#on the table in the damn bookshop

[maccaccino]

where is my wife

Amazon review on this Morrow edition of "Good Omens" by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett I found this morning that left me laughing in tears right from the title.

... Actually, in hindsight, having seen the ineffable divorce™️ of Season 2, the fact that the only thing left on the cover is his glass of wine makes me so sad. It's like Crowley, having now been through all that, has left his glass of wine in the bookshop and is refusing to come back since Aziraphale is gone. Muriel doesn't really want to touch what Crowley left in the hopes he will be back soon and maybe still want his glass of "whine", whatever that is. He seemed sad last time they saw him, so that's probably what they meant by "whine".

.... Wait a minute though, did Aziraphale write this review?!? "WHERE IS MY WIFE?" ?!?!?

Okay it's time to tag him, this has gone off the rails and so have I. @neil-gaiman please explain. Thank you. (Love your work, actually. But also... What is going on here.)

Update, not even 10 hours after I originally posted this: Neil himself liked the post. I'm freaking out a normal amount about it.

PS: here's a lil thank you post for all the notes I'm getting, holy hell!!!

[superbassbuck]

Bad Idea

Professor!Bucky x Student!Reader, enemies to lovers fanfic

2.8k words || in progress || no y/n || sexual tension || eventual smut || f!reader || bucky is a dick || ao3

summary:

All you need to do is take an American History class to complete your degree. Unfortunately for you, the only section without a waitlist is taught by the most insufferable, pretentious professor to ever exist on RateMyProfessor. You thought Professor Barnes couldn’t be worse than his reviews. But you were completely wrong, and you're learning that the hard way.

rest of the chapters will be uploaded to ao3, so for now, a sneak peek and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Clumsy Girl

The late afternoon sun was poking through the windows inside the campus bookshop café. It was the first day of the fall semester, and you were soaking in your last few moments of peace before heading to your final class of the day.

You’d been rereading the same syllabus for the past fifteen minutes, something you didn’t usually do. But after scrolling through the horror stories on RateMyProfessor, you figured it was worth overpreparing for. 

Apparently, Professor James Barnes was a notoriously strict, pretentious asshole. And due to your last minute planning, he was the only professor available without a waitlist. 

Figured, considering his reputation.

He taught American History and had a brutal reputation for tough grading, strict deadlines, and sarcastic and passive-aggressive remarks. He was the kind of professor that most students would avoid if they could.

But you were trying to look on the brightside. Maybe he was good at what he did. 

You’d dealt with your share of difficult professors, and by now you’d learned a pattern. Nine times out of ten, the biggest jerks in academia were also the ones who knew their stuff. Arrogant? Sure. But it was earned. They were sharp, efficient, and often some of the best educators.

You only registered for Barnes’ class because it was required for your degree. And even though you understood the type of professor he was, it didn’t mean you weren’t dreading every second of it.

You were a senior Political Science major with a minor in Literature. All of your friends teased you for having your nose stuck in a book twenty-four seven. As corny and as nerdy as it seems, you had a personal knack for being an academic weapon. 

You looked down at the time on your laptop. It was already 5:15PM. Your class started in fifteen minutes. With your earbuds still on, you shut your laptop closed and picked up your coffee to head out. 

As you turn on your heel, you’re immediately slammed into a hard wall of clothed muscle. 

And the coffee that was once full in your hands is now empty. 

Splattered all over this poor man’s crisp blazer. 

“Oh my God—” you gasped, scrambling to set your laptop on a nearby table, yanking your earbuds out. “Shit. I’m so—”

“Jesus. Are you an idiot?” His cold voice snaps at you. 

You look up, stunned. The man towered over you, and his scowl was the nastiest you’ve ever seen in your life. It was technically your fault, but damn. 

“I’m sorry ,” you said quickly, already digging through your bag for napkins. “I didn’t mean to—here, let me—”

But you’re interrupted a second time as the man wraps his rough and large hand around your wrist, halting you mid-motion before shoving your hand back towards you.

“Don’t bother, you clumsy girl,” he spits out angrily. “You're only going to make it worse.” 

He’s not even looking at you anymore. This man was glaring down at himself in utter disgust. You don’t even know what to say. You feel terrible for bumping into him and spilling your drink, obviously. But what kind of shit day was this guy already having to be spitting down on you with no regard for your own feelings? 

“Look,” you sigh, trying to defuse the tension. “I already apologized for spilling my drink on you. It was an accident. But I’m short on time. Can I just grab you a coffee or a pastry to make it up to you?” 

He finally lifts his eyes to you. 

“You wanna know what you can do to make it up to me?”

He takes a step closer, looking down at you. “You’re a student here?” 

You nod. “I am—” 

“Do me a favor and withdraw yourself from this school,” he says calmly, but the words were a straight bullet to your heart. “Clumsy students like you won’t last in the real world anyway.”

Your eyebrow twitches. 

What the actual fuck?

At first, you were genuinely apologetic. But now, you’re boiling. 

Who the hell was this guy to throw that in your face over a spilled drink? You worked your ass off to be here. Late nights studying, working for those extra credits. You didn’t bust through years of relentless academic grind to be told by some stiff in a suit that you don’t belong.

And the worst part of it all, he stands there with a satisfied and smug look on his face. Like your silence is a win. Like he expects you to nod, shrink, and scurry off like some embarrassed little freshman.

But you don’t. Instead, you smile. But the words that come out of your mouth are anything but friendly. 

“Listen here, you grumpy old fuck,” you say, stepping forward until you’re toe-to-toe with him. “You’ve got some nerve telling me I won’t survive out there when you’re the one throwing a tantrum over a splash of coffee.”

He stands there, jaw clenched. But he doesn’t move. 

“If anyone needs help surviving the real world, it’s you,” you add, voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe look into the campus Zen club. I hear they’re great with anger management cases like yours.”

He stands there, stunned and in utter disbelief. Before he could get any words out, you grabbed your laptop and pushed past him, not bothering to listen to what he had to say next. You have a class to go to and you refuse to be late because of him . Especially on the first day.

You don’t look back as you storm out of the café, the jingles of the entry door bells are a complete contrast to your anger. 

The man watches you stomp your way to class from the window, eyes wide and mouth still parted in shock. 

“Black coffee for James?” 

The barista’s voice cuts through, snapping him out of his daze. 

Bucky turns, walks to the pickup counter, and reaches his cup. As he does, he notices the café has gone unusually quiet. He picks up his drink, and as he turns back, the whole café is staring at him with wide eyes. Some of them are already whispering, and they’re doing a shit job at hiding it. 

Bucky’s eyes swept across the room, expression darkening.

“What the hell are you all looking at?” 

The classroom was already half full, filled with idle chatter when you stepped inside. You managed to grab a seat in the middle row, close enough to pay attention, and far enough to not get picked on. Your heart was finally slowing down from the adrenaline rush from the café, but your heart was still shaking from the leftover anger. 

You pulled your laptop out of your bag to get ready for notetaking, keeping your eyes downcasted and trying to remain calm. You needed to pull yourself together. It wasn’t like you were ever going to see that cranky old man ever again. 

You glanced up at the clock, it was already 5:35 PM, and the professor was late. 

Ironic. Considering all his reviews complained about him leaving no room for tardiness and that he wanted everything punctual and on time. 

You exchanged a look with the girl beside you. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head, clearly thinking the same thing. You let out a soft chuckle and shook your head as well. You felt your heart finally relaxing itself after that very short and brief interaction.

Maybe James Barnes was one of those professors who liked to make a dramatic entrance on the first day. Letting the tension build to scare the students. 

Some teachers are sadistic like that. 

Then, the door creaked open. The room fell quiet. 

Standing in the doorway, coffee in one hand and a folder in the other, was the same man. The same man with that tired, sharp and glaring look in his eyes. The same man whose blazer you’d completely ruined not even half an hour ago. Except now, the stained jacket was gone. He wore only the crisp white dress shirt underneath, revealing his tie and a sleek silver watch on his wrist. 

“Good evening,” he said, setting his drink down on his desk casually like he hadn’t just insulted the living hell out of you a few minutes ago. 

He finally looked up at the class. Then, his cold blue eyes land on you. 

He froze for half a second when your eyes met. 

Oh, my God. Get me the hell out of here. 

He adjusted his tie, cleared his throat, and turned to the rest of the room.

“I’m Professor Barnes. Welcome to American History.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Let’s get something clear before we begin. This class isn’t for the faint of the heart,” he looks around the room. “Deadlines are not suggestions. Participation isn’t optional. And if you think you can coax me with charm or excuses, you’ll find yourself to be very, very wrong.” 

He leans against his desk in the middle of the room, his gaze sweeping through the sea of students seated in front of him. 

“American History isn’t just dates and battles. It’s about understanding the complexities, the failures, consequences, and the truths. So, if you think you’re here for an easy A, you might want to reconsider.” 

You swallow. How he approaches his class is exactly how you would’ve expected. Some professors throw on a slideshow and give the class a full background lore about themselves, maybe throw a joke here and there to lighten the first day nerves. 

But not him. 

Not Professor Barnes. 

“I’m going to assume everyone here read the syllabus before showing up,” he said, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “And if you didn’t... that’s on you.”

You shrink back into your seat, trying to make yourself as little as possible. The last thing you wanted right now is to be called on. 

Then, he stopped mid-step and turned to face you. 

His eyes locked on yours. 

Oh. How perfect. 

Luckily, you were prepared for this. You’d read his damn syllabus at least five times. Once last week, twice the night before, and again earlier at the café just before your rude encounter with him. Whatever trap he was setting, you were sure you could get away with it. 

“Since you're so… attentive, maybe you can tell the class how many unexcused absences result in a full letter grade deduction?” he asks, crossing his arms. 

You sat up straight, confident, and smiling. “Three.” 

Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. 

“Wrong,” he said. “It’s two. Anything beyond that and your grade drops. Try reading slower next time.”

A few classmates shuffled awkwardly. The girl seated next to you glanced at you and muttered a quiet “It’s okay,” with a sympathetic smile. 

Your brows furrowed. You knew what you’d read. You flipped open your laptop, scrolling quickly through the ridiculously long PDF file, skimming until your eyes landed on that section.

“More than three unexcused absences will result in a letter grade deduction.”

It was three. You were right! 

Your eyes snapped up from your screen, but Barnes had already turned his back, chalk in hand, writing across the board like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just completely gaslit you in front of thirty people.

You glanced around the room. Everyone else was already scribbling down notes, trying to catch up to his fast pace, and of course—you were already falling behind. 

Did he really twist the syllabus just to humiliate you?

How could someone who worships punctuality and accuracy misquote his own syllabus?

As he launched into his lecture, everything that left his mouth was straightforward and fast. He would occasionally throw in some sarcastic remarks about “students who think they know better” and “overachievers who still managed to disappoint,” and every so often, you caught his eyes darting toward you. 

Yup. That wasn’t a mistake. It was definitely intentional. And personal. 

───

After an hour and a half, the class was at its end. 

Your hands were cramping from typing so much and the notes that you left on your doc were barely coherent in your effort to keep up with Barnes’ lightning-fast lecture.

“I’ll be uploading an article later tonight,” he says, his voice leaving no room for questions. “Everyone’s expected to read it, write a review, and submit it before next week.”

The room started to come back to life as the students gathered their things and prepared to head out. Around you, you heard the students muttering things like “He teaches way too fast,” and “I think I’m going to withdraw from this course.” 

You stayed seated for a moment longer, purposefully taking longer to pack your belongings. As much as you had your own personal complaints about his way of teaching, the only thing occupying your mind right now was the burning need to confront him about the syllabus question he threw at you earlier. 

Most of the students had already disappeared down the hall. You were alone now, and he had his back turned, casually wiping down the chalkboard, probably unaware you were still there.

Taking a steadying breath, you approached carefully, putting on a composed front.

“Professor Barnes?” you beckon in a polite tone—a complete contrast to how you sounded at the café. “I just wanted to ask about something from today’s lecture, if you have a moment.” 

He paused mid-wipe, a slow, smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was expecting this. He set the brush down, quickly masking the smile as if to play it cool.

“Sure,” he replied, his voice already with a subtle sarcasm. “What brilliant question have you prepared for me?” 

Your jaw tightened at his tone, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You needed this to go smoothly if you wanted to survive the semester.

He turned to face you, and you caught sight of the sharp lines of his jaw, the salt and pepper stubble on his face, and his baby blue eyes. He was handsome, infuriatingly so. There was no doubt he got away with a lot of bad behavior, thanks to his conventionally good looks and a few impressive degrees to his name.

“When you asked about unexcused absences,” you began, “the syllabus says three, but you said two. I’m thinking that might’ve been a mistake on your part.”

Then, his smirk comes back. He takes a step closer to you, arms crossed. “You’re saying I make mistakes?”

You don’t move. Instead, you narrow your eyes up at him and hold your ground. 

“I believe it was a mistake, Professor Barnes. Unless you twisted the answer just to humiliate me.”

“Humiliate you?” he scoffed, closing the distance between you. “And why on earth would I do that?”

Is he seriously trying to play dumb with you right now? 

Still, you kept an overly sweet and polite tone.

“Is this you trying to get back at me from earlier? If so, I sincerely apologize–-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he interrupts bluntly. 

You sigh. But you weren’t letting up. You cleared your throat and continued with the polite voice.

“All I want to do is restart on a good footing with you as this semester—”

“Now, what did I say about coaxing me with charm?” he says with a rough and low voice. “Didn’t I say that wouldn’t work on me?” 

You cross your arms now, looking up at him with barely contained anger. He’s really testing your patience right now. Your next words are probably coming off as unprofessional, but you needed to be straightforward with this man. This is you trying your best to remain calm. 

“Professor Barnes, if this is about me calling you a grumpy old fuck—”

His brow twitched, then without warning, his rough hand cupped your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, catching you completely off guard. You gasped softly as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, then pressed down on it completely, silencing you. His grip wasn’t hurtful, but firm enough to hold you in place, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You stare up at him, completely wide-eyed and stunned into silence. 

“I don’t need to humiliate you, clumsy girl,” he murmured, leaning in closer to feel his warm breath against your face. “You’re doing a fine job of that yourself.”

He pauses for a moment as he holds you still, his blue eyes boring into yours dangerously. You don’t say anything. You don’t even know what to say, because you didn’t expect this to be the outcome at all. 

And with his thumb still pressed against your lips, you wouldn’t have been able to form words anyway.

Then, with a quiet, frustrated exhale, he releases you and turns away, striding back toward his desk without another glance. He doesn’t even look at you as he waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder, as if he wasn't invading your personal space just a mere moment ago. 

“You’re dismissed,” he says flatly.

Your cheeks are flushed like an embarrassed teenager, and your words are still failing you. This time, you don’t have anything smart to say back. 

You quickly scramble back to your desk, collect your belongings and hurry out of the room with shaky legs.

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

genres. satoru gojo x gn!reader. obsessive satoru (?). he’s a little freak but so is reader tbh. grotesque imagery. mentions of blood. based on this ongoing series of mine,, for more a more immersive experience and context to certain aspects, reading it is recommended.

★ jiah’s notes. i love him sm. <- coughs up blood.

vampire!satoru, whose lips twinge in delight whenever you scrunch your nose at the books on your counter— you’re sure you kept them at their places yesterday, did they perhaps spawn legs? he almost giggles out loud when your eyes comically widen as you notice the cover— i see you, by anastasia müller. he sees it all: the flickering ideal in your eyes, the unspoken wariness that lurks beneath your stiff bones. (the way you look over your shoulder to blankly stare at an all-too-full bookshelf is simply adorable.)

vampire!satoru, who lingers about in spaces you’ve checked already— just to get that twisted sort of satisfaction of being hunted for. eyes turning into crescents, he can barely hold his composure when you squint into the darkness, nothing but a bundle of nerves with a dying candle in your clammy, trembling hands and eyes too frantic to seek rather than see. (as if the idea of the treasure which you oh so desperately craved is something too sinful to be a sight, yet you look for it, anyway. he likes it, likes being your forbidden little craving, diving nose deep into your fantasy and pulling your skin over himself so you won’t see.)

vampire!satoru, who finds it amusing how you try to deny his existence so religiously. you certainly aren’t naïve, surely— surely the societal isolation must’ve gotten to you? it’s like he’s trying to make you look, trying to make you feel what exactly it’s like— being used as a damn medium. after all, you’d always thought a little too much about him— too much that you were supposed to. (now the wolf’s blood stained teeth drag across your heart and you can only hold your breath— but that’s his way of showing love, don’t mind him. it was your own fault to be someone so fitting to be a keepsake.)

vampire!satoru, whose eyes glow when he watches you sleep— or rather, try to sleep. it’s incredible really, he thinks, the way mortals choose to be so painfully, pitifully oblivious. but he knows you aren’t. you’re just trying to dismiss the blue haze as something born out of a dream— something too ethereal to actually exist. (the blue in his eyes cools, and a saccharine shiver runs down your spine.)

vampire!satoru, who merely watches from the frosty windows, chin on his knuckles, as you rot alone in the little wooden shack you have for a bookshop. he almost feels guilty for talking to you that day, but he just couldn’t help it— . . then again, you shouldn’t be too angry about it, because he’s already dolling up his empty ribs for you to live. you can forgive him, just this once— right?

vampire!satoru, who places a glass by your bedside table, running a cool hand over your forehead— feeling the low thrum of suffocation and question inside. a low coo escapes him at how many bits and scraps of everything you’re so full of. (he can’t wait to dig his nails in and pierce his fangs into them, one by one.) his eyes flicker towards the cheap material of the glass— eyebrows raising in amusement at his own feat when he realises that it’s blood and not water that he filled it with.

vampire!satoru, who silently makes it up for the loss you’re going through by taking care of your expenses. of course he’s not going to go anonymous— he’s not that foolish— but he takes up another names. not just another names, though. they’re names of the authors whose books he’d so thoughtfully recommended to you; albeit indirectly. they’re all addressed to you— hundreds and thousands of pieces of gold marked with your name— to the very last detail, so you don’t have to check— with a single note each time, nothing else: a little token of appreciation for the appreciation in turn. (oh, he’d laughed so much writing that. he wonders if you’ll catch onto the easter egg.)

vampire!satoru, who loves, loves being the spiral staircase to both of your fortuitous doom— teeth closed ’round your morale whilst you sink deeper into the abyss below. (you’ve never felt so frightfully peaceful.)

@d3cay1ngst4tic on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[apheliaholmes]

Moonwater

🐺 📖 🐈‍⬛ ☕️ 

The Bookshop

⭐��

Regulus and Remus had the same way to deal after school exams: they bought a book. Remus called it “aftercare,” making Sirius laugh at that, while Regulus - often explaining to Barty for the thousandth time why he bought so many books - “it’s because I fucking need it or I’ll kill you, dumbass.” Well… both of them spent the few weeks before the exams helping their friends catch up on all the months of study they didn’t decide to do. That was driving Remus mad, that was driving Regulus mad, everyone was getting mad. It was just a normal day.

Peter was probably the only one enjoying the show. Neither Remus nor Regulus knew that they were doing the same thing, but Peter often let his eyes vagabond around the library and often saw Regulus screaming at his friends like Remus was doing. Well, not really screaming, because Regulus respected the silence in the library a lot - he used a silence charm around his table to feel free to insult his friends. Barty never listened, Peter looked at his own table, Sirius never listened, Evan always tried to flirt with Barty, Peter looked back at his friends, yeah… James was flirting with Sirius. The similarities made Peter smile, and he looked back at his book, studying.

The day of the exams, Remus and Regulus were tense - they were always tense, but when it was study-related, it was worse - and everyone seemed to get on their last nerves for some reason. Hogwarts always made every student take their exams on the same day, no matter if it was your first year or your last, you’d be around the whole damn school, on your single desk, doing your goddamn long paper. Remus hated this, too many people around him, and for Regulus, he wanted to slap everyone who was making too much noise with their ink and feather or by nervously tapping their foot on the ground.

When they finished - both in advance - they ended up exiting the exam room, looking at each other. Remus opened his mouth, in hopes of making small talk with the younger, but Regulus scoffed and left, rolling his eyes.

“You little shit.” Whispered Remus, watching Regulus leave the hallway.

They never really interacted with each other in the past, not a lot at least. Regulus didn’t like Remus, to be fair, Regulus didn’t like a lot of people. But for the friend of his brother, it was only because he felt like Sirius liked Remus more than him. And he had this feeling for all the friends of his brother, those fucking Marauders. And he refused to acknowledge he was wrong. He just wanted to feel like he was the only person that made Sirius happy to be alive, and not some idiot Gryffindors for whom he decided to leave home and act like he never knew any Black. Like he never was a Black. And that was driving Regulus insane.

Therapy was a long process for him. And he spent more money on books than therapy. He was calmer while reading a book, lost in the words of the writer, not in his own mind, and that, that was a blessing. Therapy was the opposite, he was obligated to acknowledge his mistakes and to confront his own mind. He hated being unable to really hate Sirius, and he knew that the only one he really hated was himself. And for some reason, reading made him feel… safe. In a world where nothing could really hurt him. So yeah… after all the anxiety, pressure, and insanity of the exams, he’d go to the bookstore.

Remus never really noticed Regulus though. He noticed him the first time he came to Hogwarts, of course, a shy boy, gaze avoiding and intimidated. His black hair didn’t fool anyone, everyone knew he was a Black. Sirius was excited to see his baby brother and hopeful he’d be sorted into Gryffindor. He had a plan in his mind that everything would be fine if only Regulus asked the Sorting Hat to be placed in his house. If only…

But the hat whispered, “You’ll be a courageous wizard in every house, Regulus, but Gryffindor suits you the best… You have the good in your heart, mhh I see… extremely courageous.”

But thank god, no one heard that, neither Dumbledore, nor McGonagall, nor Sirius. Only Regulus and the Sorting Hat.

“I want Slytherin,” whispered Regulus. The Sorting Hat sighed, disappointed, like it knew something everyone else ignored, and screamed to the Great Hall, “SLYTHERIN!”

And all hope of Sirius was gone. His smile disappeared the moment he heard the hat, and he spent his dinner trying to catch Regulus’ gaze, needing to see him. Remus didn’t really say anything, he didn’t know what to say, so he just took Sirius’ hand and comforted him. That was how Remus met Regulus for the first time, for far away.

After that, he learned about Regulus through Sirius. Sirius needed to speak about him, he needed to remember him, he had the feeling he lost his brother the day Regulus chose Slytherin. Sirius didn’t stop saying to Remus how cute Regulus was as a baby, or the calm and reserved kid he was. Remus knew a lot and paid attention to every detail. He didn’t know why, but he was interested in Regulus. Or maybe it was the way Sirius described him. You could hear the love, the pain, and sometimes the hate of Sirius toward Regulus. But you could never doubt how far in hell Sirius would go for Regulus. And he tried so, so much. But if someone doesn’t want to go out of hell, you can stay in it forever, right? So Sirius decided to wait outside of hell. In this situation, hell was inside of Grimmauld Place, and waiting outside was the Potters’.

Remus saw how much Regulus had hate in him when he and Sirius saw each other after he left for the Potters’. Gosh, this argument was terrible. And that’s the first time Remus really spoke to Regulus. Or perhaps tried.

“Could you at least hear what Sirius is trying to say?” Screamed Remus.

And Regulus, with all his hate, answered, “Go fuck yourself, Lupin. If I need advice from a moron, I’ll ask Sirius.”

The conversation didn’t go well after that. And Remus realised that, even if he knew a lot about Regulus, Regulus didn’t know a thing about him. Remus was attached to the Regulus that Sirius described to him, but he didn’t really know him. After all, he only knew him through the lens of Sirius.

So yes, Remus and Regulus never really interacted with each other, at least not in a polite and amicable way.

Remus waited outside of the exam room for his friend, still looking in the direction where Regulus had left. Was he hoping to see him again? Yes, without a doubt. But what could he say to him? Regulus refused any kind of interaction, and for some reason, these last few months, it pissed Remus off to another level. He hated to his bones seeing Regulus avoiding him, avoiding Sirius. He hated not seeing Regulus for breakfast in the Great Hall. He needed to at least see him three or four times a day and to establish eye contact. But since after Christmas, Regulus stopped looking at him, and that, that was unacceptable. Remus knew it was just a matter of time before he lost his shit and decided to confront Regulus. Which, when he thought of it - and he thought of it a lot - was ridiculous. They never knew each other. But… the dinner eye contact was their thing… Every damn evening in the Great Hall, no exceptions tolerated.

Remus sighed, looking back in the direction where Regulus had left. He just wanted to see his eyes, a small smile on his face. It was a need. Not in a drug way, more as a reassurance way. It was his way to know Regulus was okay. Sometimes, Remus was afraid he made up this little ritual in his mind, those exchanged eye contacts, those soft looks at each other.

Remus feared he’d disappear if Regulus didn’t look at him.

He spent the rest of the day - and half of his night - thinking of him, unknowing that Regulus did the same. It could’ve been funny, to see how one avoided the other but both of them wanted the same thing, but it wasn’t funny, because one of them punished himself, thinking he didn’t deserve to be understood and seen by someone, anyone.

He spent the rest of the day - and half of his night - thinking of him, unknowing that Regulus did the same. It could’ve been funny, to see how one avoided the other but both of them wanted the same thing.

But it wasn’t funny, because one of them punished himself, thinking he didn’t deserve to be understood and seen by someone, anyone.

That Saturday morning, Regulus didn’t look at Remus. He did his best to stay focused on his porridge, avoiding the only one he truly wanted the attention of. And that drove Remus insane. The way he bit into his apple was angry, his eyes fixed on Regulus.

“You fucking little shit,” thought Remus.

Peter noticed. He noticed everything. The little rat was small, noiseless, and very observant. He saw. He saw a lot. But he didn’t comment on anything. Instead, he poured some tea into Remus’ cup, softly rubbing his arm like Peter always did.

“You know what kind of book you want to buy?” asked the boy softly, knowing Remus needed to focus on something else or he’d call out Regulus in the middle of the Great Hall.

Remus answered vaguely, and Peter pushed the subject, wanting his attention. Remus smiled softly, did he know what Peter was doing?

Probably not the full picture, but he knew Peter was able to understand him without needing to speak. And that was what Remus loved the most about him.

After breakfast, Remus left for the bookstore without looking at Regulus, his fists tightened in tension. He wanted so badly to just… see him, and see that Regulus saw him too.

And Regulus did, but Remus didn’t see.

Later in the morning, Remus was finally in town - the Muggle one - walking in the direction of his favourite bookstore. It was an old shop, probably as old as the town itself. A plate on its front said: “We sell books since 1878.” The smell inside the bookshop was so comforting for Remus that he often sat on one of the old couches near the fireplace to read or just watch through a window what was going on outside. He liked being alone. Of course, he always loved being with his friends, but from time to time, he enjoyed seeing the time fly just by himself.

He opened the door, smiled politely at the shop owner, and started to walk between the shelves. He let his fingers vagabond over the book covers, inhaling the comforting smell of the old pages. It was the end of March, but it was still cold outside - it’s always cold in Scotland - so the fireplace made some crisp noise in the background, warming the shop, enchanting it with the warm and burning wood.

Remus loved it. He loved it so much he could forget all the pain he felt sometimes.

He drank his warm coffee he brought earlier. He knew he shouldn’t drink caffeine but… we live only once, after all. He didn’t stop walking in the bookstore, slowly, tilting his head to the side to read some book titles. “How funny some Muggle writers are,” he thought, reading some synopses.

Remus didn’t hear the ring of the door when someone entered the bookstore, well… he did, actually, but didn’t care the slightest. Maybe if he knew who it was, he would’ve been more captivated.

But he didn’t. He was focused on the book he held in his hands.

Regulus watched him from the entrance and turned around, ready to leave. But when he noticed that Remus had seen him and hadn’t paid attention to him, he turned around again. This time, he could watch Remus without his knowledge. And that… that didn’t happen a lot.

Regulus walked rapidly behind some shelves, purposefully hiding himself from Remus. For once, he could see Remus in his own little world. Lost between words and soft pages, hardcovers and thoughts. He wondered if Remus liked reading for the same reasons he did. But it wasn’t the case, and he would’ve liked to know more about it.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Remus frown while reading the first pages of a book. One of the scars near his lips stretched a bit, and Regulus wondered how it would feel to kiss them. For some reason, he would’ve liked to make Remus feel his lips on his scars.

Remus walked to the leather couch. He removed his coat, put his coffee on the marble table, crossed his legs, and started to read.

Regulus couldn’t help but frown when he saw the sweater he wore - it was Sirius’ one. Suddenly, he was upset. Not because his brother and Remus shared clothes, but because… no… it was because Remus and his brother shared clothes.

If only Regulus had asked, he’d have known everyone in their dorm shared Sirius’ clothes, perhaps, everyone shared their clothes.

James stole from Remus, Sirius from everyone, Peter from Remus too. There was no such thing as “personal items” in the Marauders’ dorm. But Regulus didn’t ask. He just stared.

Remus turned a page of the book, unaware of the presence of Regulus.

The soft fingers touching so delicately the paper made Regulus shiver. His eyes were fixed on Remus’ hands, on the scars they bore, and the soft bracelet he had on his right wrist, on how the sleeves fell to the middle of his forearm. He saw how soft Remus’ skin was - but sweet heaven, he would’ve liked to touch it. To feel it.

“Sorry, darling,” said the owner of the bookstore, asking Regulus to move from her path. The old lady smiled at him politely when he moved, and he smiled back.

When he looked back at Remus, their gaze finally met. Regulus was taken aback by it, thinking Remus wouldn’t notice him at all before he left the bookstore. He tried to regain his composure - he desperately tried.

“What- are you reading?” asked Regulus, unsure.

Remus couldn’t help but smile softly.

“The Crime of the Orient Express, apparently this Agatha Christie is a famous Muggle writer.” He looked at Regulus. The boy wore black pants, a grey wool sweater with a long black coat, and some black Dr. Martens - which surprised Remus. “You look good.”

Regulus clenched his jaw. Not because he was upset, but because he didn’t want to blush.

“So, crime book?” he asked, trying to react to the compliment.

“Yeah.” Remus shamelessly observed Regulus from top to bottom. It wasn’t often he saw him without the school uniform.

In a way, Regulus loved his attention. The way Remus smiled, or softly rubbed his phalanx on his lips - it was a reflex he had when he was relaxed. Regulus knew it. He had observed it so much.

“Take a book. Sit with me,” Remus asked - perhaps, commanded.

“Why should I?” he scoffed, with that little arrogant face Regulus had the secret of.

“Because we both want to spend time together. Stop with this attitude and get your ass here,” Remus said, admitting - and reassuring - Regulus that he wanted him near.

“I’ll find one then.”

And that’s what Regulus did. He walked around the bookstore, looking for a book, glancing at Remus - who did the same - before finally sitting next to him. At first, he tried to keep a reasonable distance between them, but Remus sent him a glance, undertoning: “Are you fucking serious?” Regulus rolled his eyes and got closer to Remus.

“Stop avoiding my eyes in the Great Hall.” The voice of Remus was low, his eyes fixed on the book.

Regulus tried not to smile, finding it amusing.

“I expect an answer.”

This time, Remus looked away from his book, his gaze finding Regulus.

“I won’t.”

The shoulders of Remus relaxed, and he nodded. He couldn’t help but smile softly.

“What book are you reading, Reg?”

“The Crime of the Orient Express. Apparently, this Agatha Christie is a famous Muggle writer,” he said, looking at Remus.

They smiled softly at one another.

Regulus had always wanted to read the same book as Remus did.

And finally, they did. It wasn’t the kind of book he expected, but he didn’t care - they shared it together. That was what mattered.

They spent the rest of the morning here. Reading in silence, with the company of each other. And neither of them could have hoped for a better way to be together.

Regulus grabbed Remus’ coffee and drank a sip. Perfectly aware of the way Remus looked at him, at the way his lips softly touched the goblet - the same spot where Remus had drunk earlier. Remus smiled. And so did Regulus.

Remus softly grabbed Regulus’ hand, intertwining their fingers.

None of them commented on the action, but Regulus squeezed Remus’ hand. And Remus did it back.

—☆—

hi, after all the support i had from my first microfic about moonwater, i decided to write another one — hope you like it? please keep in mind that english is not my first language and i’m dyslexic. i use grammarly for corrections and i hope it’s fluid enough for you to read. i really tried my best. so, that said: i’m in love with remus and regulus. i identify too much with both of them, and i see their relationship as a mutual understanding of one another, without the need to talk. they share a lot of interests — books mostly, studying, and probably other stuff i’ll write about lol. i like to think their relationship is platonic but… maybe i’ll write something less platonic one day. i hope you liked how i described them. i try to stick to “reality” but also include some stuff the whole fandom agrees on (that regulus is a little bitch). i didn’t want to write a perfect and sweet remus, because i think his character is more complicated than that — but keep in mind that’s just me and the way i write. there’s nothing wrong if you write a perfect and sweet remus. write what you want :) anyway, i would like to thank everyone for the support i received, because i didn’t expect this at all lol. i was so damn nervous to post my first work here. take care, give me advice if you want to, just stay kind <3 aphelia

[bradleysass]

what's your name? - @graverobbber - wc: 921

Regulus is a ghost. He thinks nobody can see him, but little does he know The Peverell bloodline, blessed with death's magic, runs through the Potter family. James can see him.

James Potter had always seen ghosts. It wasn’t something he advertised, nor did he particularly enjoy it. It was a peculiar quirk of his family, passed down through the generations, and while some would consider it a gift, James mostly found it inconvenient. It was hard to convince people you weren’t talking to thin air when the person you were talking to wasn’t exactly alive.

Today, however, was not a day for ghostly encounters. Today was for books.

The small town in Italy where James and Remus were spending the summer had a quiet charm, cobblestone streets winding between warm-colored buildings, each turn offering something new—a café, a fountain, a street musician playing something heartbreakingly beautiful. James had dragged Remus into town under the pretense of exploring, but in reality, he wanted to check out the old bookshop he had spotted the day before.

Remus, naturally, had agreed. There were few things he loved more than a good bookshop.

The moment they stepped inside, the air changed. The scent of old pages and ink wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. The shop had the air of a library, with long wooden tables for reading, lamps casting warm pools of light, and rows upon rows of books stacked nearly to the ceiling. A quiet hush filled the space, disturbed only by the occasional rustling of pages or the soft murmur of someone flipping through a well-loved novel.

“Alright, I’m abandoning you now,” Remus said, already eyeing a promising section towards the back.

“Rude,” James muttered, but he waved Remus off, content to wander.

James meandered between shelves, fingers skimming over spines, eyes catching titles that piqued his interest. He loved bookshops, loved the quiet kind of magic they held. But as he moved toward the seating area near the large arched window, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.

A ghost sat at one of the tables, absorbed in a book.

James blinked, then frowned. He had seen ghosts do many things, but this was new.

“I didn’t know ghosts could read books,” he mused aloud before he could stop himself.

The ghost glanced up, startled, as if he hadn’t expected to be seen. He was young, around James' age, with sharp features and dark hair that fell slightly into his eyes. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and a long coat, something elegant yet subdued.

“You can see me?” the ghost asked, his voice smooth, but laced with something unreadable.

James nodded. “Yeah, been able to since I was a kid. Didn’t mean to interrupt, though. I was just… surprised.” He gestured to the book in the ghost’s hands. “Didn’t think ghosts could interact with things like that.”

The ghost glanced down at his book as if just realizing it was there. “Most can’t,” he admitted. “It’s complicated.”

James pulled out a chair across from him, curious despite himself. “You got a name?”

The ghost hesitated, then said, “Regulus.”

“James,” he introduced himself. “So, Regulus… why are you here?”

Regulus smirked faintly, the expression wry. “I like to read.”

James huffed a small laugh. “Fair enough.” He leaned forward, intrigued. “Do you haunt this bookshop or just stop by for the ambiance?”

Regulus gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. “I died young. I never got to read all the books I wanted to. So, I come here. It helps.”

James wasn’t sure what to say to that. There was something achingly sad about the idea, but Regulus didn’t seem like he wanted pity. Instead, James gestured to the book in his hands. “Good one?”

Regulus nodded. “Dante. It felt appropriate.”

James grinned. “Damn, even in death, you’ve got taste.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. James took that as a victory.

For a while, they sat there, the silence between them surprisingly easy. James didn’t know much about ghosts—how they lingered, why they stayed—but he figured there were worse ways to spend eternity than getting lost in books.

“What’s it like?” James asked suddenly. “Being, you know…”

Regulus arched a brow. “Dead?”

James winced. “Yeah.”

Regulus closed his book with deliberate care and leaned back. “It’s quiet,” he said eventually. “Not in a peaceful way. More like… standing at the edge of a conversation you can never quite join.” He studied James. “Most people don’t see me. Most people don’t try.”

James drummed his fingers against the table. “Well, I see you,” he said. “And you’re not that bad of company.”

Regulus smirked. “High praise.”

James glanced at the book in Regulus’s hands again, then the shelves around them. “You ever get tired of reading?”

Regulus exhaled something that might have been a laugh. “No. But I do get tired of never finishing.”

James considered that. It made sense in a way he didn’t want to dwell on. “Then maybe I’ll stick around for a bit. You can tell me how Dante holds up.”

Regulus studied him, something unreadable in his gaze, and then, slowly, he nodded.

Eventually, Remus reappeared, a few books in his arms. “Ready to—” He stopped, looking at James. “Who are you talking to?”

James hesitated, glancing back at Regulus, but the ghost had already vanished.

“No one,” James said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

As they walked out of the shop, James glanced back, half-expecting to see Regulus again. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the bookshop, a world of stories waiting to be read.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city. 

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas. 

You missed it the past two years. 

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.  

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles. 

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston. 

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck. 

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding. 

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’ 

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it. 

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’ 

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’ 

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines. 

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you.  ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’ 

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’ 

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’ 

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner. 

You heard him before you saw him. 

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’ 

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo. 

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas. 

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant. 

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’ 

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’ 

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out. 

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’ 

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges. 

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition. 

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out. 

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher. 

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’ 

 A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.  

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’ 

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’ 

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’ 

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’ 

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’ 

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party.  You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities. 

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’ 

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’ 

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people. 

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you. 

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’ 

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater. 

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine. 

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence. 

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’ 

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’ 

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’ 

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’ 

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected. 

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’ 

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas. 

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’ 

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing. 

‘’What do you mean?’’ 

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’ 

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’ 

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left. 

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them. 

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable. 

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight. 

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes. 

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness. 

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

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[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Fuck Up FINAL Chapter 6

Summary:  Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy

Previous Chapter

Bucky unofficially moved in with Y/N that first week. He never slept at his parents’ house anymore, and moved almost all of his things over to her house. It wasn’t something they discussed, it was just assumed that he was staying. As Bucky started his retirement from the military he got a job at the local bookshop in the small town she lived in. Her income from the online company she worked for and the photography side business was enough to handle the bills by herself, but he wanted to contribute and make sure he was doing his part in providing what little he could outside of his military benefits.

They’d gotten into a routine, becoming the little family that he’d always dreamed of. Avi grew and his sweet personality started to shine through. Every day seemed like a celebration of some kind in Bucky’s mind. Avi’s first roll over, his first uncomplaining tummy time, his first word, his first stand, it all was cause for an announcement as his baby got stronger. His relationship with Y/N was slower and more intentional as they got to know each other in this new dynamic. After Avi’s first birthday Bucky felt like it was time to shoot his shot.

“Hey honey!” he called out as he got home.

“Hey!” she called back from the kitchen. He followed her voice and saw her cooking dinner as Avi was in the bouncer watching “Bluey” and kicking his legs frantically. The whole scene was so domestic, so wholesome, that he smiled widely as he walked over to Avi.

“Hey little man!” he greeted him. Avi turned to him and smiled, grunting and reaching his hands up for him. “Come here. Have you been good for Mama today?” Avi gurgled a response as Bucky picked him up and hugged him, kissing his cheek.

“He was great,” Y/N answered, turning to look at Bucky briefly before going back to the stove.

Bucky approached her and gave her a side hug and kissed her temple. “And how was your day?”

Y/N returned his side hug and squished Avi’s cheek before focusing on the pan in front of her. “It was alright. Got that big project finally done. If I don’t have to answer another email from that John dude again it will be a great day,” she said as she started plating the pasta dish she’d made.

“Ugh, John,” Bucky grumped as Avi made a noise. “Yeah, fuck John.”

“Buck!” Y/N slapped his arm. “Quit using grown up words in front of the baby!”

Bucky laughed as he moved away from her when she tried to swipe at him again. They all sat at the table and ate dinner, talking about their days and what was on the schedule coming up in the next week.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Bucky asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Uh…nothing. Why?” Y/N asked, finishing her bite of food.

“Well, I may or may not have asked my parents to watch Avi that night,” he said, not looking at her.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him. “Okay?”

He then leaned forward on the table and looked at her. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her eyebrows raising and a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “A date?” Bucky nodded. “You and me?” He nodded again, a smirk forming on his lips. She paused as she looked at him, her smile widening. “Yeah…okay.”

Bucky’s smirked deepened and he looked down at the table. “Awesome. Wear something comfy.”

A week later Bucky’s parents showed up to watch Avi. They shooed Bucky and Y/N out the door, shutting it firmly for good measure. “Jeez,” Y/N scoffed. “Well, where are you taking me, Buck?”

“The next town over,” Bucky said as he opened her passenger side car door for her. She got in and they drove off. After about 35 minutes of them talking he pulled up to a massage place.

“Oh my god,” Y/N sputtered as he helped her out of the car. “Is this a spa night?”

“Damn right,” Bucky replied, holding her hand and pulling her inside.

They were ushered into a room where they were given the run down of the couples package. When they were left alone Y/N turned to Bucky. “We’re going to get professional facials and massages, and then be left alone to…massage each other? What kind of massage place did you take us to?”

“The kind of place that believes in romance,” Bucky said, giving her a teasing look of looking taken aback. “Don’t you believe in romance?”

Y/N laughed at his affronted gaze. “Of course I do. This is just very romantic for a first date.”

“So you’re saying I have a chance at a second?” he leaned in, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She laughed again as the estheticians came in to start the facials.

Bucky had wanted a spa night for Y/N, but didn’t realize just how much she needed one until he heard all the sounds she made as they lay side by side on the tables getting the facials and massages. Her moans, groans, and whimpers were making him struggle to keep decency in front of his masseuse. When they were left alone with glasses of champagne after the couples massage they both sat up on their respective tables.

“God, that was good,” Y/N sighed as she stretched her legs and arms, holding the towel around her.

“Wasn’t it?” Bucky agreed as he kept a hold of his towel around his hips. He stood up to stretch as well and turned around to adjust the blanket on the table. When he did he heard a gasp behind him and looked at Y/N. She was staring at his back. He almost forgot about the scars from the shrapnel, and quickly turned back and sat so she couldn’t see them.

“Buck…” she stood and moved towards him. “What…?”

Bucky sighed as he let her come to him and she swerved around to see his back, her fingers softly running along one of the scars. “I’m fine, Y/N.” She looked at his face, her eyes starting to well up with tears. “Oh honey, no,” he reached up and cupped her cheek. “Seriously, I’m fine. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I should have…I’m sorry,” he rubbed her cheek with his thumb, swiping an errant tear away.

“What happened?” Y/N said, her free hand now resting on his chest.

Bucky breathed deeply. “One of my guys stepped on a landmine.” Y/N’s eyes blinked rapidly to stop any more tears from falling, and she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “It threw me and Steve, we were both hit with shrapnel. Two of our teammates were killed. It took two surgeries but they got it all out and I was healing by the time I got home,” he finished, and moved his hand from her face to her hand on his chest. “I’m okay. I should have told you…” he swallowed and looked away from her.

Y/N took her hand away from his chest and adjusted her towel tightly around her so she could use both hands. She stepped between his legs and reached up to cradle his face in her hands to make him look at her. She looked at him for a moment, then pulled him into a hug. She held his head against her chest and her hands wandered to run through his hair that had finally grown back out to the length she liked, massaged his neck and his shoulders, and skimmed lightly down his back, tracing the scars. Bucky accepted the embrace, tucking his face into her neck as she moved her hands, his fingers gripping the towel at her back. He felt her kiss the side of his head, then his cheek, then she moved his head back and started to kiss along his jawline.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed as she continued kissing his face. She kept narrowly missing his lips, driving him crazy with every pass. “You came home to me,” she murmured, her lips grazing his skin.

“I promised,” Bucky whispered back, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “You are my home, honey. Always have been.”

Y/N moved so her nose skimmed along his cheek, her breath fanning his face. “And you’ve always been mine.” Then she kissed him.

It was like their night together all over again. Her kiss felled the last wall of their friendship, and blasted his last shred of sanity. He kissed her back wildly, his hands pulling her against him as if he was afraid she’d disappear. It felt so right, predestined, predetermined, that they should be together sharing this moment. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Excuse me, Barnes couple? Your time is up!”

Y/N broke the kiss but didn’t move far, still holding Bucky’s face. He sighed loudly before clearing his throat. “Thank you, we’ll be out shortly!”

Y/N giggled, then briefly kissed him again. “It’s getting late, we should get home and relieve your parents.”

Bucky hung his head. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

After they got home and got Avi to sleep, Bucky entered Y/N’s room. She watched him as he slowly walked over to her. “Thank you for going out with me tonight.”

Y/N laughed and hugged him, looking up at him. “Thank you for the spa night. I really needed that.”

“You deserve it,” Bucky said seriously. “Can I take you out again?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “I’d love that.”

“I feel like we’ve jumped a lot of steps,” Bucky laughed.

“We have. I already love you,” Y/N admitted, looking away and leaning her forehead against his chest, hiding her face.

Bucky’s heart felt like it could burst. “I’ve always loved you,” he admitted. He used his finger to lift her chin back up to look at him. “I love you, honey. I’m in love with you. You’re it for me.”

Y/N pulled back and laced her fingers into his hair, pulling him down so she could reach and kiss him. “You’re it for me.”

THE END

I hope y'all liked this one! I got a lot of comments on it being infuriating, which was great. Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs and follows! <3

[naomijoestar]

Risotto..... with a witch/wizard bestie... /platonic..........

Masterlist here <3

Yes……… I hope you enjoy <3 I tried my best so I hope this meets your expectations!

Risotto with a witch/wizard reader (platonic)

- Every morning, you and Risotto make your own brews—coffee for him and tea for you—in complete silence. It’s never awkward, he hands you sugar before you ask and you slide his mug over without looking up. It’s honestly sort of a routine that’s very comforting for the both of you, but neither would admit it

- Risotto is surprisingly willing to test out your experimental potions. He drinks them with a straight face, even when you know they taste like absolute death. The only time he broke was after drinking one that made his voice echo like he was in a cave. His only response? “…Never again.”

- On quiet evenings, the two of you sit together at the table: you enchanting small spell bags while Risotto mends his cloak or stitches up a new pouch for you. Sometimes, he’ll grumble about your messy stitches and grab the needle from you, fixing it with a precision that makes you wonder if he was a tailor in a past life

- Between his crows and your familiars, it’s a zoo whenever you hang out. The two of you have a running game: who can convince the crows to bring the weirdest “gift”? Risotto once won with a pack of male thongs, and you still can’t look at it without cracking up

- You suggested he add a touch of silver embroidery to his cape once, and now all his outfits have the most intricate metallic detailing. When you bring it up, he grunts and changes the subject, but you’ve definitely caught him eyeing one of your spell-enchanted cloaks for inspiration

- One of your experimental potions accidentally left Risotto with a faint sparkling aura for a full day. He was less than thrilled. “I look like a damn chandelier.” You teased him so much that day, only to find a glittery crow feather mysteriously tucked into your bag the next morning

- You drag him to antique bookshops all the time, searching for grimoires and rare spell books. He doesn’t complain, but he’s banned from one store after accidentally knocking over a whole shelf of books. You still laugh about it every time you walk by. “I don’t know why you still need my help; you’ve got magic for this.”

- Whenever Risotto goes on missions, you insist on giving him enchanted trinkets, like a charm that wards off angry badgers or a tiny bottle of “just-in-case” antidote. He acts like it’s ridiculous but never argues. One time, the badger charm actually came in handy, and you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it

- Whenever you animate objects to dance around the room, Risotto pretends to ignore it, but you’ve caught him being dragged into the chaos more than once. He has no rhythm, but there’s something hilarious about seeing a deadly assassin awkwardly slow dancing with a floating broom

- Risotto’s crows adore you and have started tattling on him. If he skips meals or pushes himself too hard, they come straight to you. You’ll show up at his door with food, and he’ll just glare at the birds perched on your shoulder. “You bribe them, don’t you?” You just grin as you shove the food into his hands

If you want anything fixed or added you can always message me!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[innocentlymacabre]

DUE NORTH: VIGNETTES / 9

A cozy urban fantasy about two best friends who move to the pocket of eccentricity and magic that is Due North

Producing a knife from one of her jacket pockets, Alecia made a small, sharp cut in the packaging of one of the two, scooping up the pills before they could hit the ground. She crushed the edge of one of them and sucked on the produced powder, testing its strength and pocketing the rest.

“What? Still don’t think I’m good for it?”

“I don’t think you’re smart enough for it, J. Twice now you’ve been duped into bringing me candy. Not even the good kind. Ended up giving it away with meals at the diner both times.”

“Hey, twice in – shit, how long has it been? Whatever. Twice in however many years is still pretty damn good!” he protested.

“Yeah, well, I’d just like to make sure it’s not thrice. But yeah, you’re good for it this time.” She reached into another pocket and produced a wad of cash. Jasper took it with an exaggerated bow, Alecia’s response to which was to roll her eyes, and unloaded the two packages before closing the trunk and walking back to the driver’s seat.

“Fix that headlight, J,” Alecia called out. “Can’t count on me for light on your other routes.”

“Bye Alecia!” came the singsong reply as he sped off into the night.

↝✧↝

Berto, true to himself woke up well after noon. Bella, most untrue to herself, woke up even after him, having chosen to finish moving in after dinner the previous night. After a decidedly most undignified wake up, as Bella had so elegantly put it, Berto dragged the pair of them to a bookshop simply named Deluca’s. He raved about it the entire way there, claiming it was half the reason he moved to Due North at all.

Large glass double doors stood front and centre, opposite the canal that ran through the town. Small tables lined the two storefronts it occupied, its wonderfully comfortable light spilling out onto the pavement in front. Postcards hung from near invisible strings, each one unlike its neighbours, boasting fantastical narratives and landscapes dipping in and out of reality.

Overlapping scents floated around inside, books, new and old, mingling lively with fresh-baked cakes and pastries; the quietest music, soft around the edges, piggybacked on the aromas. Rows of books lined the front half of the store, some simply stacked on shelfs, some on painted carousels, others on platters hanging from the ceiling, and still other, ludicrously expensive ones, behind glass cases. The latter half boasted the most impressive patisserie either one of Berto or Bella had seen (“And I did a year in Paris!” Bella remarked). Lines of pastries, macaroons, puffs, breads, doughnuts, waffles, and more streaked down the enormous glass casing, leaving the two of them instantly famished, despite having eaten only half an hour ago.

Alia Deluca herself manned the counter, introducing herself proudly. It wasn’t arrogant pride, Berto noted silently, even though, looking around, she had every right to be. Rather, it was indulgent and her smile warm and welcoming, inviting you to enjoy with her.

Bella ordered a black coffee with a plain muffin and Berto, with a little more than a little difficulty, managed to ask for a strawberry tart and an iced coffee. Bella thought she glimpsed something vaguely bear-like in the kitchen while placing her order, but then kicked herself for making fun of someone’s body.

“Such a vanilla order,” Berto chided once they were seated. The sun was shining, a light breeze was blowing, and the riverbank glittered with fish merrily making their way about, so they took a table outside.

“What? Afraid I embarrassed you in front of your new little friend?”

“What?” Berto cried incredulously.

“Oh please, you could barely make it to the end of that order!”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he firmly negated, smiling slightly nonetheless.

Bella would have perhaps been less focused on teasing Berto if they had sat inside. For all the attention they spent on the bookshop itself, they had completely neglected the patrons, a mere glance at whom would have proved to be a rather useful introduction for the oncoming evening.

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[raz-writes-the-thing]

How about a Crowley x reader story (or it can be headcanons, whichever you prefer ♥️♥️) where the reader is a very emotional person, who cries and gets frustrated quite often, and Crowley is the person who’s there to comfort them. He’s basically their partner, confidante and protector all wrapped up in one.

Untitled Crowley x GN!Reader

Fluff/Comfort

Requests are: OPEN

Crowley knew humans were vulnerable. All those emotions God had inflicted them with. He had them too, of course, but he had never met a human with such volatile emotions as you. And there was the added bonus that Crowley had had six thousand years to understand them.

Or perhaps he had, but he hadn't felt for a human with such explosive emotions such as yourself in all his six thousand years of life on Earth.

So, when you knocked on his apartment door, frustrated as all Hell and ready to collapse into a puddle of tears, well- Crowley hadn't been ready for it per se, but he also wasn't necessarily unused to seeing you overwhelmed at the end of the day and needing some support.

"Oh," he grunts in surprise as you wrap your arms around him as soon as he opens the door. "Oh, dear, right- you alright, love?"

You sigh out a breath of relief as you feel his arms come up to wrap around you. He tuts comfortingly and rubs the top of your spine. You don't have to see his face to know that he's got his bottom lip stuck out in the way he always does when you're upset.

Crowley let you stand there for another few moments before pulling away to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, then, darling. Out of the doorway."

He closes the door behind you, ushering you into the extremely minimalistic flat. You supposed you had better change that soon- though with the amount of time you both spent at the Bookshop, it probably didn't matter so much.

"Right- now, tell me then?"

You huff out a laugh at his straightforwardness. Crowley wasn't usually one to beat around the bush. Not with this, anyway. Other things, sure. But when it came to you unwinding or venting? Crowley knew you just needed to get right into the thick of it so you could move on to the next thing on the agenda.

He listened as you told him about your day. About all the frustrating and upsetting things that had happened to you. He nodded along and poured himself a glass of whiskey, setting himself down on his chair and gesturing for you to sit on the table in front of him, tips of your shoes brushing the rug underneath.

One dexterous hand reached out to pull your leg over the arm of his chair. "Mm- yes, well that does sound rather odd," he replied to you, setting his whiskey down so he could tug your shoe off- quickly followed by your sock. The feel of his fingers massaging into your tired feet had you interrupting your own story to let out a satisfied groan.

This, of course, made Crowley grin like nothing else, and after a moment, he pulled your other leg up to do the same. You continued, feeling mildly overwhelmed with the recount of a particularly upsetting thing a barista had said about you behind your back. Tears welled for a moment, and you sniffled quietly.

Crowley stopped his massage at once, shuffling forward in his seat to brush your cheek with his thumb. "Oh, come now, love. You know- well as I do, that isn't true." And if Crowley made a point to put that particular barista's information in the Books of the Damned down below, then that was just his own business, wasn’t it? You did, of course, notice the flash of anger in those snake's eyes. "They were probably just jealous of you."

You sniffed out a laugh and wiped the snot from your nose.

"Yeah, maybe," you replied, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't deny the little smile that pulled at your lips.

"Oh, there you are," he chuckled. "Knew that wouldn't take long. Too enamoured by my demonic charms, aren't you?" 

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” You replied, smile widening into a grin. Crowley downed the rest of his whiskey.

“Oh, I think I know so.” Crowley leaned forward even closer- close enough to feel his soft breath on your cheek. “In fact, I didn’t even have to Tempt you.” 

And, well, that there was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You had sought Crowley out on your own. Once he’d caught your attention, there was no going back. 

“Don’t play coy, love. We both know it’s true,” Crowley said softly, flitting his eyes down to your lips. It was barely another second before his lips were on yours, kissing you with such fervour that it took your breath away. 

He pulled away, nipping at your lip teasingly. 

“Right, then. Let’s get some food into you, Pet,” he said, giving your foot a comforting squeeze. “Aziraphale made scones. Never did get out of the habit of baking after lockdown.” 

You chuckled and hopped up from the table, following your Demon- and feeling much, much better than you had when you arrived.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Found you

(A/N) My thought process writing this: Gets request: Fuck yeah! A Chishiya request! Thinks about it: Fuck, what do I write. Opens new page: Whatever, I'll just start. Reaches apartment: No smut, no smut, no smut. Reaches kitchen scene: Fuck it! Smut!

Also, this is eight word pages long, I might've went a bit overboard.

Pairing: Chishiya x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: AiB stuff, smut

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

If anyone had been watching you for the past few minutes, they’d say that you were running for your life. Not that that’s not true. Your visa ran out today and you may have forgotten to keep an eye on time when you found yourself in your favorite bookshop, close to where you used to live. To be honest, who’s to blame you? Books? For free? As many as you want? Now that’s heaven.

Were your boyfriend there with you, he’d have laughed at your childish excitement when you realized that you could read as much as you wanted. But he would’ve also reminded you of the time and that you had somewhere to be. Damn, this… apocalypse or whatever was going on.

You followed the light through the streets until an apartment building became visible. You pushed yourself to run quicker and managed to cross the border of the game at what felt like the last second, almost crashing into two men. Thankfully, the short-haired one managed to catch you, before you either knocked both of them off their feet or faceplanted. Either one could have happened to be honest.

“Woah, you okay there?”

You looked up at the other man and tried to smile through the pain that was encompassing your lungs.

“Yeah…yeah. I-I don’t do…cardio.”

Your answer was interrupted by your panting, but at least it made the man smile.

“Me neither.”

The short-haired man agreed with his friend while chuckling. He kept his hand on your shoulder while you recovered from the exhaustion. The other man meanwhile, went and grabbed one of the phones off the table and handed it to you. The usual jingle came from its speakers while the camera scanned your face.

“Registration has closed. There is a total of 13 participants. The game will now commence.”

Another man approached your little group. He seemed confused and asked about the game and the world in general. As the long-haired man was about to explain it to the new man, his friend stopped him.

As your breathing had finally calmed down, you were about to speak up and explain the situation, but the familiar female voice, introducing the game, stopped you and the third man walked away.

“Difficulty, Five of Spades.”

The duo you’d met just now looked at each other confused.

“Spades means that it will be a physical game. You know, running, strength, all that jazz. The suit decided what kind of game it would be. Clubs means teamwork, Diamond means intelligence, and Spades means physical. Hearts is the worst one, all about betrayal. Better hope you never join one with your friends. Hearts games never end well.”

The two nodded, but before they could say anything, the female voice rang out again.

“Game is ‘Tag’. Rule. Avoid whoever is ‘it’.”

Confusion broke out among the participants, but you kept your focus on your phone, knowing that every information you’d get was important.

“Clear condition. Discover and touch the symbol hidden in one of the building’s rooms within the time limit. You clear the game when this objective is fulfilled. Time limit 20 minutes.”

You huff. That’s not a lot of time for a building with that many rooms. You glanced at some of your co-players. Many of them young, young enough at least to be of help. Or so you hoped.

“After twenty minutes, the time bomb hidden in the building will explode.”

Well, if that doesn’t motivate someone, then you don’t know what would.

Now that the rules and conditions were stated, everyone started to disperse. For a moment you considered staying with the two men, but ultimately decided against it. The group had to spread out to win this. So that’s what you did.

While most of the players decided to go to one of the upper floors, you thought you’d try your luck on one of the lower ones. You walked as quickly as you could without running until you hit a dead end. Good, that’s where you’d start. And all the while, you felt eyes on you.

“The game will now commence. The time limit is twenty minutes. Commence now.”

Without hesitation, you started, turning one doorknob after the other, hoping to end this game as quickly as possible. But it didn’t and before you knew it, shots rang through the night air. Out of instinct, you ducked, falling to your knees, before looking around.

“What the actual fuck.”

As soon as you were sure that you were not in immediate danger, you continued until you were done with your floor. But as you stood in front of the stairs leading up and down, you weren’t sure which direction to go.

That was until you heard the voice of the long-haired man.

“Everyone! He’s up here! Over here, he’s on the second level! He can’t see properly because of his mask! Tell us where he is if you see him, and let’s all look for the symbol!”

Fuck, second level. You hesitated again while you considered what to do next. But then a woman’s voice rang out, letting you know that it was safe to head to the second level since the killer was on the fourth one.

You continued, searching, letting the others know where the killer was, all while avoiding him. From time to time, you glanced at the phone, checking how much time was left. And it didn’t look good.

At that moment, you heard the long-haired man yell out that he needed help and that he found the symbol. You checked and realized you were on the other side of the apartment building and would never make it in time. Still, you started to run. You were one level above where the symbol was, when a jingle sounded from the phone, making you stop.

“Game cleared. Congratulations.”

A relieved sigh left your lips and you slumped against the nearest wall. You lived for another day.

While you were resting, you noticed the short-haired man walking up the stairs, and he was hurt.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He waved your concern off with a smile.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Have you seen my friend?”

You nod and tell him where you assume the man still is.

“Thanks.”

He hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you have somewhere to stay? If not, you could come with us.”

You shake your head with a smile and thank him, explaining that you have somewhere to stay. He nodded before taking his leave and searching for his friend. You decided to do the same. Take your leave, not search for his friend.

As you were walking down the front steps of the apartment building, a familiar voice stopped you.

“Found you.”

A quiet gasp escaped you as you realized who was standing behind you. You turned around, tears already gathering in your eyes.

“Chishiya.”

He smirked at you before opening his arms. You immediately rushed to him and threw your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your enthusiasm while pulling you closer to him.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

You pulled away slightly, grinning up at your boyfriend. He smiled back before leaning down to press his lips against yours. You melted against him, reciprocating the kiss. Too soon, Chishiya pulls back before cradling your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling at him.

“I’m fine. What about you?”

He shakes his head as well, his eyes scanning your body for any kind of injury before sighing in relief and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, love.”

You grinned and closed your eyes.

“Me too, Chi.”

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, before Chishiya pulls back and takes your hand.

“Where are you staying?”

“In our apartment. Felt wrong to go anywhere else.”

Chishiya nodded, thinking for a moment.

“Let’s go there for tonight, okay?”

You nodded and together you made your way through the city until you reached your apartment complex. Once there, you climbed the few floors until you reached the door to the apartment you shared before everything went to hell. You used your keys to open the door and let Chishiya in before closing and locking the door.

He took a few moments to look at the changes you’d made since everything happened. You’d moved the heavy couch that used to be in the living room, to the door, so that you could block it whenever you entered the apartment. You’d also used blankets and pillows to make a bed on the living room carpet. Chishiya frowned when he noticed that and turned to look at you.

“The…the bed felt too empty without you there.”

Your boyfriend immediately pulled you into a hug, apologizing.

“I should’ve looked for you again, every day, I am so sorry. I just…after I couldn’t find you the first day I’d been here, I hoped and convinced myself that you were not here. That you were safe.”

You were stunned.

“Chishiya…how long have you been here?”

He tensed under your touch before relaxing again.

“Too long. But I swear I checked if you were here. That’s the first thing I did when I arrived.”

You squeezed him tighter, burying your face in his neck.

“It’s okay, Chi. I believe you. And I only got here two weeks ago, there’s no way you could’ve known that.”

Chishiya nodded but continued to hold you tight for some time. You did the same, resting your head against his shoulder, relaxing in his hold. The two of you started gently swaying, making you giggle and Chishiya chuckle. It felt like back when everything was okay and he would come home after a long day at the hospital and sweep you off your feet to dance around the living room before you could object. Many dishes were burnt that way and many times you had to order takeout instead. But you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

After a few minutes, you pulled back to look at him, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Now, what are you in the mood for? Instant noodles, or…instant noodles?”

You pulled out of his embrace and walked to the kitchen, where you had set up a small gas stove, as well as canisters full of water and a few pots. Chishiya followed you chuckling, pressing his chest against your back and trapping you against the kitchen counter.

“Hm…I think I’m in the mood for something else completely.”

He started to trail kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back up again. A shiver ran through you and you couldn’t help but press back against him. His breath ghosted your skin as he chuckled, his hands on your hips.

You turned to look at him and without hesitation, he hoisted you up and sat you down on the counter, standing between your open legs. You instantly leaned in and pressed your lips against his, pulling at the white jacket he was wearing, until it landed on the floor. His hands, which were placed on your hips, moved up and grabbed the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and pulled it over your head, discarding it on the floor, somewhere behind himself.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin, as Chishiya’s finger trailed along your sides until they reached your bra. Instinctually, he reached back, but when he didn’t find a clasp, he broke the kiss for a second.

“Sport’s bra.”

Those two words were all you said, before pulling it over your head and throwing it behind Chishiya.

“Jesus fucking…”

His remark was broken by a low moan escaping his lips before he dove forward, lips wrapping around your left nipple. Your breath got caught in your throat at the sensation. Chishiya’s left hand left your hip and started playing with your right nipple as your fingers started to thread through and pull at his hair.

“Chishiya…”

Your pussy squeezed around nothing, making you whine. Chishiya pulled away from your chest and grinned at you.

“What do you need, love?”

You glared at his teasing, but when he thrust forward, giving you just a little bit of friction, another whine left your lips.

“You. Need you Shiya.”

He chuckled and dove in for another kiss. While his lips moved against yours, his hands found their way to your thighs and hoisted you up again. You squealed into the kiss in surprise and pulled away as you tightly wrapped your arms around Chishiya’s neck while he just chuckled and walked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

Right when he said that he loosened his grip on you and you squealed again as for a second it felt like he was indeed dropping you. Chishiya laughed at your reaction and continued walking towards your bedroom.

“Asshole.”

A slap on your ass forced a surprised yelp from your lips, but before you could say anything, you were flying through the air, before landing on your mattress. You bounced a few times, while Chishiya watched from the foot end, an adoring smile on his lips.

“You know, I love you, right?”

You finally stopped bouncing and looked up at your boyfriend, a soft smile on your lips.

“Come here, you idiot.”

His smile turned into a grin as he quickly crawled over you and reconnected your lips. While using one hand to keep his weight off of you, the other wandered down and started to pull at the hem of your sweatpants and panties. You quickly assisted him in getting rid of the offensive pieces of clothing, before you started pulling at his swim trunks, making him chuckle.

“Eager.”

You were about to insult him again, but his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit stopped you and instead, a moan escaped your lips, which were quickly sealed by your boyfriend’s. A few moments later two of his fingers started gently probing at your entrance before pushing inside. Your pussy squeezed down around them, bringing out the smug side of your boyfriend, who pulled away and smirked at you.

“Someone’s fucking nee-.”

You interrupted him.

“Shut up and fuck me already!”

You didn’t need to tell him twice, as he quickly got rid of the trunks and gave his cock a few lazy strokes, before positioning himself at your entrance.

“I don’t have a condom. Are you su-?”

“Chishiya!”

He took the queue and carefully started to ease his cock into your pulsing pussy, moaning at the feeling of you around him. He quickly started thrusting into you, hoisting your right leg up and over his shoulder to reach deeper. The new position caused his dick to drag over that soft spot inside you with every thrust, making you see stars.

It didn’t take long before you started to feel that familiar coil in your stomach and you reached up towards your boyfriend, not able to say anything.

“You close, love?”

You nooded vigourously.

“Yea, me too.”

He leaned down, pressing your right leg up to your chest, but you didn’t care as his lips connected with yours at the same time, his thumb returned to your clit. Within seconds you felt that coil snap as you came around your boyfriend.

A moan left Chishiya’s lips as your pussy kept squeezing him, until he came inside you, spilling his seed as deep as he could reach.

After a few steadying breaths, Chishiya wrapped an arm around your waist and rolled over, so that you were now laying on top of him. You were still panting, your eyes slowly closing. Feeling the sweat covered skin of your boyfriend underneath you and hearing his beating heart slowly coaxed you into a deep sleep.

As soon as Chishiya was sure you were asleep, he carefully pulled out of you and laid you down next to him. He rolled onto his side and watched you for a few moments, before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. With that, got to his feet and grabbed a towel, wetting it with the water from the kitchen, before he returned to you and carefully cleaned you up. After that, he quickly gathered all the pillows and blankets you had laid out on the living room and returned them to the bed, where he made sure you were comfortable, laying down beside you and gathering you in his arms.

He smiled as you instinctually moved closer to him, until you were practically laying on top of him again. A smile graced his lips as he pressed one more kiss to your forehead, before relaxing and closing his eyes, slowly falling asleep, three words leaving his lips before he was pulled under by sleep.

“I found you.”

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Alice in Borderland - Masterlist

[fangirlingalittletoohard]

Falling

Crowley has never been one for relationships. Neither have you. But when a meeting in your favourite Angel's bookshop leaves you both breathless, you might just allow yourselves to finally be loved.

Crowley x fem!reader

Use of y/n, dual perspective

Warnings: None! Crowley being an idiot xoxo

1,419 words

................................................................................................

Chapter 1

You sat curled up in an armchair, laptop balanced on your knees, fresh cup of tea steaming on the coffee table beside you as the rain drummed against the windows in your favourite spot to get some work done. You’d befriended Aziraphale months ago when you’d discovered his bookshop, which stocked so many beautiful and unique volumes that you couldn’t help but return multiple times a week. Eventually, you began to use the space to work, both you and Aziraphale providing quiet companionship to one another. You’d laughed at first when Aziraphale confessed that he was an Angel, believing him to be jesting as you so often did with one another. However, after much questioning (and many hours listening to his stories gathered over thousands of years of existence) you came to realise that his little quirks made sense for an other-worldly being and your friendship became even more dear to you. 

Tapping away at your keyboard as usual, you heard the little bell above the front door tinkle, signalling a customer. You didn’t look up, the appearance of a customer being nothing out of the ordinary, until something in the stranger’s voice as he greeted your friend stilled your fingers. He had marched over to Aziraphale’s desk, asserting in a low growl “Aziraphale, we have a problem. It’s…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the cease in the click of your fingers against your keyboard. You lifted your head to greet your friend’s guest, but words seemed to fail you as you gazed upon him. Tall, slender, slicked back red hair, dark sunglasses, and impeccably clad from head to toe in black. He was… well, he was gorgeous. 

~~~

Crowley forgot why he was angry. If he was honest, for a moment he couldn’t remember why he’d come to find Aziraphale. Hair nonchalantly pulled back out of your face, wide eyes, plump lips parted slightly, curves in all the places he liked them. He had taken many intimate partners over his thousands of years, but you were something entirely unique. Never had Crowley felt self-conscious before, but when your eyes met his, he was awfully aware of his arms. How did he usually stand? Surely his arms didn’t always feel this heavy and awkward? 

Thankfully, Aziraphale swooped in to his rescue. “Crowley, this is my dear friend [y/n]. [y/n], Crowley.”  “Pleasure.” Crowley murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. You smiled. Hell, Crowley swore it was the prettiest damn smile he had seen in his entire existence. 

~~~

“You had a problem?” You reminded, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up under his gaze. Despite standing across the room from you, his stare had you pinned to the chair, feeling as though he could see straight into your soul.  “A… Ah, yes! Aziraphale, I need to speak with you in private.” Crowley remembered, finally breaking eye contact and rushing your friend into the back room. 

You sat, fingers frozen above your keyboard, staring at the door Aziraphale and Crowley had just disappeared behind and let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You were a flirt. You loved to make people chase you and relished in their satisfaction when you finally gave them what they wanted. You loved a passionate fling that ended in fire. Rarely did anyone take your breath away quite like Crowley had in this very brief introduction. You wanted him. Badly. But something told you he was not the type to chase after a woman. You would have to change your approach. 

Just as you were resolving to lay your flirting on thick to ensure he knew what you wanted, the door to the back room flew open and Crowley marched out of the bookshop without so much as a glance in your direction. You sat dumbfounded, staring at the door swinging closed. Aziraphale hurried out of the back room, flustered. “Oh don’t mind Crowley. He’s not really a people person.” He apologised, punctuating the last two words with exaggerated bunny ears. 

“Is he… like you?” You asked, finally dragging your gaze away from the door and over to your friend.  “Yes. Well… sort of.” He replied, flipping distractedly through the pages of a large volume he was studying.  “Sort of?” You pressed. “He’s a Demon.” Aziraphale replied quietly.  “A Demon?” You asked incredulously, laughing a little. “As in, fallen Angel, lives in Hell kind of Demon?”  “Yes.” You stared at the Angel. You wouldn’t have believed him had you not already known all of the stories your friend had recounted to you. “Well, he only ever goes back to Hell reluctantly, but yes, he is a Demon.”  You were silent for a second, before thinking out loud, “I didn’t expect Demons to be so…” you struggled to find the most appropriate word, “pleasing to the eye.”  “They’re not all so…” he turned to face you, “attractive?” He tested. You blushed. Aziraphale opened his mouth to taunt, but you interjected, “not a word!” The Angel mimed zipping shut his mouth and turned back to his desk, stifling his giggle. 

~~~

Crowley returned to the bookshop almost daily. He would greet you, if you were there, with a curt nod of his head and a quick smirk, but couldn’t bring himself to talk more to you and it was frustrating him. Even worse, Aziraphale had noticed something was amiss. Crowley couldn’t blame him; he had visited the Angel’s bookshop more times in the past week than he had in the past year. 

“Spit it out Crowley, what’s going on with you?” Aziraphale asked after Crowley had slumped into your armchair with a huff one day when you weren’t there.  “Why would you think anything’s going on?” Crowley retorted sulkily. “You’re moping.”  “I don’t mope.” Crowley insisted, dramatically resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and dropping the side of his head to his hand. “What you are doing is the very definition of moping.” Aziraphale insisted. “And I think it has something to do with [y/n].”  “Why would it have anything to do with her? She’s not even here.” Crowley complained.  “Exactly.” Aziraphale observed, causing Crowley to huff. “You should ask her on a date. She would say yes, I think.”  “A date? I don’t date.” Crowley retorted.  “Court, wine and dine, whatever. Just take her out to dinner and get to know her. You’ll like her.”  “I don’t want to like her.” Crowley snapped. “Liking her is the issue.” “Ah,” Aziraphale sighed knowingly, irritating Crowley even further. He huffed and shot up out of the chair, beginning to pace around the bookshop.  “Liking people makes things too complicated. Feelings make things too complicated.” Crowley explained. “I don’t do complicated. I see someone attractive, I sleep with them a few times, then we part ways.” “It isn’t complicated when they like to in return.” Aziraphale advised. Crowley stopped his pacing suddenly. “She likes me too?” He asked. “Ah, well, I really shouldn’t…”  Crowley shot over to the Angel, whipping off his sunglasses and staring face-to-face with his friend, yellow eyes suddenly extremely serpent-like. “Angel, don’t torment me. Does she share these feelings.”  “Yes! Yes she does.” Aziraphale relented, slinking away from the demon as his pupils began to dilate again. 

~~~ 

You entered the bookshop and stopped in your tracks. The air felt electric, making your skin prickle. “[y/n]!” Aziraphale greeted, almost nervously, hurrying over to you and taking the laptop from under your arm.  “Is everything okay?” You asked cautiously, your eyes finally finding Crowley at the back of the shop. Aziraphale didn’t answer as Crowley turned and began to approach you. He stopped, so close to you that you could feel his body heat. His sunglasses were clutched in his hand, allowing you to see his eyes for the first time. They were unlike anything you had seen before, and you were mesmerised. Yellow-gold irises and serpent-like oval pupils gazed into your own eyes, causing your breath to catch in your throat.  “Would you join me for dinner this evening?” He asked quietly, the sultry growl in his voice making your stomach flip.  “I’d like that.” You replied softly, trying to conceal the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips.  “I’ll pick you up at eight.” Crowley asserted, putting his sunglasses back on and striding out of the shop.  You stood in silence for a second before turning to Aziraphale. “He doesn’t know my address.” You stated.  “I’ll pass it on.” He replied with a smile. 

................................................................................................

chapter 2

[the-lost-girl-in-the-tardis]

A chance meeting.

(Aka I'm bored and messing about with ideas.)

The ninth Doctor.

Weeping Angels:

The bookshop is quiet this late in the day. Just shy of an hour before closing. Some patrons are muttering amongst themselves. Sometime to you to make their final purchases. Others begin to wrap up whatever they were doing on computers and laptops.

You hum to yourself as you check in books. Stacking them in the rolling cart to later be shelved. The dimly lit room is bathed in the red light of the setting sun. There is a comfortable warmth in the air. The last remainder of a warm summer day.

After a while you stand. Popping your back after having sat down in one spot for so long. You began directing the customers out. Wishing the regulars a good evening as they leave.

When the door bell chimes one last time you sigh. Flipping the open sign to close as you locked the door.

Silence. Save for the distant rumbling of cars and the howling dog.

You still had to clean up. Gathering bits of trash from people who couldn't see the clearly labeled trash can. You stacked coffee filters back up. Open a new container of tea. Made a note to buy more syrups and more creamer.

You began to hum to yourself again. Half mumbling the words to the Beatles Blackbirds as you swept.

"Take these broken wings and-" Youpaused. Your broom had hit something solid behind the curtain. The yellow straw curled around stone grey feet. You laid the broom against the wall.

Your fingers met the sun bleached blue curtains you hadn't remembered closing. Having opened up all the curtains and windows to let in a breeze. The bookshops ac had broken a week ago and David still hadn't found someone to fix it.

"What are you?" The words left you in a mumble. The curtain rings scrapped against the metal curtain rod when you drew the fabric back. What sat before you was an angel esque statue. It's hands were over its eyes.

Something about it felt off. An age old instinct inside you yelled. Raged against your new age brain. You reached your hand out despite this. Grazing your fingers against the back of the hand of the eerily warm statue. You shivered. Swallowed thickly.

With your hands now on your hips you huffed. Tutting your tongue as your grumbled. "David and his weird decor choices." No doubt he had hid the damn thing behind the curtain to spook you. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You reached for the broom. Shivering as a soft breeze blew through the open window behind the statue.

It would just be your luck that you had to sneeze in that moment. Having forgotten to take you allergy pills that morning.

As you were wiping your nose with your handkerchief you just happened to glance up. Only to let out a curse and stumble back into an old bean bag. The statue had moved. Honest to god moved.

You shot to your feet. Eyes not moving from the statue as you walked backwards.

"Acho!" You and your luck. Maybe that's why you never won the lottery. The statue had moved again. A table sat between the two of you. The statue was grinning. Arm outstretched. Reaching towards you. You were close to panic. Hands shaking and palms sweating. You were cold despite the summer warmth.

You curse again when the lights began to flicker. A few bulbs in the children's section actually busting. Loud pops of glass had you flinching.

"I don't know what you are." You spoke. Reaching for a book left on the table. "But i'm not going to be that person who gets got in the first few minutes of a supernatural episode."

The book arced in the air. Smacking against the against the angel uselessly. The pages fluttered. Flew like confetti as the book exploded. More lights pooped. Slowly making its way towards the two of you.

You got the feeling that this thing liked your fear.

You began backing up again. Hands flailing behind you to guide your way. More lights burst. You hand meets the cold brass doorknob. You pushed the button to unlock it.

Nothing.

You tried again.

Nothing.

You jumped when you heard the whirring on the other side. Then the muttering of a man. Stupidly you looked away. Only to scream when the angel was right in front of you.

The door opened with a too cheerful "Ding!" And you fell into the arms of a man. The smell of leather heavy in your lungs.

"Hello!" The man spoke. His voice was accented.

"Hi." You spoke out quickly. Voice high with panic. Eyes still on the angel inside the book shop even as the man helped you to your feet. "You uh. You wouldn't happen to know what that thing is would you?" The man slammed the door closed and you got a proper look at him.

Leather jacket. Red shirt. Dark jeans. And a weird glowing pen in his hands. The sound of the whirring earlier obviously as he waved it around the door.

"That was a weeping angel. Quit lucky you." He pointed his pen at you before pocketing it. "I'm the Doctor by the way." He grinned.

"Y/n." You drew your name out as you spoke. A little more than confused. Both of you jumped when the door began to rattle.

"This is the part where we run. Come on!" The man, The Doctor. You'd ask Doctor who later. As it was it grabbed you hand and pulled. Leading you down the street as the world began to plunge into the night.

The Tenth Doctor:

Alien Invasion :

You had been painting when it happened. Sat out in an open meadow. Canvas only half filled. You wondered sometimes if it was still there. A burst of color in your otherwise greyed world.

The aliens had come without warning. Nothing save for the breaking of the atmosphere as their ships descended down to Earth.

You hadn't bothered to gather your things. Only turning and running before the behemoth of a creature could spot you.

Your truck had died over halfway through on the drive back. You later learned it was caused by an emp blast from the aliens. And so you ran.

It was late by the time you had gotten home. Both in the day and...

Still you could not think of it. Lest you make it more real. More tangible.

You chose to believe that they were ok despite the rumours surrounding the labour camps. You had been one of the few. The only who were outside those camps. The alien cities. Everyday was a fight for survival. Both against them and your fellow human.

As of right now though the squabbles have settled. At least amongst each other. Instead all of that fight was focused on one man who stood in the center of the room. Dimly illuminated by old oil lamps.

He called himself the Doctor and asked how he could get into the heart of The Capitol. The Aliens main base. A place that promised nothing but death.

"I have a friend there. Donna Noble. I need to get her out." There was a series of scoffs. Laughter. And uproar.

"Ya. You and everyone else here mate." A dark haired man spoke. You never bothered to learn his name. Or any others. To many people to lose to get attached. You had lost enough already.

You watched from your little corner in the room. Eyes fixated on the man as he tried to reason with someone. Any one in the room. There was something about him. They way he carried himself. When he circled his trenchcoat curled around his long legs. Brown eyes were darkened in the dim lighting. His lips were bit raw with worry. His shoulders tense.

"Please. Your the last group of people." Someone cut him off. The Doctor blew air out from his cheeks. Brows furrowed. He scowled. A type of anger you had never seen before flashed across his face. His mouth opened. Lips curled around teeth.

Until you stepped forward.

"I'll help." You told him. It wasn't some loud affair when you spoke. Quite the opposite. Your voice was quiet. Hoarse from lack of use. And when you moved closer to him Dian pulled at your sleeve. You shook her off. "I'll help." You spoke again. Wanting to clear away that look of disbelief from his face.

If it had been your family there. You would want help to.

.............

You were glad that you had helped him. Watching him interact with his friend. Donna had thanked you as well when it all settled down. At least now humankind will be able to re-build. Because of the Doctors efforts the Aliens had been driven away. Catapulted back into the skies where they had come from.

You had never met a man before that could instill so much fear with his name alone.

That left you here. Sitting well away from everyone as you sketched for the first time in a long time. Some skill had been left behind but the rest was still there.

You drew them. Happy. Smiling.

It hurt your very soul. Broke your heart. Even after all of this you still couldn't find them. And you had no one else to lean upon.

The pages darkened and his voice sounded in your ears. As did the sweet perfume you had first smelled as Donna sat beside you.

"What about you y/n? What are you going to do know that the earth is saved." You said nothing at the Doctors words. Merely shrugging your shoulders and closing the sketchbook before they could see what. Who you drew.

"Same thing I have been." You spoke quietly. Not looking at either of them as you looked over what had once been the Aliens Capitol. "Traveling. Moving." Alone.

You could see Donna look up at the Doctor from the corner of your eye. Such a kind and worried look on her face.

Then the Doctors hand on your shoulder. You look to see his face near yours as he bent down.

"Then how about traveling the universe? The stars? Lots more to draw than what's out here."

The Eleventh Doctor:

Crash Landing:

You are walking along the old graveled road to your home. Rocks crumbling underfoot as you go up the familiar trail. It's one you've taken for years now.

The air was cool and crisp. Sweet in your lungs as you breathed it in. In the distance you could hear the croaking of frogs. The chirping crickets. Here and there there was an owl. The sounds were comforting. Familiar.

Something was different about this walk though. Just. Have you ever walked into a room and it just felt different? Only to later learn that your friends or siblings had moved all the furniture a few inches to the left? That's what it felt like right now. That everything that you have seen for the last 15 years was moved a little to the left.

You took a step. Then paused. Ears straining to hear what you are no longer hearing.

The woods around you have fallen silent. No frogs, crickets. Nothing but the wind winding through the trees and the soft lapping of water on the shore from a nearby lake.

You turned on foot. Hand held light briefly lighting up the road, then the trees as you moved. You glanced up and into the sky. The moon was full and round. Almost bright enough that you didn't need the flashlight.

The air blew softly. Picking up with it the scent of wild flowers. It curled around you. Blowing around strands of hair and fluttering your open jacket.

You swallow thickly. Nervous. That was a new feeling on this road. This walk. Nervous. As if something was about to happen.

You stood on the spot for a few minutes. Eyes glancing about as you tried to find something tangible for this feeling. You drew in a breath. Held it. Then let it out.

!VAWHOMP!

You screamed when it came crashing through. It flung up wet earth and rock. Broke trees and it screamed. Yelled. A large blue box crashing and spinning into the Earth.

It landed some feet away and all you could do was close to hyperventilate. You body shook and your heart threatened to break your ribs with its rapid pounding.

The air was thick with the smell of freshly turned earth and wood. Normally it was comforting but.

The box made a noise.

"I... What?" You bag fell to the ground as you began to move. You almost fell into the trench it had made twice before you reached it.

The box made a wheeze.

You hand was on its side before you could think. Fingers running along the rough wood.

Curiosity got the better of you.

With some difficulty you clambered up on it. Skinning your knee in the process. After about a minute and some cursing and grumbling your were on it.

Police Call Box.

What was that?

Was that a door handle? It felt warm when you wrapped your hand around it. Pushing in did nothing. Pulling up on the other hand.

Smoke bellowed out when you opened it. It was thick and reeked of burnt motor oil. The door squealed on its hinges as it flopped to the other side. A bright light filtered through that smoke and for a moment you hoped that whatever you just breathed in wasn't toxic or radioactive.

Instead your lungs burned and you coughed. Hacking like that one time you had stupidly tried a cigarette when you were young. You waved a hand in front of your face trying to clear away some of the smoke. When it finally stopped bellowing out in thick clouds you stuck your head over the opening.

"How on gods green earth." You mumbled and leaned forward some more. Up an on your knees with your hands on the other side of the door way to brace you.

At a sideways view was the stranges thing you had ever seen. Some type of console you assumed a was in the center. Leading up to it was a walkway. At the end of the walkway was a man in a white shirt and suspenders. His face must have matched your own.

"How do you fit all of that in here?" The man shook his head. He was leaning on the consol thing. Rope in hand. He was coughing heavily every so often.

"How did you get up there?" He questioned back. You shrugged your shoulders.

"If you throw the rope I can catch it? There's a log out here I can tie it to." You offered. Questions can come later. And did you have a lot of them now.

[apheliaholmes]

Moonwater

🐺 📖 🐈‍⬛ ☕️ 

The Coffee Shop

☆ AO3 ~ 10k words microfic

It was very random when Remus found a job in this coffee shop. It started during a very rainy afternoon, after a visit to a local bookshop. Remus ran into the first shop open, the coffee one. It was a warm and welcoming coffee shop, in a very rich neighbourhood. As Remus was talking with the barista, he learned they were looking for someone, and he naturally asked if he could work here. 

Work was a bit far away from Remus’ flat. He had to take the underground for around 30 minutes and walk for 10 minutes more before finally arriving. He lived in a poor neighbourhood, far away from the rich ones the coffee shop was. He didn’t study at Queen Mary or even go to Eton College, he was far away from this world. But the customers he served were from this world. 

Remus started to get used to seeing private drivers waiting outside the coffee, boys and girls with very jewellery that was worth his yearly salary. But he didn’t really cared. He just served coffee, tea, some pastries, smile politely and doesn’t ask questions. 

Though… There was always that one customer he asked a few questions here and there. He always ordered the same things: a black coffee, a glass of cold water — no ice —, and a blueberry muffin. In summer, he ordered an iced coffee — almond milk — with a lot of ice. If Remus were working at Starbucks, he would have asked for his name, but the coffee shop wasn’t like that. He learned his name a random Tuesday afternoon, when a blond guy called him as he entered the coffee shop “Regulus”. 

“Pretty name for a pretty man.” Remus though in himself. 

The few months he spent working here, Remus grew even more hateful of rich people. Seeing them every day, in their perfect and protected little bubble, was starting to drive him mad. The comings and goings of Porsche, Bentley, Rolls-Royce, and Range Rover in front of the coffee shop was a ballet he grew disgusted with. He didn’t hate the fact that people had money, he hated the fact that some people could be so rich that they were as rich as some countries. 

It’s when he was in the underground that he learned that this “Regulus” was, in fact, one of them. On top of the food chain of the rich. While randomly scrolling on Bluesky, he saw a news article, something about a CEO and a scandal about something he didn’t care to read, until he saw the picture of Regulus. Some paparazzi had followed his father and the whole family to an exclusive dinner in one of the most expensive restaurants in London. You couldn’t even get a table without waiting six months and even then, you had to answer a few questions about your motivation to be a participant in the “experience” — which was eating very expensive food in very small quantities. That’s how Remus learned — while reading the article — that Regulus was Black. As in the private bank “Black”. His father, mother, and probably the whole damn family were billionaires, and Regulus was probably a millionaire if his parents had placed some stocks in his name or even brought property in his name. 

And that’s how Remus started to feel disgusted with Regulus. Something changed. He wasn’t a cute customer that he made chit-chat with here and there. He was a fucking silver spoon child, even a diamond spoon at his point. A rich fucker that never learnt the real value of money, work, or even moving his — lovely — ass to make himself a cup of coffee or clean his room.

Remus started to change his shifts at his work, making sure to avoid Black Junior, since he had an older brother who seemed to have a lot of issues with the law. Remus wanted to avoid Regulus, because a part of him felt humiliated to serve an entitled brat like him. He hated waking up in the morning for only the purpose of making coffee for people who would never consider him as equal. Just another lower-class person, at their service for £12 an hour when they probably win this amount of money every nanosecond.

For a few months, Remus managed to avoid Regulus pretty well, until he had to replace one of his coworkers. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Just working from 10 a.m. until 6.pm. having a quick break in the middle, which for Remus was taking a sandwich and going to the nearby park or in the bookstore just around the corner. Regulus never stopped by on a Wednesday afternoon anyway, so, yeah… no big deal. 

And that’s exactly how the day went by. He served some clients, cleaned some cups, and prayed no one would bring the last blueberry muffin so he could take it home tonight with him. Since the baker of the coffee shop insisted on throwing away every product that didn’t sell during the day and only selling fresh products every day, Remus was used to nearly never having to go grocery shopping and living only on muffins, brownies, and chicken and brie sandwiches. 

At 5.59pm. just a tiny minute before Remus was free from hell, the door opened and, to his great misfortune, it was Regulus Black. The boy didn’t look up from his brand-new iPhone, he walked to the counter and didn’t even look at Remus. 

“A black coffee and a blueberry muffin,” he said, texting on his phone. 

Remus had a smirk and laid his arms on the checkout counter. The muffin was his, it was 5.59.pm, he wasn’t going to work an hour more, Regulus always stayed at least an hour. 

“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” 

Regulus looked up fast, as it was the first time he had been denied something. 

“Pardon me?” 

Remus wanted to laugh at the face Regulus made. A small frown, a superiority look, soft pink cheeks, probably from frustration. 

“You hear me, Black? We’re closed.” 

“There is a blueberry muffin just here,” Regulus said, watching the pastry display. “And a black coffee will take you two minutes to make.” 

“It’s 6.pm. I’m done with work, and the muffin is mine. Learn to read when a shop is open or not.” Remus shows Regulus the opening time. “I’m sure you can read numbers.” 

When they looked back at each other, Remus had a satisfied look on his face, while Regulus’ eyes were darkened. 

“Listen Remus, I’m just asking for-“ “You didn’t ask. You didn’t even say “hi”, or “please”, you just ordered. I’m not working for you. And my shift is over. So get out of the coffee.” 

Regulus clenched his hand around his phone, his arm along his body. 

“Why are you acting like that, you never used to be bitchy before.” 

Remus shrugged, “Maybe I’m just bored to serve your ungrateful ass.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had gone too far. 

“Wow… I see, yeah. Weeks without seeing you working here, and suddenly you hate my guts. Nice…” 

Regulus walked away, holding the front door of the shop. 

“I thought you were cool, you know? I liked the few conversations we had.” 

“Suddenly realising poor people are interesting too?” 

Regulus let go of the door. “What is wrong with you? Do you have a personal vendetta against me or what? I’ve always been the same since we met.” 

“I just didn’t know who you were, that’s all.” Replied Remus, upset. 

“You don’t know me!” 

“I don’t want to anyway! A rich kid from mommy and daddy’s money, with a private chauffeur waiting for you outside and a Centurion Card. I don’t want to know someone like that!” 

“Fine. Fuck you.” Regulus said, getting out of the coffee shop. 

★

Three weeks. Three long weeks that Remus made his best to avoid Regulus when he knew he would come into the coffee shop to study or be with his friends. At first, he thought Regulus would have contacted his boss and made him be fired, or something like that, but none of that happened. He tried to act normal, to not let his heart rush when he heard the door open or mistook someone with short and black hair for Regulus. 

It’s during his Monday morning shift that he saw Regulus for the first time after their… argument? Was it an argument or an awful way to treat a customer? Probably both. Regulus was accompanied by a boy, taller than him, but with the same eyes, same nose, same hair. Probably Sirius, his brother, the one with trouble with the law. 

“Heya darling.” Said Sirius looking at the menu. “Mhh- I’m going to take a matcha please, and” He looked at the pastries. “A chocolate cheesecake please.” 

“Sure.” Said Remus preparing the matcha and cutting the cake.

“Come on Reg, take something for fuck sake.” Whispered Sirius. 

“I’m not angry.” 

“He’ll take a black coffee and a blueberry muffin.” Said Sirius anyway.

Remus tried not to smile at their interaction, he was sure it was his brother now. He made their order rapidly, not bothering to make some small talk, he wasn’t in the mood anyway. 

“You’re the one who put Regulus at his place, right?” Said Sirius, crossing his arms. 

“Siri!” Said Regulus, upset, giving him a murderous look.

Remus looked up, noticing the tattoos around Sirius’s arms. 

“I guess. I don’t know how many times your brother has beef with baristas.” 

Sirius laughed. “Fair enough. You’re right anyway, he is a little bitch.” 

Regulus was about to say something, but Sirius didn’t leave him the time to.

“You’re paying, by the way.” And Sirius left like that, walking to take a seat in the corner of the coffee shop.

Remus tried his best not to chuckle. Sirius and Regulus were so different and yet so similar. 

“How much for it?” 

“£14.05 please.” 

Regulus paid, taking the tray where the matcha, cheesecake, coffee, and blueberry muffin were, but he didn’t leave right away. 

“You need napkins or something?” Asked Remus while cleaning a cup of tea. 

“Listen, I— for the list time, I want to say sorry, okay. But you were pretty aggressive too, to be honest. Yeah, I’m from the Black family, and I’m not ashamed of that. But all the societal problems are not because of me, okay?” He ran his hand in his hair, nervously. “And I think you should know me. Maybe you’ll like what you’ll see. But I’m not my family’s cliché or values. I’m just, Regulus.” 

He pushed the muffin toward Remus. “As a peace offer. I like this coffee and the grumpy barista, I don’t want to come here like it’s a battlefield, okay?” 

Remus looked at him, well aware of the gaze of Sirius on both of them. 

“Fine. Just because there is the muffin.” Remus said, taking the muffin. 

Regulus chuckled softly. “Thanks.” 

★

Remus didn’t feel the need to avoid Regulus anymore, but he didn’t feel the need either to take a shift at the same time Black was in the coffee shop. He simply tried not to really care, which wasn’t successful. When he was bored, which happened often, he found himself opening his laptop and searching about the Black family. The scandal about money laundering the Bank did, or at least, didn’t declare, the stock they had in obscure private funds, or even some tax evasion some of the family members did. Remus was pretty sure it was just the tip of the iceberg, but for some reason he didn’t truly want to know more. Sirius and Regulus spent their whole scholarship at private schools, the most expensive one in England, probably even in the world. Sirius had an Instagram account but seemed to have been suspended, Remus wondered if it was by the platform itself or because the Blacks didn’t like what he was posting on it. And for Regulus, he seemed to have no social media at all, or at least, well hidden. 

Around October, during one of his breaks, Remus was, as usual, eating his chicken and brie sandwich in the park. It was a cold afternoon, but Remus was a firm believer that there weren’t such things as bad weather, just bad cloth. He had a book opened on his lap — The Three Musketeers — and his headphones on his head, immersing him in a calm atmosphere. Until two cold fingers softly tapped his shoulder. 

“James, not now,” he said, not even looking. 

The cold hand softly made him slide his headphones down his neck.

“Not James. Should I be jealous?” Regulus said teasingly. 

As Regulus took a seat next to Remus, Remus looked at him with a look of surprise, or maybe confusion, probably both. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“It’s a park, everyone can walk in a park, Remus. You should read the sign.” He said teasingly as Remus made the same statement when they had their argument, saying to Black he should read the opening hours of the coffee shop.

“Very funny, Black.” Lupin said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s one of my qualities. I have a lot of them.” 

“Being humble is not one of them.” Replied Remus.

Regulus chuckled, looking down at the book Remus was reading. 

“A classic. I see.” Regulus looked up, noticing that Remus didn’t stop looking at him. “Who’s James, by the way? A boyfriend I should be aware of?” 

Remus scoffed. “My personal life is not something you need to be aware of.” 

“The issue is that I want to be aware of your personal life. You see, grumpy barista,” Regulus said, fiddling with the sleeve of Remus’s sweater. “I like the idea of knowing you better.” 

“You see, entitled brat, I like the idea of a peaceful and unbothered life.” Said Remus with the same tone Regulus used.

“I’m not a bother, nor is it peaceful. Quite the opposite.” Regulus started to feel his cheeks hot as Remus didn’t break the eye contact. “I have a dinner party at my flat next Saturday. Wine, cheese, bread, board games, jazz, and candlelight. I would like it if you could join us.” 

“Us?” 

Regulus nodded, moving his thumb on his bottom lip, a nervous habit. 

“Sirius, my brother, you already met him. Evan, the blond guy I’m having a coffee with every Monday morning. And Barty, his boyfriend, the guy with the piercing on his lips and elbows. You can come with this, James, your boyfriend, right?” 

Remus chuckled, finding amusing how Regulus wanted to know if James was his boyfriend or not. 

“He is not.” 

“Mh— Interesting. Someone else has this place already perhaps?” 

“Perhaps not.” 

Regulus smiled, nodding. “Very well then. Invite him anyway, it will keep Sirius company.” 

Remus chuckled. “What makes you think I will come?” 

“It will be a good way to make yourself forgive me for the awful things you said to me.” Regulus pouted dramatically. “I’m still very hurt.” 

Remus laughed, looking up. “Fuck sake… Alright.” 

Regulus stood up. “Give me your phone.” 

Remus lifted his eyebrow, “I think you forget something.” He smiled seeing Regulus rolling his eyes.

“Please, give me your phone Remus.” 

He pulled out his phone, an old phone with a non-existent screen play. 

“What is that? A dumb phone?” 

“Yeah, just shut it and put your number in it.” Replied Remus.

And that’s what Regulus did, he also called himself on his personal phone, to have Remus’s phone number. 

“I’ll text you the address. It’s a casual dress code, don’t worry.” 

Remus chuckled. “I didn’t worry, I don’t do other than casual anyway.” 

Regulus stayed here, standing in front of Remus. 

“You should go, you’ll be late for your work.” Regulus said softly. 

“Sure, I’ll see you Saturday, maybe.” Teased Remus as he stood up. 

He was way taller than Regulus, which made Black a bit frustrated. 

“Not “maybe”. I see you Saturday.” And Regulus walked away, only smiling when his back was facing Remus.  

★

“I’m sure they’re going to sacrifice us and drink our blood. Rich people do that, right?” James said, getting out of the elevator — who smelled really good. “Fuck, what if they eat us? Maybe we are the meal?” 

“Shut up, for fuck sake, James! I should never have made you a Reddit account.” Remus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

James brushed the dust off his jacket, obviously nervous. Remus knocked on the door of Regulus’s apartment, trying to act like all of this was normal and not weird at all. 

“I just don’t want my dick to be cut when I’m still alive, Rem’…” 

“James, just shut the fuck up for fuck—” Remus stopped as the door opened to a blond man, Evan, if Remus remembered correctly. 

“Hey! You must be James! Hi Remus, how are you, mate?” Said Evan, shaking James’s hand and hugging Remus rapidly. 

They were both invited into the flat, and James’s thoughts seemed to disappear as Evan started to make jokes. Remus stayed on the door mat, closing the door and looking around. He saw Sirius pushing Regulus towards him, and finally walking in his direction. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” 

“Sure.” Remus said, offering a plant in a pot. “It’s a housewarming present. It’s a Pelargonium. You have to water it from time to time. I made you a note on the back, just in case.” 

Regulus smiled, taking the plant. “Thanks, you shouldn’t have.” 

Remus nodded, a bit uncomfortable. The flat was big, at the entrance was a big kitchen on the right, and the living room was without a doubt the double size of Remus’s studio. 

“You want a drink?” Ask Regulus asked, noticing how Remus seemed out of place.

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“White, red, champagne, prosecco, whiskey, vodka?” Regulus asked as he walked to the open kitchen. 

“Uhm, red wine sounds fine, thanks.” Remus said as he removed his jacket. 

He gave a quick look at the living room, noticing James was speaking with the three other guests. 

“He is cute.” Said Regulus, giving Remus his glass of wine. 

“James?” Asked Remus while nodding politely as he took the glass. “Yeah, a true heartthrob.” 

Regulus pinched his lips, before drinking his glass of white wine. Remus tried not to act surprised when he took a sip of his glass, it was the most exquisite and probably the most expensive wine he ever tasted. 

“You have always been friends? You and James, I mean.” Asked Regulus, faking arranging some cheese on a charcuterie board. 

“Yeah, since kindergarten. Our family used to live next door to each other. And if your question implies if we dated, the answer is no. But we were both our first kiss, when we were four. I hope I don’t break your heart with this news.” 

Regulus chuckled, trying his best not to blush. 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“Of course not.” Remus said teasingly. “Need help with something?” He said looking around the kitchen. 

“Yeah, serve a drink to James, I don’t know what he is drinking.” 

“All depends if you want to see him pass out or not. White wine will be fine for him.” Remus said as he opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass. He tried to remember the name of the bottle to check the price once he got home. 

As Regulus and Remus joined James, Evan, Barty, and Sirius in the living room, Remus started to relax a bit, feeling more comfortable with James around. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sirius, Evan, or Barty, nor Regulus, it was more that James and he knew each other since babies and that the couch they were both sitting on was probably at a six-digit price tag. And that made Remus uneasy. 

James didn’t seem to be bothered by any of it, he was in his element, meeting new people, having a conversation with them, asking questions, listening, the perfect situation for an extrovert. Remus tried to speak a bit too, but in reality, he just answered some questions Evan asked him. Sirius had noticed his introvert demeanour and didn’t try to push further questions, while Barty wasn’t confident enough to ask questions; he didn’t trust himself not to ask weird and inappropriate questions; he needed a few more drinks for that.

“And, do you have someone in your life, James?” Asked Sirius with a melodic voice. 

Remus chuckled silently, noticing how Sirius was suddenly way more flirty with James, his arms behind James on the couch, the older Black batting his eyelashes in a soft manner. 

“Can I smoke on the balcony?” Asked Remus in a whisper to Regulus. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

With a small smile, Remus stood up, walking rapidly towards the entrance where he left his jacket, took a cigarette and a lighter, and walked to the balcony. As he closed the door and noticed Regulus’s gaze on him, like he was scrutinising his actions. 

“Fuck sake, seriously?” Whispered Remus as he watched how big the balcony was. 

It had multiple kinds of flowers on it, a small citrus tree, a wooden table with six chairs around it, and a cosy corner with a couch in wood and a lot of cushions on it. Remus ran his hand through his hair, knowing for a fact all the furniture was even more expensive than the price of his whole studio. 

He rapidly lit his cigarette, needing nicotine and alcohol to survive to the evening. He hated being here, in the most expensive part of London, having a cosy night with the people from the most richest and wealthiest family in the world, like everything was normal, like they were the same. 

“Not too cold?” 

He took a drag of his cigarette before turning his head to the left. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the evening.” Said Regulus, holding himself as it was a bit chilly outside. 

“Not my kind of party.” Remus replied, looking away, bringing his cigarette to his lips. 

“What’s your thing then?” Regulus took a step closer. “Nightclub? Romantic restaurant? Walk in a park?” 

“Somewhere where the wine doesn’t cost my annual rent, for a starter.” Remus said, a bit bitter. 

“I always treat my guests with the best.” Said Regulus, trying to ease the conversation. 

Remus scoffed, “You think I couldn’t treat my guests well if I didn’t offer a Dom Pérignon? Or a cheese imported from France in a private jet?” 

“Listen… I know you’re upset because my family has money, but—“ 

“I’m not upset because your family has money, I’m upset because in this world it’s possible to have that much money. Billionaire type, nearly trillionaire in a few years. That’s what’s disgusting.” 

Regulus pinched his lips together, looking away from Remus. 

“But… I made my own money. I own a jewellery brand, a brand that I made myself.” 

“With the money of your parents, don’t try to make me think having contacts in the luxury world, and parents to help you with your business made you a self-made man. It doesn’t, Regulus.” Replied Remus, looking back at him. “You are in another world, far from reality, a small and exclusive bubble of rich and condescending people.”

“Then why are you here if I’m so disgusting in your eyes?” 

Remus shrugged. “Curiosity, I guess.” 

“Could you give me a chance at least? To prove to you that, yes I’m rich but not the asshole type of rich.” 

“For what? Huh? Show me that you can have everything just because you want to? Or that after all you have some deep personality without all that money?” 

“James seems to like us, maybe if you tried to know me, you could like me too.” 

“James could be friends with some stray raccoons.” 

Regulus chuckled, not impressed by Remus’s tentative push to push him away with his remarks. 

“Come on, I’m not backing down… Give me a chance. I won’t beg another time.” Said Regulus, taking Remus’ cigarette, smoking it without breaking eye contact. 

Remus wasn’t impressed, but smiled a bit as Regulus’ chin was up, trying to match their height difference. 

“I have some conditions then.” 

“I’m listening.” Said Regulus, blowing up the smoke. 

“No more parties like this, with expensive shits. You stop being a silver spoon brat. And you were your hair down.” Remus said, taking back the cigarette between his fingers, voluntarily touching Regulus’ fingers.

Regulus’ eyes drifted rapidly from Remus’ eyes to his fingers, before getting up to his lips and back to his eyes. 

“Fine.” 

“Like, right now,” Remus said, smoking softly. 

“Hair down won’t match my fit.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” Remus blew some smoke at Regulus’ nose. “We have a deal or not?” 

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’re boring.” His hand went up behind his head, removing the low bun he had, and the soft wind shook his hair. “Happy now?” 

“Yeah, very much.” 

“Let’s get back inside. I’m freezing to death.” Regulus said, trying to imply the red of his cheeks was because of the cold. 

As they went back inside, some laughs could be heard from James and Barty playing a card game, making fun of how Evan and Sirius were terribly losing.

“I swear to God you’re cheating! Both of you!” said Sirius, slapping his cards on the coffee table. 

“I’m just naturally good at anything.” replied James, smirking. 

“Anything? You sure?” teased back Sirius. 

“Hundred percent sure,” smirked James before drinking his wine. 

Remus didn’t comment on that, silently laughing. 

“Who will make the first move?” whispered Barty to Remus. “I bet £10 on Sirius.” 

Remus chuckled, looking at him. “I bet £20 on James for sure.” 

The evening went by, with an embarrassing flirt between Sirius and James, a lovely eye contact between Evan and Barty, and weird avoiding conversation between Remus and Regulus. After a few bottles down, Remus felt his cheek a bit hot, and his mind less clear. 

“I can make some pasta if anyone is hungry?” said Regulus, standing up from his chair, stretching enough to make his sweater revealing his lower stomach. 

Remus tried not to lick his lips, but he wasn’t sure himself if he did or didn’t. 

“Pasta sounds great,” he answered, looking up at Regulus’s face, unashamed of being caught staring. 

“Truffle on top for me,” said Barty, kissing Evan’s neck. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, perfectly aware of Remus’s gaze on him, or perhaps his ass. That’s why he rolled his hips this way.

“Probably should help him, he can burn pasta even without fire,” whispered Sirius to Remus. “Just saying he should need the help of someone, you know.��

Remus finished his glass in a rapid sip and walked to the kitchen, letting Barty and Evan nearly make out on the couch, and James and Sirius wishing to do the same. 

“Need help?” He said, leaning against the wall. “I figured a spoiled brat like you wouldn’t be able to cook without poisoning us.” 

Regulus showed him his middle finger, which made Remus laugh softly. 

“Should the water be boiling before or after I put the pasta in?” He said teasingly. 

“Need a cooking coach now?” 

“You offered help. I think I need someone to teach me.” Regulus said with puppy eyes. 

Remus rolled his eyes, leaving the wall he was leaning on to walk towards Regulus. 

“You don’t have any skills except being pretty, huh?” Remus rhetorically asked while pulling his sleeves up and washing his hands.

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“Switch on the gas before I choke you with your fucking truffles.” 

Regulus laughed, a sound Remus was starting to be fond of. He filled a pot of water and put it on the gas before looking around, trying to find some condiments. 

“I didn’t know you were a chef.” Said Regulus while opening the fridge and putting out some cheese, butter, tomatoes, and herbs. 

“You don’t know anything about me when you think of it. It’s irresponsible of you to invite a stranger into your house.” Remus said while washing some tomatoes, before cutting some garlic.

“What can I say… Pretty face makes me dumb…” 

Remus chuckled, looking up. “Do you have olive oil? It’s better for the pasta.” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Regulus pulls on his hair on the side, looking for olive oil, trying not to blush as he feels Remus’ gaze following each of his movements.

“I like your hair down like this. Suits you better. It’s giving you a more wild look.” Remus said, putting back Regulus’ hair. 

“Your hand smells garlic.” Regulus said, trying to pretend he didn’t hear Remus or didn’t feel his hand in his hair.

“That’s what happens when you touch garlic. You don’t like it? It’s good for your heart.” Remus said, moving his hand over Regulus’s cheek.

“Not good when you want to kiss someone. And for your heart, I know some cardio can be as good.” Regulus said while eating a piece of tomato, well aware of the small drop of juice rolling from his bottom lip to his chin. 

Remus raised an eyebrow, surprised by how Regulus was flirting with him. A small smirk appeared on his lips, and he moved his hand from Regulus’s cheek to his jaw, his thumb wiping the tomato juice. 

“Hey! If you want to fuck my baby brother, do not do it in the kitchen while I’m here, okay!?” Screamed Sirius from the couch. 

Regulus looked suddenly toward his brother, throwing a wooden spatula at him. “Then don’t fuck James on my couch, asshole!” 

Some laughs warmed up the apartment. And Remus looked back at the tomatoes he was cutting. 

“Sorry for that.” said Regulus, adding some salt to the water. 

“That’s fine. I won’t fuck you in the kitchen right now, don’t worry.” replied Remus, pretending this sentence was absolutely normal to say. 

After Remus finished preparing the meal and put the pasta in the boiling water, Regulus disappeared for a few minutes. And when he came back, his cheeks were a bit red and his hair a bit disheveled. No one in the living room seemed to pay attention to it, but Remus didn’t miss it. 

“You’re okay?” he asked, serving the pasta in some bowls he found on the kitchen shelves. 

“Yes, thanks for… basically cooking the whole meal.” Regulus said, avoiding eye contact. 

“No worries. Couldn’t let you do that all alone, huh?” Replied Remus in a teasing tone before giving a bowl to Regulus. “Tell me if you like it.” 

Regulus grabbed a fork before eating the pasta, suddenly looking at Remus. “Fuck, that’s really good.” 

“Why are you so surprised by my culinary talent?” Remus said, holding two bowls before going to the living room and serving Evan and Barty, before coming back.

“I should hire you as my personal chef.” Regulus said, eating again. 

“Or maybe try to be friends with me and let me teach you how to cook and survive on your own? What about that?” Remus said, holding two other bowls. 

Regulus nodded, his mouth full. 

“Be careful, you have sauce on the corner of your mouth,” Remus said with a wink before going back to the living room. 

Regulus did his best to choke on the pasta and rapidly wiped the corner of his mouth before taking Remus’s bowl and joining him in the living room. 

“Thanks.” whispered Remus as he watched Regulus sitting next to him.

James noticed how they both looked at each other, and for a moment he wondered if he had messed something up between them, but found himself distracted again when Sirius laughed softly. 

As the evening was dying out, James and Remus were on helping with the dishes before getting ready to leave. 

“You can stay here if you want, I have some guest rooms.” Said Regulus, holding his chest, strangely shy. 

“Nah, we’re good. I don’t like sleeping in strangers’ beds.” Said James, closing his jacket. 

The sentence made Sirius confused for a moment. 

“Was nice anyway, thanks for the invitation.” Said Remus politely. 

“Anytime.” 

Regulus had that drunk smile on his face, but he wished Remus could stay longer. 

★

Regulus was torturing himself for four days, wondering if he should text Remus, go to the coffee shop and act like they hadn’t flirted the whole evening, or if he should ignore him and wait for him to beg for his attention. Which, from what he knew about Remus, was less likely to happen. 

“Not used to not being pursued, huh?” Teased Sirius while tapping on his phone. 

“Shut up, Siri. I’m just… leaving him some space. I don’t want to make him feel I’m desperate.” 

“But you are desperate for him, Reggie. It’s all over your face. And you were practically bent over the kitchen counter the other day, nearly begging him to—“ 

“Shut up! Who are you texting anyway? It’s our brother night!” Pouted Regulus, trying to see Sirius’s phone.

“James. He sent me a pic of his abs. He’s going to be my favourite ice cream.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Jealous. Text Remus, he is with James right now.” Sirius said, texting again, chuckling silently as some texts James sent him. 

“You’re a pathetic whore.” Replied Regulus, looking at the movie neither of them were paying attention to. 

A few hours went by, Sirius had left his phone on the coffee table, smiling every time the screen lit up as James was sending him messages. 

“You’re ignoring him?” Regulus asked, eating popcorn. 

“No. Making him needy.”

“He’s a nice guy, don’t play with him like that.” 

“It’s just a bit of teasing.” Sirius drank his diet Pepsi. “And… Yeah, he’s a nice guy, I like him to be honest.” 

“Do you think Remus likes me too?” Screamed Regulus on a pillow.

“You’re pathetic.” Said Sirius watching back his phone when James sent him another text. 

★

“Should I text him?” Remus said, looking at the ceiling. “If I do, he’s going to think I like him, and if I don’t, he’s going to think I don’t. But if I do too early, he’s going to think I’m under his charm, which I am, but I can’t let him know about it, and if I text too late, he will find someone else. I don’t want to be nonchalant, but I don’t want to be over the top.” He face-palmed, screaming slightly. “I can’t date a Black person seriously. Have you seen his flatmate? And I don’t want to be like him. I mean, you know what I mean, huh?” Remus looked up at James, but James was on his phone.

“Yeah, sure, bro.” 

“Pete?” Asked Remus.

Peter looked up from his Nintendo switch. “Honestly, man, it’s been four days. You can text him, asking him for a date or something.” 

“Nah, I can’t.” 

“Then deal with him being with someone else one day,” Peter said before continuing his game of Mario Kart. 

“Fuck… You’re right…” Replied Remus by taking his phone. 

“He’s with Sirius, by the way. I can ask him how he’s reacting to your text.” Said James.

“No, don’t! What are you talking about with Sirius anyway?”

“Well—”

“Please. No.” Interrupted Peter. “I’m too pure for that.” 

Remus went to Regulus’s contact in his phone, opening the text app. He tried to type some words, but wasn’t happy with the result, even after multiple attempts. 

“I’m going to smoke.” He said, walking to his small balcony and closing the door. “Just a phone call, nothing crazy.” He said to himself as he pressed the call button on his phone.  

After a few minutes of ring tone, he heard a noise, like a door closing, and finally heard Regulus’s voice.

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” Remus said, smiling. “I thought I should call you, asking you if you’re surviving the awful lovemaking between your brother and James.” 

Regulus chuckled, and started to walk into his room. “No, that’s disgusting. I might pass out if I see Sirius giggle once more.” 

Remus chuckled softly, “Yeah, same here. I think they really like each other, to be honest.” 

“Seems like it, yes. Never saw Sirius being serious with someone.” Regulus said before sitting on his bed. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine. And you?” 

“Fine too.” Regulus said before a silence started to build between them. “Missed your voice.” 

Remus smirked softly, holding his phone tightly. “Yeah? Why that?” 

“I don’t know, I just like it.” Regulus said, closing his eyes. 

Remus hummed, looking up at the sky. “You know Regulus is a star, right?”

“Of course. Our parents named us because of stars, it’s a family thing. Why?” 

“No reason. I find it cute, that’s all.” 

Regulus smiled, “Me or the star?” 

“Both.” Remus said taking a drag of his cigarette.

A soft and comfortable silent build-up between the two of them. The old phone of Remus made a low hum, that Regulus could hear, but he didn’t bother him.

“I was thinking. Maybe you could… come over? One day, if you want, I mean.” Remus said, running his hand on his face. That was pathetic, he thought. 

“To your place?” Asked Regulus, opening his eyes suddenly. 

“Yep. It’s obviously smaller than your flat, but way cooler.” He answered, smiling. “We could, I don’t know, watch a movie, cook together like last time.”

“You mean me watching you cook and me disturbing you while you cook, right?”

Remus smiled. “Yeah, something like that. Or just ordering something.” 

Regulus smiled, not answering right away, just wanting to build the tension. 

“Sounds great.” He said quickly, unable to wait longer. “Should I bring something?” 

“Nope. We’ll drink cheap wine, a huge bag of chips, and you won’t complain or bring anything at all.” Remus insisted. 

Regulus chuckled. “Fine.” He said, already knowing he’ll bring chocolate, remembering Remus told him during the party four days ago he really liked chocolate. 

“Hair down, otherwise the deal doesn’t work.” Remus insisted. 

“Of course.” Regulus sat on his bed. “I should go, Sirius is being dramatic.” 

“See you, Friday, let’s say?” Remus asked, unsure.

“Friday, your place. Perfect.” Regulus said, smiling like an idiot. 

“See you.”

“Bye.” 

★

Remus’s studio was well decorated: he had a couch, a coffee table, a TV, a road table with four chairs, a double bed hidden behind some curtains, and a multitude of bookshelves everywhere. His kitchen was simple: a fridge, an electric cooker, an oven, a sink, and a few drawers. But today, his place seemed too small, not good enough. It was warm, yes, he lighted a few candles, not for a romantic purpose, but just because it’s something he always did, the tv was on a random documentary about history, he had pre-made lasagna and they were grilling in the oven, his apartment immersed in a delicious smell. But he was scared it wasn’t good enough for Regulus, and he nearly wanted to cancel their date. Was it even a date? He didn’t know it himself. 

As his mind was starting to overthink, he heard the intercom ring. And without even answering it, he pushed a button to open the building door, before getting out of his flat and walking downstairs. 

It’s only when he saw Regulus that his mind shut down. 

“I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” Remus said, noticing Regulus’s package in his hands.

“Ha, it’s strange, I don’t remember that.” He said, smiling as Remus stopped in front of him.

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

They smiled softly, before Remus made a small head gesture toward the stairs. “You’re coming?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

As they both entered in Remus flat, the latter was anxious, he tried to analysed Regulus expression. 

“You were right, you’re flat is way cooler than mine.” Regulus said before finally looking at Remus.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Regulus removed his shoes and jacket, trying his best to not blush when Remus took it before putting it on a chair. “Smells good.” 

“Lasagne. My mother’s recipe. Thought I wouldn’t risk making you cook.” 

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” Regulus said, standing awkwardly. “Uhm— That’s for you, by the way.” He said, giving the small package to Remus.

“Thanks, but you really shouldn’t have.” 

“Shut up, open it.” 

Remus scoffed before opening it. “How did you—” 

“I asked Sirius to ask James what your favourite chocolate brand was. I must admit, Charbonnel et Walker are my favourite too.” Regulus said, taking a step closer.

“Thanks, that’s very sweet of you.” 

“You’re welcome. Thought it might make you smile a bit.” He said, brushing some hair from Remus’s face. 

“That worked.” Remus said, chuckling, liking the proximity Regulus decided to make. 

“Would you mind if I hugged you?” Questioned Regulus asked nervously. 

“Not at all.” Answered Remus answered before putting the chocolate box on the dining table.

Regulus pulled down his sleeves as a nervous tic. 

“Didn’t think you liked hugs.” Said Remus, smiling at Regulus’s shyness. He took a few steps closer. “Come here.” He whispered, opening his arms. 

Within seconds, Regulus let himself be held by Remus. The strong arms of the older man wrapped around Black, as a soft but protective hug. Remus’s hands moved softly on the lower back of Regulus and behind his neck, delicately pressing his body to hug him, feeling that Regulus was slightly unsure if he could.

“You okay?” asked Remus softly.

“Just wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispered against Remus’s chest, “Your sweater is soft.” 

Lupin smiled and rested his chin on top of Regulus’s head, his fingers softly playing with some hair along Regulus’s neck. 

“I knew you’d give the best hugs…” Said Regulus, moving his hands from Remus’s back to his hips.

Remus smiled softly, rubbing his hand on Regulus’s lower back. “Glad you like them.” 

Regulus nodded softly, listening to Remus’s heartbeat. They stayed like that for a few minutes, comfortable in each other’s embrace.

“You smell good.” Whispered Regulus. “Old books and coffee.” 

“Yeah? You like it?” Asked Remus, his hand softly caressing Regulus’s neck. 

“Of course I like it.” Regulus looked up. “Anyway…” He said looking into the deep brown eyes of Remus. 

“Take a seat, I’ll make us tea.” Remus said brushing some hair from Regulus’s face.

As Remus walked to the kettle to pour some water in it, he tried not to show Regulus the big and idiotic smile he had on his face. He took a cup of tea from an old Royal Albert set his grandpa offered him when he moved into his own flat a few years ago. “A real man knows how to serve a decent tea and have a decent tea set,” he said when he offered it to him. 

“You read in French?” Asked Regulus asked, looking at some books on the shelves. 

“I try, yeah.” 

“I speak French. My parents used to send Sirius and me to some extended family in France during the summer holidays,” Regulus said, opening a book. 

“Yeah, I know.” Remus mentally face-palmed himself when he said that. 

Regulus looked up at him as Remus was setting the cup of tea on the coffee table. 

“Did you…” Regulus smirked. “Did you Google me?” 

“Pff… no.” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Okay… just a tiny bit.” 

Regulus laughed, shaking his head slightly. “What did you learn, stalker?”

“First of all,” Remus said, sitting on his couch, “I’m not a stalker. I was curious, it’s different.” 

“What did this curiosity make you learn?” 

“Well, expensive private school, you speak English, French, German, and Italian. And I’ve read your thesis about Latin culture, it was on the Oxford website. I didn’t have to dig too much, alright?” Said Remus, showing up his hand as a sign of innocence. 

“Did you like it?” Asked Regulus, sitting next to Remus. 

“Was alright.” He teased. 

“Alright? 167 pages being alright? With the compliments of the director of the Latin department of Oxford and its “alright”? You’re kidding me, Remus.” Said Regulus, offended. 

Remus chuckled softly, putting his elbow on the back of the couch, his body oriented towards Regulus. 

“I’m joking, it was really nice, well written with good arguments.” 

Regulus scoffed softly, before taking his cup of tea, warming his cold hands. 

“I tried to stalk you too, but you just have a Goodreads that you barely update.” 

“I’m not a fan of social media.” Remus whispered before playing with a curl near Regulus’ ear. “I just use my laptop to write and pre-order some books. That’s all.” 

“You write? What kind?” Regulus asked, leaning his face closer to Remus’ hand.

“Poetry sometimes,” I signed. “But I’d rather write poetry in my notebooks to be honest. My laptop is for books. And I’ve written some thrillers and historical romances.” He said softly, captivated by Regulus’ eyes.

Was Remus already thinking of what kind of poetry he could write about him? Yes, that was for sure. 

“Tell me more.” Whispered Black. 

“The thriller is about a group of friends, one of them betrayed them for the anti-hero, who wants a social war between the poor and the rich. The friend who betrayed his friends ends up getting crazy, not supporting what he did. There are some deaths, two sides of the story, both tragic, etcetera.” Remus drank his tea, before getting his attention back on Regulus. “And the historical romance, it’s about Alexander the Great and Hephaestion, his great lover, even if some historians said they were friends.” 

Regulus crossed his legs, trying to be more comfortable on the couch. 

“What happened to the friend who betrayed?” He asked curiously.

“He killed himself, I think. I haven’t written to the end.” Remus said softly, taking Regulus’ ankles so his legs were lying on his lap. “Better?” 

“Yeah,” answered Regulus, drinking his tea, trying not to blush — which he did regardless of his effort. “Alexander the Great lost his mind when Hephaestion died, right?” 

“Yes, in a way he did. I can understand why, to be honest.” 

“Yeah… Losing someone you love to death but are separated forever must be the most awful and insane thing to live.” Regulus said, laying his head on the back of the couch, his cheek held by Remus’ hand.

“He was the most powerful King of his time, maybe even from the world, no matter the era. And yet—”

“The death of his lover broke him like no wars broke him before.” Regulus said, finishing Remus’ sentence. 

“Exactly.” He said, drinking his tea, his eyes not living Regulus’. 

They looked at each other, silently. It wasn’t awkward, neither was it weird. It was a silent understanding between the two.

“Is that what you want? A tragic love story?” 

“No. I want the opposite.” Remus said, rubbing Regulus’ cheek with his thumb. “A delicate, quiet, and peaceful love story. With gentle kisses, interesting conversations, passionate lovemaking, and trust.” 

“And books.”

“Yes. And books.” 

Regulus tried his best not to let his eyes fall on Remus’ lips, but failed. 

“Is it strange if I want the same?” 

“Why would it be strange?” whispered Remus. 

“Don’t you think sometimes what you think or want is strange, even if others want the same?” 

“Maybe, but who cares?” Replied Remus, rubbing his thumb on Regulus’ bottom lip. 

“I have the feeling every wish I have is ridiculous.” He whispered, shivering under Remus’ thumb. 

“Tell me your wishes. I won’t find them ridiculous.” 

Regulus looked at him. 

“Even if I wish to kiss you now?” 

Remus looked up from Regulus’ lips to his eyes, slightly surprised. 

“Even if you wish to kiss me now.” He replied, laying closer. 

The tension in the room was charged with anticipation and need, until the kitchen timer rang, making them both jump scared. 

“Shit! The lasagne.” Remus said, putting his cup of tea on the coffee table and walking towards the oven, turning it off. 

Regulus lay his head on the back of the couch, looking at the ceiling a bit frustrated and blushed, his heart racing in his chest. He was never the type of person to fall in love quickly, he wasn’t sure he ever felt in love. He never was the type to kiss someone on the first date, or for the first time of being alone with his crush. But Remus was everything he wished for in his darkest nights, and during his brightest days too. He was smart, into books and history, he wasn’t impressed by his money, quite the opposite in fact, he was a chef — according to the amazing smell in his flat — he was gentle and kind. Remus teased Regulus just enough to make him aroused but never enough to make him uncomfortable. His fingers were delicate on his skin, making Regulus think he was the most delicate thing Remus had ever held in his hand. And that’s for every one of those reasons that Regulus wanted to kiss Remus so badly. 

“You’re adorable when you’re pouting.” Said Remus standing in front of him. 

“I am not pouting.” 

Remus smiled softly, placing his two hands on each side of Regulus’ head.

“Yes, you are.” He said smiling softly. “Well? Aren’t you going to try to make your wish come true?” 

“You’re not even going to kiss me first?” Said Regulus crossing his arms, faking being upset. 

“You’re a brat.” Scoffed Remus. “Show me that you want it as badly as I want. Maybe I’ll be merciful.” 

That turned on Regulus, who sat a bit more straight in the couch, before grabbing Remus’ sweater, forcing him to get closer. 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous when you’re desperate.” Whispered Remus holding Regulus’ cheek. 

“Shut up…” 

“Make me Black.” 

And that’s what Regulus did. He stretched from the couch, getting closer to Remus’ face, their noses practically touching. Neither of them broke the eye contact, surprising both of them as they were both usually uncomfortable with it, but how could they not get lost in the other’s iris? Regulus softly closed the gap between their lips, that was the only moment when they closed their eyes. 

Remus heard a tiny moan from Regulus when he grabbed his hips and made him wrap his legs around his waist, holding him firmly by his back thighs. And Regulus smiled when Remus moaned softly as he started to open his mouth, their tongues twisting with one another. 

Regulus grabbed Remus’ face, tilting it to the side so he could have better access. Without realising it, Regulus found himself sitting on Remus’ lap, when this one had his hands moved from Regulus’ thighs to his ass, rubbing it without shame.  

“Got carried away?” Teased Remus when they tried to catch their breath. 

“You’re the one who lifted me in his arms and are now touching my ass…” 

“I admit. I got carried away.” Chuckled Remus. 

Remus smiled softly, liking how good it made him feel to have Regulus sat on his lap, the man’s arms around his neck. Regulus leaned closer to his face again, and when Remus tried to kiss him, Regulus moved away slightly. 

“Hey!” Protested Remus.

“Show me that you want it. Remember?” Teased Regulus like Remus had done it previously. 

“You brat.” Mumbled Remus before getting one of his hands behind Regulus’ neck and pulling him closer into another kiss. 

Regulus melted against Remus’ lips, adoring how controlling Remus was when he teased him just a bit. His lips had a taste Regulus knew he was starting to get obsessed with, a mix of coffee, tea, a bit of cigarette, chocolate, and cinnamon. Regulus smiled as he felt Remus shivering when he softly put his hands under his sweater, finally touching skin he had longed to touch for so long. 

Remus broke the kiss, but didn’t stop worshipping Regulus’ lips with soft kisses, delicate licks and bites, provoking him with tiny moans that were driving Remus insane. 

“You taste divinely good.” Whispered Remus by kissing Regulus’ neck. 

“Glad you like it. I’m afraid you’re going to have to taste me a lot now.” Regulus said, unsure. 

Remus chuckled against his skin. “I don’t mind the slightest.” 

This sentence made Regulus relax, as if he knew Remus wouldn’t disappear. 

“We can slow down, Reggie.” He said, feeling Regulus’ hands shake on his hips. “Kissing, speaking about books and teasing are enough, you know?” 

Regulus nodded. “I’m not really—“

“Hey,” stopped Remus by holding Regulus’ cheek, “No explanations needed. If I make you uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? We won’t do something you don’t want. I’m not here for that.” 

“You’re here for what then?” 

“Just you. And I don’t want to fuck you like that. I told you: a delicate, quiet, and peaceful love story.” Remus whispered, kissing Regulus’ nose. “Don’t overthink, little star.” 

Regulus let his forehead rest on Remus’, cursing himself for ruining this moment. 

“You want some lasagne? And speak a bit more about your thesis?” Asked Remus in a loving way. 

“Only if I can read some of your poetry.” 

“We have a deal, darling.” Whispered Remus by kissing Regulus softly. 

Remus stood up, softly lifting Regulus in his arms before sitting him on the couch again, leaving a forehead kiss before walking towards the kitchen. 

“You want some wine with it?” 

Regulus stood up, looking at Remus as he took good care of serving the lasagne on a plate.

“What do you have?” 

“White or red.” 

Regulus chuckled, “I mean, what is the name of the wine?” 

Remus looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “Calm down, rich guy, I have a white and red wine, no name written on them.” 

Regulus laughed, “White’s fine then.” 

“Sit.” Remus said before putting the plates on the table. 

“You don’t need help?” 

“I’m good, sit.” He said kissing Regulus’ forehead again. 

Regulus didn’t bother to protest, liking how Remus was taking care of everything. He sat, making sure to be on the closest chair from Remus’. 

“My dear, tonight for dinner we have a white wine from Lidl.” Remus said with a voice that made Regulus smile. 

“A classic.” He said smiling as he watched Remus pouring some wine into a cup of tea.

“I don’t have a wine glass, you’ll forgive me for that.” 

Regulus smiled stupidly, “of course I will.” 

It was an automatism, nearly a habit, when Remus put his hand on Regulus’ thigh as they started eating. It froze Regulus for a nanosecond, before he was used to it, liking the warm and rhythmic movement of Remus’ thumb. 

“It’s delicious.” Regulus said when he ate the lasagne.

“Glad you like it, darling.”

They spent the dinner speaking, from politics to history, from their dreams to their fears. As the evening continued, they both grew closer to one another, nearly whispering to each other, laughing like teenage lovers. 

“Fancy another drink on the couch? Or a tea maybe?” Asked Remus as he cleared the table. 

“Wine is fine.” 

As Remus and Regulus sat on the couch, Remus couldn’t bring himself to let Regulus sit too far away from him, and he wrapped his arm around his hips, dragging him towards his chest.

“You’re blushing?” 

“No. It’s the wine.” Lied Regulus. 

“You don’t have to be ashamed.” Whispered Remus, kissing Regulus’s neck. “That’s okay?” 

“Yeah… It’s okay.” Said Regulus, closing his eyes, loving how tender Remus treated him. 

At no time did Regulus feel it was sexual, or pushing, it was simply loving, and caring, not pushing Regulus’s boundaries. 

“I like how tender you are with me…” He whispered. “I’m sorry I’m kind… block with physical affection, I don’t know how to do it.” 

“It’s okay, Regulus. Kiss me when you want to, or hug me if you feel like it. I don’t mind you telling me what you want, even if you don’t know how to do it. Alright? No pressure.” 

“Thanks.” He whispered before kissing Remus neck. “It’s okay? I do it correctly?”

Remus smiled, closing his eyes, “Yeah, do as you please,” he whispered adoring how the soft lips of Regulus were brushing and kissing his skin. 

“Can I leave marks?” 

Remus felt his eyes rolling by when he heard the question. 

“Yeah, please.” He signed, hearing how desperate he sounded. “You can leave marks, I mean.” He said, wrapping his arms around Regulus’ waist, dragging him onto his lap.

Remus closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of his skin being sucked by Regulus’ soft lips. He tried to rest his heart, unsuccessfully. He squeezed his hands around Regulus’ waist, already smiling at the idea of having some hickeys made by him. As he felt some bite, he tried not to curse, not because it was painful, but because it was starting to get him worked up and he didn’t want Regulus to feel it. 

“So… about your thesis? How long did it take you to write it?” Asked Remus, trying to act normal, not tense like he was. 

“What?” Said Regulus, leaving his neck and looking up at Remus. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, no. I do. I really, really do. But—” He sighed, rubbing his hand on his face. “You’re getting me worked up. Let’s just… keep kissing, alright?” 

“Oh— Yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry.” Said Regulus, about to get up from Remus’ lap.

“Nope. Don’t go away. Stay here, tell me about your thesis, and if I can, let me kiss your pretty face while you’re explaining it to me.” 

Regulus chuckled, a small blush covering his face. 

“Alright.” 

★

Regulus always had sleep issues, either he didn’t sleep at all or his sleep was as shitty as hell. So when he woke up, past 10.am. he thought he had had a coma or something. Until he heard a small and soft breath in his neck, brushing his skin like a delicate feather. He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling, a small smile on his lips. Remus didn’t leave his side during the whole night, nor did Regulus leave his. He softly turned his head, looking at the man asleep at his left. Regulus had slept here, in Remus’s clothes he had let him borrow for the night, a sweat pant and a comfy sweater he didn’t want to leave. 

For the first time, Regulus slept with someone who really seemed to care. They didn’t have sex, not because they didn’t want to, but Regulus was too scared to mess up what was between them, and he found himself even more fond when it didn’t matter to Remus. Regulus felt safe. Safe to be himself, to not sleep with someone just for the sake of it or because the other person wanted to. He was listening to himself, and Remus listened to him too. And for Regulus that was priceless. 

“Hey baby.” Said Remus with a morning voice that nearly sent Regulus to heaven. 

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, “Hey love.” 

Remus smiled softly, rubbing his hair before snuggling his head in the crook of Regulus’s neck. 

“Did you sleep well?” He said softly caressing his stomach, just under the sweater. 

“Yeah, I did. And yourself?” Asked Regulus feeling himself melting.

“Very well. Thank you.” Said Remus leaving a tender kiss on Regulus’s neck before sitting on the bed. “I propose we brush our teeth, just to keep the romance for at least the first morning, and to stay in bed, kissing, maybe ordering pizza and watching a movie for the rest of the day?” 

Regulus chuckled, “Sounds great.”  

★

The following week, Regulus and Remus didn’t leave each other’s side, they both called sick at work and spent every day together. The first few days, they stayed at Remus’ flat. Regulus tried to learn how to cook and bake, and they both ended up laughing on the floor, food burned or disgusting, and Remus ending up making pasta as Regulus kissed his neck, holding Remus from the back. The next few days, they started going to the museum, tasting some new coffee shops, buying books for each other, and ending up reading the same book at Remus’ flat, annotating it and discussing their thoughts after each chapter ended. 

They ghosted everyone, answered quickly to their best friends, before getting back in their bubble, perfectly knowing it wouldn’t last forever, and that one day, the real world would call them again. But for now, it was just the two of them.  ☆

The original idea drifted a bit, haha, but I like it regardless. And I’m happy I wrote around ~ 10k words on Moonwater. I hope you liked it too :) Thank you for taking the time to read this. Feel free to leave some kudos/comments, it’s always encouraging. I hope you’re having a great day/night. Be good, stay hydrated, stay safe, and take care of yourself. Luv u <3

[mimisempai]

Keep Reaching

Summary

Aziraphale is tired of stopping halfway. He's tired of half-smiles and broken gestures. He's tired of Crowley always being the one to make the move. Tonight he's decided to reach out and grab.

Notes

Aziraphale continues his journey to freedom...

On Ao3

Rating G -  1546 words

Returning from Maggie's, Aziraphale was surprised to find only Muriel in the bookshop and inquired, "What happened to Crowley?"

The other angel replied, "Well, he was taken against his will--"

"What?!"

"Well, it seems that Mr. Brown, Mutt, his spouse, Mr. Arnold and some of the other shopkeepers remembered how Crowley saved them on the night of the attack and took him out for a drink at the pub to thank him."

Aziraphale sighed with relief and thought that perhaps in the future he should teach Muriel to nuance their words to make them less ambiguous.

He asked them, "May I ask you to close the shop tonight?"

Muriel nodded enthusiastically, as they always did when given a responsibility.

Aziraphale thanked them and added, "Anyway, I'm just across the street at the Dirty Donkey if there's any trouble."

He walked to the pub and entered, not surprised to find it packed, especially at this time of day. He looked around for Crowley, and just as he caught sight of the unmistakable red hair, Mr. Brown spotted him and waved his arms to summon him to their side.

Aziraphale made his way through the crowd to a table where several of the shopkeepers were seated and waved to them. Then he glanced at Crowley, who was holding a glass of scotch and looked at him, saying softly, "Come on, angel, we've saved a seat for you.

Aziraphale had expected Crowley to be taciturn under the circumstances, but was surprised to find him in such a good mood. He sat down in the chair that had been vacated for him. Crowley moved closer and said in his ear, taking advantage of the ambient noise, "The liquor here is of good quality, it helps to put up with a few inconveniences."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, better understanding the demon's good mood. 

Crowley put his arm on the back of the angel's chair, making him realize how close they were, and then the demon continued, pushing a glass toward him with his other hand, "I took the liberty of ordering you a sherry." 

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley's and said softly, "Thank you, my dear, that's very thoughtful of you."

Realizing where they were, he almost immediately removed his hand from Crowley's and placed it on his knee.

He was embarrassed and kept his eyes down, inwardly admonishing himself for letting fear and guilt control his behavior once again.

When will he be able to let go?

When will he be able to take what he wants without second-guessing himself every time?

He thought of all the aborted smiles, all the barely made gestures, all the times he'd preferred to hold back rather than let go.

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?"

Aziraphale turned his head toward Crawley and the demon chuckled as he continued, "If I did the good thing and you did the bad one."

Then he laughed, and Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh along with him.

Oh yes, it would be so funny if it were the like t-.

Then his laughter suddenly stopped and he lost his smile before he said, "No. It wouldn't be funny at all."

The demon lost his smile as well, and the rain came down, preventing them from continuing their conversation.

That didn't stop Aziraphale from listening to his heart and putting his wing over the demon's head to protect him.

**********

Aziraphale eyed the demon warily for a few seconds before extending his hand. The demon shook it, then said, "We'd be godfathers, sort of, overseeing his upbringing."

Then, leaning forward, he added, " We do it right, he won't be evil. Or good. He'll just be normal."

Aziraphale said in a tone of wonder as he watched, "It might work.

Then he added, "Godfathers. Well, I'll be damned." and laughed lightly.

The demon winked at him and said, "It's not that bad when you get used to it," and Aziraphale continued to laugh with him.

But once again, he lost his smile when he realized what he'd just said.

********

"I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides." 

Having said that, Beelzebub grabbed Gabriel's hand and they both stayed there, indifferent to the rest of the room.

Aziraphale didn't hear the reactions of the other people in the bookshop, as his only reflex was to reach for the demon. He put his hand on Crowley's arm in a spontaneous gesture.   

Witnessing Gabriel and Belzeebub's love in front of him, he was only aware of the emotions he felt at that moment and of the person who inspired them.

He didn't realize the threat to Nina and Maggie, and it wasn't until he lost his connection to Crowley that he came back to reality, his hand making one last gesture to hold the demon back as he forced his mind back to the present.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Crowley's hand, which had slipped over his under the table, intertwining its fingers with his own.

He looked up at the demon, who just nodded and smiled softly, as if to say everything was okay.

But Aziraphale felt a kind of unease. 

He couldn't put his finger on it, but the feeling stayed with him all evening, even as he talked and laughed with the others, his fingers and Crowley's still intertwined under the table.

He still felt that unease as he and the demon left the pub and crossed the street to the bookshop.

It wasn't until he and Crowley walked through the door that he realized where it all came from.

It was when he saw the exact spot where Crowley had first kissed him. Instinctively, he raised his hand to his lips.

"You idiot. We could have been...us."

Aziraphale turned away, refusing to see Crowley go, not noticing that the demon had returned, and it wasn't until he grabbed his coat and his lips were pressed to his that he realized what was happening.

He didn't know what to do. 

He didn't know who he was.

He didn't know where he was.

He only knew one thing: he didn't want to lose Crowley.

He didn't want to lose his connection to Crowley.

Once again, his body did what his mind was unwilling to do and he put his hands on Crowley's back.

Holding him against his body.

But it was too late.

Crowley was already pulling away.

Aziraphale's mind was back in control. Or the illusion of it.

And it was all over.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was looking at him worriedly.

Crowley who had first revealed his feelings.

Crowley who had kissed him, who had reached out.

Crowley who had held his hand moments before.

Always, always Crowley reaching out.

When Aziraphale was the one who stopped on the way.

He couldn't let them go on like this.

He had no reason to hold back anymore.

Driven by a compelling urge within him, he walked toward the demon and, placing his hands on his shoulders, grabbed the lapels of Crowley's jacket and pulled him toward him, pressing his lips to his own.

The demon froze for a split second before responding to the kiss and resting his hands on the angel's hips.

In that moment, Aziraphale stopped thinking, forgot everything that wasn't Crowley, everything that wasn't his hands on him, his lips against his, his breath mingling with his.

He grabbed and held nothing back.

His hands slid from the demon's shoulders to his hair, burying his fingers in it, pressing the demon's head against his own to deepen the kiss. Crowley obliged, and the kiss lingered until they were both out of breath.

A short time later, when they parted, Aziraphale had to hold onto the demon's shoulders for support, his legs giving out as he felt intoxicated, exhilarated by a sense of freedom he'd never felt before.

As he supported him, Crowley said softly, "Easy, angel..." then added, putting his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders, "Come on, let's sit down," pulling him toward the sofa.

They sat down and Crowley, turning to him, asked quietly, "What's gotten into you, angel? Not that it was unpleasant, far from it, but..."

Aziraphale shook his head and grabbed the demon's hand, saying urgently, "Because it's not fair. Because I can't have you holding out your hand all the time. I don't want to have to stop when I laugh or smile, I don't want to have to take my hand away from yours, I don't want to stop in the middle of whatever it is I feel like doing."

Crowley nodded and said quietly, "As long as you know it's not a competition and I'm not keeping score. As always, at your own pace. I know you want to change. I can see you changing. We both have so much to learn, so don't put any pressure on yourself. Okay, angel?"

He raised the angel's hand to his lips and planted a tender kiss there as Aziraphale slowly nodded.

Then the Angel, a new gleam in his eye, asked Crowley, "May I kiss you now?"

Crowley, with the same gleam in his eye, replied softly, opening his arms, "Take what's yours, angel."

And Aziraphale reached out and took.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 7

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Masterlist

"Ferran, is this allowed?"

"Not really" he shrugs. "But you aren't the first girl we are sneaking into the hotel, and won't be the last" he smirks.

"What if they see us?"

"I'll deal with that, don't worry."

"And what if he doesn't want to see me?"

"He will, Val. For the past month he's been looking like shit again, like when they made him play every game under the sun. But you should have seen his face on the bus on our way to the stadium. His smile. That was my Pepi."

"You need to stop calling him that, he doesn't like it."

"I know" Ferran winks. "And this is his room."

"How did you manage to get the key?"

"I can be very charming" he smiles.

"That charm didn't work on Luis Enrique's daughter, did it?" I chuckle.

"I had not missed your witty comments, Val. Anyway, go make yourself comfortable, he'll be here any moment now. And try to fix things before fucking. Or first fuck and then talk. I don't know, whatever works for you."

"Thank you, Ferran" I say, rolling my eyes. 

"My pleasure" he replies, taking my hand and kissing it like he always does before saying goodbye. "See you around, Val."

"Bye" I say, walking into the room. 

Just like his own back home, it is an organized mess. There are shoes on the floor, a towel thrown on a chair, a phone charger hanging from the bed's headboard… And a book on the bedside table. "Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban." 

"You've kept reading" I smile, touching its cover. 

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"You spend hours traveling and in hotel rooms. Why don't you pick up a book instead of playing FIFA all the damn time?" 

"Because reading is boring."

"Not if you find a genre you enjoy. For example, what movies do you like watching?"

"Anything Marvel" Pedri says, his eyes fixed on the tv.

"Those are comics, you could read them."

"But if I've already watched the movies, what's the point?" 

"Sometimes, if not always, the books are better than the movies."

"Sure. And 5-0. That will be happening in real life very soon" he smirks.

"Militao and Alaba won't allow it" I reply, sticking out my tongue. "But that's not what we were talking about. What other movies do you like?"

"I don't know… Harry Potter?" he shrugs.

"Have you read the books?"

"They are for kids."

"Said the old man" I laugh.

"You know what I mean" he says, trying to tickle me. 

"Pedri, don't" I warn him, moving away from him. "But you've given me an idea."

"Tickling contest followed by sex?"

"No." 

"Then I'm not interested."

"We are gonna have our own movie and book club."

"What?"

"You'll read a book, then we'll watch the movie together, and then we'll discuss which one is better."

"You won't be reading with me?"

"If I have time, I will. I promise."

"Ok…"

"Do we have a deal, then?" I say, offering him my hand.

"We do" he replies, taking it and using it to pull me against him. 

"Pedri!" I laugh while he moves me until I am straddling him.

"Can we now have my tickling contest followed by sex?" he smirks. 

"We can skip the tickling" I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. "But tomorrow we are going to a bookshop and buying you the first Harry Potter book."

"Fine" he sighs. "Can I kiss you now?"

"You can… Pedri Potter" I laugh.

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"Val?"

"Oh, shit" I say, coming back from my memory, the book falling from my hands. 

"What are you doing here? Who let you in?"

"Ferran" I say, standing up and leaving the book on the small table.

"Ferran, of course" he scoffs. "Was this his idea?"

"Kind of. I didn't want to sneak in, but I needed to talk with you, so" I shrug.

"Talk about what?"

"Us. Me. I want to explain everything to you."

"We can't talk while you are wearing that."

"What?"

"My shirt. I can't focus knowing that my name is on your back."

"Oh, sorry" I say, playing with the hem of the shirt. "I thought you would like it, but I can put on a jacket or something if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me, Val. Well, it does, but not in the way you are thinking."

"What?" I ask again, looking at him. 

"It bothers me because you don't know how many times I've pictured you wearing it. How many times I've imagined us fucking while you only have my shirt on. And now here you are" he says, slowly walking towards me. "In my mind you are always wearing the Barça one, but oh well."

"That will never happen" I reply, my voice shaking a bit. 

"I know" he says, getting closer. He's looking at me as if I was his prey, as if any moment now he will jump at me and devour me. And it is turning me on. Big time. 

"Then…" 

"Then we are gonna have to do something about this" he says, now just one step away from me. 

"About what?"

"Me wanting to fuck you."

"Aren't you still mad at me?"

"I am. I'm mad. Disappointed. Sad. Confused. And fucking hard, Val. I want to bend you down on that bed and make you scream of pleasure while I see my name on your back."

"Then do it" I hear myself saying.

"But you came here to talk."

"We can talk later." 

"You'll be too exhausted to talk after I'm done with you."

"Nothing like trying" I say, closing almost all the space between us, my heart feeling like it is about to explode inside my chest.

"Are you sure?" Pedri asks, arching one of those perfect eyebrows of his.

"I am. Are you sure you can do everything you are bragging about?" I tease him, moving until our noses are almost touching. "You kids like talking and then…"

"As if I had ever disappointed you" he laughs. "That was your ex, not me."

"There always is a first time for everything."

"Not with me, and not today. Definitely not today" he says before kissing me.

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"Morning" I yawn.

"Good morning" Pedri smiles.

"Have I ever told you that I love your smile?"

"You've said that you like it, but I think this is the first time you've said that you love it." 

"Well, I do. I love… fuck" I complain when I move. 

"Sore, uh?"

"Yes."

"I warned you."

"Shut… ouch!" I say when I try to hit him. 

"Do you need me to carry you to the bathroom or something?" he says with a teasing smile.

"I can do it myself, thank you" I reply, slowly moving to face him while trying really hard to not complain again.

"Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'm fine, Pedri. I've been this sore before."

"With whom?" he laughs. "I'm sure your ex never did what I can. Or made you feel the way I do."

"He didn't, no. But last year Emma convinced me to go to one of the classes she takes at the gym, and for the next four days I felt like this."

"So you are just out of practice, uh?" he smirks.

"I am, yes. A month of doing nothing, and look at me. I'm getting old" I sigh.

"You aren't old, Val" Pedri laughs. "And I can help with your fitness. Because I'm a professional athlete and all that."

"Of course" I laugh. "Anyway… Is it ok if we have that chat now?"

"Sure" he smiles.

"Ok" I say, taking a deep breath. "I've rehearsed this many times in my head, so let's hope I remember everything."

"There is no rush, take your time" he says, caressing my cheek.

"I have time, my plane doesn't leave until late in the afternoon. But yours?"

"That doesn't matter now, Val. Talk."

"Yes, ok. So, umm… I guess I should start from the beginning, right?"

"For example" he chuckles.

"So… Marc and I have basically known each other our whole lives. We went to the same school, same high school, same university… And I think I always had a crush on him. Like, I can't remember a moment before we started dating where I didn't think he was… perfect. He comes from a really good family, very posh to be honest. And he is charming, intelligent, super nice with everyone, handsome… The man every mother would like for their kid. And when we both were 15, he asked me out. We were in the same group of friends with Silvia and Isabel too, and half the girls in our high school were in love with him. But he chose me. The girl who didn't drink or partied, the one who knew Real Madrid's starting eleven by heart instead of how to do her makeup, the one who didn't dress fancy, the one who wasn't considered one of the hot girls but neither an ugly one. I was just… there. And he saw me."

"Because you have something, Val, I already told you. I still don't know what it is, but… It is there."

"Yeah, well, thank you" I smile, feeling my cheeks getting warm. "Anyway, after he asked me out we started dating, and that made many girls jealous, Isabel the first of them all. Looking at it now I can see that she bullied me for years, but back then I didn't understand what she truly meant with her comments."

"And Marc didn't do anything?"

"No, he didn't. I think he didn't notice either. Or that's what I want to believe" I shrug. "When we went to uni, Isabel was sent abroad, and during those years without her, everything was perfect. I had met new friends, I was loving what I was studying, and Marc and I were better than ever. But then we both finished our degrees, and everything changed." 

"Isabel came back?" 

"Among other things, yes. Even though we had just moved in together, I felt like our relationship wasn't going anywhere. Silvia had just met Pau for example, and I kept looking at them or some of our other friends and then at us, and something was missing. And then I found myself jobless. Marc had been offered a position on the bank where he had done his internship the moment it was over while I had nothing. I didn't know what to do, if I should keep studying or what. I even started having doubts about teaching, wondering if I had wasted my time and money on a career that I didn't truly like, on something that I wasn't made for. And seeing him thriving while I had all that in my head, wasn't helping our relationship."

"Did you ever tell him?"

"I tried, but he always was so busy…"

"And he didn't notice something was off with you?" Pedri asks, putting a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Never."

"What a shitty boyfriend, then."

"Yeah" I chuckle. "Thankfully everything started to change when I met Emma. Silvia had booked us a pottering lesson and she was there all alone, so we asked her to join us and we instantly connected. Back then she was working at an academy teaching extracurricular lessons with kids of different ages and that they were looking for people to cover for someone who had just retired. She asked me if I was interested, I said yes, and I suddenly found myself with a job and feeling alive again. It was as if all my doubts and fears had disappeared, as if I was me again. The only thing stopping me from moving on and enjoying myself again, was Marc."

"So you broke up with him."

"I did."

"How did he take it?"

"Really good. He said that we had made it to a point where we were more like flatmates sharing the same bed than boyfriend and girlfriend."

"But he never bothered to talk about it with you. He sounds like a bit of a coward, doesn't he?"

"He is, yes. After we broke up I moved in with Silvia, but I still wasn't feeling completely like myself. And then, the night at the opera happened."

"The night… I'm lost" Pedri says.

"Remember when I told you about the engagement party, that it was themed as a night at the opera?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, six months after Marc and I broke up, he and Isabel were going on a date to the opera and sharing their first kiss." 

"Six months?" 

"Yep."

"He didn't waste his time, did he?"

"And neither did Isabel. The moment she found out we had broken up she was all over him. This was her chance and she wasn't gonna let it pass."

"And she didn't" he laughs.

"She did not, no. I was so angry when I found out. The person I had shared my life with for a decade was now dating the woman who had bullied me for years. And according to most of our friends, I didn't have the right to feel like that because I had been the one who had broken up with him."

"What?"

"Yeah" I sigh. "Anyway, a couple of years passed, I got used to them, dated some guys here and there and started to work at my current school, but I still couldn't let go of that anger, I couldn't close that chapter of my life. Then they announced their engagement, and I met you."

"And I made you forget."

"Exactly" I say, moving closer and caressing his cheek. "You were exactly what I needed to finally leave them in the past, to move on, to fully enjoy this new life I had started after breaking up with Marc. You made me forget about them and my anger, but also made me stop thinking that I was a failure because I had wasted the best years of my life with a man who didn't deserve me or because I wasn't getting married and having kids like everyone else. You were the key that closed that door, but also the one who allowed me to completely open the one of my new life. The life I wanted, one that was mine and no one else's."

"Then why didn't you tell me about Marc? Why didn't you tell me all this?"

"Because I was afraid, Pedri. Afraid of losing you because you are still young and knowing all this about me could scare you and make you run away. Afraid of opening up to someone again after everything I went through. Afraid because maybe telling you could open that door again and make me realize that I had been lying to myself, that he isn't in the past."

"And is he?" he says, wiping away a tear.

"He is. He definitely is, now I know it, 100%."

"Good. Because Val…" Pedri says, cupping my face and making me look him in the eyes. "I have feelings for you. I'm not sure about what they are exactly, at least not yet. I have never felt like this with any other girl I've been with, you know? But I do know that I want to be with you. And I want you to be able to trust me, to open up to me, to tell me everything and anything that worries you. I'm here for you, Valeria. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you" I smile between sobs. "But I like it better when you call me Val."

"What?"

"Marc always called me Valeria. Always. And I found it so annoying… Not even my mum calls me like that, only when she's angry with me."

"Ok" he laughs. "Then I will only call you Valeria when I'm angry with you."

"And during sex."

"What?" Pedri laughs again. "Is that some kink or something?"

"When you moan my name it turns me on" I smirk.

"Interesting" he smiles.

"Are we ok, then? Have we made up?"

"We have." 

"Thank God" I sigh.

"That much did you miss me?" 

"I did, yes. You can ask Silvia and Emma if you don't believe me. And before you say it… I missed everything about you. Not just the physical part."

"One would start to think that you've caught feelings, Miss Val" he says with a teasing smile.

"And one may not be wrong. But step by step, ok?"

"Step by step" he says before kissing me.