#littlefic

[sams-lost-again]

Imagine Stanford era sam/ early seasons sam trying not to geek out over the fact that there are alternate universes and then later when he gets to go to one he may take rocks and stuff back because they should be categorised and written about in the bunker. Like he totally took some kind of intro to universe theory or something at college.

[allycrazychickfics]

Unexpected

Authors Note: Somewhat inspired by I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Broken by lovelytheband. Same plot line as another one of my oneshots. I also know that this is an overdone trope (at least the whole I’m a werewolf and sometimes near the full moon I can’t control myself.) but I wanted to put my thoughts  on the topic. Has not been beta’d :)

“What are you doing, Moony?” Sirius asks, pulling the settee out from underneath his feet. 

“I’m reading, Padfoot” Remus responds, not bothering to look up or react to Sirius’ deliberate act of trying to get him up. 

“Come on, how are you supposed to meet people other than us, if you do not get out of the house?” Sirius asks, still feeling slightly offended that one would want other friends other than he and James. 

“I have met friends other than you and James,” Remus answers, trying his best to come up with someone just to get SIrius out of his face. 

“No, you haven’t” Sirius argues, plopping down next to Remus. “Let’s go to this party. We don’t have to stay long. You can leave before you turn into a pumpkin at midnight.” 

Begrudgingly he closes his book and grabs his jacket “Do we need to bring anything?” 

“We can stop at that stop and go around the corner.” Sirius answers. “James is gonna meet us there with Lily and Marleen” 

_______

He could tell from the noise booming from the windows  that this was the house. He regretted coming, he knew he would immediately want to leave as soon as he entered. “Five minutes, Remus” he heard Sirius beg. 

Grumbling, Remus climbed up the stairs to the open door. A couple was outside making out on a bench clearly intoxicated. 

“James, Lily” Sirius exclaims walking into the house. He liked to observe people. He liked to watch people watch how they interacted with each other. He observed by the doorway the magnitude of individuals dancing to the upbeat tempo with plastic cups in their hands. Each person had a different story, each person had a separate life, he just wanted to sit back and watch. He first glanced at the darked haired man with big ears who was trying to flirt with a red headed girl who clearly was not having any of it. Then he noticed a girl who was sitting in the corner of the room, sipping on her drink. He guessed she was waiting on someone. Then he observed a young girl in a jean jacket and black skater skirt with ripped tights dancing in the middle of the room. She had purple hair and a nose ring. She had a tattoo on her shoulder, peeking out of her jacket that was falling off her left arm. He was trying to figure out what the tattoo was.  He was intrigued, not by the tattoo, he could care less but by the young girl.

“Wotcher” the young girl greets him, walking towards him. He had not even noticed she had stopped dancing. 

“Hello” Remus answers, trying his best not to look the young girl up and down. She had beautiful dark eyes and a petite nose. He felt like a pediophile. He was in his early 30s, this girl was probably not even 18 yet. 

“You know, if I had a glass or two more of this” the purple haired girl suggests with a smirk “I’d not even notice you staring at me” 

“Oh I wasn’t staring at you.” Remus answers quickly as he takes a drink from the table nearest him and downs it in one sip. 

“Could have fooled me” the young girl mutters taking another sip of her alcohol holding out her hand “Name is Tonks.” 

“Peculiar name, Remus” the wolf replies, still eyeing this Tonks. 

“I have a rubbish first name. I only go by my surname” Tonks replies looking around “Let’s go outside.” 

As she guides him through the throng of people not paying attention to either of them, they step into the back yard. “Remus, did like what you saw?” 

Remus abashed by her questions can not seem to find the words. He had never met someone so forward. Actually, no he thought, Sirius was that forward. She reminded him somewhat of Sirius. She had the same dark eyes and the same face shape. Finally he finds the words “I appreciated observing you.” 

“Should I be concerned that you sound like a voyeur?” Tonks teases taking another sip of her drink 

“Well, when you put it that way” Remus responds really thinking about it, his face blushing pink. 

“I was teasing, silly” Tonks touches his cheek to get him to look at her and barely above a whisper, mutters “I liked it.”

Remus’ eyes widened, he did not expect her to say those words. “Umm…” 

“Dance with me?” Tonks asks pulling him to her outstretched arms “You know my girlfriend just broke up with me. I could do with some snogging and maybe more if you’re up for it.”

Finding his voice “I would feel like I’m taking advantage of you. You’ve had enough to drink. Plus I’m far too old to even be at this party.” 

“You’re here for the Mary Jane huh?” Tonks questions wrapping arms around his neck. 

Remus nods trying to figure out how he can get this young girl off of him. It was not that he didn’t appreciate it. Her lips parting as she swayed her hips in time to the music blaring from inside the house. 

“Just one kiss. I want to taste you. I imagine you taste like green grass, chocolate and mint.” Tonks inquires playing with the hairs at the nape of his desk. 

“Wanna know what I think you’d taste like?” Remus questions not sure what is causing his mouth to say these things as he nears her ear.

Tonks arches an eyebrow for him to continue as he whispers in her ear “Strawberries, lavender and coffee.”

“Want to try?” Tonks whispers back as their lips smash into each other. Remus knew as soon as his lips touched hers that he would enjoy this kiss. There was no denying it. The kiss was sensual but also breathtaking. While he was enjoying her lips, he was enjoying playing with the ends of her shoulder length now purple hair. He felt as if he were in another place, not in the backyard of somebody’s house. He wasn’t sure if he had pushed Tonks into the adjacent greenhouse or if she had done it. Who had done it was not the first thing on his mind right now. All he could think about was the kiss. He felt like a hormonal teenager but the wolf side of him didn’t care. 

She had never kissed lips like his. Somehow they had ended up against the inside of the greenhouse wall, she didn’t mind. Her back against the wall as she still played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. All of a sudden he broke the kiss, her eyes immediately meeting his questioning why as he placed his hands on the greenhouse glass behind her. 

He was panting pretty heavily and turned around. “I can’t do this.” 

Her hair morphing to red as she angrily asks “what do you mean you can’t do this? We are both consenting adults and we both want it. Or were you just faking to suppress that moan I heard?” 

He did not realize it had been so loud. He also couldn’t tell her the real reason he couldn’t do this.  “You have had more to drink than me. It wouldn’t be right.” 

Grabbing his face looking into his eyes, “We both want this. Maybe for different reasons but I would gladly take you right here.” 

In surprise, thinking I have never been more attracted to someone. That is the wolf taking over, not his logical side. “I have a condition. It causes me to sometimes lose control. Part of that condition, every week or so, every month, it makes my libidio…”

Tonks eyes widen as she looks him up and down “Oh…. and is that time anytime soon?” 

He nods silently as Tonks pulls his ear down to her lips “I do not see a problem with that. It just means that if we both like this. We’ll have more fun during that week.”

What? Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He couldn’t do that to her. Shaking his head in the negative. “I can’t do that to you.”

“What if I want you to? Do you want me to morph my breasts bigger or my ass?” Tonks asks trying her best to get back to where they had been with that kiss. 

“No, no.” Remus shakes his head “You are perfect. It is me.” 

“Well then snog me senseless than.” Tonks requests. The pull of the wolf was taking over every minute they discussed this. Tonks didn’t care. She thought something was wrong with her. “How about this? We have a safe word in case one of us wants the other to stop.”

That would be okay. He had a feeling that he would be saying the safe word, rather than her. “How about red?” 

“Red it is.” Tonks nods pulling him down for an intense kiss wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Anyone wanna tell them that we can see them?” James asks as they attempt to not watch their best mate and Sirius' cousin getting it on. 

“Now I am not going to be able to look at my cousin the same way” Sirius groans covering his eyes with his hands “I mean I’ve seen Moony naked, so it’s not a big deal but my little cousin.”

[falcqns]

Hi Their I’m new to your blog and 🥰 it so amazing you are and amazing writer and don’t let that anon get you down you know what you are doing 😊 xx

thank you so much love❤️

[wordsareleftbehind]

[originally dropped into Cloud's submit box]

...think about the years I've spent, just passing through... I'd like to take the time I've spent and give it back to you...

It’s always just about half an inch. The ever-present distance between them, when they do manage to be in the same place at the same time. Always a half an inch thick glass wall in the middle, always the awareness of “can’t” and “won’t” and “shouldn’t”. Always.

It’s a series of not even near misses, of timing failures and “not right now” and “tomorrow?” and “no, I just came back”. A sequence of “already been” and “won’t make it” and “not a good time”. Like ships passing in the night with lights down and flags pulled to the bottom of the pole. Planes crossing mid-air and unanswered calls, text messages lost in the ether.

It’s never okay, never the right time, never good. The timing doesn’t fit, there are always reasons.

It’s heartache and tears and words yelled into silence, cutting deep and burning until there’s nothing but ashes.

It’s a phoenix after the flames, when the world is shut away, when there’s nothing but you and I, nothing but what matters, nothing but lips pressed together burning from the spilled tears, nothing but gasps and us.

[wordsareleftbehind]

Written for Pritts' askbox earlier today, in reaction to Chris and Darren's synchro-tweeting and what happened when they both got home from Europe.

"Did you get me something?"

"Oh god, how aren't you tired?" Chris groans when he falls down on the bed, suitcase left in the middle of the room.

Darren literally bounces around the room, his own clothes strewn around the place where he'd left them the night before when he hastily unpacked between the flight and his performance.

"Did you, though?" he tries to sneak over to Chris' suitcase to snoop.

"But you went to Leavesden, you were in the store…"

Chris grins when Darren's lips turn into a pout that he can't help but find adorable, as little effect as it has by now. He's been subjected to the pleading and sulky looks enough to not fall for them anymore, he just finds them amusing, which frustrates Darren to no end.

"Would I come back with nothing from there?" Chris lifts an eyebrow at Darren.

"I don't know, maybe?"

"Have we met?"

"Oh I don't know," Darren moves closer to the bed and crawls on top of Chris, lips brushing against his pale cheek, "I'm not quite sure I remember who you are anymore."

"Ouch," Chris throws Darren an unimpressed glare.

"It's been too long," Darren sighs and brushes his lips against Chris', "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Chris mumbles before he pulls Darren down into a kiss.

It's slow, cautious, like they're re-learning each other even though they'd spent similar amounts of time away from each other the summer before. But it's not any easier now, especially when both of them know Darren will be off on tour again soon and Chris will have commitments because of his book release not long after.

"So, what did you get me?" Darren pulls away eventually, eyes wide open and almost sparkling with amusement.

"You're incorrigible," Chris chuckles, "You'll have to get off me so I can show you."

"Get you off?" Darren smirks and Chris bats at his arm unconvincingly.

"You can, but then I'm not opening that suitcase."

"You're no fun."

"It's really your decision now," Chris shrugs, "I'm good with either."

"Of course you are," Darren sighs in resignation, "Fiiiine, I'm moving."

Chris slides off the bed, manages to get to his suitcase and drag it over to the bed without accident. Darren's watching him, he knows that just as well as he feels the vibrations of the bed as Darren can't help but fidget with excitement.

"I thought you were fine with the photos," Chris shoots over his shoulder, "It's probably a good thing you weren't there, I think they only allow kids of a certain age."

"Lies," Darren pouts again, "I checked."

"Of course you did," Chris laughs and digs underneath a layer of clothes he used to protect his purchases.

"You got a new wand?" Darren reaches for the box that Chris has dropped by his side.

"I wanted photos taken with one and I'd left mine at home."

"Whose did you get?"

"McGonagall, of course," Chris responds with a 'did you just ask that?' tone, "What other option was there?"

"Hermione? Harry?"

"Nah, I wouldn't get the one that's rightfully yours," Chris chuckles at Darren's nod, "Same way I wouldn't claim to be a Gryffindor."

"Is that a Ravenclaw tie?" Darren blinks and reaches as Chris hands it to him.

"Yup, I figured that suits me best."

"Let me see," Darren's voice drops a little lower than usual and he reaches for Chris' wrist, wrapping the tie around it, "Yep, looks good on you."

Their eyes meet and Chris can see the way Darren's have darkened a little and feels how his breathing has sped up.

"Isn't it a sacrilege or something to use the house colors this way?" Chris asks quietly.

"Are you going to stop me?" Darren replies, already reaching for Chris' other arm, one thumb still caressing the fabric of the tie, "Or are we going to see just how well you look in your house colors and nothing else?"

The suitcase with all other souvenirs is immediately forgotten by the bedside as Chris offers up his wrist and leans in for another kiss.

[wordsareleftbehind]

Because Words keeps happening. Darren's POV to this. 

He hasn't said it easily. It was… complicated between them, took a few wrong and then some more right turns until they both, at the same time, even remotely considered that they might have something special that was worth taking to a new level. Their timing sucked, then it didn't and even then it still wasn't simple. Darren remembers how it felt, when he knew what his feelings for Chris grew into and when he was so fucking sure and wanted to scream it off rooftops. He also remembers the crippling fear that Chris didn't feel the same. How Chris dodged any talks heading in the direction of defining what they were or how they felt.

'I love you," he remembers thinking, 'fuck, I love you, don't I?"

It took a while before he even considered saying the words out loud, afraid of it all falling apart on something completely stupid. Afraid of the pressure on them becoming too much, the time not enough, the complications too rough on them. He didn't want to go with clichés, didn't want to say it in the wrong moment or too soon. Darren was all too aware of Chris' cautiousness and realistic attitude to life.

In the end, it was Chris who said it first.

"Oh god I love you, don't I?"

It came out as a question and Darren chuckled then at the irony of his first thought about his feelings.

"I don't know, do you?" he asked back, a smile playing on his lips, "It would be nice, seeing as I love you."

Chris' eyes grew wide then, the reality of their relationship's depth hitting them both in the face.

Darren has been trying to put it all into a song, put together everything he felt from the start, through finding out about his feelings to when they finally said the words. But nothing seems quite like enough, no lyrics he comes up with are right or suitable. Everything comes out as cheesy and sappy and completely not enough. The same words that did fit before aren't right anymore. Until finally, he ends up writing those frustrations into a song and realizes it's actually perfect.

Then Chris is there, watching him play it for the first time, when Darren had no warning and he's pouring his heart into every word. He's terrified, the lyrics almost escaping his mind when Chris doesn't move or say anything. But he powers through the song, for once not closing his eyes the way he usually does, because he doesn't need to imagine Chris there.

It's too soon, it's too cheesy, it's too much, he thinks as he keeps singing the well-practiced song.

Theo made fun of him through rehearsals, when Darren insisted to sing the song over and over until he got it just right, only to turn and run through it again because it wasn't exactly as he wanted it.

The moment Chris kisses him is the one Darren locks away in his mind. It's the one he'll think of on stage every night when Chris can't be there and those nights when he sneaks in. Right there, kissing Chris, Darren realizes what's been missing from the song all along.

[wordsareleftbehind]

"I hate you," Chris grumbles from the couch where he collapsed right after he got home from the airport.

"No, you don't."

"I feel like shit."

"I know, babe."

"It's your fault."

"Hey!"

"What? It is your fault," Chris manages to say through a sneeze attack, "I fucking hate being sick."

"This will help. Soup, tea with honey and your meds."

"Bribery. I still hate you."

"I'm sorry, okay? It's not like…"

"That was your fault too, you fell asleep in my bed."

"I was sick!"

"And that's why I'm sick now," Chris hisses when the soup burns his tongue and glares, "still hate you."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Chris just glares, then goes back to the soup and sips it slowly, stopping only a few times when he has to sneeze.

"Finished?"

"Yeah," Chris pushes the bowl away and huddles under the fuzzy blanket he grabbed off the couch before he started eating, "Sleep."

"Back rub?"

"Mhm, please."

Darren waits until Chris is stretched out on the couch and sits down on the edge, hands immediately rubbing over Chris' back.

"I'm sorry you got sick because you wouldn't stop kissing me," he whispers into Chris' ear.

"Asshole. Hate you," Chris mumbles into the cushion his face is pressed against.

"No you don't," Darren replies with a smile.

"No," Chris relaxes into Darren's touch, "No, I don't."

[wordsareleftbehind]

Because when my friends are down, I write them fic. Fluff this time. ♥ For Scott. And thank you to Daph for the original idea.

It feels like the stairs are endless when he drags himself up one by one, exhausted from a day that had started way before sunrise and is only ending now, though it's been dark for a while. The air is heavy and he yet again wishes he'd have spent it at the beach or at the pool rather than in suffocating and hot offices. It's on days like this when he isn't too fond of his work, because on top of time-consuming days like this one, it also takes him away from the house he'd rather stay in.

They are in the living room, a fort made in the middle from blankets hanging from the ceiling fan which he'll be discussing at a way later point and cushions strewn all over the blow-up mattress that's  taking up the space where the couch usually is. It's been pushed back and is now barely visible because the only light is the flickering of the fireplace and really it has gotten chilly how did he not even notice and the battery-powered lantern that's barely ever out of the cupboard besides emergencies of which there are luckily very few.

He stops in the doorway and leans against the frame, the smile still playing on his lips, as he takes in the entire sight in front of him.

"Every morning just the same, Since the morning that we came"

Chris barely holds in the chuckle because he doesn't want to disturb Darren playing before the song is finished. It's such a familiar sight, though, even if it's usually without the blanket fort or the fireplace. But Darren with the guitar on his knee, playing Disney songs, is something Chris has seen a million times and yet doesn't think he'll ever get tired off.

The view is all the better because of the additions compared to the early days in Chris' house when Darren would come over and from pretty much the day they were introduced would sit on Chris' couch and play in between them talking. A small chuckle brings Chris back to the present from the momentary trip down memory lane. It's quiet and a little high-pitched and Chris immediately feels his heart melt.

She looks just like a female version of Darren, down to the way she's stretched across the mattress, pillow tucked under her chin, a smaller image of the curly-haired man playing the guitar with a completely serious face despite the girl's continued giggles. There's a mop of messy brown hair on Darren's other thigh, the one not occupied by a guitar and from the stillness, Chris knows the boy is asleep already, probably too exhausted from whatever he got up to during the day.

Unlike the looks, their personalities are opposite: the girl is an eerie echo of Chris, including tiny mannerisms she'd picked up, the boy is a bundle of energy that only Darren can ever keep up with. Neither of them understands it, though they both tell the story of the conception with amusement. They'd had arguments when they made the decision and they almost tossed a coin until they were offered to just leave it up to chance. At the end, Chris still can't quite believe they ended up with two, one mirroring each of them.

"Hey babe," he's torn out of his reverie by Darren who's looking up with a smirk, "Are you joining us or just observing?"

Chris blushes at being caught staring and walks over, scooping the girl up in his arms as Darren returns to playing. He's afraid to call things perfect, because he's still wondering how they got to where they are and how his life, their life, is everything he'd ever wanted it to be. But with no one watching him, he lets his eyes sweep over the three most important people in his world and thinks that things are, indeed, as perfect as they can get.