, you still weren’t sure, but it was nothing like you thought it would be. The entire three hour drive upstate was nearly composed of pure silence, only interrupted by trivial questions on your behalf, and answers in the form of monosyllables and grunts on his. The two of you had been sitting in his truck for almost six hours now, parked off on the side of a dirt road a good distance away from what looked like an abandoned warehouse that you hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave from.

You were going absolutely fucking stir crazy.

“Why can't we just go in?”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his nose, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye in pure annoyance before returning his attentive gaze back to the warehouse.

In his defense, you had asked this question at least five times already.

Letting out an impatient sigh of your own, you turned your body slightly in the passenger seat to face him while gesturing loosely to the warehouse with your hand.

“Frank, we haven't seen anyone in hours. We could go in, take a look around, and probably be back before anyone even-”

“Hey hey, no. Ain’t no we. Alright, you’re stayin’ your ass right here. And I already told you why. It’s too out in the open. I got no way of knowin’ if there’s anyone in there watchin’, and I can’t tell if they got some kind of security system ‘round the place-”

“So call Billy. See if he knows-”

“Bill ain’t the head of security for the entire goddamn world.”

Frank’s snappy quips and his irritated tone had you throwing your hands up in exasperation, and you dramatically sank back into the passenger seat of his truck, glaring out your window as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine. Then I guess we’ll just keep sitting here in fucking silence and you can keep brooding.”

Frank let out another heavy exhale from deep within his chest, and you could practically feel his intense stare against the side of your face.

“Look, I know this ain’t the most excitin’ thing, and you can’t sit still to save your goddamn life, but this is how we do this smart, and it’s how I keep you safe, alright? I ain’t takin’ any risks with you. I know patience ain’t your strong suit, but I need ya to try for just a little longer, alright? We don’t see any movement in the next hour, we’ll call it, and try again tomorrow. See if we can come up with another plan. Yeah?”

“Fine.”

Frank let out a tiny chuckle at your bratty response, and all of a sudden you felt something land in your lap. You glanced downwards as a crease formed between your brows, seeing an extra large version of your favorite candy bar. When your eyes flickered over towards Frank in curiosity, you noticed that he was already eyeing you with an amused smile. He shook his head slowly, returning his line of sight to the warehouse with another soft chuckle.

“Eat that and quit poutin’.”

A light scoff left your lips when you picked up the candybar and tore open the wrapper, suddenly noticing the way that you had been ignoring your body’s alerts of hunger. 

“I’m not pouting.”

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked to come along.”

“And you let me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Frank shook his head again in response to the pure sass dripping from your voice, and you caught the way the edge of his mouth tugged higher upwards into a wider grin.

“Thought this would be the one time you were quiet for some reason.”

Letting out a dramatic scoff of bewilderment, you reached out to smack your palm against his broad shoulder, which only caused laughter to bellow from deep within Frank’s chest. You doubt he even felt your feeble smack through the black denim layer of his jacket. Rolling your eyes playfully, you looked away with a tiny victorious grin after noticing the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that. 

He looked so carefree; like that usual heaviness he carried around wasn’t weighing him down, just for that small moment. Frank had such a beautiful smile, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world every time you got to witness it. 

Taking a small bite of your candybar, you muttered under your breath, making him snicker.

“Asshole.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, a police car silently pulled up behind Frank’s truck, and your heart started to hammer wildly in your chest. The flashing of bright red and blue was almost blinding in the opaque darkness surrounding the empty dirt road he had pulled onto. The truck was parked far enough away from the property that the flashing lights shouldn’t have alerted anyone that could be inside, but the explanation as to why the two of you were here in the first place was a whole other problem.

Especially considering that you were technically “missing”.

“Shit.”

Frank hissed quietly as he stared at the patrol car in the side view mirror, his full lips settling into a hard line as he reached underneath his seat to retrieve a pistol that was hidden. Your eyes immediately widened as the silver metal became illuminated by the faint moonlight, and you glanced frantically between Frank’s stoic face and the cop car in the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?”

Frank hastily brought his index finger to his lips when you whisper-yelled at him.

“Preparin’ for a problem.”

Frank’s eyes remained narrowed on the reflection in the side view mirror as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the sound of it cocking in place only fueling the speed of your tumultuous heart rate.

“Put it away!”

Scrunching up his dark brows, Frank turned his head slightly to stare at you incredulously as if you had just said the most ridiculous statement in the history of the English language. 

“What?”

“Frank-”

“You got a better goddamn idea?”

Great. You’re not even supposed to be here, and now you’re about to either go to prison or die in a shootout.

Your eyes frantically searched around Frank’s truck for something that could help the two of you out. As Frank rested the gun against his chest with a firm grip on the handle and his index finger pressed along the barrel, an idea suddenly popped into your head that made your stomach flip.

“Put it away.”

Frank turned his head and stared at you curiously when he heard the firm tone of your voice, but his confusion quickly morphed into pure annoyance. He scoffed, opening his mouth to protest before you turned in your seat to face him.

“You asked if I had a better idea and I do.”

Frank stared you down for what felt like an eternity. His features were set in a harsher version of their normal broody appearance, and the hardness in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he ground his teeth, stealing one last glance at the side view mirror before stashing the pistol back underneath the seat, grumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Now what? What’s this grand fuckin’ plan of yours, huh?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the door to the patrol car swing open. Quickly dashing across the truck bench, you ungracefully climbed onto Frank’s lap. His entire body immediately went rigid, and he looked absolutely stunned as he stared into your eyes. 

“What-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed onto the back of his neck and leaned in to firmly press your lips against his. Frank stilled completely beneath you for a good thirty seconds, and you could feel the tension practically radiating from his body. You started to worry that maybe you should have at least given him a snippet of your plan before-oh.

Oh.

A warmth suddenly spread across your thighs and it took a second for your brain to register that it was from Frank’s hands. They experimentally roamed up the expanse of your thighs until they slowly climbed up your hips, settling on your waist in a firm but delicate grip. All the previous anxiety that was buzzing in your veins seemed to be drowned out by the sensation of the tender pace of his lips finally responding to your chaste kiss.

God, his lips were as soft as they looked, and so warm. There was a bitterness to the way he tasted from the copious amounts of freshly brewed black coffee he had consumed, but it was cut through by lingering sweet mint from the gum he had spat out earlier. 

The gentleness of his touch and his uncertain kiss was surprising for someone who was so rough in so many other aspects of their life. You couldn’t help but grab a small fistful of the collar of his gray henley while you melted into his strong chest, your fingernails lightly scratching at the back of his neck with your other hand, holding him as close as physically possible. A low groan sounded quietly in the back of Frank’s throat when you dragged your nails against his skin, and it traveled straight to your-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jumping at the sudden intrusion of noise, you turned your head to see a young officer staring between you and Frank awkwardly, the end of his flashlight hovering over the glass of the driver’s side window. When the window was slowly rolled down, the seriousness of the previous situation broke through the haze of lust you had found yourself in, and you suddenly remembered why you were in Frank’s lap in the first place. Before you could scramble out an explanation, Frank’s rough voice cut through the timid silence and startled you.

“What?”

The young officer jumped backwards immediately from the way Frank practically barked at him, and you turned your head to stare at him in surprise. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his thick brows were knit together in pure frustration, and you could see that familiar flame of rage burning in his eyes.

He looked pissed.

Looking back at the officer, you let out a nervous laugh as you pressed your palm flat against Frank’s chest in an attempt to calm him, flashing the young man a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, is…is there a problem?”

He gulped as his eyes flickered from Frank’s unwavering hardened glare to you, nodding slowly as he uncomfortably gestured behind himself with his thumb.

“I…sorry to uh…interrupt. It’s just…well…this is private property. You’re…technically trespassing.”

Hearing the aggravated grunt that sounded from Frank as he opened his mouth to speak, you quickly covered his mouth with your small palm and let out another nervous laugh, trying to keep the officer’s attention on you.

“I’m very sorry, that’s um…that’s my fault. It’s…it’s our first night with a babysitter so, we got a little…carried away. I’m sure you can understand?”

There was a hopeful tone to your voice as your lips parted into the most convincing charming smile you could muster at the moment, hoping he would take the bait so that you and Frank could leave without a scene being caused. When the young man’s lips parted into a light smile, you felt a sense of ease wash over you. 

“Of course, I can definitely…understand.”

But that ease was short lived when you caught where his line of sight went, and felt Frank’s grip on your waist tighten possessively.

As the young officer spoke those words, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander over your chest in a shameless way, and you panicked when you felt Frank lean forward, reaching with one hand underneath his seat while also shielding your chest from the man’s prying eyes with his large body.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

The officer instantly took another large step back, holding his hands up in surrender and mumbling a string of apologies as Frank started going off on him, reaching for the handle to the door. You quickly grabbed his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you, staring into his furious glare with wide eyes as you whispered frantically through gritted teeth.

“Frank, stop it.”

Glancing back over at the young man, you let out a soft laugh as you waved your shaky hand dismissively. 

“I’m really sorry, we’ll just…leave. We’ll leave. Have a good night.”

Quickly rolling up the window, you scurried back into the passenger seat and swiftly put your seatbelt on. When Frank didn’t move an inch, you turned your head to look at him, seeing a twisted up concoction of anger and confusion on his features. You hysterically gestured towards the steering wheel as you gawked at him.

“What are you doing? Drive!”

Frank’s jaw hardened as he let out a heavy grunt, turning the keys in the ignition and flashing the officer one final death glare before peeling off onto the dirt road in the opposite direction. Once the patrol car was out of sight, you let out a deep breath of relief and held your face in your trembling hands as you tried to calm your nerves.

Your mind was racing with all the worst possible case scenarios. What if that officer was with the Defenders of Freedom too? Is that why he was on that road? Did he get Frank’s license plate? Is he telling the others that the two of you found their base of operations? What would-

“That was good quick thinkin’.”

Frank’s gravely voice cutting through the silence made you realize that neither of you had spoken in the past ten minutes. Turning your head to look over at him, your brows knit together in puzzlement.

“What?”

Frank’s eyes darted over to you timidly, only for a moment, before settling back on the road in front of him.

“Your…plan.”

His voice sounded somewhat strained, and you noticed his features were blanketed in an expression you couldn’t fully make out from the faint glow of the street lights. He almost looked…shy?

Shy was not a word you would ever normally use to describe Frank Castle.

There was suddenly a feeling of heat nipping at the tops of your cheeks, and you were swiftly aware of the lingering sensation of your lips tingling from the kiss. 

Is that why he couldn’t hardly look at you?

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

Frank arched one of his thick brows as his eyes flickered back over towards you once again, his full lips pursing slightly as he nodded.

“Yeah…I s’pose they do.”

There was a layer of questioning in his tone, and you leaned back in your seat as you looked anywhere but at him while clearing your throat.

“It usually makes people look away, or want to get as far away from it as soon as possible.”

A quiet grunt of agreeance sounded in the back of Frank’s throat.

“That’s…smart.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you and Frank, and the small unoccupied space in the middle of the truck bed suddenly felt like an ocean separating the two of you. Tension hung thick and heavy in the miniscule space of the cab like an awkward fog that you couldn’t have even sliced through with the sharpened hunter’s knife on Frank’s hip.

For the next half hour, the quiet thrum of the truck engine was the only sound disrupting the tense silence.

»»———　　———««

Stepping past Frank’s large frame into the motel room he had rented for the night, your eyes immediately landed on the bed in the middle of the room.

The bed.

The one. 

Single. 

Bed.

Glancing over your shoulder at Frank, he caught where your gaze had gone, and there was a sheepish expression on his face.

“Last room they had.”

Doing your best to appear nonchalant about the situation, you gave a slight nod of your head in understanding as you surveyed the room. The dingy wallpaper was beyond faded and peeling where the torn edges pulled away from the top of the wall. What had once probably been a tasteful shade of tan looked more like a muted shade of gold. The queen size bed in the middle of the room was covered in a multi-shade paisley quilt that the word ‘ugly’ couldn’t even begin to describe, and contrasted sharply with the hunter green carpet beneath your feet.

“You didn’t make a reservation?”

The joke you attempted to make to lighten the mood fell flat as Frank eyed you with an unreadable expression, dropping his black duffle bag onto the floor with a slight thud.

“Wasn’t expectin’ company. It ain’t the Ritz, but-”

“Frank, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Right.”

The uncomfortable silence and awkward tension were absolutely killing you. 

Things had never been this weird with Frank, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. So you did the one thing you always did when you didn’t want to deal with an unpleasant situation.

You ran away from it.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

About halfway through rushing towards the bathroom, you abruptly halted in your steps when you realized that you couldn’t shower because you didn’t have anything. You had slept at Frank’s last night, and you couldn’t go by your place this morning since it was an active crime scene. 

You had no clothes. No toothbrush. No nothing.

“Shit.”

“You alright?”

There was a cautious tone to Frank’s deep voice, but it was clearly laced with concern when it nestled in your ears. You turned around to face him, your lips pulled into a tight expression that was supposed to resemble a smile, but probably looked more like a grimace.

“I just realized I don’t have anything.”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly while he looked over at you, curiosity and confusion swirling around in his deep brown eyes.

“We couldn’t stop by my place this morning…and we left kinda in a hurry…so…”

All of a sudden you could see realization dawning on Frank’s face. His features softened considerably, and he quickly glanced at the small analog clock on the nightstand by the bed. It was late, and you were nearly in the middle of nowhere in some small town upstate about twenty miles from the location Frank had been given. There was nothing around the motel except a rundown gas station and a little twenty-four hour diner.

Frank turned his attention back to you, and his dark eyes wandered over you for a second before he met your gaze again. There was an apologetic expression on his features as he reached down to grab his duffle bag, walking over to set it down on the edge of the bed while he unzipped it and started to rustle through it.

“Here, I got some stuff you can borrow-”

“It’s okay. I can just-”

“Ain’t a big deal. I got extras of some things. Can’t promise anythin’ will fit or smell pretty.”

Frank glanced up to flash you a tiny smile as he held out a small pile of things towards you. As you reached out to take the items from him, your fingers lightly brushed against his, and you felt a spark shock through your system. Looking up at him, your lips tugged into a tight timid smile while you nodded.

“Thanks, Frank.”

Without waiting for a response, you dashed into the small bathroom for some privacy, hoping you’d be able to get yourself the fuck together.

Any attempt you were going to make to try to push that kiss from earlier out of your head was completely ruined when you began to lather his body wash in your hands to rub it into your wet skin, being careful to avoid getting any suds in your hurt hand, and comb it through your hair, since Frank was apparently a two in one kind of guy. Even though the temperature of the water was a degree short of scalding, the areas of your body that had been caressed by Frank’s large hands burned hotter.

He had touched you, really touched you, beyond the point of just trying to sell your distraction. He didn’t have to kiss you back the way he had. He could’ve just let his lips stay modestly pressed to yours until the officer walked up.

But Frank seemed to have lost himself in the kiss just as much as you had. 

So why was he acting so strange now? If he wanted that kiss as much as you did, why was he acting more reserved with you now than he ever had before? Was his perceived passion blown out of proportion by your greedy and selfish imagination? 

Or did he simply regret it?

The whirlwind of questions and convoluted doubt only got worse when you slipped his clothes on. 

His clothes.

Frank had given you a long sleeve black t-shirt that was ridiculously soft and comfortable. You had recalled seeing him wear it on several occasions. While it fit him snugly, the sleeves hung comically off your hands, and the bottom of it reached the middle of your thighs. Your eyes had momentarily widened seeing that he had given you a pair of his black briefs, but they fit you somewhat better than the sweatpants he had offered. 

It felt strangely intimate to be in Frank’s clothes. Granted, wearing someone else’s underwear is kind of intimate, but it also made you feel…comforted in an odd way. You were completely doused head to toe in the familiar scent of Frank, and that made you feel safe in a way that you had only ever felt with him.

When you stepped out of the steamy bathroom, Frank was sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand, staring down at it intently. He perked up when he heard the bathroom door creak open, and his eyes instantly snapped over to look over at you. His dark brown eyes roamed slowly over the sight of you in his clothes, and when he finally met your gaze, there was a look there you hadn’t seen before.

But it made your knees weak.

Trying to dispel the thick layer of tension in the air, you cleared your throat as you slowly walked over towards him and handed the pair of sweatpants back with a soft smile on your lips.

“I gave them my best shot.”

Frank’s eyes softened slightly and he let out a light chuckle, taking the sweats from you to place into his own lap.

“Everythin’ else work alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, um…thank you.”

“Sure. We’ll find a store first thing in the mornin’, get ya some stuff. How’s the hand?”

Frank held one of his large hands out towards you expectantly, and without even thinking, you placed your injured one on top of his.

“It’s fine. I wrapped it.”

He pushed back the sleeve past your wrist to inspect your handiwork, delicately turning your wrist from left to right to examine the placement and tightness of the layers of gauze covering your wounded palm and fingers. He made a subtle expression of pride, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours with a nod of approval. 

“Not bad.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Frank looked up at you with slightly raised brows, and then a quirk of a smile curled at the edge of his lips when it clicked that you had learned by watching him tend to your hand last night. 

“S’pose you did.”

When Frank let go of your hand and rose from the bed, he moved to step around you, and you watched him toe off his boots by the door before starting to rummage through his duffle bag again. He had ditched his black denim jacket, and it looked like his shirt was straining against the expanse of his large back. When your eyes wandered upwards, your breath caught in your throat seeing a faint pink vertical line on the back of his neck.

The one you had left with your nails.

A surge of heat instantly spread across the tops of your cheeks, and between your thighs, as the phantom touch of Frank’s firm grasp on your waist burned once again on your skin. You had fantasized so many times about sitting on Frank’s lap and kissing him like that, but your imagination could never compare to the real thing. Your lips started to tingle again at the memory of his warm and soft lips responding eagerly to your kiss, and your ears rang loudly with the echo of his low groan that had sounded in his throat. 

You were all of a sudden painfully aware of the fact that you were getting wet in Frank’s underwear. 

You had never been so affected just from kissing someone before. Not even when you made out with a boy for the first time. Or…any boy you made out with for that matter.

Hell, Steven couldn’t even get you that worked up with his hand in your panties and detailed fucking instructions.

But Frank…Frank just drove you absolutely fucking wild.

“What happens now?”

Frank turned his head to look at you over his broad shoulder when your soft voice cut through the stillness. You could hear the faint desperation in your own voice, and you knew it heard it too. Frank never missed anything. There was a hesitancy to his features, and irresolution swimming around in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure what exactly you were referring to. 

What happens with the investigation?

What happens tomorrow?

What happens next with us, Frank?

Frank carefully turned around to face you fully, and while his face appeared neutral, there was something glowing in his eyes.

“With what?”

His words were laced with pure curiosity, but there was a coveted challenge concealed within them. You didn’t have the courage to ask the question you really wanted the answer to, and you had a feeling Frank wouldn’t answer it unless he was prompted. Even then, there was a good chance he would avoid it. A sobering thought washed over you that you might not be prepared for that answer anyway, so you decided to play it safe.

“Well…we can’t go back there, right?”

Frank’s lips pursed into a somewhat thin line. He almost looked like he was disappointed by your choice of question. His pensive eyes studied you silently for a moment before clutching that same pair of sweatpants he had offered you in his large hand and stalking off towards the bathroom.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

When the door to the bathroom firmly shut, you flopped back onto the stiff mattress with a heavy sigh and closed your eyes. 

It was going to be a very long night.

These sleepovers with Frank were not going the way you had fantasized about previously at all.

»»———　　———««

Ten minutes later, Frank quietly emerged from the bathroom, and your eyes doubled in size as your jaw nearly became fully unhinged. The dark gray pair of sweatpants that he had offered you were slung dangerously low on his hips, and a delicious white sliver of the waistband of his briefs were peeking out above them. His cropped dark hair was tousled in damp curls, and droplets of warm water cascaded down the expanse of his lean and toned figure. Frank’s skin looked so smooth, like an exemplary chiseled piece of artwork carved into tan marble; a Greek god perfectly immortalized in impenetrable stone.

Your rapacious eyes were particularly interested in a droplet that was leisurely making its way down one of his deep cut v-lines, only to become absorbed by the fabric of his sweats. While you were marveling at the view of the unveiled Adonis before you, a sight abruptly caught your attention.

There was a faint pink scar above his right hip.

In an instant, you were no longer staring at him through cherry tinted lenses of desire, but with a slight pang of sadness cutting through your chest. There were numerous scars marked on Frank’s body. Some were faded, nearly blending in with his normal flesh tone, while some were opaque, a clear striking contrast of pain endured in comparison to the untainted color of skin that had never known affliction. Some were deep indentations nestled in his skin, almost to the bone, while others casually crested above the sea level of undisrupted ripples of flesh. 

“I was a Marine.”

Frank’s deep voice cutting through the silence of the motel room swiftly redirected your line of sight to his face. He had a gray tank top in his large hands, and he subtly seemed to be wringing it with a twinge of nervousness. There was an unrestrained expression of aversion in his eyes, as if he didn’t know whether to hide the evidence of an unforgiving past, or allow you to consume this rare moment of vulnerability completely.

For a moment your eyes dropped to the chain around his neck. 

The gold wedding band.

You hadn’t seen a glimpse of it since that night at the bar, when you’d caught sight of him in your guest bathroom with a few of his shirt buttons undone. You still didn’t know if it was his or if it had belonged to his wife, or what happened to her, but it was hard to look at now.

You didn’t like seeing him look so uncomfortable, so you did your best to put him at ease with a tender smile on your lips as you looked up at him in genuine understanding and grace.

“That…actually makes a lot of sense.”

Frank glanced down at the shirt in his hands for a moment, an apparition of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as a dry and short chuckle escaped his mouth.

“I’ll try not to take offense to that.”

The elusive, light-hearted tone of his voice made you wonder if you could try to dismantle at least one of the many walls that he seemed to have up within him. You didn’t want to pry too much, but you’d had so many questions about Frank for months, and it seemed like he was finally giving you a rare window to get a few answers.

“Is…is that where those came from?”

“Most of ‘em.”

Frank kept his gaze averted downwards on the shirt in his hand as he spoke in a hushed tone, like his admissions couldn’t be uttered above a certain decibel level. It almost appeared as though it was easier for him to be vulnerable with you if he didn’t have to look at you. 

Was he nervous to see your reaction to his rare divulgence? Or was there something lurking in the shadows of history that he couldn’t face?

Was he thinking about your lips as much as you were thinking about his?

You had to focus. You weren’t sure how grand or miniscule this window of opportunity was with Frank. This moment could be just as magnificently fleeting as a shooting star escaping across the cosmos, and if you blinked at the wrong second, you would miss it. 

This could be your one chance to finally break through those meticulously crafted barriers of his. To unravel the chains of mystery that seemed to weigh him down, and finally erase that invisible line separating him from everyone else that he never seemed to let you cross. 

But, you couldn’t push too hard. If your curiosity was too intrusive, he’d immediately shut down. If you misstepped over the delicate minefield of his own temper, you risked an explosion. It had to be the most graceful balancing act you’d ever done.

You had to treat this like the most important story of your entire career. Carefully pose the questions as innocent conversation, instead of an interrogation, and give him the space to answer as generally or as detailed as he wanted to.

Billy’s advice seemed to echo in your ears at that moment.

You gotta let him come to you.

“How long were you in the Marines?”

“Did four tours.”

When you didn’t speak for a moment, Frank finally lifted his head to meet your gaze. There was a twinkle of amusement shining in his warm brown eyes at your evident confusion, and he let out a light chuckle as a crooked smile tugged across his lips.

“All in all, little over ten years.”

A faint blush layered over the tops of your cheeks at your own ignorance. Normally when you interviewed someone, you had the benefit of being able to research them beforehand. With Frank, you were having to make up everything as you go with the extremely limited knowledge you had of him, and of his experience. You knew virtually nothing about the Marines, or the military in general, but seemed to be feeling generous in offering explanations.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I was good at it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Frank glanced around the motel room for a moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts while pondering the question that lingered between you. After a beat of silence, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy exhale, just a few inches away from where you had been sitting cross-legged on the middle of the mattress, and turned his head to the left to look at you. 

“Did you always wanna be a journalist?”

Frank’s question took you by surprise. He didn’t often ask you personal questions about yourself, but you decided if you answered his questions honestly, maybe he would do the same.

“I’ve always been nosey.”

The corner of Frank’s full lips quirked up into a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a huff of air through your nose in a quiet snort.

“That don’t surprise me.”

Giving Frank a playful roll of your eyes in response to his comment, you lightly shrugged your shoulders, looking up at him with a faint smile on your lips.

“I’ve always liked story-telling. I’ve never really had the imagination to come up with my own, but I like other people’s stories, and I’ve always enjoyed writing. I thought a club would look good on my college applications, and I wasn’t very athletic or talented in anything else, so I decided to join my high school’s paper. That’s where I really fell in love with investigative journalism, which I realize sounds ridiculous given I was reporting high school ‘news’ but-”

“It ain’t ridiculous if it was important to ya.”

The sincerity in Frank’s tone coupled with the depth of his alluring gaze almost made you forget what you were talking about. It also made you suddenly aware of the fact that every time you downplayed yourself, Frank was quick to cut off your self-deprecation with a genuine sentiment. For a second, all you could do was stare into his eyes, until you decided to bare your soul in front of him.

“It was the first time I really felt like I was good at something. Like I…I had a purpose. I had something that was…mine. I could do something meaningful…something that mattered. It could be something I was proud of.”

Frank stayed silent while he soaked up the candor of your confession, like he was taking the time to commit every piece of it to memory. Sometimes you felt like he could see right through you when he stared into your eyes, and you felt incredibly small under his undivided attention. His head dipped slightly between his broad shoulders when he turned his head to stare down at his clasped hands for a moment.

“I never knew what the hell I wanted to do. I was a…bit of a troublemaker when I was a kid. My parents…they were older, ya’know? Couldn’t really do nothin’ to control me. I knew that, and took advantage of it. I was a real…”

“Asshole?”

Frank’s lips parted into a crooked smile, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I was gonna say prick. But…yeah. I was a little asshole.”

“Well thank God you grew out of that.”

Frank dropped his head slightly to stare back down at his hands again with a light chuckle. Your eyes followed his gaze, and you noticed a few scars covering his knuckles, resembling jagged designs carved into a tree trunk.

“I enlisted when I was eighteen. Thought…what the hell, ya’know? Was never any good at school or anythin’ like that…and I didn’t wanna get stuck at some…shit job. Thought it was my ticket out, ya’know? Get to travel, play with guns and tanks, that kinda shit.”

The light smile that had been on the edge of Frank’s mouth dissipated slowly, and his thick brows slowly drew closer in together while he rubbed his right thumb over the back of his left hand.

“Bein’ a Marine…it was the first time in my life I felt like I was worth a damn. Like I was really doin’ somethin’, ya’know? Somethin’ good…somethin’ important. I was good at it, damn good at it. Felt like I…like I finally found-”

“A purpose.”

Frank’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and there seemed to be a shared expression of understanding between the two of you. You knew exactly what he meant, and he could see that reflected in your eyes.

“A purpose.”

He repeated those two words in a more quiet and contemplative voice, like he was repeating them more to himself than to you.

“So, how do you go from being a Marine to a bodyguard for a high maintenance journalist?”

“Just that goddamn lucky, I s’pose.”

The edges of Frank’s mouth twisted up into a sardonic smirk when he turned his head to look at you, and you were about to retort with a smartass comment of your own when you noticed something you hadn’t seen before.

Without even thinking, your hand reached out to trace a circular shaped scar on Frank’s left temple with your index finger. He didn’t go rigid when you touched him this time, not like he had in the truck. The smirk swiftly vanished along with the playful crinkles beside his eyes, and his full lips parted slightly while he stared at you intently as you lightly traced your finger over the mark. 

It was indented slightly, and you could feel the faint dip beneath your fingertip. The edges of it were tinted more of a blush shade, making it obvious this wound had been made more recently than some of the others adorning his skin. It almost looked like a bullet hole…and that idea had your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“What’s this one from?”

All of a sudden, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your wrist to push your hand away at the exact same time he turned he pulled his hand away from your delicate caress. His lips were now pressed in a line and that familiar hardness was back in his gaze. 

And just like that, whatever moment you two were having was clearly over. 

Frank suddenly stood from the edge of the bed and silently pulled his tank top over his head, slipping his large arms through the sleeve holes and covering his body with the dark gray fabric.

“We should call it a night.”

Frank’s voice was flat, and you felt a surge of frustration burn in your bloodstream. Every time you felt like you were getting somewhere with him, he pulled back. It was like you were constantly trying to carefully navigate your way up an unclimbable mountain, and as soon as the peak came into view, you lost your footing and fell to the bottom. 

He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, and a crease of confusion settled in the middle of your forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

You looked down at the queen size bed you were sitting on top of, a bed of which you barely took up any space, and then looked back over at Frank, who was in the middle of making a pallet on the floor.

“Frank, you don’t have to sleep on the floor. This bed is big enough for both of us.”

“Slept in worse conditions.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose in pure irritation at both the insensitive implications behind his remark and his unrelenting stubbornness.

“So you’ve told me, several times. Thank you, by the way, for telling me that you think sharing a bed with me is worse than whatever the hell your setup was in the military. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle. I had no idea you were such a poet.”

Frank’s face twisted up in puzzlement and aggravation at the tone of sarcasm dripping from your clipped words.

“That ain’t what I-”

“I don’t want to hear a single complaint in the morning when you’re stiff and sore from choosing to sleep on the fucking floor.”

As you vexingly tugged back the thin and somewhat stiff quilt on top of the bed, you slid beneath it, the scratchiness of the cheap sheets against your bare legs only souring your mood even further. While you turned onto your side away from Frank and harshly smacked your hand against the button to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, he stared down at you with furrowed dark brows and a heavy frown in complete exasperation and perplexity.

“Oh for fucks-why is it always a goddamn argument with you?”

“Why are you always such an ass?”

“I’m an ass for tryin’ to be a gentleman and make sure you’re comfortable?”

Dragging your palms down your face with an irritated groan, you furiously sat up in the bed to look over at Frank with an exacerbated expression while the two of you raised your voices at each other in yet another argument.

“How are you making me uncomfortable if I’m offering, Frank? This bed is big, so big that you wouldn’t even have to breathe the same air as me. We could even put pillows down the middle just to make sure that we don’t accidentally touch in the middle of the night, because God fucking forbid-”

“Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine.”

Frank ripped the pillow off the ground and angrily tossed it onto the bed, tugging the covers back from the other side of the mattress to slip underneath angrily. He turned his head to glare at you as he harshly gestured towards himself in the bed.

“There? Happy? You gonna stop fuckin’ givin’ me shit, now?”

Returning Frank’s fuming glare with one of your own, the two of you seemed to be locked in an angry staring contest until you conceded and turned over again, dragging the unpleasant quilt up to your chin. You grit your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out an aggravated exhale through your nose. 

As hot as your blood felt in your veins, there was also a nauseating feeling of disappointment settling in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t thinking about your lips. He wasn’t thinking about your kiss at all. If he was, it was him wishing it didn’t happen.

Maybe that was part of the reason he wanted to sleep on the floor and seemed so pissed off at you. He didn’t want to be near you. He was mad that you kissed him without his permission. 

You’d made him uncomfortable.

On the other side of the bed, Frank stared at the back of your head in the dim amber light of the room coming from the other bedside lamp. Turning his head to stare straight ahead blankly at the wall in front of him, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a slow and heavy exhale as he grumbled a string of curses under his breath. 

After a few terse minutes of deafening silence, you could feel Frank shifting underneath the sheets, and his gravelly voice filtered in through the dense quiet.

“Look, I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt your feelin’s-”

“You didn’t-”

“Yes, I did. I wasn’t implyin’ that sharin’ a bed with you was such a bad thing, alright? I only meant I slept in worse places than on a floor, s’all.”

Frank genuinely sounded apologetic, and you felt a rush of guilt wash over you from the way you had twisted his words, jumped to conclusions, and reacted poorly. He let out another heavy sigh before speaking again.

“I just…wanted you to feel comfortable.”

The hushed tone of his voice made it sound like he was entrusting you with his deepest secret. Swallowing down your pride, you turned on your side to face Frank, looking over at him silently for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

“Frank, you’ve never made me uncomfortable.”

He was laying on his back, his head slightly propped up against the headboard, but his face was turned towards you. He seemed to be searching your eyes for any thread of faultiness in your words that he could unravel. 

“I…I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

“You’re sorry for tellin’ me the truth?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows, and you could detect a faint smirk on the edge of his lips, even in the dim light of the room. You rolled your eyes as you laughed quietly.

“Can you just let me just apologize to you for making an ass of myself?”

Frank eyed you for a moment with a sly tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t good reporters s’posed to reserve their conclusions ‘bout somethin’ ‘til they got all the evidence?”

The low, hushed tone Frank spoke in to not disrupt the quiet peace that settled between the two of you made his voice sound sultry. That twinkle of amusement was shining in his eyes again, and you fought the grin that threatened to take over your lips.

Playful Frank was your favorite Frank.

“Are you implying that I’m not a good reporter, Mr. Castle?”

A low chuckle rumbled in Frank’s throat as he moved his right arm behind his head, closing his eyes while he turned his head to face upwards with a faint smirk on his lips.

“Considerin’ you’re trigger happy, and there’s ‘bout three guns within your reach, no. Absolutely not.”

“I am not-”

“Did you not just jump all over my ass a second ago over a misunderstandin’?”

Frank opened his eyes to look over at you, his thick dark brows raised slightly while that faint smirk remained subtly on his full lips.

Narrowing your eyes playfully, you poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and lightly shrugged your shoulders beneath the quilt.

“Well, you gave me the conclusion that you were an ass the first day I met you, and you’ve only reinforced it since then. You also did just admit on record that you’ve been an ass since you were a kid, so.”

Another chuckle sounded from Frank as a grunt of agreeance sounded in his throat.

“I reckon you’re right ‘bout that.”

A few moments of tranquil quiet passed by between the two of you, but you were buzzing with questions on the inside. However, something he said abruptly clicked in your brain, and your eyes widened as you looked over at him.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Are there really three guns in this room?”

“Three on your side.”

Blinking a few times in dumbfoundment, your brows knit together as you stared over at him incredulously.

“What…what do you mean ‘three on my side’? How many are on your side?”

“Two, and a knife.”

“Jesus Christ, Rambo. Anything else?”

Frank let out a deep and amused chuckle at that, placing his left hand on his chest as he shifted slightly on his back to get comfortable.

“In the truck, yeah.”

“What? There’s more?”

“Go to bed.”

There was no firmness in Frank’s voice, just complete entertainment. You glanced around the dimly lit motel room cautiously, wondering where he might have placed them.

“Where are they?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Letting out a scoff, you turned your head to look at him in minor annoyance.

“What if someone tries to break in?”

“I’ll handle it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the mirthy smirk curling on the edge of his mouth.

“What if…five people break in?”

“Highly unlikely, but both guns on my side got a clip that hold 12 rounds. You done?”

An exasperated huff left your lips as you turned to lay on your back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t it proper safety protocol to let someone know where loaded firearms are stashed?”

“They ain’t loaded.”

“You just said-”

“The ones on my side are loaded. The ones on your side ain’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You said it yourself. You’re nosey, and you never even held a gun before.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but to your irritation, Frank had a point. Not that you would admit that out loud to him. 

A few minutes of silence passed by before you spoke up again.

“You could always teach me.”

Frank opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at you, staring at you in a mixture of interest and confusion.

“Teach you what?”

You turned back onto your side to face him and lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“How to shoot.”

It was Frank’s time to stare at you in dumbfoundment. He arched one of his thick brows while he eyed you.

“You wanna learn how to shoot?”

“I mean…people are only trying to kill me.”

Frank didn’t return the playful smile that you flashed him, and it quickly fell from your lips. This was not going to be something he was going to agree to easily. You were really going to have to fight for this one. You had to show him that you were serious.

“If you hadn’t shown up last night, those men were going to kill me, Frank. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless ever again.”

The devout honesty in your voice was unmistakable, and Frank let out a deep exhale as he turned his head to look up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes again.

“Let’s deal with this shit first, then we’ll talk.”

There was a tiny surge of victory that coursed through you at that. It wasn’t technically a yes, but it also wasn’t a flat out no. You just needed to keep proving to him that this was something you were serious about.

You wanted to bring up the kiss, but you weren’t sure how to approach it. You didn’t want to ruin the peace your playful banter had brought about with Frank, but you couldn’t leave it alone. 

Why was he so goddamn hard to read?

Why was he still being so hot and cold with you?

Even if he was still your bodyguard, the two of you were way past the point of professionalism.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“I…I’m sorry…if I made you uncomfortable.”

The thin material of the pillowcase rustled loudly in the quiet as Frank turned his head to look at you inquisitively, like he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Earlier…when I…kissed you.”

There wasn’t a desert on any continent as dry as your mouth right now, and your heart was pounding so relentlessly against the sturdy ivory of your ribcage, you swore he could hear it a few inches away.

The cloudy ignorance seemed to dissipate from between his brows, and his features migrated to an expression of recognition. For a moment he didn’t say anything, and it made you realize you found his silence far more unnerving than his unwanted answers.

“You didn’t.”

There was such a confidence behind those two words that it nearly knocked the breath out of your lungs. Those two little words held so many portals of possibilities.

You didn’t; it just caught me off guard.

You didn’t; everything is fine between us.

You didn’t; I wanted to taste you.

Staring over at Frank, words seemed to completely vanish from your brain. You didn’t know what to say. You had no idea how to respond to that. The intensity of his piercing gaze sent a slight shiver tumbling down your spine despite the blazing warmth you could feel radiating from his body a few inches away from you.

The amber glow from the bedside lamp lit up his eyes like the golden hour of sunlight shining through a glass of whiskey. You wanted to get lost in him again. You wanted to take your rightful place on the throne of his lap, tangle your fingers in his hair like a crown, and let him rule over the kingdom inside your body.

“Frank.”

Was the delicate whisper of his name a desperate plea, or an enticing invitation? 

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he answered it.

For a moment, his mesmerizing stare dropped to your lips, and you swore you saw him start to lean in-

But then at the last second, he cleared his throat and turned over onto his side away from you, moving as close to the edge of the bed on his side as he could get. Frank’s voice was rough when it reached your ears, no trace of the warm and playful tone he had used just minutes ago.

“Get some sleep.”

That hopeful ember of desire that he had ignited in you had been completely snuffed out by his own hand before the flame could even catch, and the ambient light in the motel went out along with it leaving you in dumbfoundment and darkness.

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98

[mikareo]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ midnight love ⠀ ꒰ . . geto suguru x gn reader ꒱ . . . word count; 0.7k

⊹ ⠀⠀ heartbreak is a cycle. over, and over, and over again.

contains; geto suguru x gn reader, angst, geto dumped you and you can't get over it, mentions abandonment and attachment issues, lots of reader insecurities, womp womp author's note; hey ! XD

"you really can't be calling me at this hour anymore." suguru's voice is faint. he's likely just woken up from a deep slumber, probably dreaming of something far more interesting and attractive than you are, but that isn't a dream that you'd like to picture. he did this to you.

sometimes, he needs to see what your nightmares look like.

"i'm sorry, it's just that i've been thinking about everything again." clearing your throat, you can't help but notice that your voice can't stop shaking. get a grip of yourself. you're embarrassing. "i feel like we made a mistake. it's not crazy to try things again; we know what went wrong so let's just fix it this time. right? we can be even better this time around."

you know the hopefulness slipping from your tongue is something that suguru has grown to hate. he hates the guilt that it makes him feel. he hates the reminders of a time where he was so madly in love with you that he couldn't imagine sleeping through one of your sporadic phone calls in the middle of the night. he hates how it reminds him how hard you sobbed when he said those three little words. not 'i love you'...but 'let's break up'.

he hates that it makes him regret things.

so instead, he forces you to bottle it all up.

"i'm not interested anymore, i've told you that." the sound of your poorly mended heart shattering once more is far too familiar. "seriously, we crashed and burned so let's just leave it at that."

this is the third time he's said these words. the first being an hour after he dumped you over the phone, when you called him back amidst uncontrollable sobs and he didn't seem to care all that much. the second being a month after what would've been your first anniversary together, to which he was careless with your heart as you poured it out to him on his doorstep. now, the third, where it's been a whole three months since your untimely break up and your sleep has been lost to you for yet another night.

...and he still doesn't care.

he doesn't care about you.

he doesn't care at all.

why doesn't he care?

"suguru, please." it's pathetic to beg, but what else can you do? "i love you. i want to be with you and i'm willing to do anything to make it work. c'mon, work with me, here." just say yes. just say yes and maybe you'll smile again.

he takes a deep breath. you can count down the seconds until he exhales.

three.

you envision a scenario where he bolts from his bed, frantically grabs his jacket, and drives straight to your house. his hand hovers over the front door, ready to knock, when you fling it open and then fling yourself into his arms. suguru laughs at your eagerness, gently gripping your face beneath your jaw and kissing you tenderly. god, it's been so long since you felt his kisses. you could cry from the overwhelming happiness in your heart. the overwhelming joy that he never fails to make you feel when he's truly and completely in love with you, too.

two.

you recall one of your favorite dreams, one just a few nights ago, where suguru had never broken up with you in the first place. in fact, he thinks the mere thought is comically funny. he'd never ends things. you're the best thing that's ever happened to him and he never fails to tell you that at every hour of the day. he's the perfect boyfriend. he's the ideal husband. he's the man that you've been wishing for for your entire life...but he really is just that. he's a dream.

one.

"i don't love you anymore."

oh...

oh.

you wish this were a scenario. you wish you were sleeping. you wish he could've said anything other than those awful words, but this is reality. dreams don't reflect reality. dreams aren't real. his love for you isn't real. he doesn't love you. he doesn't want you. he doesn't need you. give up. give up. stop making a fool of yourself.

"but i love you."

pathetic.

you're pathetic.

the sigh he exhales is pitiful.

he's so obviously aware of how clingy you've become in your lonesome life that he's not even surprised by your behavior. he's not surprised by your confession. it's almost as if he expected it. he knows your flaws. he knows your stance on abandonment...on attachment...on absence. he knows you can't possibly function in a world without him...

...and he hangs up.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher - Chapter II

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!reader

Summary: You get invited to Frank's apartment again days after he gave you your first kiss. After a long makeout session, you rush to get to the bonfire and enjoy a night with your group of friends and even more of Frank's company

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), cursing, drinking, dry humping, brief mentions of masturbation

Author's Note: It's finally here! I'm SO so sorry for the wait on this chapter! I've been working full time at my part time job and it's been crazy busy!! Thank you for being patient :) Oh! We have a taglist now, so if you want to be added, just let me know! As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 6.6k+

Previous Chapters: I

Ever since that afternoon when Frank gave you your first kiss, it’s all that’s consumed your mind. It’s been difficult to focus your attention anywhere that isn’t the image of his puffy lips, swollen from your kisses, that has been ingrained in your head. You’ve been spacing out more often—even softly tracing your lower lip with your finger to try and relive the memory of his tongue brushing your skin.

You’ve even let your mind wander off its leash at work. Your coworker rips you from your thoughts by calling your name and you look up with wide eyes. She smirks when she sees your frazzled expression and asks what’s on your mind. You flip through excuses in your brain before stumbling out an “It’s a good day?”

Your voice twists into a question at the end, obvious that even you weren’t sold on your words. She shoots a skeptical look your way before walking away from the front desk, leaving you to sit once again in your thoughts about Frank. Beams of sunlight pour through the glass windows at the front of the building and the heat on your face reminds you of his warm touch. You let your eyes close for a moment and you swear you can feel his long fingers curling behind your jaw.

Suddenly, a chime sounds out and your eyes shoot open, quickly facing the front door as you expect to be met with a client’s face. There’s not a single person in sight though, and you glance down at your phone and see its illuminated screen. There’s an alert on the display and as you pick it up to unlock it, you notice it’s from your close friend.

“I’m picking you up at 6 right?”

Your eyebrows pull together, trying to remember the topic of the conversation that she’s starting back up again. As your eyes scan the earlier messages on the screen, it clicks for you. The bonfire.

Every few weeks your friend group makes plans to go out and do something fun together. With busy lives and conflicting schedules, not to mention the range of ages, it’s not always easy to reconnect and make time to be with each other. But months ago there was a collective agreement to make the effort of seeing one another more often than not. It was something you loved, being able to be in the good company of everyone you cared for.

Admittedly, your favorite part of the group hangout was watching as the rest of them enjoyed themselves. Smiles thrown on their faces, laughter roaring out when someone cracks a joke, even comfortable silences—it brought you so much joy to witness. However, due to your more reserved nature and how you passed on drinking each time, you felt more like a bystander; always watching them let loose and wishing you could do the same.

“Yes pleaseee”, your thumbs press on the glass, typing out the message on the digital keys. As you hit the arrow to send the text, another message shows as a banner across the top of the screen.

“You wanna come over?”

It’s from Frank this time. Sinking your teeth into your lip in an attempt to stall your smile, you glance at the clock on the wall. Unfortunately, no amount of wishing makes the thin, red hand pass the black numbers any faster. With a quiet sigh, you begin to type another text.

“I get off in an hour. You’re still going to the bonfire tonight right?”

You anxiously tap your finger along the side of your phone, watching the little bubbles move as an indicator that he’s typing. Frank was the main reason you went to these monthly bonfires, and the idea of him not showing is certainly enough to make you consider twice about going.

“Yeah. Just wanted to see you before then.”

As if right on cue, your heartbeat speeds up when your eyes scan across his words. You don’t even try to fight the grin that grows on your face this time. It’s only been a few days since you last saw him, since your last kiss, but you’ve been texting him each day in between. The conversations have always been light, slightly flirty on his end, but you’re thankful Frank never pressures you to do anything.

Oftentimes you find yourself still in disbelief at how this all happened. Frank’s incredibly patient with you and has reassured you many times that this is all your choice. Hell, he hasn’t even asked for you to come over again until just now. Maybe he was trying to keep the distance to not overwhelm you?

But he does want to see me, the giddy, although nagging, little voice in your head reminds you. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts, you sigh gently before texting him that you’ll drive over to his apartment after you get off. He replies back almost instantly.

“Can’t wait.”

You force yourself to drop your phone and not reread his message multiple times. It wasn’t a habit you normally had, but it became ever so prevalent with his messages. You pictured what other thoughts could be behind his often short texts and that wasn’t particularly helpful while you’re still on the clock.

The minutes felt like centuries as you sat at the desk. No amount of phone calls from curious customers or coworker gossip could act as a catalyst and make the time pass faster. You almost feel bad for being mentally checked out, but with something as good as this planned after you left, you really couldn’t help it. With your chin in your hand as you barely hold yourself up, you take one last hesitant glance at the clock. Two minutes left.

The second the time flips to the nearest hour, you’re clocking out; you’re thankful it was a slow day and you could leave right on time. With a shout over your shoulder and a wave goodbye to your coworker, you walk out the door and straight to your car. You don’t even put the GPS on–you have the way to his house memorized after the last time–and put on your favorite playlist to get yourself excited once again to see him.

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad and it’s not long before you’re making the first turn into the neighborhood. You turn on each familiar street, winding the curves before you spot the black van with an empty parking space beside it once again. There’s no anxiety this time as you put the car in park, just excitement bubbling up and making your chest grow warm. You’re quick to grab your bag and rush up to the wooden door as you lock the car behind you.

You raise your hand and swiftly knock an upbeat tune on the door. It opens only a few seconds later, and there’s a strong arm winding around you as it pulls you past the door frame. A surprised yelp escapes you and his raspy voice sounds out with an apology.

“Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He closes the door behind you before walking towards the couch. The room’s not quite as spotless as it was last time but it honestly makes it feel more cozy seeing as it’s been lived in. He motions for you to follow him to sit down and this time you make sure to sit right beside him.

He asks about your day and the two of you begin a light conversation. It feels like he really listens to you; he’s nodding his head as you speak, leaning slightly towards you, and for once you feel like you’re being truly heard. After some back and forth, Frank begins to talk more as something you say sparks up a memory in his mind. He’s excited to tell you, obvious from how he sits up with a wide smile, and you listen to him as he gives you some background information that’s necessary to understand the story.

If you’re honest, you’re not really sure you’re keeping up with the whole picture he’s trying to paint you. You couldn’t really help it, memories of the only other time you were here beginning to rush through your brain. His laughter sounds out, breaking your concentration of the memory, and you try your hardest to focus back on him. Frank’s so animated when he talks: his hands moving in front of him, his facial features physically showing how he felt, and let’s not forget the voices of his friends that he puts on to get a smile out of you.

But eventually his words continue to drone on and on and you’re beginning to lose interest. It's no fault of his own, you just can’t focus on anything other than his mouth. The meaning of his words dissipate until they’re simply just noise to fill the background. Your eyes never leave his lips, watching as they curl around the words or stretch into a smile as he laughs. Before you can even think through the consequences of your actions, you lean forward and place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His words stop abruptly and you watch as he turns his head to face you. There’s a short pause before he’s got his arms wrapped around you, immediately pulling you into his lap. You settle on your knees, straddling his thighs, and he tugs you even closer until you’re sitting right between his legs.

“Did you hear anything I was saying?” he asks, tilting his head as he stares up into your eyes. His gaze is too intense and you find yourself focusing on his lips instead. “You hear a single word or… did some kind of switch flip just then?” He squints his eyes as he asks, his tongue brushing over his lips.

“I just… I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” you confess in a small voice.

“That is just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You know that?” And queue the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Got any idea how sweet you sound?”

“Frank, c’mon,” you whisper, growing tired of his teasing.

“What, sweetheart? You wanna say somethin’ like that and not expect me to talk about it?” Again, you wish he would just shut up and kiss you already. “I’ve been on your mind that much? Must’ve been a damn good kiss for you to think about it days later, huh? Did you miss—”

You cut him off once more with your lips, your hands cradling his cheeks as you kiss him. You can’t even believe you did it, you never thought yourself the one to make the first move. Being desperate for his kisses is enough for the final push, you guess. His hands are quick to find your hips and you shiver at the touch, cursing yourself for being so sensitive. He pulls away when he feels your body’s reaction but never takes his hands off of you.

“That okay?” he asks, his eyes glancing up into yours. He gives another swift squeeze into your side before questioning with another “hmm?” You nod quickly, still reeling from the feel of him touching you there. Frank only tilts his head, silently requesting more from you.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, and he mutters the quietest, “Okay,” you’ve ever heard. His hand that’s wrapped around your hip begins to push you back and you’re quick to move with his movements. It’s a gentle push that has your ass grinding down onto the center of his jeans and you quickly grab hold of his shoulder to keep your balance.

“You okay?” he asks through a light chuckle. You nod and hum an agreement as you focus back on his warm touch that’s setting a fire alight on your side. He pulls you closer now and begins rocking you back and forth on his lap. The heat begins to travel down your tummy and nestles between your thighs.

Suddenly, Frank’s mouth is on your neck again and you almost feel lightheaded with how your body is trying to take in so much of him at once. He drags his kisses down your jaw, his hand never stopping the gentle pull and push of your hips. As you keep rocking on him, you swear you feel something bumping into you on each push down but you’re not very certain of anything at the moment.

His unoccupied hand smoothes up your side and his big palm grabs at your chest. A small moan gets stuck in your throat, resulting in a quiet whimper, as his long fingers squeeze into your soft skin. You break the kiss, your arms crossing each other as you reach for the hem of your shirt but his hands tenderly grab your wrists.

“You don’t have to…” he breathes shallowly, his breath fanning across your lips. His gaze locks with yours before he swallows thickly. He closes his eyes as he continues, “I’m sorry. I-I just got caught up in it.” You smile at the hesitancy in his voice and brush your thumb along his jaw.

“It’s okay, Frank, I wanna,” you reassure him. He loosens his hold, allowing you to continue your movements and pull your top off. His eyes move up with each new inch of skin that gets exposed and there’s this look in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Once your head is clear of the fabric, you drop it onto the empty couch cushion beside you before moving to cup his cheeks in your smaller hands.

His lips are parted as he stares unabashedly at your chest. Brushing your thumb over the light stubble, you watch as he takes you in for the first time. Part of you is somewhat worried about his reaction, but his kisses were enough to leave your head clouded for long enough to push the anxiety away.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” is all he mutters before his hand pushes through your hair and he cups the back of your head. He pulls you into another kiss, his tongue wasting no time as it glides along yours. You moan against him sweetly as he lightly pulls on the strands. The sound must’ve spurred him on though, because he squeezes you over your bra once more. His insatiable fingers continue and your chest threatens to spill over the fabric cups.

You bring your hand over his and he immediately lets go of you. You shake your head with a grin, letting him know he didn’t cross any lines. Rather, you press on his fingers and make him hold you even tighter. He sighs into the kiss and digs harder into your smooth skin. Wanting to mimic him and clutch onto as much of him as possible, you push your palms flat to his chest and work them up towards his neck. You don’t even register the way you’re tugging at the neckline of his shirt until your thoughts slip and you mumble something against his lips.

“What was that?” Frank asks as he trails a finger down your cheek.

“Can… Can you take yours off too, please?” Your words come out as a whisper, your nerves acting up at the idea of asking that of him. He only smirks up at you before adjusting himself to sit up more against the couch.

“Guess that’s only fair, huh?” You watch as his hands come to the back of his neck, arms flexing as he pulls the shirt over his head and haphazardly drops it beside yours. When you see him shirtless for the first time, you’re pretty sure any thought you had–and ever will have–leaves your mind. Thick muscle wrapped in tan skin, broad shoulders that you’re certain would engulf you whole, and dark hair lining the skin under his belly button that trails below the waistband of his jeans.

“You alright there, kid?” he questions through a raspy chuckle. You hesitantly reach a hand out and lightly rest it over his heart. His chest is big and he fills your palm as his heart beats against your skin. You force your eyes to focus on his face again and he meets you with a confident smirk.

“You still with me?” His words are laced with a cocky tone and you don’t even give him the satisfaction of shrinking down again. Instead, you lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck before kissing him harder than you ever have before. He grunts against your lips, his own hips bucking up as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

His hand wraps around to hold your lower back as he continues guiding your movements. With each roll of your hips into his lap, you feel his bulge against you. A wet gasp escapes you when you bump your clit on one particularly hard grind against him.

He feels harder underneath you each time you move, and it dawns on you what it actually means. He’s getting hard? Over me? The ever present voice sounds out again, words soaked in disbelief. Feeling more confident, you begin to buck your hips on your own as you grind faster against him. 

“Attagirl,” he praises, the kiss breaking once again due to his wide smile. He encourages your movements with one little word and his hand stops the push and pull, letting you move independently from him. He grazes his long fingers up your thighs before curling around, sliding his palms higher, and holding your ass in his big hands. Frank tilts his head to the side as he deepens the kiss and you feel the stubble scratching you, causing your hips to speed up of their own accord.

His bulge between your legs is warm–and admittedly thicker than you expected–which does nothing to help the burning at the pit of your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before and Frank’s lips begin to wander, trailing down your neck. His teeth graze along your collarbone and your hands find their way to his hair. Brushing through the strands with a gentle pull at the ends, you push yourself harder into his lap.

He grunts before pressing his tongue flat to your skin, slowly licking his way up your throat and back to your lips. A curse slips from you and you shudder when you feel the cool air hit the wet patch he left behind. Cupping your cheeks in his large palms, he traces his tongue over your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. You whimper louder than you mean to, the sound causing Frank to tilt his head down and break the kiss. His forehead rests against yours as he pants gently, regaining his breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, dragging the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. You giggle at his exasperated tone from the makeout session and rub your hands down his neck to his shoulder blades. The muscle is noticeable despite him not flexing and your mind starts down a path that you’re certain would do no good right now. Images begin to flash through your mind: Frank on top of you, your nails scratching down his back, his fingers tightening around a headboard. You give yourself a mental shake and bring yourself back to the present.

“What time is it?” you ask softly. Frank raises his arm up, checking the little display of his watch. Once you catch a glimpse of the digital numbers, you perk up as your eyes go wide.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Frank looks up at you confusedly as you speak. “The bonfire…” you trail off, hoping to jog his memory.

“What? No, you just got here, c’mon,” he groans. His arms wrap around your back and he tightens his hold while resting his head against your chest. With a wide smile, you brush your palms against the short hair at the back of his head.

“Frank, I’ve been here almost an hour,” you explain through a chuckle. He hesitantly looks up at you, his eyebrows pulled together and confusion clearly written all over his face.

“Really? I didn’t even notice…”

“Spent all that time when I first got here just talking. It’s your fault!” You tease him and his features soften.

“Well how was I supposed to know I had all this waiting for me if I shut up?” He pulls you snuggly towards his body and you feel the heat coming back to your cheeks. You shake your head when he drapes your arm back around his neck, his charm threatening to work on you once again.

“I gotta get ready,” you explain but make absolutely no attempt to leave your spot on his lap.

“Do you have to? You look great just like this,” his fingers idly move up and down your thighs. You find his little touches comforting and the butterflies flutter to life at his soft spoken compliment.

“My hair is a complete mess, thanks to you,” you scoff, “and I need to change.” You’re still in your outfit from work and want to wear something more comfortable, and warm, for tonight’s get together. Frank pouts as you speak but begrudgingly lets go of you, his hand keeping a hold of yours as you stand. You reach for your shirt and quickly pull it back on over your head and there’s a great, big sigh coming from him once your chest is covered.

Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to look halfway decent. Turning to say one last thing before you leave, there’s a sight that makes your eyes widen as a chill rushes through you. Your hands clasp together over your mouth as you gasp, embarrassment settling in. Frank looks up cluessely at you, until he follows your gaze to his lap.

There’s a damp spot on his jeans, almost unnoticeable against the dark denim, but it’s clear what it is nonetheless.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t think I’d—I’m sorry,” you swallow thickly, trying to find anything to say to fill the silence. He’s hardly moved since he first glared down at the stain on his pants; his chest heaving and jaw clenching as he takes in the sight in front of him. The air is so thick you think for half a second you might actually choke on it. The next thing you see is the bulge in his jeans twitching to the side faintly.

You feel as though you might double over and grab your stomach for balance. “Frank?” you ask gently, but he continues to breathe roughly. You can’t even possibly begin to decipher what’s going on inside his head.

“Don’t ever gotta apologize for that,” he finally speaks up. His voice is gravelly and his jaw is clenched. He takes a long inhale and you can see him physically shake off the tension. “But yeah, you… You should probably change.” His normal cocky smirk is back in place and you smile, relieved.

Leaning over him, you press a brisk kiss to his cheek as a goodbye. You mutter one last apology against his skin before slipping out the door and shouting a farewell over your shoulder.

The entire car ride home you feel your skin buzzing. You’ve never felt so giddy in your life and you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to keep this excitement to yourself. Part of you wants to scream out from the rooftops just to let the energy out but you also haven’t exactly talked with Frank about if this is something to share outside the two of you.

The ride home is a total blur and before you know it you’re pulling into your spot at your apartment. Dropping your bag by the door, you make your way straight to the bathroom. After accessing the damage that Frank left with his greedy touch, you quickly begin to try and make yourself look slightly presentable.

Surprisingly, you’re almost ready when your friend sends the message to inform you that she’s arrived at your place. All you’re missing is socks, shoes, and jacket, which by your standards, is pretty good. You brush your fingers through your hair one more time, trying to get it to lie a bit neater. With one last glance over in the mirror, you shrug and decide it’s good enough given the time crunch.

Shoving your shoes on and rushing out the door with your jacket folded over your arm, you reach her car door and climb in. She begins to drive down the street, turning down familiar roads to the place where you usually gather for this sort of thing. She fills the car ride with her stories all about her day, her rude coworker, and the new guy she’s seeing. You nearly speak up when she gets to that last topic of conversation. It would be nice to finally be able to relate to something, but you know that what you and Frank have isn’t even serious. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you bite your tongue and keep quiet.

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires reaches your ears and you perk up when you realize you’re finally here. After closing the car door and walking up to the fire pit, you notice your other friends already gathered around it. They greet the two of you kindly and pull you into hugs. You smile through the welcoming and scan their faces to check for Frank, but he’s not there.

Minutes pass and you find yourself pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the time every now and then. You watch as the sunset sinks below the horizon. It paints the sky a dusty orange before mixing and settling into soft pastel streaks of light. You’ve been here over half an hour and still there’s no sign of him. You get the courage to speak up and ask about him.

“Is Frank coming? I know he’s not usually on time but…” There’s a small chuckle sounding out from someone already a few drinks in.

“He texted me saying he forgot it was tonight. Should be here soon,” one of Frank’s closer friends, Curtis, replies to you. That’s weird, you think as you pout and wrap your arms around yourself. You wonder why he gave that excuse and what must’ve come up to deter him from getting here. It does little use, but you try to shake off the worry and focus on being in the company of the people you love.

You’re laughing loudly at a joke when you hear some light cheers and quickly turn around at the sound. Frank’s walking up slowly, shaking his head as the small group rags on him for being late. He scoffs, scratching at the back of his neck before being pulled into a few hugs by his friends. You’d give anything to rush over and pull him into an embrace as well, but you decide to not just run with your emotions.

Once Frank is sitting back in an old lawn chair and everyone is officially accounted for, Curtis lights the fire. It’s tradition to wait until everybody is together before setting the wood alight. There’s a moment of quiet crackling but before long the flames are roaring to life. You’re the first to walk up to it, stretching your arms out and melting at the warmth enveloping you when suddenly, there’s a nagging feeling in your head and you look over your shoulder to satisfy the small itch.

Frank’s eyes are glaring into your side, his expression hard and difficult to pinpoint. He’s holding his chin up in his hand and his eyes slowly begin to rake down your frame before shooting back up to your face. The lights and shadows from the flames dance across his features and you swear you notice his nose scrunch up for a second when his teeth sink into his lower lip.

A shiver runs down your neck and it’s not born from excitement like before. He looks absolutely pissed and you force yourself to look back at the charred wood. It could have absolutely nothing to do with you, you try to reason with yourself. But you’ve always been one to look for a flaw in yourself when someone’s upset, and no amount of logic can take away that instinct reaction.

The only thing you can think of is the mess you unintentionally left on him. He seemed okay when you left, but maybe that really bothered him. Whatever it was, he was definitely more cold than he was just hours ago and you wish he’d stop staring and talk to you already.

You plaster on a fake smile when your friend asks what’s wrong and insist that you’re fine. You mutter some excuse about the air being chilly and she finds a spare blanket to wrap you up in. When you steal a glance at Frank, you notice him acting in complete opposite of how he was moments before. He’s back to all smiles, holding his chest as he throws his head back laughing. You feel some of your own tension leaving at the sound of his cackling but you can’t help but wonder why that cold gaze was directed towards you.

The sky eventually begins to settle into the comforting deep blue and the fire shows no signs of dying out. You notice the cooler of beer sitting open and decide to walk over and grab one. Glancing down at the label, you notice it’s not the one Frank introduced you to. With a mental shrug you crack it open and toss it back without thinking. The flavor hits your tongue and it surprises you how much smoother it is than your first drink.

You get lost in the overlapping chatter of conversations and begin drinking more now that you’ve found a taste that’s enjoyable. The time passes and you slowly feel yourself relaxing more as the weight of the bottle in your hand gets lighter. It’s not enough to make you feel without control of your actions, but it definitely is enough to give you a buzz.

Eventually the chill of the night breeze picks up, and you begin to notice some people cuddling up to their partners. A few cuddle on a picnic blanket lying on the ground, some sit in each other’s laps. Regardless, you feel that uneasy sensation of being a spectator rising up again. You fidget with the bottle in your hand as you try and not compare yourself to the other couples when the sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up.

Frank is sitting in his chair like before but this time his legs are spread wide apart. You lock eyes with him and he glances at his lap before looking back to your face. He runs a large hand down the length of his thigh, smoothing the fabric of his jeans, and it seems as though he’s presenting you a seat. You swallow thickly and make your way over to him, standing right at his knees.

“C’mon, it’s too cold,” he mumbles under the background noise of layered voices. You nod as he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on his legs. He’s quickly adjusting the blanket and draping it back over your shoulders before pulling your side into his chest. Your head aligns perfectly in the crevice of his collarbone and his body heat completely engulfs you. To say you’re happy you get to be close to him would be an understatement; you’ve been waiting for this all night but not sure if he’d make the move with an audience.

Each time he speaks, you feel his chest rumble against your cheek. His beating heart sounds out against your ear and you feel his fingers rubbing over your back. The warmth of his thick thighs underneath you remind you yet again of what occurred just a short while ago. You nuzzle your face into his shirt to hide from the thoughts consuming your mind, and he just continues talking while brushing over your side. Raising the bottle to your lips, you take another swig and swallow it down with a hum. Frank looks down at you and watches as you sit up higher against his chest to speak to him.

“Whatever’s in this is waaaaay better than what you gave me,” you whisper into his ear. Your voice isn’t slurred but it’s uneven in pitch, and he snorts–you’re pretty sure that’s your new favorite sound–before nodding.

“I’ll make sure to remember that, sweetheart.” His mouth is near your jaw and the breath fans over your neck. He didn’t even say anything sexual but that all-too-familiar warmth comes to life in the pit of your stomach again.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask in a quiet voice.

“Hmm?” His eyes never leave your lips.

“I missed you,” you confess. His lips spread into a wide smirk and you continue. “I know it’s stupid cause I literally just saw you but…” you trail off, staring down at your legs draped across his. “I got a little lonely when you didn’t show.”

“Yeah, about that…” He chuckles dryly and looks away from you. 

“What?”

“Let’s just say that, uh, the problem you left on my jeans was the reason I was late.” He turns his head in the direction of the tall flames and his words slowly sink into your mind. Heat rushes to your cheeks and your stomach does a cartwheel as new images flash in your mind: Frank’s long fingers working the button of his jeans open, his fingers curled around his cock, head tilted back as moans fall freely from his mouth.

There has to be a work stronger than mortified to describe how you feel right now. You still can’t believe you did that earlier and now paired with his confession? You wouldn’t be surprised if you melted into a puddle of your own embarrassment and slipped away. That also explains that his look from earlier wasn’t anger, but something much deeper and faceted.

“What’s wrong, kid?” He must’ve noticed you tensing up in his hold.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” you mutter. You’re almost certain you haven’t blinked since he told you. Frank bursts into loud laughter, causing a few others to look over at the sound. You can’t handle the new pairs of eyes on you and you wrap the blanket around you tighter as you turn away from their curious expressions.

The night grows colder as the hours pass and you don’t even realize that the flames have died down until a few people begin to stand up and stretch, saying they’ve got to head home. You sit up and rub at your eyes, blinking slowly at the few empty chairs and people waving goodbye.

“You okay if I drop you home?” Frank speaks up as he watches you pull yourself back together.

“Are you sure? Didn’t you have some drinks?” you ask through a yawn, your eyes scrunching closed.

“Nah, saw you drinkin’ when I walked up. Just had water tonight,” he explains. 

He helps you stand up, saying your collective goodbyes to the group, before walking you to his black van. You watch as he walks around to the passenger side, opening the door for you and making sure your seatbelt is buckled before dropping the blanket back in your lap. You’ve never had someone take care of you like this and you have to convince yourself he’s just being a friend to not put more emotions in his kind gestures.

You mumble directions to him as he drives, sneaking glances at his profile as he stares out at the open roads. The lights from the lampposts shine through the window, the shadows dragging across his features as he taps his fingers along to a song playing faintly on the radio. He engages the clutch as he brings the car out of gear, coasting to a red light.

“I have another question,” you say in a raspy tone. It’s the one thing about tonight you still can’t figure out.

“Sure are full of ‘em tonight,” he jokes as he turns to face you.

“The thing you said earlier, about why you were late?” you don’t dare to actually say it aloud. “I left a few hours before the fire started.” Frank shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares at the scarlet glow of the traffic light.

“Tried a cold shower, sweetheart. Didn’t work,” he says simply. You don’t even say anything in response, just turn away from him and look out your window to avoid an even more awkward conversation. His chuckle sounds out in the small cabin of the van and you hate how your pulse speeds up.

“Just another left here,” you say after a while, directing him to turn into the neighborhood of your apartment. He parks along the curb with a clear view of your front door. The night is officially over and you want literally any excuse not to get out of this close space with him.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask in a small whisper.

“You don’t ever have to ask me that, kid.” You’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning over and brushing your lips over his. Pausing for a second, you try to memorize the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips, before delaying the tease and pushing your mouth against his. He kisses back instantly and you suck his lower lip past your own. A not so stifled grunt escapes him and you smile knowing you can get to him in the same way he gets to you. You break the kiss and work your mouth down his chin and the underside of his jaw. He sighs heavily and suddenly places his big palm to your cheek, gently raising your face away from his throat.

“I can’t let you go any further,” he stares down at you. You sigh frustratedly between your teeth before sitting up with a groan. You pout at him and stare back at his lips, cursing the fact that you drank tonight.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s late, you should head inside,” he nods towards the direction of your door. You hesitantly get out and drag your feet as you walk towards the small porch light. You unlock the door and look over your shoulder to see his van still parked. It isn’t until you step inside and shut the door that you hear the motor rev as he drives off.

You stumble into your apartment, brushing your hand against the wall until you miraculously flip the light switch on. You squint your eyes as you flinch away from the bright light and shuffle your feet forward down the hallway that leads to your bedroom. As you empty your pockets and drop your bag to the floor, you make your way towards the connecting bathroom.

Another yawn overcomes you as you struggle with taking your top off, your head getting lost in the mess of fabric. The jeans come off next and you try your hardest to hold onto the countertop before inevitably losing your balance as you try to pull your feet through the cuffs at the end of your pants. You try to breeze through your routine of getting ready for the night and eventually you're sinking into the soft mattress of your bed.

Three consecutive buzzes sound out as your phone vibrates on your nightstand, the display shining in the dark bedroom. You reach for it blindly and see text messages from your friend that drove you tonight.

“Did you get home okay?”

“Since when do you drink?”

“Also what is with you and Frank?” Oh no. A fourth one comes in as your phone vibrates in your hand.

“You have to tell me everything!”

Taglist: @chellestrash @suitsofwo3 @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Finish Line.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - in honour of the london marathon being held today, and my dad running, enjoy this little blurb.

word count - 1.3k

in which, harrys wife is running the london marathon, having been signed up by her sister in law gemma as a joke and now as she is nearing the finish line, harry is determined to be there to greet her.

2023.

As you sit in your cozy living room on your birthday, your husband Harry by your side and your one-year-old son peacefully asleep on the cushion next to him, you feel content. Gemma, your sister-in-law, suddenly interrupts the tranquil moment with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Happy birthday, sis! I've got another present for you," Gemma announces, holding out an envelope with excitement.

You accept it, exchanging puzzled glances with Harry. "Oh, Gem, you didn't have to get me anything else. You've already spoiled me enough."

Gemma shakes her head, insisting, "Trust me, you're going to love this one. Open it!"

With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, you tear open the envelope. Your heart skips a beat as you pull out a letter. Your eyes widen in disbelief as you read the words:

"Congratulations! You've been signed up for the 2024 London Marathon."

Your jaw drops, and you stare at Gemma in shock. "What?! Are you serious?!"

Gemma's grin widens. "Absolutely! I know you've been talking about wanting to challenge yourself, and what better way than running a marathon, right?"

You can feel the panic rising within you. "But Gem, I've never even run a half-marathon before! This is insane!"

Harry chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, looks like you've got some training to do, m’love."

You shake your head, still in denial. "No, no way. I can't do this. I'm not ready for something like that.”

2024.

And now, just under halfway through,just seconds away from reaching mile ten,doubts start creeping in, and your legs feel heavier with each step.

The cheering crowds blend into a blur of noise around you.

Just when you're on the verge of giving up, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos, calling your name.

You glance up and spot Harry and your son standing behind the barricades, their faces lit up with pride and encouragement.

With a surge of determination, you veer towards them, pushing through the throngs of runners, apologising when you get in the way.

When you reach them, you're breathless and exhausted, but seeing their smiling faces fills you with a renewed sense of hope.

"H-Harry," you pant, trying to catch your breath. "I don't think I can do this. It hurts."

Harry wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support. "Hey, hey, you've got this. You've trained so hard f’this moment. Y’stronger than you think."

Tears well up in your eyes as you lean into his embrace. "But what if I can't finish? What if I let everyone down?"

Harry gently tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. "Listen to me, m’love. You've never been a quitter, and you're not about to start now. Remember why you're doing this – for yourself, for our family, We believe in you, and we'll be right here cheering you on every step of the way."

You glance down at your sleeping son, his innocent face a poignant reminder of the love and support surrounding you.

With a determined nod, you straighten up, wiping away your tears. "Okay, I'll keep going. For us."

Harry flashes you a proud smile, planting a kiss on your forehead. "S’my girl. Now go show 'em what you're made of. We'll be waiting for you at the finish line."

It takes you around another two hours to near the finish line, every step feels like an uphill battle.

Your ankle throbs with each stride, threatening to give out beneath you, and a wave of nausea washes over you. The cheers of the crowd blend into a distant hum as you focus all your energy on putting one foot in front of the other.

Your vision blurs with tears of pain and exhaustion, but you can see the finish line looming ahead like a beacon of hope. With every ounce of determination left in you, you push forward, the crowd's encouragement spurring you on.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you limp across the finish line. Tears stream down your face as you collapse onto the ground, the rush of emotions overwhelming you. The volunteer at the finish line rushes over, their concern evident as they kneel beside you.

"Hey there, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" the volunteer asks, their voice filled with genuine concern.

You manage to nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I think so. Just... just give me a moment."

The volunteer nods understandingly, offering you a bottle of water and helping you sit up. "Take your time. You did an amazing job out there. You should be really proud of yourself."

As you cling to the poor volunteer, you turn to the her with a hopeful expression. "Um, excuse me, could you... could you help me over to my husband, please?"

The volunteer nods understandingly, offering you a supportive arm. "Of course, let's get you over there."

With the volunteer's assistance, you limp over to Harry, each step feeling like a small victory. As you draw closer, Harry's eyes light up with relief and love, his arms open wide to welcome you.

"Thank you so much," you murmur to the volunteer, tears still streaming down your face.

She smiles warmly. "It's my pleasure. Congratulations on finishing the marathon. You're an inspiration."

You nod, touched by her words, before turning your attention back to Harry. His eyes are filled with love and pride as he opens his arms to you, and you melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his love surrounding you.

"Oh, Harry," you whisper, tears of exhaustion and joy streaming down your cheeks. "I did it."

He holds you close, his embrace a comforting anchor in the midst of your overwhelming emotions.

"Yes, you did," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of admiration. "I'm so proud of you, m’love. You're incredible."

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent and reveling in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admit, your voice muffled against his shirt.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch tender and reassuring. "Y’stronger than you know, darling. And I'll always be here to support you, every step of the way."

Your heart swells with love for him, overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion.

"I love you, Harry," you whisper, your words a vow of gratitude and affection.

"I love you too, my darling," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "Now let's get you some rest. You've earned it."

Your son looks up from the stroller, his face breaking into a wide grin as he reaches out for you.

"Mama!" he exclaims, his little arms outstretched.

"Hey there, my little champion," you coo, scooping him up into your arms. His giggles fill the air as you pepper his chubby cheeks with kisses, each one a testament to the overwhelming love you feel for him.

Harry watches with a tender smile, his eyes shining with pride and adoration.

"Look at you two," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "My heart could burst with how much I love you both."

You laugh through your tears, the exhaustion and elation of the moment blending together in a whirlwind of emotion.

"I love you too, Harry," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "So much."

With trembling hands, you reach for the medal hanging around your neck, the weight of it a physical reminder of the journey you've just completed. Carefully, you drape it around your son's neck, the metal cool against his warm skin.

"There you go, my little marathoner," you say, your voice catching in your throat. "You deserve this just as much as I do."

Harry wraps his arms around you both, holding you close as you bask in the glow of this precious moment.

"I couldn't be prouder of you, love," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

"You're my hero."

[cosmal]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.

or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption

note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.

word count — 12.4k

“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.

“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.

“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer. 

“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs. 

You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale. 

“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”

“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long. 

“He’s drinking?” 

“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze. 

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.” 

“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.” 

You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard. 

“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet

“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open. 

The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle. 

James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.

He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.

His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.

He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”

Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.

They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”

“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs. 

His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup. 

“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh. 

“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle. 

“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet. 

“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details. 

“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.” 

“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.” 

Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles. 

“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think. 

“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly. 

“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes. 

“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.” 

You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is. 

“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really. 

You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same. 

“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws. 

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds. 

You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that. 

“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,” 

He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again. 

Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology. 

He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever. 

Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.” 

You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep. 

“You smell good.” 

You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.” 

Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying. 

“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers. 

“You smell nice,” you laugh. 

You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.

Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”

Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”

Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.

He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject. 

You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.” 

He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh. 

The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.” 

He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him. 

“Sirius?” He hiccups. 

“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.” 

There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else. 

“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants. 

“Yes, you.”

His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.  

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.” 

You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?” 

Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same. 

“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume. 

“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp. 

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory. 

“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.

“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly. 

“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?” 

You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober. 

“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired. 

“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his. 

“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” 

Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep. 

“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing. 

His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time. 

He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. 

“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep. 

“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach. 

He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.” 

You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh. 

You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle. 

“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?” 

He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting. 

“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.

When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.” 

“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks. 

“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy. 

You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.” 

Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.” 

“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”

Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks. 

“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.

“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.

You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”

When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.

-

Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly. 

On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do. 

Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.  

Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation. 

In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed. 

He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching. 

Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts. 

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head. 

“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it. 

When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.” 

“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier. 

Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.” 

“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?” 

What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.” 

“You wear boxers?” you grin. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you. 

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.” 

Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much. 

You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking. 

“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room. 

“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room. 

“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?” 

He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.” 

You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter. 

“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.” 

“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window. 

“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk. 

“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.” 

“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn. 

He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows. 

You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once. 

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched. 

“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers. 

“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.” 

You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at. 

“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.” 

He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”

When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius. 

Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way. 

Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads, 

uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx

He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat. 

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you. 

what do U mean nothing happened? 

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home. 

U both stumbled. in her sheets. 

Fuck off. Idiot. 

Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company. 

-

The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since. 

It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.

You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things. 

You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?

“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar. 

“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.” 

And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left. 

And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner. 

You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.

It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.

Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!

Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.

“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is. 

There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked. 

And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.

You’ll make yourself sick.

“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.

“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.

”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.

“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes. 

“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”

“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”

Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask. 

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.

“Great.” 

A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.

-

The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.

You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.

You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.

Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.

James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.

Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.

When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.

When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.

“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.

Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.

“Remus! You’re here.”

Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats

“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.

“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.

“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.

“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.

“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.

“I am now,” he grins.

Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.

“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.

With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.

Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.

“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place. 

Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.

“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side. 

You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.

Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,” 

You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm. 

You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.

“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.

You nod, gleefully.

“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back. 

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.” 

He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.” 

You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!” 

You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”

You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.

“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.

“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.

Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”

You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.

As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you. 

He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat. 

He knows he’s truly done for.

He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business. 

He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.

“Up your ass.” 

Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.” 

He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.

When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.

“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.

-

“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.

Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”

“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.

“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.

Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.

“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.

“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”

He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.

“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”

He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”

He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.

The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”

Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.

“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.

Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine. 

Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.

“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.

“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.

“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose. 

“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.

Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.

You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.

“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.

Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.” 

You frown. 

“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins. 

“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff. 

The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.

He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.

He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.

“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.

“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.

You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.

The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.

You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime.”

You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.

“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.

“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.” 

“It’s a good one.”

“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

-

After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.

Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.

“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm. 

“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.

“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head. 

You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”

Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best. 

You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.

Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin. 

Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy. 

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.” 

Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in. 

Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in. 

“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off. 

Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist. 

“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully. 

“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens. 

“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns. 

“Thank you, Remus.” 

“That’s okay, lovely.” 

-

You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk. 

Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something. 

So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius. 

“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting. 

“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away. 

He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity. 

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh. 

He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah, how are you?” you question. 

Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum. 

Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up. 

“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says, 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?” 

He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt.  “Yeah, I am.” 

You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”

Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal. 

“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.” 

Oh. 

Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you? 

He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity. 

Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.” 

He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!” 

“Bye, sweetheart.” 

Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers. 

“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”

“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.” 

Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.” 

Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?” 

“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago. 

“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out. 

“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies. 

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh. 

“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.” 

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.” 

Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Bye, Sirius.” 

Sirius hangs up before he can. 

-

Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead. 

He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head. 

“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly. 

“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics. 

“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm. 

“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says. 

“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin. 

“From the bus stop.” 

“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.

Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”

You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks. 

“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball. 

Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.” 

You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet. 

Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs. 

You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed. 

“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people. 

“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?” 

“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly. 

“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder. 

“I’m not having any repeats of last week.” 

“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.” 

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.” 

He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.” 

You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be. 

Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid. 

“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar. 

“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people. 

“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully. 

You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.” 

Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.” 

“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.” 

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”

“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”

“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”

“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat. 

By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him. 

Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.

Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.

It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.

As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.

“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.

The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”

“I can tell.” 

“You can?”

You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”

Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”

“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.

Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder. 

Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.

You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.

The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here. 

The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.

The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.

“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.

“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he frowns.

You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.

“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”

“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”

You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”

His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.

The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.

“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”

Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.

“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.

“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles. 

“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.

Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”

Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.

“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.

“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.

Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”

You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”

He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.

You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough. 

His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”

“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,

“No?”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.

“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.

Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”

“Completely,”

It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater. 

He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.

The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.

“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.

“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.

“Yeah.”

“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.

You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”

Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”

“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.

“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

[hsjazebel]

Desperate part 2*

Word count: 2763

A/n: I’m sorry to have made you wait so long for part 2, but here it is! I hope you enjoy💘

main masterlist | desperate masterlist

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to look me in the eyes for a week without blushing."

He looks you straight in the eyes and your mind is blank, you just want to be fucked so good and not think about anything.

“Cat got your tongue? I've barely touched you and you're already all stupid! You just want my cock in your little pussy, don't you?”

You nod not having the strength to speak, but this isn't enough for him.

“Words, baby. I need to hear your beautiful voice. Is that what you want?”

"Yes, yes. I want you!"

“Oh is it, pretty girl? You want me? Who expected that the good girl who knows how to cook such good pasta would actually hide a dirty part! But don't worry, now I'm here to scratch your itch, I'll treat your pussy so good I'll ruin you! Are you ready pretty girl? There’s no turning back.”

“Yes, I want it so bad!”

“Good girl!”

And so, he sticks his cock in you and it's like the rest disappears. You lie there with your mouth open making little moans because of the feeling of his big cock opening you up and stretching you out to make his way in your pussy.

“This is all you’re good for, just a hole for me to fuck. Such a nice, wet little pussy for m-“

The sound of your alarm clock wakes you up from your wet dream. You open your eyes trying to adjust to the light coming from the windows. Last night you forgot to lower the shutters and you're mentally cursing yourself for it.

The memories of your dream are still in your mind that you can even feel your panties getting wet.

It's been a week since your first meeting with Harry and it's been a week that you only have him on your mind.

This isn't the first time you've had a dream like this. And you know it won't be the last either.

You desperately want to take care of yourself but you don't have time because you promised your mother to go out and do some shopping together.

You decide to go take a cold shower trying not to think about the all too real feeling of Harry fucking you.

Then you choose an outfit for the day and go down to the living room where you find your mother fully dressed.

“I'm so happy to have a mother-daughter day! It's been a while since we went shopping together. I'm sad your sister isn't here too, it would have been nice to just be girls!” Your mom says as she grabs her purse and keys.

“Yeah, but she’s like Dad, she doesn't like shopping,” you follow her as you leave the house.

“I really don't know how she doesn't feel like going out and buying new clothes!” She laughs.

“I always ask myself that too!” You laugh along with her.

You both head towards the city center and start entering various shops.

After spending an hour trying on clothes, you decide to go into Sephora, a place you can't resist, and while you're debating whether or not to buy the Rare Beauty blush you hear your mother's phone ringing. She spends a few minutes on the phone and when she hangs up the call she looks at you with a sad look.

“They just called me from work. They said they found a motive against the other defendant in the trial. I have to go to the office. I'm so sorry to have to leave now, I even thought about going to brunch together.” You can tell she wasn't happy about leaving, but your mom was an established lawyer in your city, and she was now working on this very important case, she couldn't do anything about it.

“Don't worry Mom, I know how important this case is for you! I think I'll take another look in here and then I'll go get something to eat quickly,” you smile at her trying to cheer her up. “Come on, don't make that face, I'll stay here all summer, we'll find many more days to have another mother-daughter moment.”

"You are right! It seems to me that I don't see you very often and I was so happy to spend this day with you! Please don't spend too much money on makeup, I know you don't have a minimum of self-control when you come in here,” she laughs as she hugs you goodbye. You hug her back and with that you see her leave the shop.

You finish your shopping trip - and you may not have exactly listened to what your mother told you about not buying too much makeup - and decide to go alone to that brunch you were supposed to have with her.

You arrive at a small place near the center called Jerome and already from the outside you could see that the interior was all decorated in pink and this caught your attention.

You had passed by here several times but you had never seen it or heard the name of the place, so you deduce that it is a new opening, and so you decide to go in.

The interior was as you expected, all pink with neon cursive writing. On the left was a wall covered in pink and white roses with large swings as eating stations, which also had a large teddy bear that you found absolutely adorable, and on the left a large glass counter showing that which, in your opinion, was paradise.

A waitress with a welcoming smile comes towards you, inviting you to take a seat in the front room and that someone will come to take your order once you are ready.

You return her smile by thanking her kindly and make your way into the room she indicated.

On the way, you find on the right side a wall covered with pink velvet and a bicycle leaning against it with another big teddy bear on it. You find this corner particularly cute so you take your phone out of your bag to take a photo.

As you open the camera app you hear a familiar voice calling you.

“Hi Y/n!”

You turn in the direction of the voice and find the protagonist of your latest dreams sitting at a table on a pink velvet armchair.

"Oh! Hi Harry!" You return the greeting by smiling at him.

He pulls back a chair as a sign to sit next to him and you gladly accept.

“Shopping day I see,” Harry tells you pointing to the bags you had to bring with you.

"Oh yes!" You laugh. “I was out with Mum but she had to run away to work, so I'm forced to go around with all these bags!”

Harry laughs back. “That's why you're here alone.”

You are about to answer him but are interrupted by a waiter who has come to take your orders.

Once he leaves - not before giving you a sweet smile - you see Harry give the boy a not-so-kind look.

You continue your conversation until within a few minutes your food arrives.

You start eating in silence and you notice that Harry keeps staring at you.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Mh? What?"

“I see you staring at me, I asked you if I had something on my face.”

“No, no you don't have anything on your face, it's just… I don't know if it's appropriate to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?”

He takes a long sigh. “I was just thinking… if you have a boyfriend”

You stop yourself from laughing at his question. “No, I don't have a boyfriend. Why do you ask?"

“I was just curious to know I guess. It is undeniable that you are a beautiful girl and I also noticed how that boy looked at you before and I was just wondering if you have a boyfriend, that's all."

"Don’t worry. In fact, right now I don't want a boyfriend, I broke up a couple of months ago so I'm thinking more about myself now."

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you broke up recently. Can I ask why if it doesn't bother you?”

“Don't worry, it doesn't bother me. I've been with this Italian guy named Lorenzo for more or less a year and a half, except that in the last period, things between us haven't been going so well. In the last few months, I saw him as more detached, and in the end, I discovered that he had another woman... that’s the reason!" you laugh sarcastically.

“Excuse my language but… he must be a real dickhead to have cheated on you.”

“I'm big now, you can use bad words in my presence, and yes you're right, he's a big dickhead!” You laugh and he follows you.

After finishing your brunch you are the first to get up.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Harry. I really enjoyed talking to you!”

“No, thanks to you Y/n! And I enjoyed talking to you too! It could be done more often!” He tells you smiling, making his dimples appear.

“Yes, I would be more than happy to do it again. Maybe I could mention to Dad to invite you to dinner some evening.”

"I'd really like to."

And so you head towards the exit of the place with him opening the door for you like a true gentleman.

Once outside, however, you remember that you had arrived here in your mother's car and now that she was gone you didn't know how to get home. So your only option - other than walking in the July sun for 40 minutes on foot, which you didn't think was the best option - was to ask Harry for help.

“Um, Harry?” You call him. “Sorry but I just realized that I don't know how to get home since my mother left with the car, and.. uhm I wanted to ask you if by any chance, if it were possible for you, you could take me home.”

You didn't like bothering people about your things, because you always had the impression that you were annoying.

“Of course, I can take you home Y/n! I would never leave you stranded. In fact, I was just asking you if you wanted a ride but you beat me to it."

And with that, you head towards his car. And again, being the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you to get into the car.

Along the way you are rather silent, in addition to the noise of the radio music in the background, there is every now and then an exchange of words.

Once you arrive at the gate of your house you almost feel sorry to let Harry go, and he seems to think the same as you.

You're about to say bye and thank him when an idea comes to you.

“You know I was thinking about the conversation we had that evening at my house and I just remembered that I have another book that I think you might like… if you want you could come in the house for a moment.”

“Yes, I'd like to come in but I don't want to disturb you."

“Don't worry, there's no one at home. Mom and Dad are at work and my sister is at the beach with some friends.”

“Oh…okay.”

He leaves the car in the driveway and so you go into the house.

As soon as you enter you head towards the bookcase in the living room but looking carefully among the books you don't find what you were looking for.

Going back in your memory you remember leaving it in your room; you had recently finished reading it and you immediately thought Harry might like it.

“Um…I think I left it in my room, if you want you can come with me, I also have other books there and I think you might find something you might like.”

"Yes, of course!"

So you go up the stairs and enter your room, but as soon as you enter you see the chair near your bathroom with your pajamas and underwear on it that you had taken off before entering the shower.

But the thing that immediately catches your eyes are your white lace panties on top of your clothes, and, if you look at them better you can also see a darker part on their crotch which you know well what is due to: the man next to you to you.

While you were both in your room, you felt a strange tension in the air. You look at Harry and notice the way he avoids your gaze as if he's hiding something. You suddenly feel vulnerable, remembering the embarrassing moment when you had accidentally left your panties on the chair. You wonder if he saw it.

“Sorry if the room is a little messy,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence.

He smiled faintly. “Don't worry, you told me that the book you recommended is here somewhere, right?”

Your heart beats faster in your chest as you try to figure out if he's just trying to be nice or if he's trying to avoid the awkward moment.

“Sure, it's right there on the nightstand,” you reply, gesturing to the book with a wave of your hand. “Sorry about the mess.”

He walks over to the nightstand, but in his gaze, he notices your panties casually placed on the chair. He lets out a short sigh, trying not to let his embarrassing discovery show. “Thank you,” he said, taking the book carefully.

The tension in the air seems to increase as they both look into each other's eyes, an energy filled with repressed desire and forbidden curiosity.

You try to ignore the racing of your heart as he walks away from the nightstand with the book in his hands.

“There are some really interesting parts,” you say, trying to keep the conversation light. "I hope you like it."

He nodded with a gentle smile. “I can't wait to read it, thanks for the advice.”

The silence that followed was heavy, full of tension and unspoken meaning. You both knew what was behind that embarrassing moment, but neither seemed ready to face it.

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the courage to say something, anything that would break the overwhelming tension. But the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Finally, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you tremble slightly.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk about?” He asks you, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallow, feeling your heart beat so loudly it sounds like a drum in his ears. “Yes,” you admit in a small voice. “There is something we need to address.”

You feel your heart beating furiously in your chest as he gently approaches, creating an atmosphere full of anticipation.

“I know,” he whispers softly, his voice a seductive harmony in the air vibrant with desire.

A shiver of emotion runs through your skin as your gazes meet, communicating desires and secrets hidden deep inside.

You nod slightly, unable to articulate a sound, your breath held in anticipation of what was about to happen.

He gets even closer, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, but without ever crossing that invisible border that separated reality from enchantment.

An instant of silence full of meaning lasts longer, time seems to have stopped as you let yourself be enveloped by the magic of waiting, aware of how powerful and precious that tension suspended between you can be.

You get dangerously close to the point where you can feel his nose touching yours, the desire between you vibrating in the tense air.

Lips a few millimeters apart, the imminent contact was like a promise of suspended passion, when suddenly the sound of the front door opening resonates in the air, interrupting the intimate moment.

You both tense up instinctively, your heart quickening its pace in your chest as your gazes meet in a mixture of agitation and repressed desire.

“Y/n! I am home!" You hear your father's voice coming from downstairs.

“Fuck,” you say as you pull away from Harry, but the heat of the barely touched contact still burned on his lips, while your body trembled slightly in anticipation of what might happen.

[genshinluvr]

Suitors

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Many people in Teyvat knows about your relationship with twenty-five men. Though, they disregard it and continue to try to set you up with someone they know. What happens when one of your "suitors" ends up being wanted by the Fatui?

Note: I guess this counts as a filler-ish story, not entirely sure 🤔 For those who are wondering about the new smut series poll and when it'll close, I will close it when the fic is about to be written and it's planned out. So far, the first chapter isn't planned out but I do have the top 10 so far with the most votes. I've been busy with submitting assignments for my final week of winter classes, so this fic may not have turned out how I wanted it to. 🥲 Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Would the reader drinking three glasses of champagne count as a warning?

Word Count: 9.1k

It’s a known fact that you’re dating these handsome twenty-five men of all forms of life, from humans to archons to Onis to half-animal beings, etc. You’re never alone when you’re in Teyvat. When shopping for ingredients, you’re accompanied by Thoma and sometimes another man in your relationship circle. Oftentimes, when you go to the Akademiya, Al Haitham, Tighnari, Kaveh, and Cyno are the ones walking you to school. Everyone at the Akademiya knows you’re close with the Acting Grand Sage. You like to tease Al Haitham for his title and call him by it, knowing it’ll annoy him a tiny bit when you call him by that title.

But just because you’re dating these twenty-five handsome men does not mean your relationship with these men is going to last long, according to the people that have approached you (and disregarded the men’s presence) to ask you to do a favor for them. When they ask you for a favor, you assume it’s to assist them with something! Like homework, if you’re at the Akademiya. But it’s something else you never think about.

The elderly man holds your hands and gives you a sweet smile. “You’re young, intelligent, and very social! Are you single by any chance?” He asks.

You smile at the man. “Thank you! And to answer your question, I—” 

The man cuts you off.

“Wonderful! I have a grandson who is around your age! I think you two will make a fine couple!” He says, giving your cheek a squeeze. 

Childe lets out a fake laugh, his eyes twitching while holding back from smacking the old man’s hand off your cheek. Childe turns to look at the other men, his lips pressed into a thin line, his face turning red from holding his breath. The other men were giving the elderly man a strained polite smile.

Childe grabs your bicep and pulls you to his side. “I’m sure your grandson will find someone amazing! Unfortunately, that amazing person for your grandson will not be our dear lover,” Childe says, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

Gorou nods. “Childe is right! We’re sure your grandson will find someone almost as amazing as [Y/N], but [Y/N] is not single!” Gorou says, looping his arm around yours protectively.

The old man looks at Gorou and Childe, surprised by their comment. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Childe and Gorou whisk you away with the other men close behind. It was supposed to be a lovely day in Sumeru with your boyfriends. You all had finished lunch an hour before and were about to go cloud-watching. But this old man approaches you and your boyfriends, starting a conversation with you. 

The conversation started with him asking you about what it’s like to be in the Akademiya because you were in your Akademiya uniform! He then started talking about his grandson, telling you how the man is in his mid to late twenties and yet still doesn’t have a significant other! You joked and said maybe the grandson will find someone as magnificent as you one day, and now here you are. 

Heizou chuckles. “You’re quite the talk around Teyvat, aren’t you? I’m starting to think we should put you in disguise when we go outside the abode,” Heizou jokes.

“Aw! Trying to hide little ol’ me?” you tease, reaching toward Heizou and pinching his cheek. “What if someone asks you where I am and would assume I’m single?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Everyone stops in their tracks and thinks for a moment. You weren’t wrong. If they put you in disguise to hide you away, many people will assume you either broke up with the twenty-five men, or they’re cheating on you with someone else. Okay, so maybe putting you in disguise or going out into Teyvat without you would be a bad idea. 

Aether shoves Heizou to the side and gives you a smile. “We’re not going to do that! In fact, let’s all get necklaces of [Y/N]’s name on it, and [Y/N] will have necklaces of our names!” Aether suggests, propping his hands on his hips with a weary smile. 

You blink at Aether. “I don’t think twenty-five names would fit on a single chain. Plus, if all of you were to put your names on necklaces for me to wear, the chain is going to get tangled,” you say.

While you don’t mind wearing necklaces with their names on them, you kind of wish you never mentioned it to your precious twenty-five boyfriends. Because now there’s a huge chance these men are going to make it happen without your knowledge and have you wear it when you go out, which you don’t mind, but switching out necklaces feels like a chore.

“How else do you expect others to know you’re in a relationship with all of us?” Venti asks, gazing at you curiously. 

You scratch your cheek. “I think it’s obvious for outsiders to see I’m dating all of you,” you say, gesturing toward the twenty-five of them. “I’m not sure if you all realize it, but you’re all clingy and are not afraid to profess your love for me,” you giggle.

Xiao huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, if it’s obvious, then why do people continue to approach you and ask you to date their sons, siblings, grandsons, and cousins?” Xiao demands, frowning at you.

You purse your lips and turn away. You sort of thought it was obvious why other people wanted you to be with someone they knew. The people that approach you assume your relationship with the twenty-five men is temporary until you’re able to live on your own in Teyvat. Then again, whenever these people approach you, they would whisper it to you before talking at a normal volume.

You smile at Xiao and stroke his hair. Xiao blushes and looks away nervously, reaching for the hand that’s stroking his hair and lacing his finger with yours. Xiao is so cute! Xiao tugs you forward from Childe’s arms and wraps his arms around your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulders.

You sigh and close your eyes. “I’ll explain it to you all once we get back to the abode. Do you guys want to continue to hang out in Sumeru, or do you just want to go home?” You ask, tracing the tattoos on Xiao’s biceps.

“I kind of want to explore the desert to search for scarabs, but after what happened today, I want us all to return to the abode and avoid old people,” Itto huffs dramatically and sticks his nose in the air.

You nod. “Back to the abode, it is!” You say, clapping your hands.

Having people randomly approach you and ask if you’re in a relationship is something you never expect. Mainly because people in your world never approach you and ask you that question, ever. The first time it happened was a surprise, but the more it happened, the more you grew tired of it, and so did the men.

You and your twenty-five boyfriends are sitting at a restaurant in Mondstadt, celebrating your eight-month anniversary! Yes, it has been eight months since you and the twenty-five men have been dating! Time went by faster than you expected. Here you are, dressed up and looking cute for the occasion, while the men are looking dapper in their custom-tailored suits.

Diluc leans close to you and whispers, “You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

You blush and smile at Diluc shyly. “Thank you, honey! You’re looking handsome yourself!” you reply.

Diluc reaches for your hand under the table and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You squeeze Diluc’s hand in return and press a quick kiss on his cheek. Diluc smiles and nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek. You cover your small laugh with your hand and lean against the redhead. 

The sweet moment between you and Diluc was interrupted when someone tapped your shoulder. You and Diluc turn to look in the direction of the person that tapped you on your shoulder, assuming it was Zhongli that needed to speak to you about something. But when you and Diluc turn to the right, there is a blond man standing behind your chair, looking anxious. 

You and Diluc sit properly in your seats, acting as if you two didn’t act like a high school couple just a few seconds ago. You grab the menu and point at the dish you want to order, assuming the anxious blond man is a waiter at the restaurant.

“May I have the—”

The man’s eyes widen. “Oh! No, I’m not a waiter here!” The blond man says, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head with a nervous smile.

You blink at him and close the menu, putting it back on the table. “Oh, well,” you trail off, looking at the men quizzically. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, placing your hands on your lap and giving him a polite smile.

“I noticed you from afar and couldn’t help but feel this… Connection between us!” The blond man says dramatically.

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at the blond man skeptically. “You feel a connection between you and [Y/N]?” Zhongli asks, sipping his drink without taking his eyes away from the man behind you. 

The man looks at you in awe, and a smile appears on his face for a brief moment. “[Y/N]? That’s your name?” The man asks breathlessly.

You nod in response. “That’s correct!” You answer lamely.

He gulps and tugs at his shirt collar, his pale face turning redder the more time ticks by. The conversation around you slowly dies down as the men start to direct their attention to the man behind you. Diluc did not look pleased, knowing what the man was up to.

The man exhales slowly, his cheeks almost as red as Itto’s horns. “I was wondering if perhaps after your meal with your coworkers, you would be free?” The man asks.

“Coworkers?” Thoma chokes on his drink, coughing into his elbow.

You blink at the man before you and sigh, reaching for your drink and lifting it to your lips. “I’m not free after dinner. I’m celebrating my and these men’s eight-month anniversary,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Of being coworkers?” The blond man asks dumbly.

Dainsleif snorts from across the table, covering his mouth with his hand. “You haven’t even introduced yourself to [Y/N]. What makes you think we’ll allow you to leave the restaurant with them?” Dainsleif asks, narrowing his eyes at the anxious Mondstadt man.

The blond man’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, [Y/N]! My name’s Lukas Schmidt, a native to Mondstadt and an owner of a local brewery!” Lukas says, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Oh? A brewery, you say?” Kaeya interjects, resting his elbow on the table with curiosity.

Lukas nods. “That is correct! I own a local brewery, and business has been quite busy that I wasn’t able to go out and meet someone,” Lukas sighs dramatically.

Ayato makes a face. “Interesting. Now, do tell us about this connection you supposedly feel between you and our precious [Y/N],” Ayato says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You lean back in your seat and let yourself drown out Lukas’ explanation to the twenty-five men sitting around you. Lukas assuming you and the men to be coworkers, is something you did not expect to hear. 

Quite frankly, you’re surprised that Lukas didn’t know about your large dating circle with these handsome men. Then again, Lukas did claim that his brewery business has been busy, so maybe that could be the reason? Either way, you’re wondering how you and your boyfriends even look like coworkers when you and Diluc were very cuddly just a few minutes before Lukas approached the table. 

“I don’t know how to explain it! I feel drawn to [Y/N]. It’s like there’s a string attached to the both of us, pulling me toward their direction!” Lukas says, his cheeks turning bright red as he attempts to explain this so-called connection between you and him.

Albedo turns to look at you, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. “What about you, my comet? Do you feel any connection with this man?” Albedo asks, looking at the brewery owner from the corner of his eyes.

“The only connection I’m feeling right now is between me and this mushroom pizza!” You said, reaching toward the pizza tray.

A smirk appears on Kaveh’s face as he flicks his hair off his shoulders. “You were saying?” Kaveh asks sassily.

Lukas sputters while you take a bite out from the slice of pizza, swaying in your seat as you happily chew the cheesy mushroom pizza. Al Haitham looks at Lukas with a small glare, leaning back in his seat with his arms over his chest.

“Since [Y/N] has indirectly confirmed that they do not feel any connection toward you, it's best you leave all of us alone,” Al Haitham says, closing his eyes.

A small gasp can be heard coming from Lukas. He turns to look at you, placing his hand on your bicep and giving you a pleading look. Zhongli and Diluc reach for Lukas’ arm, gripping it so tightly that they could snap his arm in half if they were to apply any more pressure.

Lukas whispers, “Please, [Y/N]. Perhaps if I explain it to you a little more clearly, you’ll understand what I’m saying!” 

You scratch your head awkwardly while holding the slice of pizza in your left hand. “Lukas, even if you explain what this connection feels like, I won’t be able to feel it. Besides, I’m in a relationship,” you say, taking another bite of your pizza.

Lukas was about to respond when Cyno stood up suddenly, walking over to Lukas. Lukas gives Cyno a weary look, slowly backing up from your seat. Tighnari sighed and rubbed his temples, unsure whether he should stop Cyno from intimidating Lukas for letting Cyno continue out of pure entertainment and as a lesson for Lukas to learn. Tighnari decides not to interfere this time, watching the scene unfold.

Cyno stands behind your seat, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s evident that [Y/N] is not interested in you, Lukas. No matter how much you try to convince them that you two are a perfect match, they’re in a relationship with all of us,” Cyno gestures to the twenty-four men sitting at the table.

“They’re dating twenty-five of you?! How is that even possible? How does the relationship even work?” Lukas exclaims, looking at everyone in disbelief.

You shrug your shoulders and reach for your drink. “I’m dating all of them, but to them, I’m dating them individually, you understand? They’re not dating each other, either. They’re only dating me,” you explain, sipping your drink.

Lukas laughs in disbelief, running his hands through his blond tresses. “So, what you are is Teyvat’s biggest whore, is what I’m hearing,” Lukas sneers.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tighnari says, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.

Scaramouche, Kazuha, and Baizhu escort Lukas out of the restaurant before Lukas can cause any more scenes. You sit there, contemplating what Lukas had called you just a few seconds ago. You poke the inside of your cheek, letting out a soft “huh.”

“All because I’m in a relationship and all because a man like him can’t handle rejection,” you comment, putting the cup on the table.

Pierro sighs and shakes his head. “Please do not take offense to his words. He is a weak-minded man who gets his feelings hurt easily,” Pierro spats, glaring at the restaurant door.

If you weren’t interested in Lukas Schmidt in the first place, his calling you a whore was a cherry on top. You wanted to burst out laughing in his face. You weren’t sure if he called you that because you were dating these men or because you rejected him. 

Either way, you weren’t surprised that Lukas went from being infatuated with you to calling you Teyvat’s biggest whore. How typical for a man of his caliber. It’s laughable and pathetic. Kazuha, Scaramouche, and Baizhu soon return to the restaurant, looking visibly irritated. Scaramouche wipes the blood in the corner of his mouth and plops down in his seat.

Scaramouche clears his throat. “I made sure that he won’t be bothering us ever again,” Scaramouche states, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Oh? How so?” You ask, looking at Scaramouche curiously.

Kazuha clears his throat. “We can’t tell you what happened, or else it’ll ruin the element of surprise,” Kazuha says, shooting you a smile.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?” Baizhu asks.

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure I should be the one to ask you three that question,” you said, eyes landing on the faint blood stains on their ironed tuxedos.

Pantalone leans back in his seat with a glass cup of wine in his hands. “They look fine to me! I’m pretty sure the blood stains on their clothes don’t belong to any of them,” Pantalone chuckles, sipping the red wine.

You and the men continue the anniversary date as usual. This time, instead of you sitting between Zhongli and Diluc, you switch seats with each man so you can sit beside every man without making them move. Though the seat changes happen every time you finish eating something, whether it’s a slice of pizza, a sweet madame, 

You didn’t mind changing seats every now and then. As long as you get to eat something, you’re not complaining. The anniversary dinner has come to an end, and you were on the brink of passing out.

“Someone ate a little bit too much,” Dottore snickers, watching Capitano scoop you in his arms and carry you bridal style out of the restaurant.

You snuggle up against Capitano’s chest. “Can you blame me?” You mumble, closing your eyes before covering your mouth with your hand and yawning. “At least I’ll get a good night's sleep when we get back to the abode,” you say.

“You didn’t eat too much, did you? Do you remember the last time you did that?” Capitano asks, not taking his eyes off what’s in front of him while carrying you in his arms.

You shake your head. “I didn’t overeat, I promise,” you reply.

The last time you ate too much food was at the Windblume festival. There were many festival-themed foods at the concession stands, and you wanted to try every food and snack the vendors offered. And what happened three hours later? Your stomach started hurting a lot, you could barely breathe, and finally, you threw it all back up for the next three hours. Since then, you have been a little bit cautious with the amount of food you ingest.

The second time someone approached you was more…. Interesting and things were offered to you. And by things being offered to you, you mean Mora. You’re at a party on the Pearl Galley with your beloved boyfriends. At first, when you and the men received the party invitation, you were a bit miffed when you saw where the party was located. The Pearl Galley is an interesting boat, and you’re not a massive fan of it. But for this party in particular, there were no prostitutes— much to your surprise, but you’re relieved.

Although despite the prostitutes not being on the boat for the party, you continue to feel uneasy about being on this particular boat. To be frank, you would rather be on the Crux than the Pearl Galley. Anyway, back to the party. It’s a black-tie party. Everyone is wearing the fanciest dresses and tuxedos they have, and everyone on the ship looks dazzling. Even with the fanciest clothing you have on, you continue to feel out of place.

“You can all roam around the boat if you’d like. I’m not forcing any of you to keep me company,” you say, sipping on the champagne.

Ayato shakes his head. “We know how you feel about this boat. We want to keep you company and make sure you’re okay,” Ayato replies.

“Besides, it's not like we’ll wander off and find a prostitute to sleep with while the party is going on,” Childe laughs.

You press your lips into a thin line and stare at Childe. Itto smacks Childe upside of his head with a glare. You take a deep breath and down the champagne. The men look at you worriedly. You’re not the type to drink any alcohol or liquor, but when you do drink it, it means something is bothering you, and you need to distract yourself.

You hold the empty champagne glass up. “Oh, my! Empty already? I’m going to get another drink,” you say, giving the men a fake smile before walking away.

The men watch you walk over to the snack and drinks table, keeping yourself distracted with food and drinks. 

Itto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You really couldn’t keep your mouth shut on that one? Now [Y/N] is going to be overthinking and drink away their worries with champagne,” Itto says, gesturing over to where you’re standing.

“For once, Itto is correct. That comment was unnecessary, Harbinger. Even if it is a ‘joke.’ You know how they feel about the Pearl Galley,” Xiao huffs.

While the men are scolding Childe and trying not to draw attention to themselves, you’re currently taking small sips of your second champagne of the evening while snacking on cheese, ham, and crackers. It’s a simple snack at the event, but you need something to keep you occupied. Therefore you are crafting your mini snack sandwich while taking occasional sips of the champagne. You’re so occupied (thankfully) with the snacks you don’t notice an older gentleman approaching you at the snack table. The man clears his throat to grab your attention. You look up from your small plate of cracker sandwiches and blink at the man owlishly.

The older gentleman before you has salt-and-pepper hair and a beard, and he is wearing a black suit (like every other man on this ship). You couldn’t tell what region he came from for this event, but he looked too old for your taste. Wait a minute—

“Excuse me, are you perhaps [Y/N]?” Asks the older gentleman.

You nod robotically. “Yes, you’re speaking to [Y/N],” you say, taking a sip of your champagne without taking your eyes away from the man.

The man’s eyes light up. “Wonderful! May I ask you to do me a huge favor for not only myself but for my son and my family?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him. 

Back to where the men are all standing, Heizou notices you talking to a strange man at the snack table. You look shocked and flustered, tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to find a way to speak to the older gentleman in front of you. Heizou narrows his eyes and holds his hand up, grabbing the others' attention from scolding Childe.

“Who is that man, and why is he speaking to [Y/N]?” Heizou asks, pointing in your and the man’s direction.

Aether shrugs. “I have no idea who that man is, but he looks like an important figure,” Aether murmurs, stroking his chin while leaning against the railing of the ship.

“Should we step in?” Thoma asks nervously, watching you give the man a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

You reply something to the man before grabbing the plate, beginning to make your way toward where the men are standing. The look of panic flashes across the man’s face for a brief moment before he runs to stand in front of you, blocking your way. You stop in your tracks and stare at the man with a deep frown, your shoulders tensed, and your grip tightened on the plate and champagne glass. Your reaction reminds Gorou of a hostile kitten, back arched, fur standing up, tail puffed out, claws ready to strike.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Guess we’ll have to teach someone a lesson tonight,” Scaramouche grumbles, pulling up the sleeves of his buttoned-up shirt.

“Please, [Y/N]! My family and I need you to do us this huge favor! Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to achieve our goal!” The man says, his hands twitching, getting ready to grab your wrist to prevent you from walking away from him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in your offer.” You stated firmly.

You begin to walk around the man, only for him to grab your biceps.

“Please! You can’t just pass up on the offer! What do you want from me? I can give you whatever you want!” The man sputters.

You look at the man and tug your arm from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, leaving finger indentation on your arms. You sigh and take a deep breath. Great. Now, what are you going to do with this man? He’s very desperate for your help, and you’re not sure what else to do. You have rejected his offer prior, but his desperation is sad.

You clear your throat. “What I need you to do for me is to leave me alone, sir. I declined your offer a few minutes ago. Nothing in the world can convince me to do you that favor,” you said.

With one final tug of your arm, the man lets go, and you turn to walk away, only to almost walk into someone’s chest. You step back and see Pierro and the other men standing there, glaring at the man behind you. None of the men looked too pleased with what they had just witnessed. 

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest. “May I ask what’s going on here?” Pierro asks gruffly.

The man huffs loudly. “It is none of any of your businesses!” The man retorts, rolling his eyes.

Dainsleif glares at the older man and gestures for you to walk to him. You walk over to Dainsleif without hesitation and stand behind him while holding onto his right arm, peeking from Dainsleif’s shoulders.

“It is certainly our business when the person we love is involved,” Dainsleif states, tightening his grip on your hand.

Kaeya smirks and steps forward. “You look like a knowledgeable man. How come it’s hard for you to accept no for an answer?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at the older man in front of him.

“What did you ask them that made them react in such a way?” Kazuha asks, standing beside you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

The man looks away, refusing to answer. He sticks his nose up in the air with a loud huff of breath, crossing his arms over his chest. The men rolled their eyes before turning to look at you worriedly. You shake your head and down your second glass of champagne of the night. You don’t know how many glasses of champagne you’re going to need to drink to forget about the man’s offer.

Diluc places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be drinking too much, sweetheart. Remember how you hate alcohol and how it tastes?” Diluc reminds you.

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue before answering, “I do hate the taste of alcohol, but after hearing the man’s offer, I’m going to need a couple of glasses to forget.” 

Zhongli stares at you quizzically, his eyebrows furrowing. “What did he offer to you?” Zhongli asks slowly, turning his head to the side to look at the man.

You look over at the man and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. The man stares at you, waiting for you to respond to Zhongli’s question. The way the man was looking at you is like he’s challenging you in a way. You don’t like it. It feels like he’s mocking you. You let out a slow deep breath, looking at your empty champagne glass.

“Why don’t you all keep me company at the snack table. I’m in need of another cup of champagne,” you say nonchalantly.

You walk toward the snack table, brushing past the older man after giving him a side-eye glance. The men give each other looks before following after you, making sure to bump shoulders with the man when they walk past him. Scaramouche smirks and not-so-subtlely zaps the man in his ribs, causing him to jolt and yowl in pain.

Cyno snickers and high-fives Scaramouche before tucking his hands in his slacks and walking to the table where you and the other men are standing. You shove two cracker sandwiches in your mouth and reach for a napkin and another glass of champagne. 

“Now, care to explain to us what happened between you and that old man over there?” Kaveh asks, looking over at the man from a distance.

Cyno reaches forward and wipes the crumb off the corner of your lips. “And don’t eat too fast. You’re going to choke,” Cyno mutters, shaking his head.

You swallow the cracker sandwich and wipe your lips with the napkin. “I would rather die from choking on the cracker sandwiches than take up on that old man’s offer,” you groused, sipping your third glass of champagne. 

“What did he say to you that is making you drink your third cup of champagne?” Al Haitham demands, towering over you while looking at you with concern.

You sigh loudly and place your plate and champagne on the table. “To be honest, I’m still trying to take time to process what he offered to me.” You reply, scratching your arm.

“What did he offer?” Tighnari asks wearily.

You purse your lips and debate on whether you should tell them what the man offered or if you should tell them to forget it and continue to enjoy the party on the… Pearl Galley. On second thought, perhaps you need another drink. You reach for your champagne, preparing to down your third champagne of the night, but Albedo quickly snatches it from your grasp with a head shake.

“I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night, starlight. Drinking too much isn’t good for you, and you know that,” Albedo chides. 

“Great, what am I going to drink now?” You mumble, sticking your bottom lip out.

Venti pats your shoulders and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure you can drink water! We’re worried you’re going to drink too much and have a nasty hangover the next day,” says Venti.

“Now, spill it. What did that old man say to you?” Pantalone demands, narrowing his eyes while tapping his finger on his biceps.

You sigh and lean on the table. Here goes nothing. “The man begged me to marry his son so his son can live, and be a permanent citizen, in Inazuma because his son has been studying abroad there for almost a year, and he doesn’t want to return to his home country,” you reply. 

“Marry his son?” Baizhu asks, looking at you incredulously.

Dottore shakes his head. “No, you are not going to marry that man’s son just because he refuses to return to whatever region he’s from,” Dottore states, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Plus, you’re not even a citizen of Inazuma. What gave him the impression that you’re an Inazuma resident?” Capitano asks.

You run your fingers through your hair with a shaky laugh. “I don’t know! I told him I was not going to do it! And then….” you trailed off, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with your fingers.

You’re starting to get a headache. You’re not sure if it’s from being on the ship for too long, if it’s the champagne, or if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the things that had happened within a few hours of you being at the party. Either way, you want to leave the Pearl Galley, return to the abode, and sleep.

“And then….?” Gorou repeats, anxious about hearing what else you’re about to say.

You open your eyes and let your hands fall at your sides. “This man is so desperate for his son to live in Inazuma that he offered to pay me twenty million Mora. Twenty million Mora just to marry his son and for their entire family to be citizens of Inazuma,” you conclude, propping your hands on your hips.

“Twenty million Mora for that? Quite frankly, I have way more than that,” Pantalone mutters, puckering his lips, taking a cracker sandwich and eating it.

Diluc shakes his head. “No matter how much Mora that old man offers you, do not take it. It’s sketchy, you’re already in a relationship, and you’re not a resident of Inazuma,” Diluc says, clenching his jaws.

You give Diluc a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it, Diluc. I shot down his offer the minute he presented it to me,” you say. 

“But he’s been persistent about it,” Ayato mutters, looking over at where the man stands with a glare.

You nod in response. “Unfortunately. The old man has been very persistent, and I don’t know what else to do! I told him no, and he won’t accept no for an answer!” You say. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Did he even tell you his name? If he’s willing to offer you twenty million Mora to marry his son so he and his entire family could be residents of Inazuma, then he must be an important figure in Teyvat, no?” Aether asks, stroking his chin.

You shrug in response, take the champagne glass from Albedo, and chug it. You’re starting to feel buzzed, but you don’t think three glasses of champagne is strong enough to make you forget about the offer. That and the fact you’re on the Pearl Galley. A boat where many go to sleep around and gamble their life savings away. Or something like that. 

“Do you want us to find out who his son is? We can do that for you if you’d like! After all, it’s part of our job as a Harbinger,” Childe offers, propping his arm on your shoulder. 

You sigh and wave your hand around. “I don’t really care who he or his son is. I just want to go home and go to bed,” you say.

“Yelan is going to be disappointed. She invited us all to the party and looked forward to seeing us there. Especially you,” Xiao mutters, looking at the woman from a distance.

Your hands are itching for another champagne. Archons, you just want to go home. You’ve been here for a short time, and many things have gone to shit faster than you expect them to. You didn’t even get to speak to Yelan about the party, but it looks like you’re going to have to call it a night. Plus, the longer you stay at the party, the more you’ll be drinking, and you’re not usually the type to drink alcohol.

You shove a cracker sandwich into your mouth. “If you all want to stay at the party, you can stay. I’m not forcing any of you to go home with me,” you say with your mouth full. “Plus, if any of you stay, please tell Yelan I said hello and apologize for me because of how early I left,” you added.

“We’re not going to let you return to the abode alone while you’re almost as drunk as that old geezer over there,” Thoma says, gesturing toward another party guest, tripping over his feet.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I only had three glasses,” you mutter.

You turned around and made your way toward the exit of the boat. You weren’t sure if its because the ship was on the water, but you were having a little bit of a hard time walking. You’re swaying on your feet and can barely walk in a straight line. Kazuha chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, helping you step off the Pearl Galley.

Kazuha murmurs into your ears, “I believe three is your limit in alcohol,” Kazuha murmurs.

You rest your head on Kazuha’s shoulders and close your eyes. “Not gonna lie, I kind of regret drinking three glasses of champagne,” you whisper to Kazuha.

“That’s right, [Y/N]. You should regret it! Did you learn from your mistakes now?” You hear Tighnari ask from a distance.

Oh, right. You forgot that Tighnari and Gorou have a keen sense of hearing. How could you forget about that so easily? On to Tighnari’s question: did you learn from your mistake? Well, you chugging three glasses of champagne wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing, and it was not a mistake. Therefore, not really, but did you regret drinking three glasses of champagnes? Yes, because now you can kind of walk in a straight line, but with Kazuha’s help.

You wave off Tighnari’s comment, saying, “All of you can scold me when we get back to the abode.”

Fast forwarding to the next day, you woke up with a headache. While you didn’t drink too much alcohol, you certainly drank more than what you usually consume. And that is three glasses too many. You bury your face into your pillow and pray that no one knows you have a hangover. They’re going to say, “I told you so,” and basically rub it in your face while scolding you simultaneously. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. You peek from under the pillow, hesitating on whether you should answer or you should continue to pretend that you’re still sleeping.

“We know you’re awake,” You hear Gorou say from behind the door.

You toss the pillow off your head and sit up. “How could you tell!?” You ask, staring at the closed door with shock.

The door opens, revealing Gorou, Itto, and Baizhu. Itto points at Gorou and toward the hallway.

“Gorou and Tighnari say you breathe a certain way when you’re asleep and when you’re awake. When everyone is asleep, their breaths are even and steady compared to when they’re awake,” Itto explains, walking toward your bed and plopping down beside you with a grin.

Baizhu hands you a pill and a glass cup of water. You give Baizhu a tight smile before taking the medication and glass cup from his hands. You pop the pill into your mouth and chug the water, wincing when you feel the pill get caught in your throat for a second before going down your throat when you chug as much water as you can.

Baizhu props his hands on his hips. “How are you feeling today? Do you have any pounding headaches, feel nauseous, or feel like you got hit by a mitachurl in any way?” Baizhu asks.

“I do have a headache, but it’s not as bad. I don’t feel nauseous, thankfully. Nor do I feel like I got hit by a mitachurl,” you reply, wiping your lips and putting the cup on your nightstand. 

A knock is heard on your door. You lean to the side and look at the door to see Heizou standing there with a smile. You returned the smile and waved for him to enter your room. Heizou runs his hands through his hair and waltz into your room.

Heizou clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I have news regarding the man who wouldn’t leave you alone last night,” Heizou says.

You look at Heizou with wide eyes, shocked and surprised to hear the men had identified the man from the party at the Pearl Galley the night before. Actually, you didn’t expect them to track down information about the older gentleman. I mean…. Knowing Childe and the other Harbingers, they would definitely hunt the older man down for what had happened the night before. That, and because of the twenty million Mora being offered to you just to marry his son.

“I have a feeling everyone is going to need to know about this, so I’ll get up from my bed now,” you mutter. “Oh, but let me brush my teeth first,” you say.

You quickly brushed your teeth, combed your hair, and used the toilet. Thankfully, you can feel the medicine Baizhu gave you start to kick in. You walk out of the bathroom, and Itto offers to carry you downstairs. Since you did have a hangover, you might as well let Itto carry you down the stairs to where everyone is waiting for you. Itto squats in front of you, his back facing your direction. You hop on Itto’s back and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Itto, Gorou, Baizhu, and Heizou walk out of your room with you in tow. You bury your face into Itto’s back when you feel a faint pounding in your head. While the pain medication Baizhu gave you did help ease your headache, you can still kind of feel it. It’s there, but not as present as it was when you woke up today.

You hear Venti chirping, “Ah! There they are! And they have [Y/N] with them as well!” 

You wince and continue to press your face against Itto’s back, tightening your arms around his neck. Itto gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Zhongli sighs. “And I see they have a hangover. Luckily, I brewed some tea for you to drink while we discuss this matter,” Zhongli says.

Itto lowers you to the ground, helping you sit on the seat between Dottore and Cyno. Zhongli slides the teacup over to you. You give Zhongli a grateful smile, take the teacup and begin sipping from the ceramic cup. The tea is still warm. It’s very herbally with a hint of ginger. You’re not an avid tea drinker, but you needed to drink some tea for your hangover.

You clear your throat, wiping the small droplets of tea from the rim of the cup. “Heizou informed me that you guys have some information on this man?” You murmur.

“That we do,” Pierro nods.

Everyone goes silent after Pierro replies, making you suspicious of what they are going to say next. They all traded looks with each other as if they were debating on who would be telling you the news and who was not going to be the one to do it. It’s almost like a silent argument between twenty-five people, and you’re just watching them make weird facial expressions at each other while mouthing something.

Dottore lets out a long exhale, rolling his eyes. “Fine! I’ll do it!” Dottore says, turning in your direction before giving you a sweet smile. “[Y/N], darling, the man who has been bothering you is Boris Ivanov. He is from Snezhnaya. While his record is clean in Snezhnaya, his son, not so much,” Dottore explains.

“What’s his son’s name?” You ask anxiously.

Capitano props his leg on the ottoman in front of him. “His son’s name is Aleksei Ivanov. A few months ago, he borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland Bank in Liyue but failed to pay back the bank. He is currently on the run and is trying to seek refuge in a closed-off region. Hence why he wanted to marry you, even though you’re not a citizen of Inazuma,” Capitano says.

You did a double-take. “Hold on, you guys said that this Aleksei man borrowed millions of Mora from the Northland bank and failed to repay the Fatui. How come his father offered to pay me twenty million Mora to marry his son?” You cocked an eyebrow at the men. “I don’t know about you, but something is not adding up!” 

“Aleksei’s father refused to give his son money after getting in trouble with the law many times. While Boris can help Aleksei pay off the debt he has with the Fatui, Aleksei does not want to put that burden on his father,” Scaramouche replies, rolling his eyes.

You pursed your lips. “And yet Aleksei wants to put that burden on me? A complete stranger who is also dating a few of the members of the Fatui?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s going to put a target on my forehead, too, you know?” You ask, poking the center of your forehead.

Kaeya chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Relax, you’re not going to get harmed,” Kaeya says, giving you a suave smile.

You stare at Kaeya blankly and turn to look at the others. “What is Kaeya implying, and why do I have a bad feeling about this?” You ask, pointing at the tanned man behind you.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your acting skills?” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh no, they’re up to something, and you know they won’t tell you what they’re up to until you answer their pressing questions. You pinch the bridge of your nose and down the tea that Zhongli had brewed for you. You put the ceramic teacup on the table, wishing the tea was champagne. Just when you thought you were going to finally have a break from the things that have been going on for the last few days (maybe even weeks, you lost your sense of time since the first incident).

“I don’t know? A five, maybe? What are you buffoons up to?” You ask, sitting back in your seat with your arms over your chest, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. 

“Baby, we love you, and we care about you a lot. Can you do us a huge favor?” Kaveh asks, batting his eyelashes at you.

Your eyes widen. “Baby? Oh, this must be a big deal because you’re not calling me an abyss mage this time!” You said, reaching forward and pinching Kaveh’s cheek.

Dainsleif interjects, “Technically, you’re doing a favor for the Harbingers. I’m against you doing this because it’s dangerous.”

You give the men a weary look. “What do you have in mind?”

The men give you a fake smile while the Harbingers start explaining to you what you’re tasked to do. This is your first undercover mission for the Fatui, and it’s weird and nerve-wracking. Dottore and Pantalone jokingly called you an honorary member of the Fatui, earning a heated glare from Diluc and him immediately shooting down the title. And now here you are, sitting in Komore Teahouse, waiting for Aleksei to show up to the teahouse a few days after the men devised a plan on how to capture Aleksei.

You let out a shaky sigh and start to mess with the small decorations in the teahouse. “I’m not going to be alone with Aleksei, am I? I don’t feel comfortable with being alone with him,” you confess.

Albedo squeezes your hand. “We’re not going to leave you alone in the teahouse with Aleksei. All of us will be in the teahouse but hidden from plain sight,” Albedo explains.

“You have nothing to worry about. All you need to do is talk to Aleksei and get to know him. You don’t have to do anything else after. One of the Harbingers will jump in and take it from there,” Tighnari reassures you, squeezing your shoulders. 

Cyno crosses his arms over his chest and analyzes the teahouse with disinterest. “Are you sure this is going to work? Aleksei has been on the run for who knows how long. Do you think he’s stupid enough to fall for it?” Cyno asks.

You shrug. “One way to find out is to wait and see,” you reply.

Everyone ends up leaving the main room you’re sitting in. Because Thoma is familiar with Komore Teahouse, he volunteered to play as the host of the teahouse. About fifteen minutes later, Aleksei finally shows up at the teahouse. You expected Aleksei to be on edge and constantly looking over his shoulders to see if there were any looming Harbingers in the shadows. Still, he looked relaxed and did not seem to be tensed at all. 

Aleksei sits across from you, his back facing the entrance, while sipping on his tea happily and eating the onigiri with eagerness. The way he ate the onigiri made you assume he didn’t eat anything on the way to the teahouse.

“Your father begged for me to marry you so you and your family can be citizens of Inazuma,” you said nonchalantly, tracing your fingers over the rim of the cup.

Aleksei rolls his eyes and swallows the onigiri in his mouth, wiping his mouth on the napkin. “How much did he offer you?” Aleksei asks, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What did he not offer me? I was taken aback when he almost got on his knees for me to marry you,” you reply, resting your head on your hand. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Aleksei shrugs his shoulders. “Well, what do you think? Are you going to help me and my family, or what? I… did something stupid, and now I can’t do anything to get rid of my problem.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t know, Aleksei. I had many suitors in the past, and many people begged me to date or marry their son, cousin, grandson, and nephews. I’m a picky person when it comes to finding a significant other. What makes you so special out of all the candidates?” You ask, tapping your fingers on the table.

Aleksei smirks and leans forward, mimicking you by resting his head on the palm of his hands and tilting his head to the side. You look at Aleksei skeptically, waiting for him to answer your question. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, nor do you like how close he is to you. The distance between you and Aleksei seems to have gotten smaller.

Aleksei reaches across the table and places his hand over yours. “Other than my father offering you Mora, I have a few things in mind to convince you,” Aleksei winks at you, lacing his fingers with yours.

You suddenly have the urge to puke. You swallow the bile that slowly made its way up your throat and give Aleksei a fake smile. Aleksei reaches toward you and brushes your hair away from your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ears.

You look away from Aleksei and let out a sigh. “And what do you have in mind exactly, Aleksei?” You whisper.

Aleksei gets up from his seat and walks around the table, sitting beside you. You look at Aleksei with wide eyes as he closes his eyes and slowly leans forward. Right when Aleksei is about to press his lips against yours, a hand suddenly reaches out from behind the curtain and rips Aleksei away from you. You nearly let out a loud sigh of relief when Childe seizes the blond Snezhnayan man.

“Sorry to interrupt your little date, but I don’t appreciate seeing another man having the gall to kiss the love of my life,” Childe says, squeezing Aleksei’s shoulders tightly.

“Love of your life?!” Aleksei sputters, gazing at Childe in disbelief before looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re in a relationship!?” Aleksei shrieks.

You puckered your lips and looked away from Aleksei, twirling your hair around your index finger while pretending you didn’t see a thing. “Oh please, he’s one of my many other suitors. Did you forget about that already, Aleksei?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.

“You—”

Childe rolls his eyes and signals for the other Harbingers to enter the room. Aleksei’s face turns pale with fear and realization. He begins to thrash around in Childe’s grasp, only for Childe to tighten his grip around Aleksei’s wrists.

“Aleksei, it’s been a while. Care to chat with the five of us?” Pantalone asks, raising his eyebrows at the blond man before him.

Childe drags Aleksei out of the room, the other four Harbingers circling around Aleksei to make sure he doesn’t escape. You sigh and rest your head on the table. You look over at the menu, contemplating whether you should order alcohol or not. Wait, do they offer alcohol at a teahouse?

“That went on longer than I thought,” Aether says, walking into the room with his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. Aleksei almost kissed me! He has fish breath, too,” you shuddered. “What took you guys so long to intervene!? I was suffering and nearly broke character so many times!” You throw your hands in the air.

“I’m impressed you were to stay in character for this long. You looked like you wanted to throw a teapot at his head,” Cyno commented, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“I did. Being alone with Aleksei for some time is torturous.” You mutter, getting up from your seat and stretching your arms. “What would’ve pulled this performance together would be if you all stepped into this room one by one, professing your love for me, but that would be suspicious and weird..”

“We could, but we wouldn’t do that,” Ayato says, giving you a teasing smile.

You pout and look away. “I know, can’t someone like me dream?” You grumble.

Scaramouche leans in, placing his hand behind his ear. “What was that? We didn’t hear you,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. “I said I need a drink!” You huff, making your way toward the exit. “I need to forget Aleksei and his fish breath,” you said.

Albedo wraps his arms around your shoulders. “Did you happen to forget that you made a promise with us that you wouldn’t drink anymore?” Albedo asks.

You rest your head on Albedo’s shoulder and close your eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. I also made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t be drinking as well,” you mumbled.

You and the men return to the abode, making sure the citizens who would usually approach you in the city wouldn’t see you leave the teahouse. You’re not prepared for another proposal or matchmaking from anyone. But if anyone does dare to propose to you or beg you to marry their son, nephew, cousin, brother, etc., you will start asking the men when they will pop that question. How else will other people in Teyvat know that you and the men are committed to each other? You don’t need any other suitors at the moment. You already have twenty-five suitors and are unsure when you’ll expand your dating circle.

Note: Not gonna lie, I kind of want to make a taglist just for the new smut series, but I'm not sure if I should do it or not 🤔 Not sure how I feel about this fic overall since I typed it out while having to deal with turning in multiple assignments in one week before my spring break 🥲 Hope it's at least decent. I just know the ending is meh, but anyway, I will be keeping the poll open for Burning Desire until further notice. I'll let you all know when the polls are closed! Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @alteeeeyang, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @bajifairyy, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @wynncrites, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[ineffablesuffering]

Sick Days (Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader)

I wrote this as a form of comfort as I am finally getting over this cold that I had.

Warnings: like one swear word, Crowley being soft for the reader

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley x Platonic!GN! Reader.

Word Count: 1,095

Masterlist

--------------

You lay in bed, the thought of moving was, to simply put it - unbearable. You had awoken with a pounding headache and felt like your sinuses were trying to escape from your face. Everything hurt and your body couldn't decide if it was too hot or too cold. Great. You were sick.

You had meant to have plans with Crowley and Aziraphale feeding the ducks in St James Park and a spot of lunch, but clearly that wasn't happening today. You sat up in bed and instantly the room starting spinning around you. You let out a deep cough and you whine at the feeling in your chest. You put a hand to your forehead to try and ground yourself as you reach for your phone before sliding back down into your bed. You had planned to call Aziraphale and tell him you couldn't make it, but the room kept spinning and forced you to close your eyes to make it stop.

The next thing you remember is your phone ringing a few hours later. "Shit," you mumble. You must have fallen back asleep. You pick up your phone, answer it and put it to your ear. "Hello?" you rasp.

"Y/N, I just wanted to see if we're on your way?" It was Aziraphale. You groan and turn to face your clock. You should have been at the bookshop by now. "My dear? Are you quite alright? You don't sound yourself." He asks.

"I'm sorry Aziraphale, I was meant to call you but I must have fallen back asleep, I'm not feeling too great." You rasp out, your throat feeling like it was on fire. "I'm not going to be able to make it today."

"Is that Y/N?," you hear Crowley shout in the background, "Tell them to hurry up, times a ticking."

You try to let out a laugh, but it ends with you in a coughing fit, wincing at the pain in your chest. "You two go on ahead without me, we'll catch up soon."

"Are you sure? We can always rearrange?"

"Aziraphale, I'll be fine," you say as another cough racks through your body, "I've been ill before."

"Well, make sure you rest and we will see you another time. I hope you feel better soon my dear,"

"Thank you 'Zira, I'll talk to you later," you say as you hang up the phone before placing it on your bedside table. You groan as you drag yourself out of bed, in search of water and hopefully some form of medication.

A short while later, you had decided that you couldn't sit in bed any longer and you were curled up on your sofa, watching your comfort show, eating your comfort food and taking small sips of some hot lemon and honey water when there was a knock at the door. You muted the TV, praying that whoever was knocking would go away. The knocking persisted.

"They're  probably asleep Angel," you heard a muffled Crowley. This got your attention and you made your way from the sofa to the door.

"Maybe, but I'd feel better if I just saw them." replied Aziraphale.

You open the door to find the angel and demon standing before you. They took in your disheveled state, your skin pale except from your blood shot eyes and your nose being red, your hair messy and a headache strip on your forehead, a blanket haphazardly wrapped around your shoulders and your comfy clothes on. A true sight for sore eyes.

"What are you two doing here?" Your voice quiet in an attempt to not irritate your throat even more.

"We came to check on you, and see how you're feeling." Aziraphale said, "We brought you supplies" he gestured to the bag that Crowely was holding.

"You really didn't have to," you say

"We know," said Crowley. You give him a small smile, "and don't think this is me being nice. I'm just following orders."

"I wouldn't dream of it." You say stepping aside inviting them in. Aziraphale smiled at you as he walked in, Crowley sauntered in behind him handing you the bag that he was holding.  You closed the door behind them and peer inside the bag.

"Jesus 'Zira, I have a cold, I'm not opening a bloody chemist." You say to him as he walks towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, taking the dishes you had left on the table with him.

"Well I didn't know what you needed, so I bought everything."

You smile at the gesture, he really was so thoughtful. You make your way back over to the sofa where Crowley had already made himself at home. You roll your eyes, expecting nothing less from him. He gives you a grin.

"Move over," you whine at him as he lounges across the entirety of the sofa.

"Or what," he says playfully.

"I'll cough all over you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Crowley, be nice." You hear Aziraphale call from the kitchen. He moves rather quickly.

"Bitched," you cough.

"Fuck off," he mumbles, throwing his sunglasses onto your coffee table. You take your place on the sofa next to Crowley, and lean your head on his shoulder. "Comfy?" he says with a smile. You nod against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you.

"I hate being ill," you complain "everything hurts." Crowley just chuckles, giving you a squeeze. Aziraphale returns with two mugs in his hands. A cup of tea for himself, and a cup of green tea with lemon for you. "Thank you." You rasp as you take the mug off of him.

"Don't be silly," he tells you taking a seat beside you. "Just make sure you drink it while it's hot, it's supposed to help with your throat."

"Aye aye captain," you joke before a coughing fit racks through your body again. You feel Crowley run his hand up and down your back in an attempt to help soothe you. The couple shoot you a sympathetic glance when you're finally able to compose yourself again. "I'm fine, I'll be fine." You say picking up the TV remote and unmuting it. "And because you have crashed my pitty party you have to watch whatever movie I want to watch and I want to watch The Sound of Music." Crowley laughs from beside you as Aziraphale let's out the most unangellike groan. You smile at him, before finding the movie and pressing play. Maybe being ill wasn't so bad when you had your favourite celestials to keep you company.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Steps Towards - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3007> |part 1 - Scheming|

You didn't say anything else, and neither of you made the effort to move. Both of you were comfortable, and moving would probably result in awkwardness, and you wanted to avoid that as much as humanly possible. 

After a few more minutes, his hands still gently playing with your hair, Carlos spoke. "I should probably start getting ready," he said, moving his hands away. 

"Yeah, I probably should too," you said, knowing you'd have to be watching the practise sessions for the day. "Y'know, to get ready, we actually have to get up," Carlos teased, nudging you. 

"Oh yeah, sorry," you mumbled, moving away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. You were trying to hide the blush of embarrassment that was flushed on your cheeks. You heard the bathroom door close behind him, and you took a minute to compose yourself. 

Were you really just going to move on and pretend that didn't happen? Maybe that was for the best. It would affect your professional relationship, and that was the last thing either of you needed. 

But, you loved every second you spent near him. And last night, even if you only knew about an hour or two of it, made your heart flutter in ways you didn't imagine was possible. He just had this thing about him, but you couldn't act on it. He was your job, not your future. 

Caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even notice Carlos exiting the bathroom. "Y/N?" he said, but you didn't hear him. "Hey, you alright?" He asked, as he appeared in front of you. He was ready for practise, Ferrari apparel clad. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you weakly smiled at him, trying not to look at him in fear of never being able to look away. You had kept your cool since Carlos had started driving at Ferrari, so you could keep it up for now. 

"The bathrooms yours," he told you, towel drying his hair as he walked back around to his side of the bed, perching on the edge. "Thanks," you said, collecting your clothes for the day and going inside. 

It didn't take long for you to get ready, and when you left the bathroom, you saw Carlos getting his jacket on. "I'm going downstairs for breakfast with Charles before we leave for the track, you coming?" 

"Thanks, but I have some online meetings to do before practise," you said, getting your laptop out and setting it down on the dressing table so you could sit properly. "What are you going to do for breakfast?" he asked, leaning against the wall. 

"I'll probably just wait until lunch, I don't have any time to grab anything now," you explained, sitting down on the chair. "Call room service, I've got it covered," he said. You never normally got room service since the hotels that you were booked were normally quite fancy. And expensive. 

"You sure?" you asked as he opened the door to the room to reveal Charles, just standing there. "Yeah, of course, get whatever you want," he said, waving you goodbye. Shortly after, there was another knock on the door. "Come in!" you called, thinking it was Carlos since he had left his key or something.

"Cleaning service," the old lady said, pushing her cart into the room. 

"Yes please," you smiled at her as she got to work. She stripped the beds down and cleaned up the glasses of water on the tables. When she was done, the bed had been made and the whole room looked camera ready. 

"Have a nice day," she said as she approached the door to leave.

"Hey, wait a second," you called out to her, and she stopped in the doorway. You scrambled to find your purse, and when you did, you plucked a few notes out of it. "Here, thanks for this," you said, and she happily beamed at you. 

"Thank you very much," she said, tucking the notes into her pocket and wheeling the cart away and down the hall. You had around fifteen minutes until your meeting, so you picked up the phone and ordered yourself a stack of pancakes. 

They arrived within ten, so you had to eat them as quick as you possibly could. You may not have finished them, but you certainly would after the first meeting when you got a break. Your laptop started chiming, and you accepted the call as the faces of your co-workers appeared in boxes on the screen.

Meanwhile, Charles and Carlos were sat downstairs, scanning through the menu to see what they wanted. "So, how did it go?" Charles asked, a cocky grin spreading across his face. 

"How did what go?" Carlos shrugged having already decided that he wasn't going to give Charles anything. "You sharing a room with Y/N," he said, kicking Carlos' shin under the table. "Nothing happened, as I'm sure you'll be disappointed to hear," 

"Come on, nothing? Nothing happened?" Charles asked, desperate for a bit of gossip. He had been urging Carlos to ask you out for a few years now, and he finally thought his planning skills had paid off perfectly. Well, they had, but he didn't have to know about that for now. 

"No, nothing happened," Carlos said, sipping at the water from his glass. A part of him felt smug knowing that you had slept in the same bed and woken up, entangled in each others arms and he wasn't letting it slip. 

Charles just looked at him, a dejected expression painted on his face. "I don't know what you were expecting," Carlos smirked, absolutely reveling in Charles' disappointment. 

"Well it's a good job we still have a few nights, and I'm not planning on letting you back in the room any time soon," Charles said, thinking he still had the upper hand in the situation. Carlos had a feeling that this was how it was going to be for the weekend, and he had to admit that he was looking forward to it. 

"That's fine," Carlos said, not letting any sort of emotion show on his face.

"Oh I'm sure it is. I noticed the rooms only have one bed, don't think I let that slip my mind," Charles said, thinking he had finally cracked the code. "Pillow walls are a wonderous thing, Charles," Carlos smiled, watching as Charles slowly started to get irritated.

"Just ask her out already please. Then I won't have to do these kinds of things to you," Charles pouted, sighing. "I work with her, I am not going to ask her out."

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it," Charles scoffed.

"Oh yeah? Why do you say that?" 

"Because you wouldn't care about any of that if you really liked her," Charles explained, smiling at the waiter who brought them their breakfast. "Maybe I don't like her as much as you think I do," Carlos said.

"Carlos, you look at her like she's the only person in the room and the look on your face when you see her is like a lovesick teenager. You're crazy for her, and everyone can see it," Charles said, tucking into his avocado on toast.

"Can they?" Carlos winced, knowing Charles had him on that one. When he looked at you, he never wanted to tear his eyes away. "You hardly try to keep it a secret. Everyone knows. Well, everyone except her," Charles said. 

"And that is how it's going to stay," Carlos said, as if it were an instruction that had to be obeyed. "Are you really that blind? She's got it bad for you, Carlos," Charles said as if it were a commonly known fact. "No, she doesn't,"

"Wait until you hear what I'm about to tell you then. I heard Y/N talking to Maria from the marketing team in the garage last weekend. They were giving their opinions on the drivers, and Maria asked about you. Y/N said, 'I can't say anything, I pretty much work for him'," Charles started explaining, the excitement in his voice was evident. 

"And I'm not surprised she said that, it was perfectly reasonable answer," Carlos tutted, continuing with his breakfast. "But you haven't let me get to the good bit yet. Maria pressed on a bit, since we all know you like her. Then Y/N said, 'He's lovely, he's cute. What more could I want?'" Charles giggled. 

Carlos tried not to let his happiness show on his face. "Charles you're acting like a teenager, it's not a big deal," Carlos said, dismissing his words.

"Not a big deal? I have just proved to you that she likes you back and you are telling me it's not a big deal? Sometimes I wonder about you, Carlos, I really do," Charles shook his head, wondering why his friend was so quick to dismiss the words he had wanted to hear all along. You liked him back.

But surely you didn't? You only said that because Maria had pushed for it, right? "Charles, Y/N and me is never going to happen," Carlos said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of that over it being something he truly believed. 

"But it can, you just need to take a chance. So what if it's awkward after? At least you tried. But I have a feeling it would be far from awkward, though," Charles said. Carlos stayed silent, his head and heart fighting for control. His heart told him to take the leap, but his head held his limbs still, not letting him soar off the edge.

"I'll think about it," he mumbled. Thankfully, the conversation moved on from you, and onto what they were feeling for this weekend. Just as they were finishing their breakfast, Carlos dropped some of his down his shirt. 

"Oh shit," Carlos sighed, setting his knife and fork down. 

"Mate really?" Charles laughed, passing him some napkins to try and wipe the stain away. As expected, it just made it worse. "Do you have any other shirts?"

"Yeah, but they're back in the room. How long do we have until we leave?" Carlos asked, still trying to wipe the stain away. "We've got like, five minutes," Charles chuckled. 

"Y/N should still be in the room, I'll call her," Carlos said, finding your number in his phone and dialling it. You were still in a meeting, but you weren't going to miss the call. "Sorry, I have to take this. I'll be quick," you said, standing from the chair and putting the call on mute. 

"Carlos, what's up?" you said.

"Could you bring me down another shirt? I may or may not have spilt my breakfast on it. I have a few spare hung up in the wardrobe," he explained.

"Yeah, I'll be down as soon as I can," you said, putting the phone down and springing into action. You went to the wardrobe and found one of his Ferrari polos hanging there, just like he said they would be. You took one and swiped the room key off the table and ran down the hall and down the stairs. 

You needed to make it quick so that you could be back to the meeting as soon as possible. Your eyes darted around the cafe downstairs when you reached it, but you couldn't spot any scarlet anywhere. 

Instead, you turned around and headed to the foyer. In the distance, you spotted the two drivers sat in some chairs as they waited. "Carlos!" You called out, rushing over to him. "Here," you said, handing him the shirt. "Thank you, you're a lifesaver!" he smiled, standing to take it off you.

"Are your meetings done yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, I'm still in one. I've just put myself on mute so I can come down here," you told him with a smile. "Oh sorry, I didn't know. I'll see you at the track later, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I won't see you before practise, so good luck. You too, Charles," you smiled, looking over at the man from Monaco. "Don't get into any PR disasters while I'm gone!" You called back to him with a laugh as you went to skip up the stairs again. 

"You can't convince me she doesn't like you," Charles said, standing from his chair, "I'll meet you outside, the car should be here any minute," he continued, walking out of the glass doors to the outside entrance. "Yeah, alright," 

You went back to your room, but the meeting was almost over. You hadn't missed anything important, just the timings of some of the interviews they would be doing next week. Those were the kinds of things that were put on the post-meeting emails anyway. 

You didn't have anything else to do, so you thought you might as well head to the track. Collecting all of your stuff, you called a cab and it drive you to the track. By the time you had gotten there, Charles and Carlos were already in their cars, ready for the first practise. 

You watched through the practise and stayed in the Ferrari motorhome, since it was a nice space to get some more work done. You didn't have anything to do, so you started scheduling interviews for in a few races time. 

"Hey," you heard, and the couch next to you sunk under someone's weight. Turning to the side, you spotted Carlos, who was still in his race suit. "Hey, nice work out there," you smiled, closing your laptop and giving your full attention to him.

"Thanks, and thank you for earlier. I didn't mean to pull you out of your meeting or anything," he said. "Don't worry about it, it was a boring meeting anyway," you laughed, looking as a smile formed on his face.

"Can I get you dinner or something? As a sorry and a thank you," he asked. This was kind of him taking a chance, because he thought he'd be able to gauge how you felt by your reaction. "Carlos, you got me breakfast, that is more than enough. And don't be sorry, it was the perfect excuse to stretch my legs," you smiled. 

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute right now, and you could barely think straight. Surely it was just him being nice, but maybe it wasn't. Just maybe it wasn't. "But that was before I distracted you from your meeting. Come on, it'll be fun," he said in a sing-song tone, nudging you. 

"Yeah, alright. How does Sunday night sound?" you asked, smiling. You were trying not to kick your legs about and squeal out of pure joy. "Perfect, I'll pick you up from our hotel room at seven?" he asked, standing back up as his engineer approached him. 

"I'll see you there," you laughed, watching as he waved and walked away. 

"Someone's looking cheerful," the voice of Maria said from next to you. She had taken the spot Carlos was just sat in. "Just having a good day," you said, not wanting to tell her anything. Maria could be a bit of a gossip, and word around the garage spread like wildfire. You didn't want people thinking this was more than it was, and you didn't want your job to be put in jeopardy. 

"You sure that doesn't have anything to do with a certain Spanish snack?" she giggled. Maria knew you both liked each other, and she was trying to play matchmaker like Charles. Only she didn't lock people out of hotel rooms to accomplish that. 

"No, simply a good day," you straight up lied, before getting up and heading over to the cafeteria to grab a snack, leaving Maria to speculate. 

Carlos was stood in the back of the garage, finishing up with telling his engineer about how the car was feeling and the things he wanted to change for the next practise. Just as he had been left alone, Charles appeared beside him. 

"Hey mate, a few of us are going for drinks on Sunday night, you wanna come?" Charles asked, leaning on the wall next to him. "Sorry, I've already made plans," he said, desperately not wanting to tell him what he was actually doing. 

"With who? You don't have any other friends," Charles teased, causing Carlos to scoff at him. 

"I do have friends, you just don't know them,"

"Then who are you going out with?" Charles pressed.

"A friend," Carlos kept his answer short. He didn't want Charles to tease him if he told him he was taking you out to dinner. "A lady friend or just a friend friend?" he winked.

"Just a friend friend," Carlos said, hoping he wouldn't see through his lies and leave the subject all together. "What are they called? Have I met them?" Charles asked. 

However, Carlos was side-tracked by spotting you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze was trained on you as you walked through the garage and out the other side. He just loved the way you moved and how you walked as if you hadn't a care in the world. 

"Oh my god you did it, didn't you?" Charles asked with a huge, beaming smile on his face. 

"Did what?" Carlos said as if he were oblivious to the fact he had just gotten completely side tracked by you. "The person who you're going out with just walked past, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did," Carlos grinned, looking down at his feet to try and hide his excitement. Charles patted him on the back, "Took you long enough! Where are you taking her?"

"I don't know yet, I only asked her half an hour ago. It was just to say thank you and sorry for pulling her out of her meeting, " he grinned, keeping his voice down so that no one around them could hear. "Keep telling yourself that, and I'm still not letting you in the room," Charles said. 

"I know you aren't, I know," Carlos shook his head. He hadn't even thought about the fact that you'd be sharing a room for the rest of the weekend. The rest of the weekend. 

A/N - I was never intending this to have multiple parts, but here we are! There will definitely be a couple more parts, rest assured.

Tag List! @omgsuperstarg @arisainz @avengersheart @styles-sunflower @tagteamedbitch

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[writingforstraykids]

Need more angsty stuff...choose the pairing. Please☺️

Echoes of Dawn

Pairing: Binchan

Word Count: 909

Summary: As they agreed on, Changbin arrives at the studio to pick his hyung up, only to find him in a worse state than he thought.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, hurt!comfort, fear of failure, guilt, chan's in need of a little love

A/N: Hope this was angsty enough for you even though I've made it fluffy as well🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The studio was silent, save for the soft humming of electronics and the occasional click of a mouse. Chan sat slumped over his mixing desk. The digital clock on the wall flicked to 3:00 AM, its gentle beep marking another hour spent in isolation. Pages of notes, half-drunk cups of coffee, and discarded headphone sets lay strewn around him, a testament to the relentless hours he had been pouring into the new album.

His eyes, red and sore from staring at the screen for too long, reflected a man pushed to his limits. Each track seemed to demand a part of his soul, and he was all too willing to give it, driven by a deep-seated fear of letting his team down. They were his family, his responsibility, and the pressure to not fail them was crushing him.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated sharply against the wooden surface of the desk. He glanced at it wearily—three missed calls from Changbin. A text message blinked at him, "I'm outside. Let me in?". Chan hadn't even realized he'd asked Changbin to come by if the session ran late. His concept of time had dissolved into the relentless pursuit of perfection.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from his chair, his joints stiff from hours of immobility. He trudged to the door, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Changbin's presence filled the doorway, his expression etched with concern.

"Hyung, you look terrible," Changbin said softly, stepping inside, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene before him.

Chan attempted a smile, which came out more as a grimace. "Feels about right," he murmured, running a hand through his tangled hair.

Changbin frowned, stepping further into the cluttered room, his gaze lingering on the multiple coffee cups and the disarray. "When did you last sleep? Or eat something real?"

Chan shrugged, the despair he'd been fighting to keep at bay now creeping into his voice. "I don't know. It doesn't matter. I need to finish this track, but it's not... it's just not right. Nothing I do is good enough."

The room seemed to shrink with his confession, a tangible weight settling between them. Chan turned away, embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He couldn't afford to break—not now.

But then, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Hyung, you're doing more than enough. You always do. Let's pack up for tonight, okay? You need rest."

Chan shook his head, tears pricking at his eyes as he faced the console again. "I can't, Bin. I can't stop until it's perfect. I'm letting everyone down. I'm supposed to lead, to make things work, and I'm failing everyone."

Hearing the break in Chan's voice, Changbin moved closer, his own heart aching. He turned Chan to face him, his hands gripping his shoulders firmly. "You're not failing anyone. You're our leader, but you're also human, Chan. We don’t expect you to carry all this alone. We never have."

Chan's defenses crumbled, and tears streamed freely down his face. "I don’t know how to stop, Bin. I don’t know how to just... be okay with it not being perfect."

Changbin pulled him into a tight embrace, his voice soft and steady in Chan's ear. "It's okay to not be perfect. It's okay to ask for help. Let's go home, Channie. Let me help you through this."

Chan clung to him, his body racked with sobs. After a moment, he whispered, timid yet desperate, "Will you... stay with me tonight? Just... I think I need to be held for a while."

Changbin tightened his hold, his heart swelling with protectiveness and love for his friend and leader. "Of course, Channie hyung. I’ve got you, always."

They left the studio together, the early morning air cool and refreshing after the stuffiness of the room. Changbin drove them back to their dorm, a silent promise hanging between them, filling the car with a comforting warmth.

Once inside, Changbin made sure Chan ate something and got ready for bed. The normalcy of the routine seemed to calm Chan, his earlier panic receding with each passing moment.

As they settled into bed, Chan curled into Changbin's side, his head resting against his chest. Changbin wrapped his arms around him, a protective cocoon against the world outside. They lay in silence, the steady rhythm of Changbin's heartbeat a lullaby that slowly lulled Chan into a much-needed sleep.

Changbin stayed awake a little longer, watching over Chan, his thoughts gentle and forgiving. In the quiet, he made a silent vow to ensure Chan never felt so overwhelmed again, to remind him that he was not alone in his responsibilities. They were a team, a family, bound by more than just music.

As dawn crept through the curtains, its light gentle and unassuming, Chan stirred, his eyes fluttering open to find Changbin's steady gaze. A small, genuine smile crossed his lips, a stark contrast to the tears of only hours before.

"Thank you, Bin," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and gratitude.

Changbin smiled back, squeezing Chan slightly. "Anytime, hyung. We’re in this together, remember? Now get back to sleep, it's way too early."

And in the soft glow of the new day, Chan felt something shift inside him—a relief, a release. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, it was okay to lean on others, to not be perfect. And with Changbin by his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next.

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[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[jeonride]

two kittens

SUMMARY; you are also a kitten to wonwoo

FEATURING; wonwoo x gn!reader

TAGS; fluff, established relationship, non-idol au, gamer boyfriend!wonwoo x gamer gn!reader, wonwoo as a dad cat <3 and reader is also a cat lover !

WORD COUNT; 1.7 K

WARNINGS; mentions of being killed by a knife (because wonwoo and reader are playing horror game here), use of pet names (baby, kitten), some kisses on the cheek !

NOTES FROM KALA; write this after i just watched his latest gaming live yesterday and found these two clips on my tl > click ! another click ! he has that black cat bf energy AGFSWSSSKLD ㅠㅠ and also because i've been playing the texas chainsaw massacre lol

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Wonwoo looks excited to play his game, his eyes glued to the computer screen. He's playing a horror game called "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" which is adapted from a movie. Wonwoo has wanted to play it for a long time and he feels lucky that you invited him to play together. Small things like inviting him to play a game can make Wonwoo feel happy because it means he can spend time with you, while doing his hobby.

"Baby, be careful! The grandfather has dangerous skills!" says Wonwoo. So on this game, there are survivors and there is a family. This family consists a grandfather and his two grandchildren, and then the leatherface as villain. Well, they're all villains actually, murderers. And the grandfather has special skill— every time he screams, the survivors who are hiding will be detected and his two grandchildren and the leatherface are in charge of killing them.

But don't worry, you really don't have to because Wonwoo says, as long as you stay still and don't move when the grandfather screams, you won't be detected. Except in the final level. Ugh, the final level is really hard and you always lose. Luckily Wonwoo is always there to help you. Protecting you and giving you directions on what to do, and telling you where to hide.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." Wonwoo says as you scream between excitement and fear as leatherface chases you, wanting to kill the character you're playing.

"Please please please I don't want to die! I want to end this game with my boyfriend!" you ramble while your hands aggressively clicking your mouse and the keyboard.

Wonwoo chuckles while adjusting his glasses. He turns his head to take a look at your face. You are so expressive and it warms Wonwoo's heart. Adorable.

"Hide at the basement, baby. I will open the back door first so you can run easily, yeah?"

You nod, eyes staring at the screen like it's your last chance to live. You're getting scared even though it's just a game but Wonwoo strokes your shoulder softly. "We can finish this together. Just keep running, baby. I got your back. I'm right behind you."

Unfortunately, while you're running, the killer is right in front of the door. Your character is immediately caught, killed with a knife. You scream, "AAAA NO! WE ALMOST MADE IT, WON!"

Wonwoo laughs, his laugh sounds so endearing and it makes your anger doesn't stay longer, though. "That's okay. You did very well at surviving. I'm proud, tho. Good game!"

You just exhale heavily. Then you remove your headphones from your ears. Wonwoo glances over, "Don't want to play anymore?"

"I'm tired." You grin. "I'll just watch you play games." You turn off your computer again, now moving closer to Wonwoo's computer. You and Wonwoo's computer desks are placed side by side because you both like to play games. To make it easier to strategize while playing games and of course because playing games next to your boyfriend is so much fun!

"If you're tired, just rest your body on the bed." Wonwoo massages his fingers for a moment, feeling sore from playing three rounds with you. It's been an hour and you guys haven't had lunch yet. "I'll continue a bit more and we'll have lunch together, okay?"

"Okay!" you reply enthusiastically, smiling cheerfully. Wonwoo smiles too, he ruffles your hair gently then kisses your cheek. Then the new game starts, and he's back to looking seriously at his computer screen.

You walk over to the bed, laying your body down because of the soreness in your back. Your eyes look around your shared bedroom. Looking for something. "Princess?" you call. "Princess, where are you?"

"Look under our bed, she likes to sleep there." Wonwoo responses to your call looking for his kitten.

Wonwoo has a kitten, a white furred kitten that he named Princess because he didn't know what to name her at that time right after he adopted her. Wonwoo said, "It's okay. Princess is what she looks like." Indeed, that kitten acts like a total princess who loves to be pampered and doesn't want to be told to play outside. Her fur is so soft, and well-groomed. The way she walks is also graceful, just like a princess!

You get up from the bed and peek underneath. Sure enough, you can see a white blob of fur, Princess is asleep, curled up until her body looks like a snowball. You smile, Princess is so adorable and lovable. When you first meet her, you immediately love her as if she were your own cat. Wonwoo even used Princess as an excuse to meet you because your boyfriend knows that you love his cat so much.

"Come here, furball!" you reach for the white feline's body. She doesn't react, just wriggles a little in your arms. Then you lay back down on the bed, half leaning on the headboard while Princess rests on your chest.

"Aw, so cute. Won, look at your baby!"

Wonwoo smiles, and he tries to reciprocate your words by turning to you briefly even though his game character is in crisis, being chased by the leatherface. "She's adorable, like you."

"How can there's such a cute creature like this?" you start talking to yourself, telling Wonwoo's cat the fairy tales of your childhood like Peter Pan and Sleeping Beauty, as if she understands what you're saying and even if she doesn't, just having Princess being comfortable in your arms is enough.

On the other side, Wonwoo is playing the game seriously, his fingers moving so fast to avoid the killer. But his ears are focused on listening to your ramblings, making his face continue to display a sincere smile even though it looks like he's about to lose. "A-ah, no!"

And sure enough, it isn't long before Wonwoo lost because he is no longer focused on playing the game. His character is killed by leatherface. He starts to feel tired and wants to have lunch with you, then cuddle together with Princess in the middle of the two of you.

"Baby, what do you wanna have for—" Wonwoo's words is cut short because when he looks back at you, you are already asleep with Princess in your arms. Your mouth opened slightly, letting out a soft exhale. The sight of you sleeping with the kitten makes Wonwoo's smile grows wider. He had no idea that your interaction with his kitten can make him fall so deeply in love. Making his heart melt like honey.

Wonwoo takes off his headphones, ends his gaming agenda and slowly walking towards you. His big hand gently strokes the top of your head, as if you're a fragile creature that he must treat with care.

"Kitten," he whispers as he gazes at your peacefully sleeping face. You look so peaceful and sound, even though you were just playing a game with Wonwoo a few minutes ago. He takes his phone out of his pants pocket and quietly snap a picture of you sleeping while hugging Princess.

He giggles while looking at the photo. "My kittens taking a nap together. How cute,"

© jeonride 2023. all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or repost any of my writing anywhere!