#I bought a new flashlight and I’m in love

[munsster]

Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

[miryum]

"Valentine's Day"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

The bullpen was decorated in red and pink hearts, streamers thrown around haphazardly. Multiple Cupids were stuck in the holding cell and Damian had a cup of heart-shaped lollipops on his desk. Cass wore a red sweater, a rare, colourful sighting. 

It was Valentine’s Day. 

And Y/n’s desk was filled with crap. “What’s all this?” Captain Wayne strode past, pausing at Y/n’s desk. His eyes scanned over pictures, police reports, a comic strip, a takeout menu, and a stub to a baseball match. 

“It’s a shrine dedicated to Jason,” Cass said. 

“She spent all of last night uncovering these keepsakes.” Damian outed Y/n to the entire precinct.

“Nuh-uh!” Y/n shook her head. “I had them all ready to go.” She smoothed her hands over the memorabilia, looking proud of herself.

“Oh, please.” Damian rolled his eyes. “You spent last night panicking because you couldn’t recall where you kept the bookstore photo.” He referenced a candid of Jason Y/n had taken one day. Jason had been in a bookstore, frowning intently at the summary of a book. His brows were furrowed and he was still recovering from a bruise on his jaw a perp had given him. The photo had been taken at an odd angle and the lighting was dim and washed out, save a stream of ethereal sunlight filtering through the bookstore window. It was Y/n’s favourite. “Until she realised it was on her fridge.”

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled. 

Wayne was astonished at Y/n’s speechlessness, something he had never witnessed before. He was about to comment on it when Jason entered the precinct, gripping his coffee. He halted by Y/n’s desk, sighing heavily. “Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Y/n grinned. “Do you like it?”

“Not one bit.” He picked up a police report. “What was this? The first case we worked together?”

“Yep,” Y/n said. She pointed to another case file. “And this was the one where we had to pretend to be married for the sake of the case. That one was the best.”

“Hm. And wasn’t this the baseball game we got to go to when a perp decided to hide in the crowd?” Jason remembered, gazing at the baseball tickets.

“And the comic strip you thought I would like,” Y/n smiled softly. She ran a thumb over the Calvin and Hobbs strip. 

“You still have this?” Jason laughed in astonishment at the takeout menu.

“Yep. Our first all-nighter meal. But this isn’t all I have planned for this wonderful day,” Y/n exclaimed. “No, no. This is only the first act. I have a whole performance planned for you, honeybear.” 

“Honeybear?” Jason’s brows knit together in confusion. That was a new one.

Y/n scrutinised him and called out, “Steph, put ‘honeybear’ at a three.” Steph yelled back in agreement which only made Jason more confused. 

“A three? L/n, what are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to find the best pet-name for you based on reaction. You didn’t seem that flustered by ‘honeybear,’ so it’s only a three. I need to find the perfect ten.”

Jason swallowed and nodded once. “Good to know.” He planned on dampening his emotions for the rest of the day.

“The second act of our performance is me serenading you.” Y/n flung open her bottom desk drawer to reveal the small electric keyboard that Jason had bought for her after solving the case with Hercules Muffin Man. She hit a button and the beginning tunes of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love started playing. “Whyyy-se mehhhn sayyyy…. own-ly foools ru-shin in…. But eye can’t hell-p fall-in’ in love… with you….”

The Cupids in the holding cell laughed and cheered along. Jason buried his face in his hands and slumped down in his chair. “Oh my gosh I hate this.” Damian held up his phone, the flashlight turned on. “Please make this stop,” Jason groaned.

“Lie-ck a river flo-es… new-new,” Y/n vocalised along with the background music. “Sure-lee to the sea… new-new… Dar-ling so it goses…. Some thhh-ings are men-t to bee…” 

“This is absolutely terrible.”

Captain Wayne shut his door and closed his shades. Cass wished she had that kind of privilege. Dick hummed along, continuing with his work.

Y/n hummed along, slowly losing herself to the music. Jason peered at her from around his computer, noticing the shift in her attitude. This wasn’t for the sake of attention anymore. This seemed more personal. “Take my hand…” her singing became more melancholic and truthful. “Take my whole world too… For I can’t help… Falling in love with you…” She glanced timidly over to Jason who she found to be staring softly back at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Darling, so it goes…” Jason flushed, blood rushing to his cheeks and neck. “Some things are meant to be…” After a moment of silence, she muttered, “Steph, put ‘darling’ down as an eight.”

“For the third instalment of our little performance,” Y/n said around lunchtime. “I have prepared a lavish meal.” Out of the community fridge, she pulled out a pink cake with a slice missing. “Wait, who the hell ate Jason’s cake?!”

“I am so sorry,” Tim called from the bullpen. “But it was two A.M. and I was incredibly hungry.” 

“Fine.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Jason, here is your partially eaten cake.” She plopped the mass of sugar in front of the man. “I hope you like it- even the part in Tim’s stomach.”

“You bought me a cake?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“Technically, no… I made it. You’re welcome.”

“You made this?! Y/n, how long is this gonna go on? I mean- oh my gosh, this cake is good. How the fuck are you a good baker?” Jason stuffed some more into his mouth before continuing. “I mean, seriously, you can’t spend the entire day coddling me.” 

“Why yes, I can, dear Jason,” Y/n said. “You know why? Because today is the marvellous day when Emperor Cladius executed a dude named Valentine ‘cause he was fine with soldiers marrying.” 

Tim frowned at her. “How do you know all that?”

“The internet.” 

“Ah.”

“Just tell me our secret ingredient,” Jason said. “And I will marry you.”

“Be careful what you promise, baby.” Y/n winked and Jason blinked and swallowed harshly. “Stephanie, ‘baby’ is a six.” 

“Got it!”

“I’m not touching that.” Jason grimaced at the piece of evidence lying in front of him. 

“I’m not touching that: Title of your sex tape,” Y/n muttered, sitting opposite him, typing away at her computer. “I’ve touched grosser shit than that,” she nodded towards the chewed-up wad of gum.

“I’ve touched grosser shit than that: Title of your sex tape,” Jason retorted. 

Y/n gaped at him. “Oh my gosh, I love you.” Jason’s lips parted and his stomach dropped. 

She’d said it before. She had said the words “I love you” to everyone in the precinct at least once. They were her family- her life. Of course she loved them. And yet, Jason desperately wished for them to be true. To be more than another common thing she said out of excitement. He rubbed the pad of his finger along another, wishing that instead of touching himself, he was touching her. Y/n watched him intently, an unconscious smile gracing her face. “I’ll wait,” she whispered. “I’ll wait…”

“L/n!” Dick called from the other side of the bullpen. Y/n bounded up from her chair to see what her sergeant wanted; Jason watched her go. 

“I swear, if you hurt her,” Damian growled. “No one will ever find your body.” 

“You work with a group of detectives,” Cass sighed a laugh. “And given that Brown and I just heard your murder threat, I’m pretty sure we would track you down.” 

“I would go off the grid.” Damian glared at Jason. “I would change my name and appearance. I already have a bag waiting for me at home.” 

“What is your life?” Steph exclaimed. “You’re a law student. Why do you have a Quick Run Bag?”

Damian shrugged. “Just in case.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Steph said. “And then I realise I work with an incompetent lovesick fool and I realise you’re not that bad.” 

“Are you talking about Todd or L/n?” Cass raised a brow and Steph snickered along. 

“What d’ya need, Sarge?” Y/n skipped over and leaned on Dick’s desk. 

“These cases have to go down to filing,” he handed her some stacks of paper. “And I need you to tell Davidson he’s approved for his week off. And please,” he looked up at her with tired eyes. “Stop tormenting Todd. Usually, I’d love to see it, but we’re a bit swamped today.” 

“Ah, Sarge,” Y/n pouted. “How dare you get in the way of love? Don’t you love Kori? And your kids? I thought you of all people would understand!”

“Just… don’t make him quit.” 

“No promises!” 

“The climax in my performance here today,” Y/n swooped over to Jason who was just trying to do his work in peace. “Is the one I’m most excited for. Dami, go!” Damian obediently hit a button on his phone and through the same speakers Y/n had once used to welcome Captain Wayne, she was now playing Ma Belle Evangeline from the Disney movie Princess and the Frog. “You once said you loved this movie as a kid, so I thought it was fitting,” Y/n shrugged. She knelt down on one knee and Jason groaned loudly. “My dearest Jason,” Y/n began, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Here, with this ring-pop I present to you, do I ask for you to make me the happiest woman alive and officially marry me. What’s your answer, dude?” 

Jason ran a hand through his hair and replied, “I’m assuming ‘no’ isn’t an answer?” 

“Lovely Jason,” Y/n seemed appalled. “You can always say no! But if you’re asking if I will stop asking you until you say yes, then correct, the answer is no.” 

“Fine.” The man rolled his eyes to the applause of his coworkers. Stephanie was filming everything. “I’ll marry you. But only for the candy!” He accepted the ring-pop and Y/n leapt up and hugged him tightly. 

“Mr. L/n,” she said happily. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“The final instalment of my grand declaration of love,” Y/n declared at the end of the day, standing over Jason who had yet to pack up. “Is a parting gift.” She leaned down and pressed a loud, obnoxious kiss to Jason’s cheek. Jason tried to concentrate on his work, but he knew that it would be futile with the replay of the simple, yet flamboyant kiss running rampant in his mind. 

“Goodbye, my love,” Y/n hummed in his ear.

“That-” Jason coughed, attempting to disguise his red cheeks and bright eyes. “That may be the ten.” 

Y/n whooped loudly and pumped her fist in the air. Yes! “And we have a winner, folks!”

“I am so happy for you,” Cass said monotonously as she walked by. 

Y/n gathered her things and threw an over-exaggerated wink towards Jason. “Until next time, my love,” she cried.

Jason sighed and muttered, “until next time.” He rolled the plastic ring-pop base in between his fingers.

[cloveroctobers]

FEEL LIKE HOME — Dante Torres [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: The new season just started and I’m already happy seeing my man again. Also??? Kev getting a new love interest? Will it be permanent this time around?? Anyways it’s cozy (also spooky ofc) season so why wouldn’t I write for my man?

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: MURDER HOUSE: we just moved into a new home and foolishly staked all of our savings into it. surprise! it's haunted beyond belief. how are we going to turn this house into a home? alternatively one of our muses inherited the house from some distant relative. they just didn't know they'd inherit the ghost living within it too. + GENERAL VIBES: if it’s dark, don’t shine your flashlight into the trees.

WARNINGS: some language, some fluff + spooks! Small talks of religion and practices but I’m not religious or go too deep on it if you’re the same & a somewhat lengthy read!

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

HANK VOIGHT

Dante’s sergeant of CPD’s Intelligence Unit

“People don’t just disappear, you understand me?” Hank Voight exasperates to the producer behind the camera, “I don’t believe in ghost stories and there’s always a explanation for everything.”

The producer questions as the camera crew zooms in on the older man’s face, “If that’s the case…don’t you think you would have found them already?”

Voight tightens his stare and it’s as cold as frostbite from him, for at least a minute before he states, “Who says I won’t?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You’re sitting on the set of stairs, knuckles tucked underneath your chin as your eyes zone out on the odd claw? markings on the wall in front of you. You’ve already envisioned placing an old wall clock that you’ve bought from a tag sale there but it definitely wouldn’t be long enough to hide the markings.

“Hey.” A gentle tone, you pick up on gets your head turning but it takes more effort to get your eyes to focus on Dante.

A small smile appears on your lips as you respond, “Hey.”

“Adam and Kevin are grabbing the last of the boxes,” he informs as he stands on the steps that lead right to the entryway and living room, “you okay? Kev thinks you’ve finally crashed out.”

You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter, “I’m fine. Just taking in how real this is…and why i didn’t see any boxes of your own in your car?”

Dante raises his brows, resting his elbow on the side banister, “I…didn’t think you were serious? Just assumed that was tipsy talk.”

Which was fair, you said a lot of things when you had drinks in you. It wasn’t something you did a lot since you were a lightweight but being in a social setting you sometimes engaged and definitely got emotional and touchy.

Pushing off the steps and moving to your right, you hold your hand out as you walk down the few steps that kept you two apart. Dante doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand, holding onto you until your face to face.

“I was—no—am dead serious,” you tell resting your hands on his hips while you stare into his green hues, “You’re the only person I want to make this feel like a home with.”

Dante reaches for your face, pads of his thumbs caressed your skin as his heart began to hammer in his chest, “yeah?”

“No bullshit,” you answer with a shake of your head and a grin, “Even talked it over with Mama Torres.”

There’s a hint of worry that passes over Dante’s eyes and you almost want to laugh in his face as he exhaled, “huh?”

“What?” You head tilts to the side, “You think you’re the only one that gets to be her bestie?”

It’s Dante’s turn to shake his head, “now that kind of makes me nervous.”

You laugh, “Would it make you feel better if we were beefing?”

“Hell no.” Is Dante’s immediate response, “…I do wish I was part of that conversation though.”

“It wasn’t me being sneaky, I promise! I mentioned bringing it up at dinner before as you know…yet a few of your cases took longer some days. So I ended up blurting it out since Mama Torres brought up a certain topic.”

Dante closed his eyes only imagining what his dear mother said to you, “oh no.”

“Relax courage.” You tease, “It’s a valid topic.”

“Which is?” He pressed, peering at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“Our future.”

He’s goes quiet, rubbing at the back of his neck now, feeling some pressure about that. Dante’s always been a go with the flow kind of guy and you’ve been together for about two years now. He would be a foolish man if he said he never thought about what a future with you would look like. You were both in your thirties and although you had a somewhat traditional way when it came to marriage, you weren’t asking for a ring yet…just another level to your relationship is all.

Continuing on you ask, “Yup…so you’ll think about it? Mama Torres gave her stamp of approval and already said for you not to worry about her but knowing you, you’ll need more reassurance from the source.”

Dante breathed out a smile, “Guilty. You know me so well.”

“I do.”

Dante hums, reaching out for you again. He lightly grips your chin, “Getting to share a whole house with you…is a big step. I wouldn’t mind that and it wouldn’t be much to think about, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, almost savoring the taste of you, like he commonly did. “Yeah,” he repeats, “No bullshit.”

You both laugh into each other’s faces before some clearing of throats are heard behind Dante. The buzzed haired man turns as if he’s just been caught red handed while you keep one hand rested behind his neck, finger tempted to trace one of his many tattoos.

“Now that you’re done eating each other’s faces,” Adam starts while Dante rolls his eyes, “We came to let the Missus know, our services are done for the day—

Kevin knocks his knuckles against Adam’s shoulders, “uh uh you’re not supposed to say for the day man, you gotta really sell it so she don’t ask for nothing else.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right, my bad.”

“You two ain’t shit, you know?” You joke, moving to get off the steps, “whatever happened to, ‘whoever Dante loves, we gotta love and consider them family too?’”

Adam frowns looking over at the brown skinned man, “I don’t recall ever saying that, your ass must have said that.”

Kevin pushes his lips out in thought and then admits, “I may have said that once.”

“Ah, so this is your fault?” Adam points with a laugh.

Kevin places his hand on his own chest, “there ain’t nothing wrong with spreadin’ the love, something Dante here isn’t afraid to do clearly.”

Dante scoffs, “alright, you two need to get off our backs.”

“You should really start a hugging and kissing business.” Adam instigates, “Seems like you really know what you’re doing.”

Dante smirks, although his cheeks are burning, “yeah, I think I could teach you a thing or two. You are the one that’s getting married and I’m sure you want to stay married, right?”

“Got ‘em!” Kev laughed into his balled up fist while Adam sends Dante a playful middle finger.

Adam scoffed while Dante held out his hand for them to embrace each other by the chest, “Kim don’t got any complaints, trust me.”

“Ew alright, we’ve both heard enough! Thank you.” Kevin cringes as he refers and glanced at you, “we just wanted to let you know you’re all clear, good luck with all those damn boxes you got over this place. Whatchu thinking about doing? Opening an outlet mall here instead of a home?” He pokes fun at you while you mock him talking with your hands, “Anyway! We got to get down to the station and I’ll be sending you my medical bills within the next two to three business days.”

Sucking your teeth at the man, you allowed him to embrace you, thanking him for his help while he’s the first to exit your house.

“No seriously? Why do you need so much shit?” Adam questions, holding you by the shoulders, “Maybe it’s time for a tag sale?”

You fire back at the brunette, “Are you going to help with that?”

The bearded man pretends to think about it, “how much profit we talking?”

He grins at you as you give him a blank expression before you hug him goodbye as well.

Letting out a sigh, you twirl around on one leg to face the living room. The couch and the sofa were all arranged the way you wanted them— after the first three arrangements. You had a tv stand that had barn doors that you really loved but started to think about what the tv would look like mounted on the wall and the floors? You wanted new floors as soon as possible, thankfully the man next door, who actually helped Dante a few days ago getting most of your items in while you had to work was a flooring and carpet installer. He gave Dante his business card so you figured you’d give him a call sometime this week if you didn’t run into him.

There were so many possibilities to this place. You never owned a home before and to have a distant relative that you met maybe once or twice at a family reunion years ago, really surprised you when you received a call that changed your life.

Hands tightly wrapped around you waist, caught you off guard before you felt familar lips kiss on your neck. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?”

Your hands go to rest along Dante’s, “that we have so much to do and I need to make a list like Kim suggested. She already helped me pick out paint swatches for a few of these rooms.”

“Course she did,” Dante comments with a laugh, his lips pressed against your temple, “you know we don’t have to have it all figured out today right? Things take time.”

“Well my great-great aunt Gladys didn’t have the time.”

“Wasn’t she almost one hundred and five?”

“That’s not—the point is time is an illusion.”

Dante frowns, “who said that again?”

“Albert Einstein.”

Dante nods, “okay my little theorist. I can sense that you’re about to stress yourself out and I think I can help with that?”

You whip around to face him, “you’ll start ripping up these floors for me?”

The buzzed haired man quickly shifts his attention to the floor, “that would be a negative on my part. I got a better idea and it starts with this.”

His hands rest low on your hips, fingertips touching your tailbone before he leans forward to kiss the corner of your lips and then over to your mouth.

“Oh…now I see where you’re going with this.” You laugh against his mouth, hands locking around the back of his neck before kissing him back. It’s truly magnetic, how you both knew how to set the pace and how it felt like your lips were made just for one another.

Dante hums as he pulls away to bury his face against your neck again. “I knew you would,” his soft voice is a bit huskier now that he set the mood, “Since I’m here and don’t have to be to the station until the evening…would you let me help you christen the place?”

You shudder feeling his tongue against your skin, hoping to it feel it much more anywhere else on your body as you say, “I thought you would never ask.”

He pulls back to grin at you, slight gap in between his front teeth gleam at you as he scoops you up bridal style, leading you upstairs to where only your bed and tons of boxes remained.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

ADAM RUZEK

Dante’s friend/co-worker at CPD’s Intelligence Unit

“Did you think there was ever any sense of regret from Dante taking on this big step?” The producer asks the man who’s seated with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, fingers caressing his facial hair in thought.

Adam feels his brows trying to meet, “Regrets? No. He loves that girl. Worshipped the ground she walked on and she looked at him like he put the damn stars in the sky. Were there nerves on Dante’s part? Definitely since this is probably his second most serious relationship. He wanted to be there and loved that he had someone to get home to.”

“Is there a chance that it all got too much way too soon?”

“Meaning what?” Adam quizzed, “I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying.”

The set goes quiet before the producer expresses, “It’s just a thought and I would hope as law enforcement you all would consider the worst case scenarios…even if you don’t want to.”

Adam bites down on the inside of the back of his bottom lip, feeling the frustration in his veins, “As law enforcement, you should be lucky that any of us are even bothering to give you the time of day to discuss this on going investigation.”

They’re scrambling now, “We do appreciate you being here Officer Ruzek but is it truly ongoing if it’s been months? Shouldn’t you start considering that either they’re dead or Dante is behind—

“Okay, if you’re going to continue to disrespect everything I say, without knowing the first thing about Dante’s character, then I’m not going to do any more interviews. You can take these wires and shove em—

No signal is shown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Crossing your arms, you lightly twisted your body back and forth as you awaited for the inspector to get upright from the ground. Dante is squeezing your shoulders, running his hands down your arms trying to get the tension out.

It had been a month and a few weeks since he’s moved into the home and you couldn’t be more in bliss with Dante being here. Although you got to enjoy the house more so since you had a hybrid schedule, there was still a warmth inside whenever you got to see his face around the home. Majority of the time you tried to wait up for him but when you couldn’t, he always made sure to embrace you before eventually climbing into bed.

Him being here with you now as the fall foliage settled in, almost made you collapse backwards (into his arms instead of the leaves) once the man wrote down the estimate of the damage and held it up for you two to see.

“Three grand for that?” Dante inquired, keeping one arm around your waist and taking the yellow paper with his other hand.

The inspector with the backwards cap and who loudly chomped on his gum scoffs, “You two must be new home owners. This house shit? Is never no walk in the park. This is an older home and they should have used concrete for the foundation instead of this crap. Then you’re going to need an exterminator to get rid of the termites in the cracks and crannies…so yeah three grand and that’s just for my part not including the service fee.”

“I’m going to be sick.” You pull away from Dante, moving to head up the stairs and through one of the doors to enter the home, leaving Dante to deal with the smart ass inspector.

You’re seated at the dining table, cheek resting in the palm of your hand and a mason jar full of water.

“Hey,” Dante greets sitting across from you, “it’s going to be fine.”

You shake your head in incredulity, “digging into my savings and yours isn’t fine to me. We’re remodeling and trying to make this feel like home but every time we try to do something new, it’s mostly a problem and it’s making my stomach cramp like crazy.”

Dante reaches for your hand to hold, “You know it doesn’t take doing all of this work to make a home right? It’s the people inside of it who know how to love and fill it up with love that make it a home.”

A crooked smile appears on your mouth then, “You’re not making my stomach feel any better with the cheese you just served me, Torres.”

“Maybe you should finally try those probiotics Violet and Lizzie left here then.” Dante suggests, which actually wipes the smile from your face while a sob rips through your lips instead.

They were your paramedic friends that wanted to throw you a house warming party but you kept telling them that the house wasn’t ready.

Bewildered Dante gets to his feet, pulling your head against his torso, “that was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for! It’s not your fault this house is as old as my great-great aunt.” You bunched up his white t-shirt, which you shouldn’t have been able to do if he had his jacket zipped up!

The temperatures been dropping nearly every other day and this man thought it was cool to just be outside in a shirt and jeans but you weren’t having it, you threw a puffer jacket over his face earlier just as the doorbell rung signaling that the inspector was here.

Dante frowns, “I thought this was built in 1952?”

You wail, which only makes Dante’s concern increase and he knows in this moment he can only shut up and hold you, hoping that at some point you’ll be able to laugh about this.

And that laughter would turn into fear, which beat sorrow any day.

���₊˚.⋆☾⋆

A week passed when Dante got a call one late night when he and Kevin stayed back to work on a case. He wouldn’t lie and say he and Kevin weren’t goofing off, for about ten minutes until that light hearted moment changed into something unexpected. It was after ten pm, twenty minutes until eleven when your face popped up on his phone.

“Hey baby, what’re you still doing up?” Dante asked, resting his elbows on his desk.

Kevin leaves to use the restroom, squeezing Dante’s shoulders on his way by as he calls out your name in greeting before carrying on.

“Dante…” there’s shuffling on your end and he figures you must have him on speaker phone, “you didn’t rearrange the recreation room did you?”

He shakes his head then remembers you can’t see him, “No…why?”

“I heard something when I was in the living room, coming from downstairs. I turned into you and investigated. Everything downstairs was rearranged: gym equipment and mini fridge.”

“…Are you pranking me?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you want me to stop working late hours to watch those scary movies with you…wait…that’s probably what this is. Your mind playing tricks on you and everything’s fine—

His phone pings and he has to look away to see that it’s a text from you. He sighs, putting his phone on speaker as well to check out the message you sent him. It was a photo of the lower level of the home and everything was in fact rearranged. There was a possibility that you could have done it, you had strength in you no doubt but a few of the more heavier equipment pieces were questionable.

“…I’d really like it if you stop telling me things are fine when it’s feeling like it won’t be.”

Dante pinched at the bridge of his nose, “okay…I hear you. Where are you now?”

“I locked myself in the room. I’m not going downstairs for anything else.”

He exhales, “okay good. Don’t. I’ll be home by eleven-fifteen.”

“Um Dante…there’s something else.”

“What is it?”

You’re staring at the living chair you pushed underneath the door knob, “it also sounds like there’s someone pacing the floor.”

Dante feels as if he stops breathing and his pausing didn’t ease the anxiety in you, “It’s an older home, you know the floors creak right? Even with the new hardwood floors. That’s probably just what that is. Stay inside until I get there though alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” Dante says in an attempt to lighten things up.

You swallow, keeping your eyes locked on the door as you sat up against the headboard of your shared bed, “I love you more.”

“Bullshit.” He teases.

A small smile graces your chapped lips, “No bullshit.”

“A little?”

“No but I love you right back.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Sometimes. I’ll see you soon, don’t move.”

“Believe me, I won’t.” You say, eyes focused on the shadow that’s moving back and forth underneath the door frame.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

KIM BURGESS

Officer at CPD Intelligence Unit/Co-worker of Dante

“Did you ever witness what she was talking about when you visited the home?”

Kim sits up straight in the chair, “Did I ever see anything moving on its own? No. Did the house make weird noises? Yes. It’s an older home, something Dante also tried to justify. She never wanted Adam and I visiting when it got dark out. Especially with Makayla. I mean it’s Chicago so you can never be too sure but something else was going on with her. Whatever was going on in that house was draining her first and I hated that I couldn’t do more as a friend…for both of them.”

“What do you think happened to them?”

“I…don’t know but I know they wanted to reflect the home they found in each other in that house. It just didn’t work out that way.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Everything good with y’all?” Kevin said in a hushed tone as he sat on the couch with Dante.

Dante hums, looking away from what he was writing down on the paperwork. Kevin stopped by to collect some of the files to bring into the station and Dante forgot to fill out the last section so he was trying to finish it up so it would all be good to go. “What do you mean?”

“You know…since the whole seeing feet underneath the door thing happened, however long ago?” The taller man peeks towards the kitchen, spying Mama Torres setting the table and you were nowhere in sight.

Dante looks up from the paper and says, “she…prefers to work at the office now.”

“Damn.”

“It works for her,” Dante shrugs, “But she’s also hanging out more with those paramedics, Violet and Lyla—Lizzie. Who like to have fun.”

Kevin nods, “alright…what’s wrong with that? Anything that gets her mind off whatever’s going on is good isn’t it?”

Dante looks off towards the dining area where his mom just moved from, “Yeah, I’m not mad at that. It’s just that when I am here, she’s not around and I don’t like that it feels like there’s distance between us when there shouldn’t be.”

“Kay…so why don’t you plan something? A weekend getaway, you don’t gotta leave the city or anything if finances are trash right now. Stay at a nice hotel or Airbnb and get that quality time back if you’re feelin’ some type of way.” Kevin encourages while Dante scratches at his head.

Kevin’s aware that something’s been on Dante’s mind. It’s been obvious although he’s good at hiding it but they were a team and each member always knew when something was up. Even if it was something minor, it was there.

“You might be right,” Dante rubs at his mouth in thought, “it could be just what we need.”

“Yup,” Kevin smirks as he holds his hand out for Dante to give him dap, “and you can thank me later.”

“Whatever man,” Dante chuckles before grinning but that is short lived as the sound of yelling and breaking glass is heard.

Both men jump to their feet, rushing into the dinning room and turning to their right. Mama Torres is on her knees in front of you, as you’re holding onto the back of your head crying. The side window in the kitchen is broken, some glass decorating the dark hardwood floor, which invited the crisp autumn air into the toasty home, the garbage can was knocked over on its side, and there appeared to be a strand of hair by your thighs.

“What the hell?” Kevin mutters before Dante springs into action.

Dante crouches beside the two women, glancing between both of them and his own mother appears to be shook herself. One hand touches his mother’s shoulder, while the other touches your knee.

“What’s going on? What happened?” He cross-examined both women but your eyes are clenched as more tears flood down your cheeks.

He turns to his mother, “Ma! What happened?!”

Her same hues meet Dante’s as she whispers from quivered lips, now holding onto the rosary around her neck, “Malvado.”

Which makes him glance back at Kevin who’s highly confused before Dante yanks you into his arms, tucking you underneath his chin, trying to ease your shaking.

Eventually Dante manages to get you up and through the dining room to the bathroom across from it. He gently closes the door behind him, getting you to sit on the toilet while leaving Kevin to talk to his mom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” He kisses your cheek, rubbing soothing circles along your opposite jaw, “I’ll take care of you.”

He raised his hands to dig through your hair, to examine your scalp but you latch onto his wrist. Fearing that he’s hurt you, he stops his movements to peer down at your watery eyes.

“This isn’t home anymore, Dante.” You swallow the lump in your throat, “It never was.”

Dante didn’t want to believe that.

He knew you were first reluctant to take on this home, since you didn’t know much about this aunt in the first place. It was a huge question mark trying to figure out why she would leave it in your hands but everyone of your family members either told you to not question it and be thankful or that there were other family members that deserved it more. They could have it at this point! You’ve lived in apartments, condos, townhomes, and two-family homes before so to have a single family home underneath your belt was inspiring.

It was not written in stone that you had to keep it for forever but it was something to invest in. Little did you know that it would come at the biggest price.

Losing your sanity.

However there was so much that Dante couldn’t explain and he wished he could.

Dante wished he could make it better for you…no one can say he never tried.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

KEVIN ATWATER

co-worker at CPD’s intelligence unit/friend of Dante

“Can you tell us what you saw that Sunday you stopped by?”

Kevin deeply sighs, “I know that girl was hurt and everybody was freaked out. I know that Mama Torres told me what she saw since Dante and I were in the living room when it went down. Mama Torres said, y/n just came up from the lower level of the home where their gym and laundry room is at and was talking to her. Mama Torres was sideways facing the counter while y/n had her back to the side window.”

While he’s explaining, there’s pictures shown of the kitchen and a reenactment appears as Kevin gives details of the spooky occurrence that happened that day, “Mama Torres said it was something you would see out of those horror films. They were chatting and when she lifted her head to the right, the next thing she knows, y/n is being pulled back so hard that she was yanked off her feet. Her back hit the window but it wasn’t just her body that broke that window. It was some unseen force.”

PICTURES FROM DANTE’S PHONE ARE SHOWN NEXT: images of the broken window, specs of the glass are seen inside the kitchen and outside of the home in the backyard, along with the broken frame, the garbage can was turned on its side, a piece of y/n’s hair sat along the wall underneath the damaged window pointed outwards facing the kitchen, and a few drops of blood were also shown on the hardwood.

“A unseen force?” The producer asks, “How can that be? Are you sure Mrs. Torres wasnt also seeing things?”

Kevin lifts his shoulders, “see…we can keep saying that all we want but after a while that also stops making sense.”

ANOTHER SET OF PHOTOS UPLOADED FROM: Dante’s phone, shows photos of y/n after what took place in the kitchen that day. She’s seated on the toilet, the photo is shot from above showing the bald spot in her scalp along with the bleeding gash. The back of her neck and down towards her shoulder blade shows scrapes in her skin from the glass.

“Did Dante ever see anything?”

“Besides something hurting his girl? I’m sure he did but he never spoke on it. That’s something you’d probably have to ask his ma. All I know is that if they had to get away from that hell that was supposed to be their home? I wouldn’t blame them, not one bit. I just hope they’re alright and they’re far from North Ozanam Ave.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After what happened that afternoon, there were no objections about leaving the house behind for a while. If that happened during the day time, then you can only imagine what could have been going on at night. Dante was more in disbelief that he ignored the signs and although he still didn’t see many the actions take place, it was enough to just see the aftermath. The last thing he stared at long and hard (his arms full of duffle bags) was the mark on the wall at the end of the stairs.

His childhood home didn’t necessarily feel any safer, thanks to all the trauma his step-father played a part in but having both of his women under one household gave him some sort of peace. Dante was raised catholic and once he managed to get you to get some rest, he’s in the kitchen talking to his ma who’s got so much incense and sage burning that he feels a tickle in his throat.

“Ma!” Dante flinches once she whacks him for putting out her incense, “it’s getting to me.”

“Good.” She sasses, “whatever that was, I don’t want it latching onto you too.”

“What?” Dante turns his eyes into slits.

“You heard me. It’s connected, preying on her and I don’t want it leeching anymore. We go to church tonight and father will fix this.” The older woman decides.

Dante blinks, not knowing the last time he’s been to church. He had his faith, it’s been on his skin to guide him yet a part of him wonders if it’s all too late. “You don’t need to be out there with us so late.”

“Do you think I’m staying here by myself? No!” She dusted off her hands with a clap so loud it sounded like thunder, “you should have came to me sooner, we could have got a hold of this malvado. It will be work I’m sure but the most high has us all.” She pats his face before stepping back to grab the kettle to pour him some tea.

Being prayed over was not something you were used to but accepted. Your energy was low even with the lavender chamomile tea Mama Torres gave to you. The sleep in Dante’s room had you tossing and turning, covered in sweats but before you knew it, his kind face was a gift to see over these past weeks and you couldn’t help but to hold him and never let go.

You stood outside from the church in the night, while Mama Torres chatted with the father inside and Dante went around the corner to grab the car as the rain started to pelt down over you. Up your hood went as the wind started to pick up, rustling the trees and bringing a chill over your body.

The sound of constant pinging from your phone was heard, from friends checking in on you but you were tired of talking. However you still found yourself pulling your phone out, eyes searching through the rain as you looked out towards the trees. It seemed as if the harder you stared, the more you saw a figure perched between the leaves. With a shaky hand, you mess around with your phone to turn your flashlight on, pointed right at the tree across the street.

And what you saw the longer you kept your flashlight across the street, made you want to scream but no sound came from your lips as the figure seemed to jump down from the tree and onto the ground. Quickly looking from left to right with the flash still on, it felt as if it was moving too fast in a blur of black.

When Dante’s coming around the corner, he sees a hooded you running towards the trees. He looks to his right, seeing his mother standing in the doorway underneath the umbrella that the father is holding, both appearing confused as Dante puts his car in park on the side of the street.

“What did you see?” He yells over the rain.

“It lives in the trees. That’s its home.” The father announces, which makes Dante pull his weapon from his waistband.

He’s not sure what that means but all he knows is that you’ve run off and now he’s running after you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

CATALINA TORRES

Mother of Dante Torres

The salt and peppered haired woman is seen with her hands clasped, peering down into her lap.

“In your perspective, Mrs. Torres, What do you believe happened to your son and his girlfriend after the night they ran off into the trees? And why did you hold off on this information when officer Atwater knew they were staying at your house?”

The woman lets out a long exhale with her eyes closed before they open and are watery underneath the lights, “Zechariah 11:2. That’s a verse from the Bible. It reads: ‘Wail, O cypress, for the cedar has fallen, for the glorious trees are ruined! Wail, oaks of Bashan, for the thick forest has been felled! Which means no power on this earth can go against God. We are all made from him, each seed he has planted blossoms into a tree. We can all crumble at his command. In simplest terms, he has the last say and that’s what exactly happened. I have faith that he saved my children from the evil.”

“So that’s enough for you? That god has your son?”

“It should be, yes. As long as y/n is no longer hurting then neither is my son.”

“But why lie to those who are also close to Dante? They went back to that house, searched for any clues…when you and father Paul saw them go into the trees?”

She shrugs, “we do not know if they returned or not. Everything that goes up, down, or in between still has the chance to still lurk around this earth if they so wish. Which is what haunted y/n and that house. It gives me comfort, having that image of them at their happiest in that home, slow dancing not long after Dante settled in. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for my son and perhaps the cypress also gave him that.”

Those in the studio were still clueless about this entire episode they were filming for this documentary series but this was part of their job, to share the unexplainable stories.

“Has Dante ever mentioned any of his own personal experiences with that house? Outside of what was going on with y/n?”

Catalina looks almost offended, “Sure he did! The nights when he would be home there by himself, he always saw and heard it. He installed one of those doorbell camera things after the first weird thing she saw and called him about. Dante saw what I believed she saw in those trees that night she was prayed over on camera. He would not show me out of the sake of my heart but I believed him. He’s never given me any reason not to believe in or of him.”

A series of black and white video footage is shown next. It’s night time and the automatic lights flick on as a blur appears by and then on the steps. The tree leaves announce their strange happenings and it continues on with each footage that is shown but within each different date but similar time, the blur takes shape.

It has pointed skinny and many teeth that flashes the camera, almost as if it’s smiling as it shows itself right in front of the door. That image is put on pause, showing the viewers that whatever it is wasn’t human at all.

“My son’s always been a protector since he was young,” Catalina continues, “Always saw what was wrong or right pretty quickly and acted. That often led him into trouble but when he loves so immensely—which he does—he’ll do just about anything to make sure you’re safe.”

“Which is why he ran into the woods after her. Do you have any idea why she ran towards the woods instead of away? And again, why not mention any of this to the intelligence unit?” Another producer interrogates.

Catalina sniffs while pulling out some tissue, “They’re each other’s home and you don’t go knocking where you’re not welcomed. I understand that while many of you don’t and that’s okay. I did not tell the intelligence unit any of that because I know how it sounds. It’s easier just to make me out as a loony to make sense of my son’s whereabouts but the truth is: this is their story and they’re the only ones that know how it ends.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Don’t tell me you’re quitting on me!” Dante says, coming into the living room to see you balled up on the couch, ready to fall asleep, “The night is still young.”

You’ve been unpacking and arranging all day, so a nap was needed.

“Babe.” You stare at him blankly although you’re whining as he puts on some music and loudly too.

Dante mocks you, grabbing onto your hands to pull you from the couch but you hold your ground, which makes him raise his brows at you. “Baaaaabe,” he mocks as he pulls you up by the waist spinning you before setting you down on your feet, “just one dance and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Just like I leave you alone about having more color in your wardrobe?”

He rolls his eyes but can’t help but to laugh right afterwards, “exactly.”

You groan, pressing your chin against his chest as you stare at him with puppy dog eyes. All he does is press a kiss to your forehead, which brings a smile to your face.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he whispers as you lean back to put your hand in his and rest the other against his bicep.

The dancing always starts off slow before picking up pace but the closeness of the slowness is Dante’s favorite part. He sways with you to the guitar, staring at you lovingly while Mama Torres leans in the archway of the dining room to watch in adoration.

His heartbeat is your favorite tune as you rest your tired head against his chest for a moment, staring out at the window behind the couch, “I hope those trees don’t get any bigger…might have to call someone to cut them down some especially when the bad weather kicks in.”

Dante follows your gaze but you can feel him shaking his head at you, “That mind of yours is always turning, huh? Just relax and look at all that we did already. That’s good enough for now, baby.”

“You’re right.” You sigh, pulling back as he twirls you underneath his arm, “Thanks for being here with me.”

Dante kisses your lips as soon as he brings you back into his chest, “No need to thank me. I love you and I want to be here.”

“I love you right back.” You wink just as the tempo of the music changes to upbeat.

You break out into some moves, chest bumping Dante who actually stumbles back in shock at what you were bringing out. You needed to dance any bad thought that tried to enter your mind and just live in the moment.

So you did as the both of you invited mama Torres onto the living room floor with you and the wide grin that spread over Dante’s face, let him know that his dance skills can never match up to you two but he tried anyway.

Across the street and through the trees, there’s glowing yellow eyes that awaken to watch the family of three in the brick house.

As soon as some headlights from a passing car shines towards the trees, a snarl can be heard from the creature in the night as they recoil into a blur back into the leaves.

HAVE YOU SEEN…?

DANTE TORRES

If you have any info contact: The Chicago Police Department — The Intelligence Unit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[walli3darl1ng]

Hello!!! Me again! Dang I've been requesting a lot lately I need to take a chill pill!

Anywho I'm here to request two fanfics but separately you know okay here are the ideas I'm going to give you you choose either one cuz I'm going to minimum minimize my requests cuz I feel like I'm taking over your requests, lol!

#1: ghost wally x ghost investigator reader

How they met: reader was investigating the old abandoned building of the welcome home studio

And found the dolls of the welcome home cast they took him home and that's how the ghosts of the welcome home cast attached to them cuz the reader was the only one that took good care of them in years. And one day wally decided they are going to introduce themselves to the reader.

#2: Moon themed reader x welcome home cast.

Just reactions and or interactions to a Moon themed reader.

maybe like they were a puppet that came to 'life' for a daycare sort of like Moon from security breach but instead of a robot a they're a puppet!? And they were bought out by the company to welcome home!

+ if they have experience with helping children with mental problems.

From: a new friend 🌜/moon

To: 💖you💝

(I love both of them! And I’ll write the first one since I believe the second one was required by another anon. But I’m here to serve you some food!! …finally after what seems like decades..hehe)

Normal people may do a lot of different things when they’re bored and want something to do. Call friends, go to the movies, go for a walk, maybe even scroll on their phone.

Not you, you’re more adventurous then that. You’ve walked the park a million times, you’ve gone to the movies more then anyone should and frankly all your friends rather be in their shell. You wouldn’t mind it if they didn’t do anything, just the thought of them being there satisfied you.

But none of those are happening so you just decided to walk and let natural take its course. You are looking for something, not sure what, but something so you have your digital camera and started filming.

Soon you glance up to see they Mother Nature has decided to take you to the abyss because she led you to an abandoned building, surrounded by a wire fence and some signs, looking around you see it’s pretty far away from the main road, what kind of building was this? A factory of sorts?

You shrug and find a place to get in. Finding an opening in the wires you carefully slip in and walk towards the building.

It took you a while to actually get in this place has been shutdown pretty good but the druggies or homeless people found a way in and mark their territory but it seem years ago.

Turning on the flashlight on your phone you set off on your adventure in this abandoned factory? Maybe you should find clues on what this building actually is. And doing just that you find a bulletin board in one of the hallways and squint at a piece of paper;

Welcome home brand new special!

Coming soon later this year!

As you move further down the hall you see other special posters of the show ‘Welcome Home.’ You wonder if you ever watched it when you were little or if it stop airing before that. You don’t quite remember if you did or not.

You see another paper, a news report about the show,

Welcome home canceled?!

Read about the scandal involving debts, overworked employees and a mysterious curse!

“A curse?” You whisper to yourself as you continue down the hallway. This is getting a little more interesting.

There was this kid’s show and it seems to be very popular and then gets canceled after some years over some debts; which you can see happening with a big show like this it doesn’t surprise you that they’ll pay money to make it appealing for kids.

Overworking employees? Well, duh! This show looks like it’s come up with special events and episodes like it’s nothing, you can imagine they would work their employees to death!

Now for the curse that’s a little far, right? The show can’t be canceled over some curse that didn’t get proven. That’s just how the writers get to their audience. Say some random, crazy thing and they’ll come running.

It does make you wonder, if their is a curse, what would that curse be? Did the creator of the show sold their soul for a successful business? Maybe asked for help and couldn’t live up the the consequences? This is definitely getting your blood pumping! You’re so hyped to keep exploring and it starts with opening some of these doors!

Door number one was a storage unit, so nothing there besides boxes of supplies which looked to be already cleared by other passing people.

Door number two was a set, with lights and some fake houses, some props and cameras. It looks like the people just up and left without clearing anything, that, you found weird.

And lastly door number three! You had a feeling about this one, Can it be an office with all the answers Inside? Maybe a safe with money? Or or maybe a document or letter about the curse?!

Twisting the door knob you take a deep breath and swiftly pushed it open to find…

Another storage unit.

“Great..” you sighed and step forward to see what’s in here and as you take a step you gasp when you hit a box almost making you trip. “What the—“

Looking down you see the box was slightly open and glancing to the side you read the words ‘puppets’

Filled with curiosity you take the box and slide it out the room and kneel down to see what’s inside and to your surprise you see the whole crew of ‘Welcome Home’ in the box. All the puppets you saw on the posters where here. But why? Wouldn’t they be taken or something?

“Guess Not.” You shrug and tilt your head you remember your friends telling you they are gonna clear this area for a new building, and well, you can’t just leave this here…right?

…

“You’re insane.”

“Hey! Be nice.”

“How can I! You brought a box filled with dirty, musty, creepy puppet dolls you found in an abandoned building!” Your friend scolds you as you hold a sleepy, dirty artist puppet you found out to be Wally Darling from the show. All the rest are clean and sitting on your desk.

“Well they’re clean now, and their not creepy,” you argued and gestures to the clean crew. “Look they’re adorable.”

“Great, you’ve lost it,” your friend drops their arms to their side before gesturing to Wally. “That one is still dirty. Oh, gosh and you’ve been clinging to it since you got it.”

“You’re just mad,” you dismissed them and turn Wally to face you. “Don’t listen to them, they don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it don’t listen to them- what the fuck am I doing talking to a puppet!”

You laugh as you stand up and walk over to your bathroom to clean Wally up. You know your friend is just as weird as you are but you embrace it more then they do.

“You really wasted you month on getting them clean, what’s your plan after?” You hear your friend call out to you from your room, you glance over to see them holding Barnaby with a smile. “Sell them?”

“No! Imma keep-“

“No your not, where are you gonna put them?” They raise a brow at you and hold one arm out to gesture to your room the other holding Barnaby. “If you haven’t noticed, your room is a plushy abyss, you don’t have room.”

“I’ll just make room.”

“Good luck.”

“How about you take a few?”

“I wound but you know how the partner in crime would be.” You hear them as they cuddle up to Barnaby while scrolling on their phone. You coming back after washing Wally and letting him to dry.

“You should break up with them-“

“And you should see a therapist but are you gonna do it?”

“Bitch-“

…

It’s been a few months and you were waken up by another bang coming from the kitchen.

This has been happening a lot even since you brought the crew into your home. Constant bagging and footsteps, would hear whispers and things moving. Yeah it was scary but you ghost hunt all the time so this is the perfect opportunity to do an in-home ghost hunting.

Getting out of bed you get your makeshift board and slip on your slippers. Rubbing your eyes you silently make it in the kitchen and set the board on the countertop.

“Okay ghost, whatever is here. You wanna keep me up? That’s cool but now you gotta answer my question.” You spoke as you slide a chair over and plot on it. “Got it? One bang for yes, two for no.”

You wait a few seconds and you hear a bang on the far end of the hallway. You gasp and straighten your back, that definitely woke you up. “Okay…um, I didn’t think this far so give me a minute.”

Another bang, this one is intelligent! You have to act quickly! You click record on your little EVP to get voices and continue.

“Erm..okay! So are you evil? Like are you gonna hurt me in any way?” You wait for a bit and didn’t hear anything so you kept asking questions.

“Whats your name? What can I call you?”

Nothing.

“Okay..” you take the recorder and stop it then replayed it and held it up to your ear.

“What’s your name? What can I call you?”

“Wally….Darling…”

“What?!” You pulled away before rewinding it and hearing it again for a few times and it sounded like it said Wally darling. “No way…”

You rush up to your room and pick up Wally from your desk, you stare into his sleepy eyes before taking him to the kitchen with you, you set him next to the board and then set a indicator.

“Okay, Wally? If you’re here can you move this thing right here?” You pointed to the Indicator in front of you and glances at the puppet. “It’s okay, I just wanna know if it’s you.”

After what seemed like minutes, the indicator started to move and it started spelling something over and over again. “Woah, Buddy, slow down I can only spell so quick. One more time. Slowly.”

B.

E.

H.

I.

N.

D.

Y.

O.

U.

Behind. You.

“Behind you? What…” you froze when that phrase proceeded in your mind and you look over at the puppet and see that it’s looking behind you. “Im gonna die, aren’t I?”

You gulp down your nerves and slowly turn around to be met with the same sleepy, mesmerizing eyes you grew to enjoy.

“Hi, neighbor~”

~~~

(I feel iffy about that one, like I definitely could’ve done better but this is the best I got 🥲 I do have a project that I would like to give you guys a sneak peek on but idk if I should.

Okay bye!!!!)

[ferallove-for-tx2]

Telling Scary Stories With Your Boyfriend Sanemi

You were pumped and excited for Halloween and felt like getting into the Halloween spirit. You took the time while Sanemi was at work to decorate the house both inside and out, you threw on some comfy new Halloween themed pajamas, and put on a scary movie while you ate some popcorn and some of the Halloween treats you baked earlier. Sanemi came home from work and was about to question why there was so much stuff outside when he saw that there were decorations inside as well.

“Why are you dressed like that and why did you put up so much stuff? HOW did you get all this up so fast!?”

“I wanted to get into the Halloween spirit because it's a spooky month!”

You exclaimed as you paused the movie and gestured for him to come join you. He chuckled a bit before coming and sitting next to you.

“You know you act like a kid sometimes.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and bit into another spider cookie.

“You also baked while I was gone?! Do you secretly have the power to freeze time so you would have enough time to decorate the inside AND outside of the house, bake cookies, and go shopping for some new pajamas?”

He asked as he reached for one of the cookies and bit it.

“Mmm, this is delicious though.”

You giggled and shook your head.

“Nope, no magic or superhuman powers, I just have so much talent.”

You said, playfully flipping your hair and he chuckled again and kissed you on the cheek.

“Well, I’m going to go change and then I’ll join you-“

“Oh! That reminds me, I also bought you Halloween pajamas, they are in the bag on the table.”

He nodded, grabbed the bag and went into your shared bedroom and changed into them. A couple minutes later, he came out with the same pajamas you had so you were matching.

“Aww, you look adorable, now come join me and watch the movie with me! You can have some more cookies~”

He immediately walked over to you, sat down next to you, and snatched another cookie. He wrapped an arm around you and ate the cookie while trying to figure out what is happening in the movie. You both watched the movie and once it finished, you whined. 

“Aw man, it's finished.”

“How about we turn off the lights and tell scary stories since you wanna be in the Halloween spirit.”

You nodded your head eagerly and he got up and turned off the light before pulling out his phone and turning the flashlight on.

“I’ll go first and if it’s too scary, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“It’s a story, it won’t be scary.”

He smirked and chuckled.

“Whatever you say darling.”

He began telling a story about a man who lived alone with his dog in an old house. The man considered his dog his best and only friend since he didn’t talk to anyone, not even at his workplace. One day, when the man came home, expecting for his dog to greet him, the dog didn’t come running to him.

The man found this peculiar and looked around the house, calling for him. He then heard a creak up in the attic and went to investigate. He quietly went up the stairs, with a couple creaks coming from the stairs here and there and before he opened the door to the attic, he tried to listen for more noise but didn’t hear any. He opened the squeaky door and took a step inside and-

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Sanemi screamed which made you jump and start looking around.

“Why the hell did you scream?!”

You exclaimed when you saw nothing and he chuckled.

“You’d scream too if you stepped on a rusty nail.”

“I- what?”

“He screamed because he stepped on a nail when he went into the attic, that’s the point of the story, to scare the audience.”

“…I hate you.”

You said before pouting and he laughed before he brought you into his arms.

“I love you too honey…wanna hear another scary story for the Halloween spirit?”

“No, I think that’s enough Halloween spirit for one day.”

You said as he stroked your hair and smiled.

[randadrives]

Solo Safety Pt. 2

In Pt. 1, we covered some basics on how to encourage your mindset to start hiking or camping alone. As promised, I am now going to cover more tangible basics of safety – wildlife, weather, your vehicle, and the tools to have. I’m a firm believer that almost anyone can start hiking or camping with almost anything you already own. It doesn’t take many material items to go out and enjoy the outdoors. However, there are some essentials a person shouldn’t leave home without, and some knowledge to keep in mind, as well.

I am going to list some hiking essentials that are a starting point that also go right along with a camping trip. Anything I suggest does NOT necessarily need to be purchased brand new for top dollar. I encourage thrifting, looking out for people you know who may be discarding their camping gear, flea markets/yard sales, etc. If you’re in an area in the western states, there are so many second-hand gear stores. REI has a section in their stores where they sell returned items for cheaper prices. And these suggestions are just that: suggestions. People camp and hike in all different ways. Some outdoorsy folks are extravagant, and others enjoy being outside with nothing to get in the way of it. Some of what I list is recommended by organizations such as the National Park Service, but I’ll include some of my own ideas, also.

Hiking Essentials:

Water

Snacks (or full meals for longer hikes)

Flashlight/headlamp

Navigation - GPS, map, and/or compass

First-aid kit (moleskin, tweezers, bandaids, antiseptic wipes, gauze, tape, tourniquet)

Matches or lighter

Emergency blanket

Knife/multitool

Sun protection (sunglasses/hat/sunscreen/SPF clothing)

Clothing layers (warm hat, gloves, jacket/poncho, extra socks)

Some extra things you will find in my hiking pack:

Water flitration

Portable charger and cord

Insect repellent

Resealable bags (1 or 2 disposable as well as a reusable dry bag)

Unscented wipes

Hand sanitizer

Wallet or ID

Wristwatch

Bandana

Paracord

Trowel (for cat holes)

Hair ties

Pad/tampon/cup

More extras if you’re filling frilly:

Trekking poles

Duct tape

Seat pad/cushion

Camera

I know on paper this list can appear overwhelming if you’ve never packed a backpack for a hike before, but I promise I fit all of this (aside from the frilly extras) in an 18 liter backpack I bought on sale. I chose to purchase a new bag because I wanted the warranty, and I liked the style and set up. It would be even easier to use a bag you already own to pack and try out for a hike or two to start. Make notes of what you would improve, what items you felt were excessive, extra things you wish you brought, etc. There is no need to go out and buy a new backpack/bag before you commit to this type of hobby. Even if you can fit the bare necessities in the cargo pockets of your pants, or a fanny pack you already own, try that out first.

What do you think you could add for camping? Based on this list, you have most of what you need anyway! Add a tent for shelter, a sleeping bag, and some cooking gear (like a Coleman camp stove or a Jetboil, both run off propane) and a cooler for the meals you packed, and you are probably ready to sleep where you land. If you go online, “cowboy camping” is taking up in popularity, where you just use a sleeping pad on the ground and add your sleeping bag or some blankets, and you sleep under the night sky. If that’s what you’re into, then you can carry even less. Is it less safe than sleeping in a tent? Not by much, but as much as I enjoy being outside, I do my best to keep insects and the like OUT of my sleeping arrangement. A tent or some type of sleeping structure lends me a small feeling of security I will not give up. It's kind of like when you're a kid scared of monsters, and you convince yourself tucking your feet under your blanket will keep you safe. I would love to hear from others about their successful cowboy camping trips, though. This year I ran into a hiker who was working his way through the North Country Trail, using a hammock to sleep in at night. That makes for a lighter backpack! Whether you have a hand-me-down one-person tent, or a new palace made from nylon, there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from something you want to try. Tara Dower recently finished the fastest known time to complete the entire Appalachian Trail, and she spent her down time literally napping on the dirt. Don’t forget a good chair, though! It is where I spend at least 50% of my time while camping, so I like to have a comfortable one.

Lavish extras:

Air mattress or cot

Portable fridge

Power banks

Table

Electric blanket

Portable water heater

Portable gazebo

I could go on, because you can go all out with camping if you really want to and bring all types of creature comforts. But that’s a conversation for another post! And whether your adventure is an hour or several days, if you have a dog with you, make sure you have the essentials for them, such as extra water, food, and any first aid items they could need.

You’re probably thinking: “Wow, she really covered ALL the stuff you could possibly need for these adventures!” And you’re wrong. There is a completely separate list of items I carry in my vehicle at all times that can prove useful. Whether you dabble in off-roading, or you don't leave suburban areas, there are still things you should keep in your vehicle for those "just in case" moments. I have an old backpack in the bed of my truck, or you could use a cardboard box, a plastic tote case, a duffel, or whatever else you have on hand. I don't often need to go in this bag, but it's nice to have when I do. I carry in it:

Another portable charging bank

Yet another first-aid kit

Flashlight batteries

Travel size hygiene items

Emergency blanket

Unscented wipes

Paracord

Headlamp

Waterproof matches

Reusable spork

Multitool

Zip ties

Emergency rations

Empty water bottle

Jumper cables

Fire starters

Extra set of clothes (old sweat pants, socks, sweater that would have been donated anyway)

Towel

Beanie

But don't toss the bag in the back of your vehicle and forget about it. Make sure you periodically go through it, check to see if things need cleaned or charged and are in working condition. It's easy to forget what you have, and looking at and touching these things once a month will keep it in the back of your mind when you need them most.

I also have a set of traction boards and a 7 gallon jug of water I try to keep stocked with fresh water. Recently I decided I'm going to add a shovel to my truck bed, and I'm also working on deciding what type of fuel container I want to add.

I also keep a separate bag in the front of my vehicle. Is this being excessive? Probably, but I love to be prepared. It has:

Mechanix gloves

Winter gloves

Beanie

Pens

Lighter

Matches

Snacks (a random protein/Nutrigrain bar has saved me from hanger)

National Park Pass

Bandana

Roll of TP

Unscented wipes

Hand sanitizer

Sunscreen/insect repellent/bear spray (These move between my hiking bag and truck bag as needed)

Flashlight

Seatbelt cutter

Window hammer

Electrical tape

Reusable zip ties

Lint roller (great for finding ticks on your clothes)

First-Aid kit

Maintenance of your vehicle can be more important than what you carry in it. Having tires with proper tread based on your location, changing your oil at appropriate intervals, and knowing how to drive your vehicle in the scenarios you enter far outweigh having flashy things. The abilities to start your battery if it dies and change your tire by yourself are powerful and can help you out of a bad situation. Do not be the person who drives into something they can't handle with a "what could happen" attitude and then not be able to get yourself out of it. If you want to learn, ask your friends. I have never had anyone scoff at me or not want to help when I have asked for it. And this is coming from someone who never knew anything about RVs and then randomly decided to purchase one to live in. There was a BIG learning curve, which came with the #1 ability I carry: the ability to humble myself and ask for help. You don't have to be an obsessive "car guy" to know how to take care of your own. Also, I know it's fun to have the flashy mods on your car, but don't prioritize those over the useful ones. Function over aesthetic, always. If you were hoping for some car camping advice, it's not something I've tried for myself yet. I would love to, I just have yet to set up my truck bed properly to try it out. I suggest going on YouTube or Facebook and checking out some of the car camping groups. There is plenty of information out there!

I'm sure plenty of people survive their outings just fine without all this. . . stuff. And that's fine. These are just suggestions. Now on to some other safety details.

Remember how I said at the beginning of part 1, that everyone always asks: "aren't you scared out there all alone?" Many of those people are referring to one thing in particular, which is the wildlife. I am not going to delve too far into this, because the topic can vary SO much. The wildlife in Florida is different from the wildlife in Virginia, which is different from the wildlife in Colorado, which is different from the wildlife in southern Arizona, etc. The most important thing is to research the area you are camping or hiking in. The second most important thing to remember is: don't touch the wildlife. You are not a Disney princess. You are not Steve Irwin. Distance is your friend. If you're in bear country, you carry the bear spray, you read about what to do if you encounter bears, and you properly store food or any smelly items you may have in a bear box, or in a tree. If you're in the desert, you research what to do for snake bites or scorpion stings. I refuse to go to Florida ever again, so I have zero advice for you on the gators, snakes, and spiders there (Kidding. . . mostly). Research local plants so you can identify poisonous plants such as Poison Ivy, Oak, and Sumac. Many years ago, just walking my dogs on a normal sidewalk in Georgia - where I had no idea to avoid fiery red ants - resulted in both my dog and myself needing to chug Benadryl when we got home because we ended up so covered in hives. This is all to answer the question: No, most of the time I'm not scared of the wildlife. Occasionally, I will get into my own head, because I've listened to too many episodes of Tooth and Claw Podcast on mountain lion attacks, and I will start to freak myself out on a hike. But I just endure and continue until the fear eases. Animal attacks are rare. People are scarier. I choose the bear. I'm happy to go more into the topic of wildlife if any readers have specific questions, please drop a line!

Now for a brief touch on the weather, because I am not an expert on the subject. The good news is you don't have to be an expert to stay safe. I tend to drive to regions based on the weather, as I'm least happy when it's under 45 degrees and I'm surrounded by wet, slushy snow. I grew up and spent 20 years in Pennsylvania before spending a winter in another state, and once I realized I could do that, I now plan to continue to do that. The main component to weather safety is to stay aware of the expected weather to come. If you're in an area where weather is unpredictable, it's best to stay prepared for all possibilities. It's okay to cancel your hike if there is a thunderstorm or too much wind.

Some people love cold weather camping, but I am not one of them. Camping and hiking in cold weather doesn't change your preparation much. You should just have gear that is built for it, such as a sleeping bag meant for colder temperatures than you will be sleeping in. Waterproof footwear will keep your feet healthy. We discussed how important carrying layers of clothing is, and it matters just as much for cold weather. The materials you choose can mean staying wet and miserable, or drying quickly and keeping warm. As much as I love natural fibers, cotton is not your friend in wet (or sweaty) weather. Choose your sleeping spot based on the shelter it provides from wind, and double your sleeping pads for extra insulation from the cold ground. Knowing the signs of hypothermia and frostbite are imperative. If it's too cold for you to personally have fun in, maybe just wait for warmer weather. If you're seriously interested, there are courses you can take that will prepare you for emergencies such as avalanches.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I do have experience with the heat. Layering your clothing is still important to protect yourself from sun rays, and there are even shirts you can buy with UV protection built in. Hydration is so important, and I'm a firm believer if you run out of water, you turn around. I always have more than enough water so I can enjoy myself and not cut it short. Carry sunscreen with you and reapply. Learn the signs of heat exhaustion and heat stroke and how to treat. I do suggest if you're in an area that has extreme heat, to work yourself up by starting earlier in the morning before the sun rises. When in hotter months, if I'm going to be hiking well past sunrise, my dog doesn't come with me. It's not worth burning her paws on the hot rocks or sand.

On the subject of listening to too many podcasts, let's talk about natural disasters. There are many stories out there about hikers and climbers being struck by lightning. But it's not always feasible to wait out the inclement weather if you're already out there in the altitude or miles away from shelter. When choosing campsites in an area known for adverse weather, you can avoid being next to water or isolated trees that may attract a strike. If you are hiking and notice signs of a storm moving in, avoid peaks and wide-open fields. The safest options, aside from a building or a vehicle, are ditches and areas below tree lines, and be sure to ditch your metal gear. Tents, picnic shelters, or standing beside the tallest tree will not protect you. There are plenty of natural disasters that can occur, and though it doesn't help to be anxious all the time about what COULD happen, it can give you peace of mind to do a little bit of research to have an idea what to do if a situation might arise. People often think "it won't happen to me." Taking proactive steps to prepare yourself is staying as safe as possible without missing out on the things you want to do. Knowledge is confidence.

I hope between the first and second parts of this solo safety series you were able to pick up some new information to apply to your next adventure. I have found that I learn something new every day doing this, and the information is limitless! Please reach out if during your reading you had an idea for me to cover, or a question to answer.

[kingpippthe2nd]

This is going to be a Neil Gaiman appreciation post. Not because I think, the internet needs another person babbling on about how good an author Neil is. There is enough of those. This one is purely egotistical, because I have too many words rattling in my head, and they want out. So, settle in and let me tell you a story. I promise, it will make sense in the end. Or go read something interesting. I’m not your parent. 

I used to read a lot as a kid. The library in my town was open on two afternoons each week: Tuesday and Thursday. So, every Tuesday I would go there with my stack of read books, swap them for a smaller stack of books, which I would devour in the next two days, return them on Thursday, leave with a bigger stack and so on and so on. I couldn’t read enough. I loved disappearing into all the different worlds, all the different adventures. I was the kind of kid, that would read until the middle of the night, illuminated by a flashlight, be exhausted all day in school, just to go home and do it all again.  

I don’t know when this changed, exactly. Only that it did. Something about growing up took away the wonder of printed words. Or wonder in general.  

I remember telling my therapist a year or so ago how I remember being able to see so much beauty in the world. How the tiniest thing could spark so much joy in me. Make me imagine entire worlds. And how I couldn’t find this kind of joy anymore. How I felt that something in me was irrevocably broken. She reassured me, that this was normal. All part of growing up. Childlike wonder at the world is not for adults to have. Never have the words a therapist felt so fundamentally wrong. I was heartbroken leaving that session. My worst fears had become true: I’d never find that joy again. 

Over the years, I never lost my love of stories. I started listening to audiobooks, a form of media which I used to despise. Why listen to a book when you can read it? Hold it? Smell it?  I watched movies and series and listened to podcasts. But I didn’t really read. I had lost the patience for them. Don’t get me wrong: I still loved my books. I have some beautiful editions of my favourite books that I loved showing off to people. I bought new books as well. New stories. And I told myself I’d get around to reading them soon. But I never did. 

I used to write a lot, too as a kid. I wrote diaries, though I never kept up with them for long. I wrote short stories and even started writing a book, which was not very good and is now lost forever. I wrote loads of poems. One of them I wrote sitting on a roof in a night gown while the full moon shone behind the church tower. I still have that one. It isn’t half bad. But I stopped writing years ago. It left me, when I left the books. 

Some years ago, my partner at the time introduced me to a new book. Theyread it aloud to me in the evenings. It was called “Neverwhere” by a man I had never heard of: Neil Gaiman. I fell immediately in love with the story and the writing and the characters. Soon enough I owned all the Neil Gaiman audiobooks I could find and listened to them ravenously.  

Within the last year I have tried to read four books. I finished one of them. Not a big one. And it took me multiple months. I had to force myself to finish it, even though I loved the story and the writing. The other three I abandoned halfway through, feeling terribly about myself and my apparent inability to read. 

And then Amazon Prime released season two of Good Omens and I found myself swept up in a maelstrom of emotions and hype and fan theories. I started reading fan fictions for the first time in my life. Long ones too. I started telling anyone and everyone about how much I loved and missed the show. About how genius a writer Neil Gaiman was. How I had loved his way with words and worlds for such a long time and that he was my favourite author. 

A week ago, I had a realisation: I had never actually read a Neil Gaiman book. I’ve had them read to me. I’ve listened to hours and hours of audiobooks. But I had never ever actually sat myself down and read a book by my favourite author with my own eyes. Held it. Smelt it.  

So, I picked up one of the “I’ll get around to it books” from a stack on my hallway book shelf and started reading. A little thing called “The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. I finished it within three days. I read it on my way to and from work. One night, I walked all the way from the tram stop to my flat whilst continuing to read, phone flashlight in hand, so the darkness wouldn't steal the story away from me.  

And as I finally looked up from on the pages again and looked around, something else happened. It was as if the words had given my mind a little nudge. The world was spinning slightly differently. And all over sudden I could see the world as I had as a kid. There are more colours now. Everything is a bit more sparkly, more magical. I can taste stories on the wind, see them in the early morning sunshine. I have ideas rattling in my head that need writing down for the first time in what feels like forever. Ideas for short stories, for poems. Maybe even for a book.

I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to Neil for giving me back something, I knew I had lost forever. Because childlike wonder at the world is not for adults to have. With nothing but his words printed on paper he remade the way I see the world. If that isn’t some kind of magic, then I don’t know what could be. And who wants to be an adult anyway.

[winterbrrrd]

On the market: Vacant Victorian (CHARM & CHARACTER) - $40,000

You found your first abandoned house,

Void of humans for two decades.

Wood is twisting,

Paint is chipping,

Roof is on the verge of caving.

Yard’s unruly and disheveled,

Like a hair day straight from hell,

Untamed branches reaching forward

Through a window,

Broken out.

And brambles navigate through spaces where the roof meets with the walls,

At least you’re certain there’s protection

From the rain, which always falls

This time of year,

Like late October,

wind is crisp but not enough

To keep you locked away inside,

Orange juice and vodka

In a cup.

Inside the house, you will discover things

You probably shouldn’t see, such as

Lewd photographs,

Bad poetry,

Old porno magazines.

Dead men get no privacy.

Walk in the house,

Search desperately

For signs that someone was living

A life, like yours,

Made history.

The cobwebs hang in every cranny,

Hang like garlands made with string.

Raccoons shit all up the stairwells,

Like they failed to litter train.

Paper peels from kitchen walls

Where grease was splattered,

Leaving stains,

You tear it down to find a door,

Leading to the lonely place.

So shine your flashlight, see inside,

Down at your feet, a pine staircase.

Now shut the door, switch on the light,

But do not meddle with my space,

And when you enter,

Please don’t mind

Me playing movies on rewind,

Speaking in tongues to feel sublime,

With egg yolks dripping down my face.

Now you’re in my secret room

And the room smells like mildew.

I do not wash, I do not clean,

I only sit and watch and stew

Like dinner soup, but my ingredients

Aren’t what you might assume,

I’m adding memories to finally

Give my dark thoughts to the moon,

An orb of white or cream or yellow

Just depending on your view,

A vessel for these endless struggles,

Somewhere that has enough room

For every trauma,

Every moment when I feared I’d end up dead,

Including all the times I tried to die,

Not by my hand

But his.

Explore the old abandoned house,

Poking your head in every room.

Here’s where I died in a small car,

Here’s where I gave self-harm tattoos,

Here’s where I fled when I was chased,

Here’s where I learned I was displaced

From every home, from every state

I tried to flee riding a freight.

Here’s where I learned they’re all afraid

Of who I love, of what I do,

They’ll never fortune tell my fate

But girl, it ain’t looking

Too good.

Explore my uncle’s hoarder house,

The small container where he died

Alongside three neglected dogs,

I say neglect, but he did try.

He tried and tried and he survived

For 60 years, or 69.

Got sober by like 35,

And stayed that way until the day

His heart stopped working,

Goodbye, life.

Explore my uncle’s hoarder house,

The way the dirt extends throughout

In layers, like a Cali drought,

No water means

No kale,

Bean sprouts,

Or broccoli,

Or wildflowers,

Or brushing teeth

Or taking showers.

Just dirt,

More dirt,

They cleaned for hours.

So you bought your first abandoned house

And you plan to fix her up.

She needs full rehab,

Will take years before she’s in good condition.

Are you prepared?

And what’s the goal?

Live in an old Victorian

With new, spring life freshly breathed in,

With flowing cream colored curtains

That dance in breezes, bleached by sun,

Tickle your cheek, like

“Hi. Welcome”?

Or will you flip me just to sell me?

Will a new family move in?

Will they find my hidden basement?

My own makeshift looney bin?

Or do you really want to keep me?

Want a home that feels like yours?

Keep the most authentic details,

Gut the rest,

There’s too much dirt.

The house was bought from an old woman -

Her estate,

For she’s deceased.

She lived alone with her black cat

And she wrote songs and poetry.

Her neighbors fancied her a witch,

But that’s just what they call a freak

Who never leaves her spacious bedroom,

Sits hunched over on her sheets,

Smoking weed and cigarettes,

Confined for everyone’s safety.

It’s better that she doesn’t speak,

It’s better that she doesn’t share,

It’s better that she’s not out meddling

Scream-singing the Lord’s Prayer

On a street wearing a trench coat,

Nothing else - what lies beneath

Is just her naked, wrinkled body,

Sacred scars of the deceased.

[hoodedfigure-no99]

So I’m in Vegas and I’ve just had the most whiplashed day I’ve ever had. I bought a ticket to see Zak Bagans’ Haunted Museum, which was actually pretty cool, glad I went. Some of it’s pretty hokey but whatever it’s a Las Vegas entertainment thing. Loved the gift shop ngl. Anyway, I got to go into the basement and let me tell you I saw a shadow in the mirror down there and the spirit box went nuts. Other areas were tamer, I love Peggy, though she was kinda quiet. I felt super somber in the room involving Kevorkian. I grew up watching all sorts of news reports involving him, and honestly i don’t understand how his van could be haunted or anything if at all. Yes, many died in that van. Many died because they wanted to do so. He let them dictate when their final moment was. He didn’t connive them into suicide. They longed for rest that would eventually take them after days months years of excruciating/debilitating pain. Anyway off of that tangent. The worst of it was the room with Ed Gein’s cauldron and as soon as I entered it I felt BAD. The vibes were off in the most unsettling way. Another “I am uncomfortable” moment not involving claustrophobia and/or clowns was the Dybbuk box. To start off, the room before it, I was starting to lose my balance, but when I entered the room, I…lost track of myself in that room. I found it super hard to focus and I felt off. I got the shivers as soon as I entered, and continued to feel cold and shivers until way past when I got back to my hotel.

Would I go again? Absolutely. I want to do the flashlight tour because I want to talk to Peggy, or really get down to brass tacks with the Dybbuk box.

Also: did I look Peggy in the eyes? Yes. Did I have severe random stomach pain for a half hour later that evening? Sure did.

Now let me bring y’all around to the whiplash. I wasn’t feeling too hungry, and seeing this as a time to try Gordon Ramsay food, I decided to walk to the fish and chips place next door. Got my food, super quick, very tasty when i eventually ate it.

The whiplash occurred as I walked by 2 guys next to a lit up Chippendales sign. i was tired, i was a little peckish, so I walked, until I heard one of them say “stop right now” in *that* voice. The sub part of my brain like TOOK OVER, help. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked over and he absolutely lost it. IMAGINE USING DOM VOICE ON A RANDOM STRANGER AND HAVING IT WORK. That boy got his claws right into me. Anyway I wasn’t thinking (I really wanted to try the fish and chips), and he’s like “here have some beads, also come over here and take some pics with us” basically and again i was like ok but the math wasn’t mathing in my head until he took his jacket off and I was met by a broad toned *naked* chest. I stared at him like I’d just encountered an alien (Christ I love being acespec, just makes these encounters actually hilarious), and then his FRIEND joins in and I don’t think I’ve ever been this red before in MY LIFE, Anyway I got some really funny pics and I’m going to show you all.

Also I touched a man’s ass (as requested), and when the camera went off he flexed his cheeks and IVE NEVER BEEN MORE CONFUSED IN MY LIFE ARE ASSES SUPPOSED TO BE THIS MUSCULAR HELP 😂😂😂 all i could say at the end of it was “you guys are so warm” 😂😂😂

[two-little-triangles]

[hh0320]

໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

pair. solo singer! felix x fem! reader (+ mentions of hyunjin)

genre. set in the 90’s, childhood friends to strangers, moving back, struggle with fame, angst, romance, smut.

warnings. profanity, smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, use of pet names, flawed characters, harsh language at times, dark themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, mental health issues.

word count. 6.2k

a/n. hi my loves! this is going to be a mini series, though i’m still not sure how many parts it will contain. nevertheless, pls treat this idea kindly, and don’t judge its characters too hard, they’ve gone through a lot. feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated and will be replied to! enjoy xx

‘Felix will be going back to Australia for a much needed break, sources close to him reveal. The twenty-three year old alt rock singer just concluded his second world tour, Doll, earlier this week in Los Angeles, with news of his breakup with supermodel Hwang Hyunjin coming out at the same time.

The two had been dating since the Aussie’s rise to fame in 1994.’

New South Wales had remained the same, despite the unshakeable change in Felix’s chest. Barina Road had the same houses standing, fifty-year-old trees stretching, widening into the sky, hiding his parent’s garage from view, the stairs leading up to the front door. He’d paid off the mortgage, bought them a new car.

The sun was beaming, February in full display. His manager greeted his mom, and introduced his assistant, explaining they would be staying at a hotel not too far from there. His father had a beard now, his sister looked taller, and wore glasses.

Your house was around the corner. He could see the rose bushes along the hill, the white shutters with the black outlines. Felix could close his eyes and go back to your room, 1992, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, The Cure and The Smiths’ posters on pastel pink walls, lace trimming on your sheets, makeshift forts and flashlights at midnight, notebooks with hearts drawn on folded ends, his name and yours written next to each other, hand over hand. ‘Girl Afraid’ playing softly through a cassette in a beat down radio. Your dad’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the determination that rushed through Felix’s veins the moment he tasted them, the promise he’d made to himself to make those same cookies for you one day, to learn how.

He never did. His demo got picked up from a record label that would later refer him to the one he belongs to now, and he had to fly out to Melbourne right before your eighteenth birthday. From then on it’s been a shooting star.

He blinks to find his mother teary eyed, arms open. He doesn’t walk—he runs. Washed out silvery blonde locks long enough to be pulled in a ponytail, brown eyes the color of wild thyme honey, hands tired, heart broken. A boy coming home is a very old story, one that will never stop being written. And even though it feels strange to be back after five years of palm trees, everything and nothing—Hollywood, with its golden gates and trophies and nightmare people— it is exactly what he needed. It’s where he has to be.

“You look so tired, baby, so frail,” his mom sobs, pressing her mouth on his temple. “Did no one take care of you? Did no one care?”

Felix didn’t answer. He brought chocolates and clothes for his sisters, jewelry for his mother, Cuban cigars for his father, and his first ever Grammy for you, because none of this would’ve been possible if you hadn’t befriended him all those years ago in the playground. If your voice hadn’t guided him away from those swings and into the forest. If he hadn’t played hide and seek with the girl that wore ribbons in her hair, dark cherries for eyes. And what does he say knowing this?

I left behind the one person that did. That mattered that it did. And when I found something similar, I couldn’t hold it in my hands, I couldn’t get close to it no matter how much I tried.

“I missed you, mom,” he mumbles instead, and grinds his teeth to keep from crying. “I should’ve called more. I should’ve visited.”

The shorter woman sniffles and rubs her son’s back soothingly, shushing him only a mother knows how to. He breathes in her familiar scent, her cooking imprinted on her purple shirt, and smiles sadly. Hyunjin would’ve loved her; he wanted to meet her the most, wanted to hear all the stories when they were in bed together, what few times they were both sober, capable of adventure and conversation till the early hours of the next day. “I never had a mom,” he’d tell him, brown strands of hair escaping his staple bun. “Cherish your mom for me, Yongbokie. Love her terribly.”

“Come inside,” she tells him, waving away the rest. “Stay forever if you need to.”

“It means happiness,” he’d explained on that first meeting with the boy shining more brightly than the chandelier lighting the entire theater. “Yongbok.”

The boy had smiled and it’d made all the difference. His lips reminded Felix of black cherries, of the girl in the room with the window overlooking the trees. “I know what it means. It’s about time I met you.”

Time away from chaos felt empty. The hours passed by slowly, serenity made him paranoid, like it couldn’t possibly last, even there, in a different continent, across the globe. Getting on an airplane didn’t guarantee you’d get away, he realized soon enough. It wasn’t possible, because you can’t outrun yourself.

And it was that Felix was trying to escape. How known he’d become, how aware of his own shadow he was. At first, he’d thought of it as a mountain to climb, something to be achieved, and then something else. It was a ladder leading up, up, up and nowhere specific, but he climbed it anyway. The little prize in his hands was the ultimate show, that one last thing he had to do that would grant him access to more of the same everything and nothing everyone else seemed to be so desperately after. After he’d won it, the decision to leave it all behind became clearer than ever.

A lot of the people he admired had died. And it didn’t matter which way you looked, destruction came in the form of white powder, accompanied by a spoon or a syringe if you were brave enough and had much to lose. “Take your pick, there’s many ways to kill yourself,” a girl had told him once at an afterparty. Young and impressionable as he was he chose by what he saw and picked up the bottle of champagne in front of him. The least harmful, he’d thought. But the sneakiest one of all. And then he saw Hyunjin smoking cigarettes after one of his fashion shows, and thought to try that too. Then it felt like something they could share, so Felix kept smoking until the cough subsided and his fingers smelled of tobacco. 

One thing the model never tried to do was shield him from the horrible ways of the industry, and the blonde still can’t find it in himself to castrate him for it. Now, so many thousands of miles away as he was, the habits seemed to follow, like supportive friends. The world is a fucked up place, but it doesn’t seem so bad from where he sits on the rooftop of his childhood house. He could drop the stick from his hand, or break the golden trophy and even deny the existence of evil altogether.

How easy, how vulnerable fame is. You could be no one in particular if you made all the right choices. Felix wasn’t sure why he seemed to do the opposite, walk the other way, the reason for his selective blindness. When something shiny has your name on it you hold it close to your chest and sing to it. It’s precious because it reflects light off it.

Until when?

Your light was on. 

He looked for it, looked for a car coming up the hill, watched the sun set, the blending of colors, how majestic it can all get before it fades to black, but you showed up right in the blue of it. You still drove the same Jeep your dad had gifted you for graduation, but your hair was longer, you’d grown a bit. Felix saw how your white dress danced in the summer breeze, ran his eyes down your tanned legs as you walked from your driveway inside your house, and finally, about ten minutes after that, the light through your curtains.

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

He smiles down at his burning cigarette. How would he ever face you with the way he left? He never called, only wrote to you on your birthday, and released a song about a starry girl that visited his dreams, knowing very well that girl waited for him for years to return, even if just for a little while. The guilt of never doing so, and instead loving someone else so all consumingly, while that same song went on to become his best selling single, the song he’d be known for for years to come? It crippled him.

He never wanted to see your face stare back at him. He would rather die, and he admits this to himself bravely. You were his first girl, his only girl. No one would ever come close to you, because you’re clean—you have his innocence, his first time, before he knew anything about anything, and how despite it, he loved you stupidly, earnestly, because it made sense, because it felt right.

“Starry girl, will you burn bright, for me tonight? Oh, will you stay a little while, darling girl…”

How hypocritical. If Chan was around he’d be calling him out, or pushing him down the fucking roof. Felix wouldn’t even mention the broken leg or the dislocated shoulder, because it’d serve him right. Perhaps he needs a solid reminder of his aliveness, of how doing wrong by someone and paying for it feels like. La La Land doesn’t have that, it couldn’t possibly understand that. There, people look up and never down. There, they would push, and keep pushing; they would climb over, step on your neck, tear you apart at the seams for a chance to just keep.looking.up. That climb is all there is.

It’s empty too, but you learn how to miss it.

Felix thinks he might’ve sold his fucking soul, somehow, because as he gets back in the house, his mind won’t stop screaming for him to run away from there as well.

Not a place that could hold someone that’s had everything and then more of it.

Chan hates his guts twice as much as you possibly ever could, but Felix calls him anyway.

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

A long pause. The singer falters, thinks he’s made a mistake, curses himself for ever thinking anyone would want anything to do with him after—

“You’re a fucking cunt, Felix, and I hope you burn in Hell. Sincerely.” The blonde nods, his chest tight, his throat dry. “How are you?”

He smiles. “Terrible. Fucking awful, mate, thanks for asking.”

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Your white dress flows in his dreams. It folds and stretches like the wings of a butterfly. The pages of his journal stare at him, his eyes heavy with sleep, but for once nothing pours out. He thinks he’s meant to keep that to himself, and perhaps that’s okay.

Instead he writes about a broken boy that smiles for the cameras but never for his love.

His older sister works as an intern for a law firm. He didn’t know that, because he never asked. The sting of it burns all the same.

She has a fiance, is preparing to buy a house, and tells him of his mom’s sickness at a private restaurant. He didn’t know that either, but in all fairness, as his sister pointed out, no one is supposed to know. At least not yet. It’s treatable, she quickly adds, but it’s been eating her from the inside out for a couple years now. She tells him this with a straight face, probably because she’s had time to sit with it, but also because Rachel is great at keeping her feelings in check, when she knows someone else isn’t—Felix definitely fucking isn’t.

What was the saying? The artist is haunted by his own heart? Day and night. There’s never an escape, it seems, from anything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he pleads after he calms down. “Money is not a problem.”

The older sibling grimaces at that. “It’s not about that, Lix. She has medication, she never misses a doctor’s appointment. Her body is weak.”

“She’s not dying.”

“It’s not something we can exactly stop because we want to.”

Felix clenches his fists on the table, and looks at his sister straight on. “She’s not dying.”

Rachel wipes her mouth and sips from her wine, alerting the waiter for the check. People are starting to stare. No matter where they go, eyes follow her little brother incessantly, whichever measures they take. It’s a lifestyle she cannot comprehend.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice, or care. It’s a strange thing, like a zoo animal being at peace with its captivity, despite its true nature.

“Maybe not now,” she replies softly. “But we all must face this one impending doom sooner or later, Lix. Even you. Even our mom. Death is a natural thing.”

Most people run from the inevitable, because it’s scary. Somehow, it’s believed that the end, too, could be overturned if we stall it, or cheat it. Felix never thought he’d have to worry about it, because of the invisibility of youth, and money, and having everything else at his beck and call. It was only when Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley died that he was touched by the cruelty of it, the dark shadows and the claws attacking through them any moving thing, at any given time. Even legends passed, even history.

It was because life was so impossibly fleeting, water held with two hands, that he decided to knock on your door. In a single moment of liquid luck, he wished to see the stars in your ceiling again. To feel the warmth of your skin near his. Chan would shake his head and call him an idiot for it, but Felix never claimed to be reasonable. Or smart.

No other car was in your driveway.

God, his blood is rushing. You’d open the door and then what? What would he say?

He didn’t want his mom to die. He didn’t want you to hate him forever. He came back with a false sense of ego—no one gave a flying fuck if he was famous, or best friends with Hope Sandoval and Chris Cornell, hell, even Jesus Christ himself. None of it mattered outside of the bubble he’d created for himself in America. He’s not from there. These people would follow him nowhere.

He feels stranded and alone, and it’s entitled and pathetic, and he’s fucking terrified.

Who is he besides his name and his money? Why does it matter so much?

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

Another moment passes. He has to say something. Goddamnit, anything!

“(Y/N).”

You seem to snap out of it, then. As if you realize it’s, indeed, not a dream. Felix is really standing right in front of you, blonde hair, round honey eyes, constellations on his cheeks as prominent as ever.

It’s confusion you feel more than anything else. Anger has long passed.

“How long have you been here?” is the first thing you ask him, and you’re still not allowing him inside.

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

You blink again, and lean forward, surprised. He thinks that must not be what you asked him. His ears burn. Your chest rises and falls deeply.

“In Australia, Lix,” you elaborate, but he focuses on the way your voice sounds like saying his childhood nickname, a silly little thing that stuck and makes him feel eight all over again.

You’d fallen in the rose bushes with your bike, the thorns pricking your arms, and you’d called out for him, crying. Lix, Lix, Lix… The sweetest sound, a person worthy to help you. A different time. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon picking thorns out of your skin and tending to your cuts with his mom. Afterwards, you watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and ate a bowl full of caramel popcorn. His dad dropped you off, and Felix had insisted on sticking his head out of his bedroom window to shout a final goodnight to you.

You’d done the same, laughing. His bestest friend in the whole world.

He didn’t feel like that person anymore. He didn’t feel like anything anymore. Just a name, just a body.

“Fourteen days,” he replies, and he’s ashamed of it, because it should’ve been easier to come to you. It should’ve never been difficult, not with you. 

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

And then you ask him the one thing he has no answer to.

“Are you okay?”

You move for him to enter. It’s what he wanted, but his legs have no strength in them, he’s unable to lift them. He just stands in front of you, staring in those eyes he’s wanted to look into for so long, and it reminds him of all the times he laid in hotel beds trying to bring forward his memories of your features, writing them all down so he doesn’t forget. He wrote those songs to remember you, is what he wants to tell you, but he can’t, because it’d make him a coward, and he doesn’t think he can handle anymore truths tonight.

They call him an angel because of his face, but you’re the angelic one, you’ve always been, because there’s forgiveness in your tone. There’s warmth for him in you still, and it takes everything in him not to sweep you in his arms and cry out for you, for your heart.

He wants to tell you about Hyunjin, too, about his garden and his flowers. He wants to tell you he named one after you, the most beautiful. He kept that for himself as well.

Instead—

“I wanted to watch the stars on your ceiling.”

The possibility that you might’ve taken them down is devastating. He hopes inevitably.

His voice sounds rough, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. You’ve never seen Felix like that, he looked so sickly. Paper thin, too. You wonder if that life over there caught up to him, if he allowed it to wash over everything you loved about him. He’s such a stripped down, quiet version of him right now, in front of you.

“I’ll make some milkshakes,” you nod towards the kitchen.

He finally lifts one leg, then the other. He enters, his heart dusting off, kickstarting.

They still taste the same. The furniture is the same, the pictures of him and you and your siblings are still on the wall. You haven’t erased him, you didn’t scorn him. It means everything to him.

It’s easier to find yourself if someone already knows who you are. If they’ve kept that image of you, and look at it from time to time. Felix never sees himself in photos, never actively seeks himself out. He just gives, and gives, and gives, hoping it’s enough, hoping that’s it, the one, we got it, thank you very much.

Perhaps it’s why he feels so drained nowadays. Perhaps that’s how Hyunjin felt.

“How are your parents?” he asks, hoping to make conversation, hoping to hear more of that voice he’s missed so fucking much.

You round the kitchen island, strawberry shake in hand, and sit right next to him, knee brushing his. Your legs are bare again, smooth. You’re wearing an olive green skirt and an oversized T-shirt. You look beautiful. You, the starry girl. You, the darling girl. You, the only version of girl he’s had in his mind since the dawn of time. Ring pop in the fifth grade, backyard wedding with a veil and all. His mother had cried, yours had baked the cake. His sister had married you.

There’s a question in your eyes now.

“They’re fine. Out celebrating their thirtieth anniversary or something crazy like that.”

It’s a wild thing, the laugh that escapes him. It stretches his face and curves his lips. It surprises both of you. He quickly looks at his chocolate milkshake, at the half eaten whipped cream at the top. He hears your soft exhale, the straw between your teeth.

“Good for them,” he says after a beat, and he means it.

“You…” Felix doesn’t dare look. He won’t. Your counter is marble, there are fresh lilies on top of it. “Are you staying a while?”

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

Then you sigh. The pretenses are down. He stiffens, wraps his fingers tighter around the glass. He braces, but he doesn’t know for what. Anything, he supposes. You could say anything, ask anything.

He just doesn’t know if he has any answers for you.

“Congrats on that Grammy,” you bump him with your elbow, your tone light. His eyes rise slightly to meet yours. You’re smiling.

He wants nothing more than to fall apart, right there. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“It’s yours,” he mutters. “I was going to give it to you.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “It’s your song, Lix.”

He shakes his head once. “But it’s for you. I’d be nothing without you.”

The room goes silent. Felix thinks he’s done it, he’s said the wrong thing, pushed too much, you’re going to kick him out, once and for all, and he’s going to have to look at you from his rooftop for the rest of his stay, he’s going to have to live with himself, whatever’s left, whatever’s there, never to hear your voice, never a third chance—

“Do you usually say intense things like that?” You huff out a breath, and his own gets stuck in his throat. “I’m— No one’s ever said that to me before, Lix. Don’t just say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, six years have passed, and you’re both adults. Felix has had a whole other life, has met thousands and thousands of people, is a celebrity of great importance, a Grammy winner, a million seller, with more money than he will ever need, this unbelievable thing has happened to him, a dream, a fucking rainbow bubble, and you’ve stayed here.

You’re still the same. And you don’t think that’s worth mentioning. Worth praising. He wants to shake you awake, make you see why he’s dead inside, why he’s come back, why he’s lost his fucking mind.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “If I’d never met you, I would have never gone to America. I would’ve never left.”

Somehow, you’ve become a curse and a miracle. 

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

Your room is the exact same, too. Not a single damn thing moved, the lace on your bed, the pink all around, the fairy lights by your window, the pictures above your desk, and then finally, if he lifts his head—

The hundreds of tiny stars sprinkled on your entire ceiling. Your dad had stuck them up there for you, after you’d gone to their bed crying, afraid of the dark and the storm outside. Now, with the lights off, you didn’t seem afraid anymore, but more so melancholic. It felt unreal to stand in this room with you. 

First time he’d made love to you was on that bed. First sleepover, first fort, first kiss, first song ever written.

He didn’t even realize he’d been crying, not until he felt your fingers wipe the wetness away, your hand slipping in his, pulling him towards the mattress. Before coming back, he didn’t have a bed of his own. Hotel’s have been temporary homes for him, the tour bus his sleepovers.

His chest hurt, his sadness so heavy it pulled him down. There was no fight left in him, no other reason not to fall on that bed with you, lay next to you just like all those years before.

They shone neon green, alien little stars where they didn’t belong. Like him. He blinked up at them and they greeted him every time. He held your hand tightly on his own, his vision blurry, shoulders touching yours. If it was hot, Felix couldn’t tell. His heartbeat was deafening, the magnitude of the moment swallowing him whole.

No matter what he did, what had happened, you took his hand and showed him the stars of his childhood. There’s no words to describe what that had felt like for someone like him, someone that had once been something entirely different, and had somehow reduced himself down to this, whatever it was.

Three versions of oneself is two versions too many. He hates himself for what he’s done.

“Are you okay, Lix?” you ask once more, nothing but a mere whisper, but he hears you.

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

“I don’t think so, beautiful girl. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs, puts an arm over his eyes. It’s enough, what he saw. It’s enough for a lifetime.

“Leaving you behind. Giving all of me away. Falling in love with a broken boy thinking I’ll be able to fix him. I can’t fix anyone, (Y/N). I can’t even fix my fucking self.”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. The connection is still there, the tension in his gut. He’d love nothing more than to get you naked and have you whisper his name back, over and over, until he gets some sort of sense of reality back. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. He doesn’t even know if you’re single.

“No one’s holding anything over your head, Lix. Forgive yourself before it’s too late,” you mumble against his skin, raising goosebumps all over. Then you continue, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t still hate you sometimes. You’re going to leave again, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns to that immediately. Places a palm over your cheek and makes you look at him.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up and I’ll regret it my whole life. There’s no amount of sorry’s I can say to you, sweet girl, that’ll make it all better. I know that. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Quiet. Your pulse against his thigh. “You left.”

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

Felix nodded, again and again. One truth harsher than the other. “I know.”

“To go fuck some model in New York and sing your little heart out to people that’ll never know who you truly are and how much you matter.”

There it was. The sacrifice of it all. Has it been worth it? Yes and no. Mostly no.

His lips curved with bitterness. “Yes,” he rasped.

“But now your songs are out there. Your beautiful voice is recognized.”

“Thank you.”

You buried your face in the mattress, crying onto strawberry sheets. He turned his body towards you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“You sold your own name.”

Dying would be less painful than you speaking all of his fears and wrong decisions outloud, in the one place untouched by misery.

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

He smiles when you search for his eyes. There are crystals on your cheeks, the cosmos hanging from your lips. “Not particularly, starry girl,” he retorts sadly.

“I’m not happy, either. What’s the point, then?”

It tore at him to know this. He imagined you were when he was far away. That you’d put him behind you, and continued on with your life, shining just as brightly as you always had. Lies are always easier in the moment. Just enough to get you through to the next. But never long term.

“Come with me,” he whispers in your hair. “See for yourself.”

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

He shut his eyes tight, bit his tongue to lessen the blow. “Three months. I want to take you with me.”

“To the City of Angels.” A lyric of his, coming from your mouth. His heart leaped, and blossomed. You listen to his music. The music he’s written for you.

“You’ll fit right in,” he finishes, leaning into you. “You’ll find many like you, none like you.”

He felt your hesitancy, the need to pull away. He would do it for you, if he wasn’t so completely under your spell, willing to do anything for one more taste of you. Years in a place where he’s had to learn to get his way, have made him somewhat persuasive, a trait he’s not proud of, like many others.

The only girl he’s ever truly wanted is you. Burn him alive, then.

“God, I’m about to make a mistake,” you mutter before his mouth takes yours.

Hyunjin had asked about you. He wanted to know who you were, why you still had such a hold on him. Hyunjin had been possessive and jealous and sensitive with Felix. He felt deeply, loved deeply, and was very stubborn. He loved getting his way. The blonde tried to love him, gave him all he had, obliged to his every request, but ultimately—

Whatever was wrong with him ran too deep. It was impossible to love someone like him, yet so easy to fall, so easy to lose yourself. They’d done some work together, traveled to Paris and visited art museums. Hyunjin was a magnificent artist, a lonely soul. Felix could recognize that in him and still admit it was scary to be around him, scary in the way a rope feels under your bare feet, no ground underneath, no sense of security.

They broke up on a bench outside Sacré-Cœur, the decision to go back to Australia for an indefinite amount of time being too much for the model. There was still love there, there’d always be. Hyunjin taught him about the life he’d entered, how to navigate through it, to get what you want, and how to love unconditionally, how to become a slave for love, to seek it and to breathe it, and to feel it deep in your gut, with everything in you.

But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t be all encompassing, choking, tying. It should feel like freedom, and this much Felix knew, because he’d felt it before.

Undressing you right now felt like that, the pearly gates welcoming him, the wings growing in his back. A map outlined but not quite yet explored, though he plans to change that. If you accept. If you agree to his proposal. His hands caress, his mouth following the fabric leaving your body, your breast, down to your stomach, your navel, your hip bone. 

He pulls your skirt down, revealing cotton, and lays you gently back down, his own body over yours, hiding you from view. Your fingers unzip and push, and Felix removes his shirt for you. He knows he’s not much to look at, but there’s lean muscle and a solid chest where you touch, making heat bloom right under your fingertips. He could write odes about how soft your skin is, how tender you’re treating him, as if he never left, as if he’s never done wrong by you, and for a minute he pretends.

Then your hand wraps around his cock and he loses all restrain.

“You can’t possibly be real, my girl, are you?” he mumbles against your cunt, before he hooks his arms underneath your legs and digs right into your wetness.

You moan and writhe, and he never complies. He holds you tighter, keeps you in place and has his way with you until you’re begging him to stop, crying for him to keep going, nails digging into his scalp, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. Felix hasn’t eaten pussy in six months, hasn’t had yours in over five years, and he’s not about to give it up for anything in the fucking world. 

His tongue laps, it fucks you slowly, it makes sure to get you proper wet for him, his lips slurping on your clit afterwards, finding a pattern you seem to enjoy, sucking to bring your orgasm forward and licking to settle you down, to tease you, until finally you have enough of it, and you come all over his mouth, breathlessly, your thighs trapping his head between your legs.

“Just for me, for me, for me…” he repeats peppering kisses all over you, his arms pushing him up towards your mouth, meeting you halfway for an open mouthed kiss. “Will you come?” he asks, pumping his cock in his fist, aligning it with your entrance. “My sweet fucking girl, will you come?”

“I have,” you say, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I did.”

“Let me look at you,” as he pushes in. “Let me see you, baby.”

His hips start moving, his cock reaching deep inside you, the stretch incredible. He needs you near, closer, so he lifts you up and repositions himself, having you sit on him, fucking yourself on him how you like. You find a rhythm as he wraps himself around you, kissing your breast, sucking on your nipples, tugging at the ends of your hair. Anything he can touch, all for you. Your voice breaks, his name cut in half, and he thinks he likes it best like that, not one thing but two, muttered by you, the death of him once and for all.

“Will you come with me to California?” he asks again, clearer this time. “Will you let me have you like this under their sun?”

“Lix…” you collapse as he takes charge, pistoling up into your soaking cunt, his cock so deep inside, so fucking good. “Fuck, please. Just please.”

“You need to tell me,” he groans. “I need to know. You need to tell me.”

He pushes you forward again, not once unsticking you from himself, and fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. He’s after your high, he needs to see you, needs to witness you fall apart because of him, the same way he does for you, his muse, his girl, under your stars. You kiss him and hold him near, sharing his breath, his chest rapidly falling and rising, cock ready to burst, heart ready to explode, and you’re near too, he can feel it in his gut, he can see how your back arches, how your breath hitches, how your eyes open wide, head thrown back—

“That’s it, there it is, do it. Do it, beautiful, come for me, come on, let me feel you, God, fuck—I’ll bust, too, I’ll—”

“Inside,” you moan, shaking in his arms. “Inside me.”

Felix growls and does as you say, fingers digging into your waist, cock buried, and his head falls on your stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack, but nothing matters. You’re underneath him, naked. You still love him. You haven’t said it but you don’t have to; he can feel it, he can feel it like his own pulse.

He fucks you through the ripples of your orgasm, and then he pulls out, kissing your temple, your breast on his chest. Whatever dreams are made out of, he’s convinced you’re it. His dream, a girl just for him, a girl he could pick out blindfolded from a crowd of thousands. He would always come back to you, because there’s simply no beginning to him if you’re not part of it.

And no end if you don’t come with him.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me no,” he whispers into the dark, the stars staring back. “I’ll understand. I’ll make it work, there’s no question about it. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but your lips kiss his jaw, his neck, his ear. He holds onto sanity because of that. Because he’s lying through his teeth, for the first time. He won’t understand. If you don’t come, he’s not sure he’ll be able to carry on with this persona he’s built. It will destroy him, take him down under.

That he’s sure of.

But he thinks of your precious heart. What it would be like to leave it all behind.

“I’ll come,” you say incredibly small, almost inaudible. “I’ll come if you want me there.”

Felix closes his eyes, relief washing over him. No more suffering, endless tossing and turning. He could finally have a life, maybe buy some property, make a house out of you. With you. With you. It sounded unachievable. A wish unable to be granted. Merely anything.

You’re breathing it all back to him.

“I need you there, starry girl. I love you.”

He feels you nod, but you don’t say it back. It cuts through him, but he understands. He doesn’t need to hear it, despite how desperate he is for it. It pours out of you, it started when you opened the door, and it continues to pour out now, with his cum gushing out of your cunt, your arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.

“Three months,” you say. “Please don’t make me regret it, Lix.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25.

[serenityiskey]

The one with the rainstorm

A/N: thank you once again @eddiemunsonfanboy for suggesting this adorable plot. I wasn’t sure if you wanted the two to be platonic or not but I went with them being friends just in case. I hope you enjoy it!

“Harringtoooooooon, I’m booooooored” Eddie groaned as he tilted his head back on the couch while Steve was reading a book he bought from the new bookstore down town. “please do tell how that became my problem?” Steve responded unamused as he continued to read and flip the page. “I dunno, you babysit six kids so I would have thought you would at least have an idea of what to do during days like this” Eddie motioned to the pouring rain outside and looked at Steve upside down causing his raven hair to dangle from the couch arm.

Steve peered over his book to raise a brow as he looked at Eddie before going back to reading “go play your guitar or something. You’ve been wanting to have more time to learn that new song..what was it…master of trumpets?” Eddie quickly sat up and he looked offended “it’s master of puppets, dipshit, I can’t believe you insulted one of the greatest bands of all time.” Steve smirked knowing how bad he just hit a nerve with the rocker and he shrugged “eh, im more of a pop music guy.” Eddie just rolled his eyes as he stood up before going over to Steve and ruffling his hair. “Hey! Eddie!” He whined as his hair covered his eyes while Eddie quickly ran off to hide somewhere. After Steve managed to fix his hair, he picked the book back up and continued reading as he thought the man had finally managed his boredom.

A few chapters into his book, the lights of the trailer went out and he groaned “great, now I really am stuck with this man child”. Steve stood up from his chair and started to walk through the house to find Eddie “Ed? Where did you go?” He called out as he looked in the kitchen, the bathroom, the closet, and under the sink with a flashlight that was on the kitchenette table. “Come on, Eddie, this isn’t funny. Where did you -OH SHIT!” Steve dropped the flash light as Eddie popped out of the darkness of his room and made the devil horns with his hands before laughing loudly “I got you good, Harrington, you should have seen yohohohohour face”. Steve picked up the flashlight and shook his head before tackling Eddie onto his bed.

“Oh yeah? You think almost giving me a heart attack is funny? Then you’ll really laugh at this” Steve growled before starting to pinch at Eddie’s sides causing the man’s voice to crack and he arched his back. “StEHEHEHEHEVE!!! Whahahahahahahaahahahait! Dohohhohohohohont!” Steve smirked as he learned a new discovery about his friend “Awwwww Eddie~ if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re ticklish” he teased as he moved up to scribble Eddie’s belly and belly sides causing the rocker to tense his abs and laugh louder.

“DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHONT SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!” Eddie cackled and he tried to roll away before Steve pinned him back down on his back. “What? Tickle? Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle~ ” Steve feigned innocence and he chanted in a teasing tone as he moved up to his ribs making Eddie pin his arms by his sides “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRINGTON!” He whined through his laughter and tried to escape Steve’s torturous fingers. “Awwww what is it, love? Can’t take what you dish out?” He pouted at Eddie before moving down to his hips causing Eddie to scream and buck his hips. “NO! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHERE!!” He cackled and he managed to flip over on his stomach before Steve straddled his legs. “Oh my~ this is a terrible spot. Would be a shame if the hellfire club found out about this” he taunted as he continued to squeeze and scribble. “DOHOHOHOHOHOHONT YOU DAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHARE!” Eddie begged through his tears and he tried to prop himself on his elbows only to end up falling back down. “Then don’t scare me next time or else I will find any other death spots and exploit them at the next meeting” he chuckled in amusement as he stopped tickling Eddie and he sat beside him on the bed. Eddie breathed heavily and he just gave an “ok” gesture with his hands before looking at Steve “damn, harrington, you’re an evil bastard” he breathed heavily and shivered at the ghost sensations. Steve smiled as he conquered Eddie the Banished and he was about to respond until the lights came back on. “Finally” he sighed in relief before playfully nudging Eddie’s arm “hope you’re entertained now, I’m going back to reading” he chuckled and went back out to the living room leaving behind an exhausted Eddie Munson.

[wrenreid]

Conflict of Interest

mature content in this story

Chapter Eighteen: Memories and Longing

It’s well into the next day when you finally text Spencer back. You would like to say that you forgot, but you didn’t. His simple text message lives rent free in your mind for the entire 19 hours it takes you to respond.

Sorry it’s been a minute. I’ve been so busy! You type up this excuse, but it isn’t true, so you don’t send it. You haven’t been busy at all today. All you’ve done is watch t.v. with your brothers and take Dad out for lunch. Other than those thrilling events, you’ve been in bed.

This bed holds a lot of memories, but not ones you would think. You would stay up late under the covers with a little flashlight and read. You would lie here and gaze up at the ceiling, playing out your future in your head. It’s safe to say the scenarios were not accurate to the now present.

These sheets and pillowcases have caught a gallon of your tears. The earliest memory you hold of your tears spilling down onto the pillow beneath you is the night your parents told you about the divorce.

Quinton was the only of the 4 of you who had already known, granted he’s the oldest at 17. But you were only 7 and your other brothers 10 and 13, so your parents decided to break the news over dinner. Your mother cooked a family favorite meal and even bought a pie.

The dinner was great until it wasn’t, until you found out your parents weren’t going to share a last name any longer and your mother was moving out. Sure, maybe it was only 20 minutes from your house, but that’s a light year for a 7 year old who feels like she’s losing her mother.

You had been silent for the rest of dessert and whole night until you laid down for bed. The tears started flowing. You were sad and angry. Angry that your parents couldn’t love each other anymore even for the sake of their 4 kids. Now, you understand the separation was the best option.

There were other instances where the cotton below you had to absorb the salty tears from your eyes. Like when you were 13 and your best friend moved away to Louisiana because she was a military brat, and her father was stationed there.

Or when you found out your boyfriend of 4 months slept with Jasmine Bailey, a senior girl who you’d never spoken to but had a reputation. She was beautiful and a woman, and you were just barely 15 with braces, still wearing A cups, and refused to go past first base. Of course he had chosen her over you, you thought as you cried and yelled as your face buried into a pillow.

This bed also held the memory of when you found out you got into the FBI Academy and jumped up and down on the mattress like a little girl.

‘Yeah, I am. Are you?’ You finally respond to Spencer’s text from the previous night.

You’re not even really sure why it took you as long as it did to respond. Maybe because you wanted to distance yourself from him a little bit. Distance may help the feelings go away. But then again, as the saying goes, distance brings fondness, so the plan is flawed.

It doesn’t take him long to respond, only about half an hour. ‘I am too, yeah. I’m going to a party with my friend Morgan.’

‘In DC?’

‘Yep. I think it’ll be fun.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ You text back and feel a sting in your stomach at the thought of him being in a party with girls in skimpy dresses and seductive smiles they’ll flash at anyone.

‘What are your plans?’

I’m not sure. I’ll probably just hang out with my family and watch the ball drop.

You press down on the back space until the words are gone, then you send: ‘Going to a party too. San Francisco on New Years can get wild;)’

‘I hope you have fun!’

‘I will.’

The bad thing about texting is that you can’t read people’s emotions unless they use emojis to show it. Spencer does not use emojis. Is he jealous? Is he excited for you? Or does he just not care?

You’d have every right to sleep with someone at a wild San Francisco New Year’s Eve party because he isn’t your boyfriend. But you aren’t going to.

He would have every right to sleep with some skank- some woman- at a party in DC because you’re not his girlfriend. And he may very well do it.

The thought of him inside another woman makes you want to scream. She’d be lucky because not only is he great at making a woman feel good, he’s also the sweetest guy in the world.

Maybe being underneath another man would take your mind off him. Or maybe it would remind you of how you miss him.

Ugh this is stupid!

chapter nineteen

i’m so sorry it’s been so long!!! also i promise this is the last chapter without spencer, i know that annoys some of you

tags: @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @assemblemotherfuckers @calicocatty @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @kbakery @reidsprettygirl <3

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

[samsexualdeancurious]

Sugar-Sweet

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 1,014

Summary: Y/N and the Winchesters are wrapping up a hunt at a carnival.

Warnings: Fluff, smol case fic.

Written for an Angel request.

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“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff,” you say, eyeing the bag of blue and pink cotton candy in Dean’s hand.

He shrugs and shoves more in his mouth, eyes never wavering from their lock on Sam. The younger Winchester is talking to a security guard, laying down a distraction so you and Dean can slip past to grab the cursed doll that’s sitting on the shelf of the carnival fortune teller’s tent.

“They’re on the move,” Dean announces around a mouthful of dissolving sugar as he stuffs his bag of candy in his pocket.

Sure enough, Sam and the security guard are walking. As soon as they’re out of sight, Dean loops his arm over your shoulders and pulls you along beside him towards the tent. You lean into him, laughing at nothing as you keep an eye out for more security guards. Most of them are towards the parking lot, though, as the carnival winds down for the night. There aren’t any in sight and soon Dean is lifting the flap of the tent to allow you inside.

The interior is dark for a moment as you slip your flashlight from the inner pocket of your jacket and turn it on. The pale beam illuminates an elaborately decorated red and gold interior, set up exactly as it was earlier in the day when you sat across the small round table from a trembling old lady wearing several pounds of costume jewelry and had your palms read. She’d rambled on about your love line while you nodded along. The floor is layered with rugs, plush underfoot, and every surface is draped with silky fabrics.

“Where’d you say the doll was?” Dean mutters. He stands close to you in the dark, not wanting to accidentally bump into something and make a mess. He’d fumbling with his own flashlight but it doesn’t turn on when he flips the switch or when he gives it an angry shake. “Fuck. should’ve checked this.”

You ignore your boyfriend’s grumbles and sweep the beam of the flashlight over the rugged bookshelf along the back wall of the tent. The shelves are packed full of props, some for use and some purely for aesthetics.

“Top shelf.”

You center the beam on the doll. It’s creepy as hell, burlap body and head with a lacy dress and button eyes. The dichotomy of the rough fabric skin with the flowery pastel and lace outfit alone gives you the creeps.

“I hate dolls,” you mumble while Dean wraps his hand in a rag and uses it to take the doll down.

Dean studies it and then turns the doll to face you. “Hello,” he says in a high-pitched voice, making the doll wave one arm.

You roll your eyes and Dean laughs, wrapping the doll up tightly before shoving it in his pocket.

--

Sam is waiting outside the tent.

“Got it?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

You nod.

“Good. I bought us some time but I’m not sure how much.”

Turns out, “some time” equates to “no time at all” because a new security guard comes into view right as Dean exits the tent behind you.

“Hey! You!”

“You had one job!” Dean shouts as he grabs your hand, the both of you already running.

“Fuck off,” Sam yells back.

Thank god the fortune teller’s tent is on the edge of the carnival, closest to the street where Dean parked the Impala. You’re sliding into the backseat and the engine is roaring to life long before the security guard can catch up.

Dean whoops, steering the Impala out onto the main streets and into traffic. Sam lets out a laugh at his brother’s antics and you can’t help but echo it with one of your own.

“Time to find somewhere to burn this thing.” Dean pulls the doll from his pocket.

Sam takes it, careful not to touch it with his bare hands. “Should probably get out of town while we’re at it.”

You slump sideways in the backseat. Your racing heart is calming down, the adrenaline leaving your veins. You hate to have almost gotten caught - and for a doll, of all things - but you can’t deny that the adrenaline rush is fun. Still, it shouldn’t have happened. “I call being the distraction next time.”

“I don’t like that,” Dean grumbles.

“I can guarantee I can do a better job than Sam,” you point out.

“Hey!” Sam shoots you a glare with no heat to it. “I even took the time to knock the guy out and tie him up. How was I supposed to know there was another one hanging around?”

“That’s the lookout’s job!”

“I wasn’t the lookout, though! I was the distraction! Two different things. Dean should’ve stayed outside the tent to be lookout.”

You can’t argue with that one. “True. He didn’t even have a working flashlight.”

Sam laughs as Dean’s cheeks flush.

--

Dean drives until well outside the city limits, where he pulls off onto a side road and finds a place to park.

“Let’s burn this thing before one of us accidentally touches it,” he says, eyeing the doll that Sam’s still holding on to.

The burn process is a relatively quick one. Cursed objects, unlike ghosts, don’t usually fight back when facing destruction and the doll is no different. You can’t suppress a shiver when you watch it go up in flames, though.

“Good riddance,” you sigh, leaning against Dean’s side. The night air is chilly but his arm around you is warm and when he leans down to kiss your cheek, his lips are still sticky from the cotton candy. You jerk away with a grossed-out noise and Dean laughs, chasing after you. Sam moves out of the way, rolling his eyes as he kicks dirt over the dying fire.

Dean catches you by the driver’s door of the Impala, arms tight around your middle as he finally presses his lips to your own. You give in, returning the kiss, and can’t deny that you enjoy how sugar-sweet his mouth tastes.

—

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[unloved-cadillac]

LMAO an idea has come into my noggin. Levi’s Fem s/o brings home an animal. I’m thinking a cat, but a dog would be fun too. Honestly up to you what animal! It could be a hedgehog for all I care. Anyways, Levi pulls the “I said I didn’t want a pet” act but ends up being VERY attached to the new animal. Like puts a cravat on it, baby talks it, etc. Maybe carries it around when he can. I just see this happening lol. Thanks!

C/n: I loved writing this! Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

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A Turn of Events. (Levi x Reader)

The day quickly turned to night in the city of Sina as a young couple walks on the sidewalk. “Honey, I’m thinking about getting another car.” You say and Levi looks at you. “Another car? Why?”

“Well, I need to get another one. It’s costing the same as a new car so might as well just get another one.” You sigh and take Levi’s hand and lean on his shoulder. “I wish life wasn’t so expensive.” You say and he kisses the top of your head. “I know. We’ll be okay though.”

The both of you chat and as you cross a path that led to an alleyway, that’s when you heard it. “Levi.” You stop him and look into the dark alley. “Do you hear that?” You ask and he looks. A soft whining noise came from there and you gasped. “It’s probably a puppy. Let’s go see.” You were about to walk into it but the back of your jacket was caught by Levi. “And do what? It’s probably there for a reason.” You scoff and pull away from him. “How can you be so cold? I’m going to see if it’s okay, you’re welcome to join.” You say and turn on your phone flashlight as you head in. Levi groans and follows you.

You follow the soft whines as you headed deeper into the alley. “Here here, sweetheart. I’m here. Where are you?” You talk to the animal and it whined louder and you turned to the left to see a box next to a dumpster. You shined your flashlight on it and there it was. A puppy. “Oh no. Baby, are you okay? What happened?” You ask and squat down to see it. It curled up as it shivered and whined. You tried to examine its body and you saw it’s leg bleeding.

“Y/n!” You hear Levi call as his footsteps approached you. “Over here. I found the pup!” You yell back and then you continued to coo at the puppy. “Let me help you.” You whisper to it and it looks up to you with big black eyes. You smile as you gently pet its head. “Don’t worry.”

Levi stood behind you as you talked to the creature. Only you were crazy enough to do this, in the dirt nonetheless. “Hold this.” You give your phone and he continued to shine the light on you. You gently lifted the box up and held it in front of him. “Levi, it’s so light.” You sounded like you were on the verge of tears and he sighs. “What now? We can’t take him to the vet. They’ll be closed now.” He says and he sees you smile while looking at the pup. “We take him home for the night. First thing tomorrow, we take him to the vet.” You say and begin to walk out of the alley.

Levi didn’t even argue. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance once there’s an animal involved.

Once you took the pup home, you gently dressed it’s wound and wrapped a bandage around it. You put a plastic bag over it and tied it up so you could bathe it. “Oh, you’re a boy! Hello, handsome.” Levi heard you say and he groans. “This cannot be happening.” He mumbles in his hands. When you were finished, you dried the pup and brought him out to the kitchen. You had some leftover chicken from dinner and gave it to him in a bowl which he gulped down.

“We aren’t keeping him, by the way.” Levi suddenly says and you look at him. “What?! Why?!” You ask and he shakes his head. “I do not want a pet in the house. They’re too much to handle and filthy. Once we take him to the vet, that’s it.” He says, trying to hold his ground.

But then you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your chin on his chest, looking up to him. “Levi.” You coo and he shakes his head and looks up. “No.”

“Leviiii.”

“I said no.”

“But LLeevvviiiiii, look at him. He’s an innocent soul who did nothing wrong in this selfish world of ours. A horrible human being threw him away and now he finally got another chance at having a happy and good life with a loving family. Don’t throw him away.” You whisper and Levi listens as he looks at the puppy with the bandage on his leg, eating. He lifted his head to look at Levi and you turned to watch him and as you looked at the pup, his tail wagged so hard.

“He’s a baby, Levi.” You finally say and let go of Levi to go to the puppy. You sat on the floor as you played and petted the pup and Levi just groaned. Why did you have to make so much of sense? He heard you baby talking and he shook his head. “Tch. Fine. But he’s your responsibility.” Levi finally says and you squeal and run into Levi’s arms. “Oh thank you, Levi.” He holds you as he looks at the puppy who looked like he had a smile on. “Yeah.”

~~~~

At the vet, they said that he was a pure German Shepherd. His leg was scarred and hurt but nothing drastic. “And what is this little ones name?” The vet asked, ready to write. You looked at Levi as you thought.

“I didn’t even think of a name.” You say and scratch your head. Before you could say anything else Levi spoke up.

“His name is Tiger.” You look at Levi who looked at the vet, not wanting to look at you. You smiled to yourself and held Levi’s arm. “Tiger it is. We want to keep him overnight just to run some extra tests just to make sure. You can come get him tomorrow.” You and Levi nod and leave the vet. “Tiger? What made you think of that?” You finally ask Levi as you both walked to the car.

“Dunno. It suited him.” Levi glanced to you and you smiled. “Alright. So let’s go get some stuff for him. Bed, toys. Collar.” Levi hums in agreement and you both head to a pet store. A big white bed for Tiger was bought along with toys, shampoo, brushes, and a leash.

When Tiger came back, needless to say he felt right at home. He was energetic, playful and just a happy pup. You had to have a whole album on your phone dedicated to him. Levi took longer to allow Tiger in but he eventually did. And it was amazing.

Tiger was four months, so he was at the age where you could carry him. So Levi, always had him in his arms. Tiger’s front paws would be on Levi’s shoulders as Levi held his back and cleaned. Tiger was afraid of the vacuum so Levi had to hold him while he vacuumed. You even caught him baby taking to Tiger.

“You are such a handsome boy. Yes you are. You’re my handsome boy. Who’s handsome boy are you? Yes that’s right. Mine.” He says as he plays with Tiger and you chuckle and Levi immediately looked at you. “H-Hey Y/n. We were just playing around.” Levi stutters and you nod. “Oh I know. You and your handsome boy.” You play the recording and Levi’s eyes widened. “Delete that.” He says and you shake your head. “No.”

“I said delete it! Tiger get her.” Levi orders Tiger but he just walks to you and sits in front of you. “Mama’s boy.” You show Levi your tongue and run away from him. Levi chased you and Tiger joined and all three of you ended up on the couch, on top of one another.

Tiger didn’t like to sleep alone. His bed was in the living room, just in case he needed to eat or drink but he whined and whined at your bedroom door and only stopped when he was let it. So now he sleeps in between you and Levi.

Levi even got Tiger a cravat. A cute one with paw prints and you were in awe. “Look at our baby, Levi! So handsome.” You squish Tiger’s face and kiss him all over. Levi chuckled and carried Tiger as you all laughed.

One time, Levi fell asleep on the couch and Tiger jumped up and slept on his chest. Levi unconsciously wrapped and arm around him and now that it is your lock screen. Levi’s lock screen is you holding Tiger as he smiled at the camera and you smiled at him.

Levi and you had a family. Not a fully human family, but a family nonetheless.

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“I miss my girl and boy so much. I hope that they’re in a better place now.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.