#OH FUCK I have two OLD OLD laptops i should probably dig out to make sure their batteries arent bloated to......

[tarudce22]

I found my old mp3 players which is great and wonderful except..... the batteries are bloated so i may as well have two little bombs

this is great this fine (it very much is not)

[thelampisaflashlight]

Girls' Night

[A short blurb based on that girls' night chat post I made.]

"I'm gonna shape your brows," Cirrus says, studying Dew's face intently, licking her lips as she thinks, "other than that, I think maybe some eyeshadow?"

"Do what you gotta do." Dew shrugs, watching Cumulus and Aurora pick through the carefully curated outfits Mist has pulled from her closet in the mirror in front of him, "Not that one."

Aurora makes a disappointed noise and drops the short, demin mini skirt she was holding onto the bed, "But it's cute..."

"No, I agree with Dew," Cumulus hums, picking up a soft looking balloon skirt, "it's cold out, cute or not, we can't have our honeypot freezing his balls off."

"Been there, done that." Dew scoffs, sitting up straight when Cirrus takes hold of his face to start working on his eyebrows, "Tell me about the mark."

"He's the owner of a megachurch," Mist says, pulling a file out from under her pillow, "middle aged, married but looking if you catch my drift. Two kids from his marriage, a son and a daughter, and a couple 'little secrets' he's sending hush money to..."

"Funded by the parishioners?"

"One hundred percent!" Mist chirps amusedly, "The rest you can read yourself when Cirrus is done fixing that ugly mug of yours."

"If I didn't wanna risk losing one of these press ons, I'd get you for that." Dew says, emphasizing his point with a click of his manicured nails, then looks at them appraisingly, "I'm starting to think we should have gone with a nude shade, this red is, like, a lot..."

"That's the point-" Mist starts to say, but a knock at the door has her slipping the file back under her pillow and motioning for the others to stay still, "Who is it?"

"It's Rain."

A pause.

"Is Dew in there with you?"

Mist glances at Dew, who carefully slides out of his seat in front of the vanity and climbs into her wardrobe.

"No??" she does her best to sound offended as she opens her bedroom door, "It's girls' night, he'd stink up the room with his boy germs."

Cumulus, Cirrus, and Aurora wave from their newly assumed positions of the bed, sat around watching a video on Mist's laptop.

"Oh..." Rain pouts, "I haven't seen him all day, I'm worried."

"Aw, missing your boytoy?" Mist coos, pinching his cheek, "Pretty sure Frater Imperator stole him away to go over some documents in the archive room. Poor bastard is probably balls deep in some ancient tome transcribing some disturbed monk's ramblings."

"I do remember Copia muttering about having to redo some transcripts because of how Terzo fucked up the sorting system years ago..." Cumulus adds, and Cirrus nods in agreement.

"We have an archive room??" Aurora blinks, having genuinely not known this information before, "How have I not seen it??"

"Because it's the kind of place where if you so much as breathe wrong, someone jumps on you and accuses you of endangering hundreds of years old books." Mist says, "Only a handful of people have access, and as big of a dumbass as he is, Dew used to do archival photography and preservation work before he came here."

"Yeah, Dew's a big ol' nerd!" Cirrus laughs in the direction of the wardrobe, imagining the middle finger Dew is undoubtedly holding up behind closed doors.

"That would explain why he hasn't answered my texts..." Rain murmurs, taking his phone out of his pocket, "He gets really absorbed in that kind of stuff. Oh, I hope he remembered to eat..."

"Tell you what." Mist pats his shoulder, feeling a little bad on Dew's behalf for having to ghost his boyfriend for the sake of their mission, "If I see your man roaming the halls like a zombie later, I'll send him your way for make up cuddles and snacks."

"Would you?" Rain asks, sounding adorably hopeful, "I appreciate it!"

Another short moments of chitchat later, and Mist's door finally clicks shut, and Dew emerges from the wardrobe looking a little down about the mouth.

"I'll give it a minute and then I'll text him." Dew says, digging into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone, "I couldn't message him while I was waxing..."

"You should send him a pic along with the text as an apology, like, 'Sorry I was so busy! Make it up to you ;)' and, boom!" Cumulus suggests, wiggling her fingers, but frowns when Dew frowns at his phone, "Aw, gumdrop, it's okay if you wanna dip and go see your boy..."

"No, it's just... I do feel bad, but I want to do this, too, and I just... I feel bad that I can't tell him what's going on." Dew rubs the back of his neck, "...Fuck it."

"Huh?"

Dew picks out a dress from the piles.

"I'm not gonna take a photo... I'm gonna make him an entire fucking album."

"Not in that you're not." Mist tuts, going through her closet again, "You need silk and lace, and a pearl necklace-"

"Mist!" Dew flusters.

"The actual kind, I think it'd pull the look together, plus, fish boy would appreciate the added details..."

"So is the plan to take the photos first and then go catch us a dirty preacher to steal his stolen relics or is this an after kind of deal?" Cirrus asks, "Because if it's an after thing, I can grab my polaroid camera and we can make it extra special for him with some physical photos."

"Can we skip the heist altogether and just take tasteful nudes of Dew? That sounds a lot more fun than robbing some crusty dude..." Aurora wonders aloud.

"No, duty calls as they say." Mist proclaims, hands on her hips, "Work first, play later, ya know."

"Aw."

[ciaossu-imagines]

Could I have a drabble for Shōhei and reader as enemy spies?

Oh, this one was fun to think up and I wish my actual drabble did the ideas I had better justice! But this was a fun one and I thank you for sending in the request!

You giggled, leaning into the man even more than you already had been, pressing your breasts against his arm. You could feel him respond, see the way his face lit up, could see the way he was staring at you and you felt the rush of victory. You hated how you had to simper and fawn just to seduce this nerdy, scrawny little man, but a job was a job and this job would be well paying.

“How about we head up to your room?” you whispered in his ear, gazing coyly up at him. It took him no time at all to respond and you knew everything was going according to plan. This mission would be a cinch and in no time, this schmuck would be tranquilized, passed out on his bed from a nice little injection, and those passcodes would be in your hands. He’d wake up the next morning, thinking he’d just had too much to drink, with only the vaguest recollection of having headed to bed with some woman he’d been flirting with. You would bet your ass it would take him days to even realize you’d been into his laptop, had copied those precious files of his and by then you would be long gone. Easy peasy.

Or at least, that’s what you had been thinking. Too bad life had to go and throw a monkey-wrench into your best laid plans. And what a monkey wrench it was. You’d been approaching the elevator with the ambassador when you’d caught sight of him. You’d almost had to stop dead in your tracks…no, it couldn’t be. And from the way he was staring at you, face devoid of its usual cheerful grin, you knew he’d seen you too.

Shouhei Akagi…god, why did it have to be him, you thought to yourself. Back in the old days, when you’d been a part of the HOMRA division of spies, loyal to only them, you’d spent a lot of time with Shouhei, had worked closely together with him on so many missions. The two of you had been partners, friends…and more than occasionally, you’d been bedmates. It had been something less than a relationship, but way more than just friends with benefits and you’d known it at the time. You’d been getting too close to him.

And it had hurt you when you left him, though you knew it had probably hurt him more. You knew he had to be carrying a grudge, especially by the way he was staring at you, thin-lipped and eyes narrowed, that old rage you’d seen explode out of him so evident in his gaze. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t over you betraying HOMRA…but what was a girl to do? How could you have stayed once you discovered just how much better, how much richer, your life could be on the other side?

You hurried the man faster, faster, cheap candied words about how you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you urging him onto the elevator just as Shouhei had almost made his way to you, the last thing he saw your self-satisfied smile as the elevator doors slid shut.

But you knew him too well. You knew he’d be heading for the stairs and that your plan needed to speed up. Fuck, you hadn’t been prepared for this, you thought, as you almost ran with the ambassador towards his door. You could hear the stairwell door slam open. Fuck…you weren’t going to make it, especially not with how the dork with you was fumbling, digging in his pockets nervously for the keycard that would let him inside the room.

He'd just managed to get it out, just managed to swing the door open when Shouhei rounded the corner into the hallway you stood at. You grinned at him, blowing a kiss before you slammed the hotel door room shut, clicking the lock and sliding the deadbolt into place. That should buy you just enough time, you thought, your hand going to slide up to the hidden needle in your hairpin and you whipped around, shoving it into the neck of the ambassador. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how you liked to do things. He’d remember this so much more, you’d have so much less time to get away.

Sprinting across the room, you didn’t even bother to open the laptop, just ripping the cord out of it and holding it in your hand as you sprinted towards the hotel window. This wasn’t really your day, though, you thought, staring at the drop from the hotel window. Not even you could manage this one…no, there was only one way out, you thought, as you heard the sound of wood splintering. You were just turning around as the door exploded inwards.

“Shouhei,” you said, greeting him with a smile.

“Y/N…” he murmured, just staring at you for a second. “You really don’t think you’ll be getting out of here, do you?”

“I think that should be my line.

[loving-all-for-loki]

How about a Loki x reader.. Tony moves his baby sister into the compound after something happens to her but he won’t tell anyone what. She refuses to leave her room until everyone is in bed. She comes out one night and is caught by Loki. She immediately apologizes and becomes so shaken up that she drops her things and breaks a glass. Then it hits him why she was secretly moved in. Tony had discovered his little sister living in a bad situation with her now ex and suffered years of abuse. Loki decides then to take his time to make her feel safe again and they eventually fall for each other.

A/N: I hope this works! I got really sappy at the end, but I also don’t know how to end these one shots. This is a bit of a lengthy one, so bear with me.

He’s Not Him

Summary: Tony Stark has enough of his sister’s ex and moves her into the Avengers Tower. After taking notice of her shy and timid behavior, Loki digs deep at her past, making him want to make her feel safe.

Pairing: Loki x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2993

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of domestic abuse, language

Forever Tags: @mm2305

Y/E/N - your ex’s name

*If you or someone you know is being domestically abused, please reach out to 911 or call 800.799.SAFE (7233) for help. Love you all*

-

Tony storms into his sister's apartment. After standing outside of her door for a half hour, he bashed in the door at the the sound of a scream from inside. Frantically, he pushes his way around the furniture and bursts into your bedroom. His eyes go wide at the sight of you on the floor in a ball and your ex boyfriend above you with a fist out. Stark grabs your ex’s fist and rips him away from you, pushing him into your dresser.

“Get the fuck out!” Tony screams.

“Oh, the great Tony Stark is here. What are you going to do? Drop a bomb on me?”

You’ve never seen Tony’s skin turn so red. He storms forward and punches your ex square in the nose, sending him down on the ground. Tony unleashes all his energy until the man is left with a broken nose and multiple bruises.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex runs out of your room, without missing the chance to break a few things, and out of your apartment. You look up out of your ball to see Tony rushing to your side with panic in his eyes. He lifts up your head as you climb into his lap.

“Come here, darling. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” He coos.

You cry into the crook of his shoulder as he rocks you back and forth, his hand on your back.

“I’m getting you out of here,” He says, placing you on your bed, “I’m taking you to the tower with us.”

Tony leaves you on your bed as he gets a suitcase and packs your things. He gathers all of your clothes and some of your possessions like books, drawings, and others. You can feel the tears starting to dry on your skin as you stop crying. Tony doesn’t miss the way you start to uncurl and the bruises on your neck show up. His face drops to see the choking marks on your neck.

“I’m… so sorry, Y/N. I should have been here to protect you.”

You shake your head at him as he joins you on the bed. Tony reaches around your head to undo your ponytail and cover the bruises.

“There, now no one will ask you about them.”

You give him a gentle smile which eases him a little. He leans forward and kisses your forehead before taking your hand and helping you up. Tony and you walk out of your building and into the garage where Happy is in the car. He drops you off for five minutes to go talk to your landlord about you leaving.

“You’re going to be okay,” Happy reassures you.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out.

He gives you a warm smile. He has always made you smile throughout the years. Tony comes back, joins you in the car, and takes off to the tower.

Upon arrival, you look up at the large tower in awe. You’ve visited a couple of times, but that was a year ago since your ex didn’t allow you to see Tony much. It’s always been impressive. You were thankful for Tony letting you live on your own and make something of your own life instead of letting you mooch off of his fortune, but you do regret sometimes not letting him support you more. You were always so proud of him.

Tony carries your luggage as he leads you to the elevators. He looks down at you every so often, noticing the anxious way you bite your nails.

“You’re safe here. We have the best security and you’ll be surrounded by trained assassins and heroes. They’ll protect you, I promise.”

You nod your head at Tony’s words. As much as they help you, you don’t really want to see or talk to anyone. After having your ex break into your house every day for two weeks, you want to be alone except for the occasional visit from Tony.

The elevator doors open and reveal you and your brother to the Avengers who are all lounging in the living area. They turn to look at you with puzzled faces, making you nervous and hide behind Tony’s arm. He lets you stay behind him instead of forcing you to say hi as you exit the elevator.

“Everyone, this is my sister, Y/N. She’s going to stay here from now on so be nice to her,” Tony announces.

Everyone says hi to you but you stay silent behind Tony. He doesn’t question it even though the others look at one another in concern. Steve thinks to himself that you can’t be that rude, but given the way you look, everything must be very different to you from the rest of your life. You look shocked and scared.

Looking at the Avengers, you take in each and everyone’s appearance. Bucky and Nat look the scariest in your opinion and you make a mental note to stay away from them. Sam, Steve, and Clint look nice, but Wanda looks like the sweetest lady in the universe. She has a smile that warms your heart. Turning to your right, you see two very tall men standing and staring at you.

The taller one has blonde hair and a big grin on his face. He has a large stature, but he does not look intimidating. He has a golden retriever energy to him, but the man next to him is a different story. With his pitch black hair and powerful stand, the other man stares at you with daggers in his eyes. He sends shivers down your spine without saying anything.

You drag your eyes away from the intimidating man and follow Tony down the hallway. He leads you to your room where you get settled in, unpacking your clothes and putting away your things. Laying in the bed, you take a big nap which is needed. You feel as if you let out a breath you’ve been holding for days. The idea of being away from your ex finally settles in and you feel the wave of relief wash over your body, letting you drift away into sleep.

You’re woken up by Tony letting you know dinner is being served. He lets you know that you’re not being expected to come out and eat with everyone, which you appreciate. Ten minutes later, he comes by your room and slips a plate of food in your room as he opens the door, letting you eat alone.

Tony returns to the living room by the other Avengers eating and gathered around the couch. He takes his plate and sits next to Pepper who has her own food, smiling at him as he joins.

“So, your sister?” Sam asks.

“Don’t even think about it. She is not to date any of you.”

“Woah, I didn’t say that,” Sam laughs.

“But we know what you meant,” Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes, “She seems shy.”

“She is. You probably won’t get a lot out of her.”

“Can I ask why she’s staying her?”

“No.”

Steve shares a look with Bucky. The elevator door opens and Peter walks into the living room.

“You guys started dinner without me?” He asks, jokingly.

“Early birds get the worm,” Steve laughs.

The group chuckles and keeps eating their food.

“Is Y/N a new Avenger?” Steve asks.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes at the question. Everyone notices the annoyance in Tony with talking about you and collectively decide to stop asking questions. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about you much.

“No, she’s not.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Peter asks.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Nat replies.

The day goes by fast and you find yourself staring out at New York in the moonlight. You have always enjoyed the night time. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but you’ve always found peace and warmth in the New York night. Everyone goes out to party or to bed. It’s a time of joy and relaxment.

You hear the last door shut for the night, signally everyone going to bed. Looking outside of your door, you don’t spot anyone so you sprint outside to the kitchen with your empty dinner plate. Upon entering it, you search the walls for the light switch for about five minutes. There’s no other light than that except for the over. You finally find it and switch it on. As you turn around, you’re startled by the frightening black haired man standing there.

Scared, you drop your plate, shattering it on the tile floor. Your eyes go wide as you start to back up against the wall. Without saying anything, the man takes a step forward, scaring you half to death. Your mind plays tricks on you and all you can think about is your ex breaking into your home. You start to have a panic attack, sliding down against the wall, and curling up into a ball.

You miss the way Loki’s eyes go wide. He watches you descend into an anxiety attack and doesn’t know what to do, knowing he’s who caused it. Quickly, he rushes down the hallways and bangs on Tony’s doors.

“What do you want, Reindeer Games?” He groans.

“Your sister…”

Tony doesn’t wait for another word for following Loki down the corridor. He spots you panicking in the corner of the kitchen and grabs you, lifting you into his lap. You grab onto his neck and pull him close, crying into him. He lifts you up and carries you off to your room without saying a word to Loki, leaving him standing in the kitchen agape.

Not knowing what to do and unable to relax, Loki makes his way to his room and opens up an old laptop Thor had gotten him. After spending thirty minutes just to figure out how to work it, he starts googling things about you. He starts with your name and finds multiple articles on you and Tony, the Stark Industry Golden Children. You left when you were eighteen, wanting to make your own life and not follow in the family’s footsteps. He gives you credit for being yourself, something he had struggled with. He knows the feeling, not wanting to be your family.

Then a certain website catches his eye, Facebook. He finds a profile of you filled with photos and text. There are some of you with friends in the town, a couple of old coworkers wishing you a happy birthday, then there’s a photo of you with a man. There are no other photos of you with him other than this one a couple months ago. He keeps scrolling to find more photos of you with him, but they all stop after that first one. Clicking on something tagged in the caption, another profile pops up.

Y/E/N’s profile. Filled with photos of drunk nights at the club, shirtless gym time, and quotes from misogynistic authors, Loki finds himself despising this man he does not know. He scrolls through finding very little of you in his account, as if you don’t matter as much to him as he does to you. Closing his computer, Loki decided to go check on you. He’s frustrated by whoever this man is, not knowing whether he’s important or not.

Loki peeks into your room to see Tony laying next to you, brushing through your hair with his fingers. Tony looks up and meets him in the eyes. There’s slight anger, but Loki doesn’t feel pushed away. He takes a step in before Tony leans into your ear and whispers. You look up and over to Loki, but you don’t ask him to leave. Loki continues to walk into your bedroom quietly, but with a small gentle smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier,” he says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Thanks,” you mutter.

Your voice is small and timid like a mouse. He can hear the hesitation in your voice, not knowing whether he should talk to you or not.

“Are… you okay?”

“Yes.”

Another awkward pregnant pause erupts between the two of you. Loki looks around your room as Tony continues to hold you. He whispers into your ear again before leaving.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” he says, “call me if you need me okay?”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Of course, anything for my little sister.”

He kisses your forehead and heads out of your room, leaving you and Loki alone. You don’t mind his presence anymore. After Tony tells you that Loki isn’t your ex and you’re okay, you’ve accepted him.

“I have to ask… who is that man on Facebook?”

Loki gives you a quizzical look. You think for a moment about how Loki got on Facebook and what guy he’s talking about.

“His name is Y/E/N.”

Your body clenches at the sound of his name and Loki takes a step back, looking at you. He’s never seen anyone physically close up just from a name. It may be some Midgardians thing he doesn’t understand, but the way that you are shaking, he thinks otherwise. He sits down next to you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. You lean into his touch as you attempt to calm down.

He’s not here. I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe.

You keep repeating that in your head, reminding yourself that you’re safe in the tower like Tony said. Looking up at Loki, you see his concerned face. He cares. This man you barely know cares about you.

He’s not him. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m being quite an ass asking you these questions without manners. I’m Loki.”

Loki, not Y/E/N. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“Well, L-Loki,” you say with a stutter, “He’s uh… my ex. Ex boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

He nods as he takes in the information at hand. Your ex, who makes you quiver in fear even over people who have done nothing to her, has no photos of you. He shares his lavish lifestyle that most would presume belongs to a single man. Loki looks back at your depressed ridden face. The color in your skin has drained from you and you’re staring blank cold at the wooden floors under your bed. Loki places a hand on your neck to move your hair and give you a light massage, but you flinch away from him before he is able.

Loki’s never seen so much fear and worry in someone’s eyes before. You jerk away from him muttering yourself, as if it were taking everything in you to not scream. He looks over you to see bruises along your neck where your hair had moved from when you moved. A wave of anger runs through his body, infuriating him. He did that to you. That’s why you’re so afraid of him.

“Did he-”

“Yes.”

Loki rises from your bed and clenches his fists. You see the anger pouring from him and rush to his side before he can storm off. You grab his arms and force him to look at you.

“Please, don’t… don’t do anything.”

“Why shouldn’t I? No man should ever do that to a woman, especially you.”

“Just let it be.”

He releases his fist but the fury in his eyes doesn't. You pull him towards you to make him sit again. Moving in closer, you lean into him. Loki wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. The two of you lay down in your bed, you curled up on him as he held you, running his fingers in your hair.

For some reason, Loki feels as if he has to protect you. The way you ball up gives him this sense of innocence about you. You haven’t done anything to deserve those injuries, just live your life and try to find love. Loki always knew there was a good reason to hate Midgardians, not just for their stupidity and now he’s found it.

The two of you fall asleep without realizing it. The light from the sun peaking in the windows wakes you. Stirring in bed, you look up to see Loki under you, his arms holding you against him by your waist. You're cradled into his chest as his chin barely rests on the top of your head. Loki’s eyes flutter open at the feeling of you moving on top of him. He looks down at you and smiles.

The way the light shines on your face makes you look angelic. Your smile warms his heart and the warmth of your body against him makes his heart jump. You turn over to face him, leaning up on your shoulders over his head.

“Hi.”

“Hello, darling.”

“You slept here.”

“Both of us did, actually,” he laughs.

You drop your head laughing. Loki’s sweet laugh fills the room and blesses your ears. He’s not too bad to be around. He’s quite kind and sweet.

“Thank you for last night.”

“For what? If I remember correctly, I gave you a panic attack.”

“I mean the way you calmed me down and held me. It was needed.”

“Well, I’m glad I could do that for you.”

Loki means it when he says it. Looking at you now, there’s not much he wouldn’t do for you. You don’t deserve what the world gives you, especially that asshole Y/E/N. He would hold you for the rest of time if that meant keeping you safe.

You won’t lie either when you tell Loki he makes you feel safe. Every day before he sneaks off to his room so the others don’t know he spends the night with you, you tell him that he makes you safe. He never believes you. He’s shocked that anyone could feel safe with a monster like him, but after all to you, Loki is not him.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 3): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: when things are uncovered, can you handle the truth? Or are you doomed to make a mistake you can't rectify?

wc: 2.1k

tw: violence

masterlist

song recommendation:

Ran's past was a lie.

When you met him at the country club five years ago, your pasts had been explained in hushed tones and excited flurries of memories; sharing photos of the time before he was an executive of the communications company he worked in and the time before you were a journalist.

Ran said he had gone to jail twice, both for crimes he had been an accessory to as a delinquent kid, but that he'd cleaned up his act after and made his way up the corporate ladder. Nothing about gangs or being a Heavenly King in Tenjiku made it past his lips.

You had been honest, too. Your tales included the time you'd accidentally happened upon a massive gang fight, and that's how your investigative journalism skills began to bloom.

Who was fighting?

What were they going to do after?

Where did these gangs come from?

When did this argument start?

Why were they fighting?

How did gangs form in the first place?

Those were all the questions you sought out answers for that night and the next five years after, devoting your time and effort to finding the truth about everything.

"Babe?" You freeze, hands hovering over the keys at the sound of Ran's voice. You don't turn around - you can't even look at him the same these days - but he fixes that by walking over to you and turning you around in your chair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Just doing some writing." His violet eyes search yours for the truth, but you know he won't be able to find it. Not while you're still trying to unravel his past. Ran kisses your eyelids sweetly, cupping your face in his large palms and littering his love across your face as you try your best to remain still and not confess about your research.

"Come to bed. It's late."

"I've got a few more paragraphs," you explain, motioning to the small print on your screen. "I'll be in bed soon."

But your lie is discovered shortly thereafter. It's five a.m. when Ran returns, seeing you slumped against your desk, arms cushioning your head, laptop screen blank. Instinctively, Ran pulls you out of your seat - making your notebook fall to the ground - grunting softly as he scoops you up into his arms and cradles you against his chest.

You willingly allow your husband to carry you to bed, where your two-year-old is also nestled among the sheets and pillows, thumb tucked into his mouth. And for a moment, Ran appreciates the view, seeing the two people he loved the most - besides his younger brother - laying in the bed he paid for, in the house he built, in the city he owns.

But then he remembers the slight disarray you left your things in at the desk and returns, picking up your pencil and notebook before laying them beside the laptop. Then his eyes catch "Ran's past?" written in bold, red letters, along with the words: "Tenjiku" and "Tandai" also written in the web of other words surrounding his name. "South Terano" is also on that web.

He'd have to take care of that in the morning.

And for the first time in a long time, worry bubbles to the surface of his mind, and Ran rips the sheet of paper from your notebook, tossing it into the kitchen trashcan and considering his deed done. He concealed his past to protect his family. And he's concealing the present to achieve the same goal; all for the future to be revealed later. That's how everything should be.

Right? _____________________________________________________________

"Ran," you whisper, lips running across his knuckles. His fingers cup your jaw, and his own lips press against your forehead, violet eyes darkening slightly. "It's six am. Where are you going this early?"

"I have to go into the office for a little while," he murmurs, kissing your forehead again. "I'll be back around lunchtime." Thoughts of Tandai and Tenjiku flash into your mind for a moment, but you smile at him sleepily anyway, absolutely sure these things are part of his past and not in the present.

"We'll be waiting for you, my love."

Despite all of your best intentions, though, you can't help but be consumed by the idea of Ran out, fighting, stealing, maiming... You consider asking him about these things, these concerns, but you decide against it as you're helping Kai with his lunch. If he wanted to leave it in the past, there's a good reason for it. He would have told you if it would be a problem later. Right?

Ran wouldn't jeopardize your family, your home, your life for something so... juvenile.

Right?

The clatter of keys on the counter in the living room brings you back to the present, and you perk up, your two-year-old mimicking your expression.

"Daddy!" Kai slides down from his seat and runs to greet Ran, clutching his father's legs with all his little might.

"Hey, buddy," Ran laughs, stooping to pick up his son with excitement. "How are you doing?" As son and father have a very stimulating conversation about playtime, you watch them in wonder, observing the way Ran makes his child a priority, just like he makes you a priority. But your countenance falls as soon as you see the blood spot on the bottom of Ran's lavender suit jacket. You know its blood because of the way it dried - that's no ketchup stain.

You fake a smile anyway, giving Ran a kiss on the cheek and tugging his jacket off after he sits Kai back on the tile floor.

"Hard day?"

"Kind of," Ran mumbles, and you catch the sight of a long scratch down the side of his neck. "But I made it through." You hum, taking the pin-striped jacket to the laundry room and slinging it over the side of the washer. You'd need that later.

"Need to relax?" you wonder, and Ran grins at you mischievously.

"Maybe later, after bedtime?"

_____________________________________________________________

But "later" never came.

Instead, Ran and Kai fell asleep on the sofa, watching a kid's movie, and you retreated to the office, powering up your laptop and pulling your notebook closer.

You immediately notice something's wrong, as the notes you had before were missing. Everything is gone. Not even a word of all the research you had done was there. Hadn't you written meticulous notes and names and things about Ran's past that could be interconnected? You break out in a sweat and search in every drawer of the desk, every place it could possibly be. You come up with nothing, and let out a frustrated sigh before slumping down in your seat and pulling up the computer history from yesterday. If you had to rewrite every single thing, that's fine. You'd just need more time to gather your evidence for the meeting on Saturday.

You're knee-deep in articles and police reports when you stumble across a more recent - actually as recent as this morning - article titled: "Ex-gangster found dead in meat factory". The picture of South Terano startles you, and you click on it, feeling a sense of dread as the article details how he was found hanging upside-down in the warehouse with a bullet hole in his head. And just like that, your newest lead has fizzled out. You groan, writing down "South Terano, deceased" on your notepad, then exiting the tab.

There had to be someone else you could ask. Shuji Hanma only provided you with Ran and Rindou's names, no one else.

"What's this?"

The door to the office shuts softly, and you look over your shoulder at Ran, who is walking toward you with measured steps, his eyes taking in your exhausted expression and the way you're hunched over that notepad. Again.

"What are you doing? You look tired, babe. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Suddenly, pieces begin to click as Ran leans his hip against the desk, staring down at you in the chair with squinted violet eyes. "You threw away my notes... Didn't you?"

"What are you doing in my business, y/n?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in two gangs?" you counter, fingers shaking slightly. "Ran, this is something I needed to know before--"

"You wouldn't have married me if I told you." Ran's tone is cold, almost as if he's turned into the past version of himself without batting an eye.

"You don't know that." Ran leans forward, coming to eye level with you a smirking.

"I know you. And that's all I need." Ran reaches out a hand to close the laptop, still smiling and maintaining eye contact. "Now here's what you're going to do. First, you're going to stop digging into my past. There's nothing there that you need to find. Second, you're going to come to bed. It's late, you're tired. Finally," Ran cups your chin like he did this morning, except his fingers aren't so tender this time. "You're going to cut off contact with both Shuji Hanma and Taiju Shiba. I'm not really fond of either of them, and I'm not a fan of having them tell my business to my wife."

"They were only doing it because I asked."

"Taiju, maybe. Shuji isn't so eager to fuck you. I doubt he did it out of the kindness of his heart." You can't say anything to refute his claims. Ran is probably right. But you can't get one question out of your mind.

"Why are you trying to hide your past? What's there that I won't like?"

"What isn't there is the real question."

"What can you tell me about the gang that's just surfaced in Tokyo?" Ran's face slackens, transforming into a half-surprised, half-blank look that you realize is one that means he's been caught. "Oh, my fucking god," you breathe, tears stinging your eyes. "South, the fish, the murders, the crime... It's you. It's been you this whole time. I've been chasing my own husband down." Panic begins to set in, and your mind whirls around as you shake in your seat, bringing your hands up to your head. "Just tell me Rindou isn't in this," you breathe, but Ran doesn't answer you, still wearing that dumb look on his face. You let out a cry of shock, covering your mouth and trying to back away from Ran as much as you can.

The source is a lot closer than you think.

You slide down the wall, shocked into stillness as your sobs quiet, and Ran straightens up, placing his hands in his sweatpant pockets. The long nights, the early mornings, the bloodstains, the damn suits... It all led to this. Ran had never really left his old lifestyle behind. He'd gotten caught up in it, and brought you and Kai into it unknowingly.

"I never meant for it to get this... unhinged." You can't reply, tucking your knees into your chest as you stare past Ran and at the opposite wall, wondering how you'd missed the signs, the obvious signs that Ran was up to no good. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we can--"

"I can't stay here."

The words fall from your mouth and Ran flinches, shaking his head.

"No. You can't leave."

"Yes, I can," you mumble, standing and wiping your tears. "I can do whatever I need to do to keep Kai safe, and--"

"Kai is safer here than out there," Ran snaps, pointing at the window. "I'm not letting my son out of my sight. Your snooping has caused enough trouble as it is; I wouldn't have had to go and clean up this morning if you hadn't--"

"Don't blame this on me," you retort, pointing at Ran accusatorially. "You're the one who joined a gang and is still in one! What kind of role model are you for our son now?"

"I provide the best way I can," Ran grits out, clenching his fists. "You've never gone hungry, cold, or ill-clothed a day in your life while you were with me."

"I would rather die than enjoy a life paid for with blood money."

"Blood money? You really think--" You try to push past Ran, but he grabs your shoulders, yanking you back in front of him. "You're not going anywhere except to our bed."

"Let me go, Ran Haitani," you mutter, hands balling up into little fists. "Or I'll scream."

"Who will hear you? Kai?"

How had you been so foolish? Ran's lips press together momentarily as his violet eyes run over your figure, taking stock of all your five-foot-six stature. You're no match for Ran. Not mentally, and certainly not physically. Ran notices your defeat and his hands slide down to your wrists, tugging your delicate hands up to his chest.

"Everything will be fine," he whispers, drawing you close. "I'm taking care of us. Just trust me."

Just trust me.

[kurowrites]

Aviophobia

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

---

It wasn’t like Wei Ying particularly hated air travel, not at all. After all, it was still the most practical way to travel long distances, and the distance between China and Europe was definitely long. The problem was that though he had just sat down in his seat, he was already horrifically bored. The airplane hadn’t even finished boarding yet, and there were around ten hours of flight still in front of him, and he couldn’t wait to arrive at his destination already.

He wasn’t looking forward to the flight, not least because he didn’t actually want to leave. After a year of not seeing her, Wei Ying had finally been able to take some time off and visit his sister, who had been living abroad with her stupid, loaded husband. He’d spent two weeks with Jiang Yanli and his little nephew, and it had been so good to see them again. A-Ling had grown so much! But now, a lot of work was waiting for him back at home, and he really needed to return, not sure when they would be able to meet the next time. That, he definitely wasn’t happy about.

Wei Ying distractedly fidgeted around in his seat, trying to keep in mind that it was no use to take out his laptop now, because the flight attendants would ask him to pack it up again for take-off in a few minutes. He had taken a book with him, anticipating this situation, but right now, the book seemed so unappealing he couldn’t even be bothered to unpack it from his backpack.

Come on, he mentally urged the passengers who were still moving along the aisles in search of their seat like a group of very slow snails, move faster, so we can leave.

Despite his best efforts, the other passengers did not speed up their pace, and so Wei Ying was cursed to sit there and wait until everyone was seated. He tried not to notice the usual offenders that managed to get in everyone’s way and blocked everything with their luggage, and tried to relax (rather unsuccessfully).

As he was idly watching the passengers pass him by, he caught a flash of white that caught his attention. Just when he was sure that his eyes were playing a trick on him, a man in a pristine white suit separated from the crowd and sat down right next to him. He pushed his briefcase under the front seat, fastened his seat belt, nodded to Wei Ying once, and then directed his glance straight forward, turning into a beautiful marble statue.

Wei Ying tried not to stare at his new neighbour too conspicuously, but he couldn’t really help it. The man seemed to be horribly out of place here in economy class, with a tailor-made white suit that very obviously was of high quality and therefore very expensive. His face equally set him apart from the other passengers, with a noble look and a bone structure that looked more suited to the cover of a fashion magazine. Wei Ying, in a simple hoody, soft jacket, and old jeans that were selected specifically for comfort purposes (after all, he would have to vegetate in them for ten hours), wondered how this unicorn had gotten lost among the common folk.

His seatmate was incredibly handsome, obviously wealthy, and… extremely stiff.

When the flight attendant finally announced that boarding had been completed, and that they were waiting for permission to proceed to the runway, the man next to him put his hands on both armrests, and for a second, Wei Ying was ready to be offended that this man hogged all the armrests for himself without consideration for the other passengers.

Then he noticed the man’s knuckles going white, his hands holding on to the armrests as if…

Wei Ying looked at the man’s face again. He was still staring straight ahead, his handsome face expressionless, his breath deep and controlled.

His eyes were fixed at some indeterminate point in the distance, and their focus did not waver at all.  

And they weren’t even moving yet.

Oh dear, Wei Ying thought to himself. Someone is not a fan of flying, huh.

He knew that a lot of people probably wouldn’t appreciate his meddling, but then again, he couldn’t sit there and do nothing while his neighbour was counting breaths or whatever the fuck he was doing to calm himself down. He wasn’t going to sit next to this man for the next several hours and pretend that he didn’t notice that this person was very obviously panicking.

So he reached out, and carefully put his own hand over the one currently clutching at their shared armrest.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, as quietly as he could. “You’re not alone, and you’re going to be fine.”

The man sucked in a shocked breath the moment Wei Ying touched him.

Wei Ying was ready to draw back and apologise for his unrequested interference, Maybe he shouldn’t have touched him, maybe he had misread–

The hand under his turned around and grasped his own, holding him fast.

“I apologise,” the stranger replied in a faint tone of voice. “For my unseemly display.”

Wei Ying laughed quietly, relief washing over him.

“It’s alright,” he replied conversationally. “We all have our little burdens to carry. As for me, I am deadly afraid of dogs, and I will jump into your arms when I see one. Not that I have much shame to begin with, but my fear of dogs is definitely bigger than any shame I might have. There will be screaming and a general amount of unnecessary, very ugly drama.”

That, finally, had the stranger remove his gaze from the undetermined point in the distance he had settled on, and he turned towards Wei Ying.

Wow.

Wei Ying had been woefully underprepared for this event. The man was even more handsome, facing him directly, and Wei Ying was sure he had never seen such beautiful eyes.

How, he wondered again, had this man ended up in economy class? He should be flying a private plane, not panicking next to Wei Ying on a commercial flight. He should be someone’s trophy husband.

“Dogs?” the man asked him, as if a fear of dogs wasn’t an entirely normal phobia to have.

“Yes,” Wei Ying replied earnestly. “Have you seen them? So fast, and they make so much noise all the time, and their teeth. Ugh. It’s a completely rational fear to have!”

By now, the plane had moved onto the runway, and was starting the jets up.

The man clutched at Wei Ying’s hand almost painfully as the plane started to vibrate, but surprisingly, he did not look away from Wei Ying, steadily holding Wei Ying’s gaze.

“Well, so is a fear of flying, I guess,” Wei Ying mused as the airplane began to move. “But think about this: it’s far more likely to get mauled by a dog than to get involved in a plane accident. There are dogs everywhere, and you never know when one is going to come around a corner! And some owners really don’t know to handle their dogs. So, you see. My fear is much more rational than yours. Also, I did get mauled by several dogs in the past, you know. It’s not even a theoretical fear for me, I know exactly what those bastards are capable of. Dogs are horrible. Not to mention that it’s too late to do anything about your fear now, anyway. Look. We’ve taken off.”

The man kept clutching his hand and stared at him without replying. Wei Ying didn’t know if he even heard anything Wei Ying had said, what with the noise and the pressure in their ears. But the stranger never looked away, and he never let go of Wei Ying’s hand, so that was good, he thought.

Eventually, when the airplane had gained enough height to level off slightly, and the pressure on the diminished, his handsome neighbour finally let out a deep breath and turned his gaze away.

Wei Ying felt almost disappointed to be relieved of the heavy weight of his gaze.

As he had said, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

“Ridiculous,” his neighbour murmured, eventually, after a long period of silence.

Wei Ying laughed.

“Hello Ridiculous,” he greeted, shaking their still-connected hands playfully. “My name is Wei Ying.”

The man’s head whipped around, and he sent him a positively offended look.

And then, after a beat of silence, he said,

“Lan Zhan.”

---

It needed some careful prodding and digging, but eventually, Wei Ying found out that Lan Zhan the reason why Lan Zhan was on this plain at all was because he had taken over the business trip as a favour to his older brother, who had been unable to travel.

Wei Ying felt the need to tease him for his self-sacrificing sense of familial piety, but he didn’t quite dare to tease Lan Zhan about it. After all, Lan Zhan had done a good thing, at the cost of his own suffering.

Lan Zhan was already bad enough when it came to flying as it was, but then someone had made a mistake with the booking, and he had been booked to fly economy rather than business class on his return trip. Lan Zhan, already at the airport and very troubled by the notion of having to fly, period, had not had the energy to discuss the mistake in his booking and decided to keep his assigned seat. After all, it hardly made any difference whether he was flying business or economy. He would spend the entire flight terrified, either way.

“Well, it was very lucky you ended up choosing economy,” Wei Ying mused. “Now you have a free emotional support pet for the entire flight.”

He grinned cheekily and wiggled Lan Zhan’s hand, still safely encased in his own.

Lan Zhan frowned at the joke.

“I thank you,” he replied regardless. “It is… much easier with you here. But I do not wish to trouble you with my… unfortunate condition.”

What a polite, honest man!

Wei Ying was delighted.

“It’s no trouble at all! You saved me from hours and hours of boredom, so it’s really not just you that’s profiting from this. Are you going to be fine when I have to go to the bathroom though?”

Lan Zhan frowned again, but nodded once.

“Good, good,” Wei Ying praised. “And if you wait for me very nicely, I’m going to get us some snacks from the kitchen. They never bring out the chocolate, which is a crime, really.”

---

In the end, after Wei Ying wheedled out information about Lan Zhan’s job and life for what felt like hours, Lan Zhan managed to relax enough to doze off for a little bit, and they spent the rest of their flight in a repeating pattern of chatting, dozing off, and then being woken up to be served questionable airplane meals.

When they finally touched down at their destination (Lan Zhan once again clutching Wei Ying’s hand as if it was the only lifeline that he had – and Wei Ying trying not to be too happy about that), they took their carry-on luggage and slowly ambled out of the plane, moving towards the baggage claim with the rest of the passengers.

Lan Zhan, as soon as he was out of the airplane and on solid ground again, straightened up and took on a confident stance.

Wei Ying was a little bit in awe. He looked even more handsome and formidable now, in his still pristine white suit. He was even taller than Wei Ying had first thought, definitely taller than Wei Ying, and Wei Ying mused whether there was anything about this man that wasn’t awe-inspiring.

(Well, there was that small case of aviophobia, but who could blame him for that, really.)

Wei Ying felt his hand twitch, and he sternly told himself that it was silly to wish for them to continue holding hands, now that they were out of the plane.

“Well,” he said awkwardly as he grabbed his luggage off the conveyor belt. He wasn’t quite willing to say his goodbyes yet, but he was equally unable to think of any reason to hold on to Lan Zhan’s company for a little longer. “I had a good time on our flight, Lan Zhan. Well. I guess you don’t really want to hear that. You probably had a horrible time. For your sake, I hope that you won’t come close to any planes for a while.”

“Wei Ying, too,” Lan Zhan replied. “For your sake, I hope that you will not meet any dogs suddenly coming around corners. So that you don’t have to leap into anyone’s arms.”

Wei Ying gaped, and as he stared at Lan Zhan in disbelief, he noticed the smallest uptick of Lan Zhan’s lips.

“Ayoo!” he cried. “Lan Zhan, are you teasing me? Look at you, all confident now that you are back on solid ground! Be a little more grateful to your emotional support pet!”

Lan Zhan nonchalantly picked his (very small, compared to Wei Ying’s big, lumpy one) suitcase up from the conveyor belt, and placed it next to his feet.

“I am grateful,” Lan Zhan said, serious again. “I have a car waiting for me outside. You are welcome to join me. I will drop you off anywhere in the city. As a sign of my gratitude.”

“Mmm,” Wei Ying made a considering noise. He didn’t want to say goodbye yet, not when Lan Zhan made him such a nice offer. But then, he was also really hungry.  

“I would love to get chauffeured around, but to be honest, I was planning on getting some decent coffee and a nice breakfast somewhere first. The food in that plane was horrible and I’m not functional without decent coffee.”

Lan Zhan was quiet for a moment.

“Can you wait for half an hour?”

“Huh?”

But before Wei Ying could ask him to elaborate, Lan Zhan was already herding Wei Ying towards the exit. He somehow managed to argue Wei Ying into accepting the car ride (Lan Zhan didn’t even argue, how that worked, Wei Ying sure didn’t know), and then Lan Zhan drove him to the nicest little shop for the most delicious breakfast that Wei Ying could have possibly wished for.

He was ravenous by the time they arrived, but he definitely wasn’t in a mood to complain as soon as the first delicious whiff of fresh coffee and food met his nose in welcome.

Lan Zhan was very attentive as they sat down to eat, generously plying Wei Ying with coffee, and letting him pick all his favourite foods. Wei Ying also learned that when Lan Zhan wasn’t scared for his life, he was remarkably smart and funny. It was so easy to get comfortable with him that Wei Ying had a hard time believing that they had never met until just one day ago.  

Lan Zhan was fun.

“Lan Zhan, you’re joking,” Wei Ying laughed, playfully swatting at Lan Zhan’s arm. “Your first serious family fight was because of rabbits?”

“They were very cute,” Lan Zhan replied seriously, insistent on the point.

Wei Ying leaned forward eagerly, meeting Lan Zhan’s serious mien with a big grin.

“And then, what happened with them?” Wei Ying asked. “Did your uncle cook them in a pot? Were you forced to eat rabbit stew?”

“The fourth generation now lives in my back garden.”

Wei Ying gasped. “You kept them?”

Lan Zhan showed the barest twitch of his lips. “Of course.”

Wei Ying nearly slid under the table at the sight of Lan Zhan’s proud little smile.

If Lan Zhan was trying to seduce him, then Wei Ying would consider himself sufficiently seduced by now.

Goodness gracious, that smile was criminal!

And he was the proud owner of a hoard of rabbits!

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You are a veritable little rebel. But, speaking from one pet to another, there is no way you can only tell me about your rabbits and not show them to me. That would be very rude.”

And on Wei Ying’s request, Lan Zhan took out his phone and showed Wei Ying his rabbit children. And then, since he had his phone out already, he shared his contact with Wei Ying. And when they had finished their breakfast, Lan Zhan led him back to the car and drove him home to his apartment, as promised.

When Wei Ying opened the door of the parked car, ready to hop out Lan Zhan stopped him.

“Thank you, Wei Ying,” he said, his beautiful, serious eyes gazing at Wei Ying steadily, as he had done in the plane. “For your help.”

Wei Ying laughed, and rubbed his nose.

God, he really liked the way that Lan Zhan looked at him.  

“For what it’s worth,” he replied quickly, “I’m willing to be Lan Zhan’s emotional support pet anytime.”

And then, because he felt like was too presumptuous and said too much, he hopped out of the car, grabbed his luggage, and weaselled away, to the safety of his apartment.

Once the door of the apartment was closed and his luggage thrown into a corner, he took a deep breath. He dug his phone out of his jacket to inform Jiang Yanli of his save arrival. She was probably wondering why he hadn’t sent her a message yet.

When he unlocked the phone, as expected, there was a message from his sister, asking him if he had arrived safely. However, before he could send a reply, his phone pinged with another message. A message not from Jiang Yanli.

[Lan Zhan, 11.46 am] I’ll take you by your word, Wei Ying. I might have to rely on your services again.

Suddenly, Wei Ying was glad that no one could see him here, hiding behind the door of his own apartment, as he blushed as red as a tomato.

This man!

[x-ladyathena-x]

Free

Dean Winchester x Reader

Multi-POV (mostly reader POV with some Dean POV mixed in for clarity and understanding of the situation)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fluffy Smut, Smutty Smut, idiots in love

Word count: 4k - Buckle in, it’s a long one! (that’s what she said?)

Summary: An evening at the bunker planning your next hunt takes a romantic & steamy turn as you and Dean confess your feelings for each other.

You’d just finished a hunt and made it back to the bunker. Tired and exhausted, you see Dean at his computer, probably researching the next job.

“Welcome back, Sunshine!” he yells across the massive room, eyes never leaving his computer screen.

You roll your eyes at the pet name, but laugh at the same time. “Smartass.” You mumble under your breath at him.

“Aww, you’re the sweetest, y/n” Dean smirks at you with his goofy fake cheesy grin.

After a little playful banter back and forth, you unload your gear and slump down into a chair at the table that Dean is sitting at with his laptop.

“whew! I’m beat.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

Dean Drains the last bit of the beer he’d been sipping on and gets up for another. He holds up his empty bottle, “want one?”

“yeah, grab me one too.” You say, thinking about the ice-cold deliciousness awaiting you.

Dean walked back to where you were seated. You’d pulled out your laptop by this point and had started running a map spread.

He walked up, opened your beer for you and presented it to you like a waiter in a fancy restaurant would present a bottle of Champaign. “Your beverage, ma’am.” Dean says with a slight bow.

You laugh and take the beer. While you throw your head back, savoring that first sip, you don’t notice Dean watching you with a little smile on his face from having made you laugh.

You set your beer down. “Ok, come look at this.” You say. You’ve got the map pulled up on your screen.

Dean comes up behind you. He places one arm on the back of your chair, the other balancing his weight on the table. You’re acutely aware of how close he is to you. Your body stills. The world around you slows, moving in slow motion. You can feel him hovering right over your shoulder and it feels like an electric charge coursing through your skin.

You swallow. “Right here.” You say, pointing to the screen. “we’ve got intel on vamp nests; here, here, there, and way over here. I think we should begin with this one.” You say pointing to the blue dot. “But I’m not sure when we should hit the others.”

Dean leans forward. He moves his hand from the back of the chair to your shoulder. His fingers graze the skin of your exposed neck. He points to the screen with the other hand. “Well green would definitely make sense to hit after blue. But, as for red and yellow? Shouldn’t make much of a difference which of those we hit after that.” His hand was still on your shoulder and he gave it a quick squeeze. “See? Easy as pie!”

He stopped, hesitating, and looked down at where his hand was. His eyes suddenly became hungry.

Dean slowly began trailing his fingers along the exposed skin on your neck. You leaned into his touch, his hands – his hands! You could feel the strength and power in them at their touch. Oh, that rough touch. It set every molecule in your body humming. When you let out a small groan of pleasure, you could have sworn you felt deans body waver for a moment.

Gently, he moves a wisp of hair that had fallen down the nape of your neck. Taking his time, he allowed his fingers to brush through your hair, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shudder and bring in a short gasp of breath at the light, deliberate touch. Gah… this man could bring you to your knees with one touch. Just melt you into a puddle.

Umm, wake up, y/n! you think to yourself. You’re a badass hunter. Humans and creature alike literally fear your name! And here you are melting at the touch of (of all people) Dean effin Winchester… Ugh, get it together, y/n!

You’d never told anyone but you actually really liked Dean. A lot. He’d been on your mind more than usual lately. Maybe it was all the time you two had been spending together? He was fun and funny. And Charming… Oh yea, charming. So charming he just loved charming his way into the pants of every girl he met. You felt your teeth clench at the thought.

Am I jealous? Is this jealousy? You think to yourself. Jealous… jealous of what? Nothing. Something? You didn’t know why you felt that way. Dean wasn’t yours, after all. You knew he only saw you as a friend. Someone to joke around with, hang out with on your days off. He’s made moves on other girls. If he were interested in you, he’d have tried to make a move already. But he hadn’t. Just a little light hearted flirting, but you knew that was his personality. So that’s that. But- but, this?

What was this? What was happening right now?

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, resting his forehead against your hair. A deep sigh and the soft flutter of eyelashes tells you that he closed his eyes as he breathes in your scent.

Was this it? Was he making his move? The feel of his face nuzzled in your neck lit a fire burning in your belly. Him. You wanted him. Needed him. And his body language suggested that he wanted you just as bad.

“Dean...” you say breathlessly.

“y/n, I- “

The sound of your name brings you back to your senses somehow.

Making his move. You think to yourself. On you? Who does he think you are?! Some tramp from the bar? How can this man both infuriate and arouse you all at the same time?! This was starting to feel like an emotional roller coaster that you wanted to get off of.

You clear your throat and decide to lay down the law. You needed to let him know that playing around wasn’t your thing. And, of all people, he should know that about you, ugh.

“I’m not one of your conquests. Another one-nighter. So, if that’s what you’re after, you can pump the breaks before you start any of your trusty old sweet talk like honey dripping from your lips.” Mmm… his lips… Snap back to earth, y/n!

He’s smooth, you give him that. And as bad as you’d love to throw him down right here and fuck his brains out, you gather your senses and realize that your self-respect and dignity are more important. But, oh… those lips. The high road sucks.

You take a deep breath, gather yourself, and continue, “I, unlike your long list of hit-em-and-quit-em’s, am a lot of hard work. I require dedication and respect.” You spat the last word out a little more icily than you meant to, but you were seething at the thought of his hands being on anyone else.

Did he just screw some rando less that twelve hours ago? You don’t know. Probably. You clench your fist at the thought.

Dean moves suddenly. Swiftly. Like the predator you know him to be out in the field while hunting. Taking you by surprise, he kneels beside you, grabbing both your hands, turning you sideways in the chair to face him. He looks up at you with deep sadness in his eyes.

“Y/n, I- I haven’t. N-not once. Not since I- I realized…”

-----

Dean couldn’t stand it anymore; he couldn’t bear to hear the heartbreak in y/n’s voice. And he did hear it. Even though she tried to cover it; lacing every word with venom. He could still hear it. And it broke him inside.

What makes him good enough to deserve someone like y/n? She was way better off without a messy relationship with him. A relationship that would inevitably end in heartbreak. Heartbreak for one of them. Because in this life, the life of a hunter, having your heart ripped to shreds by the loss of a loved one was part of the reality. He was so scared to allow himself something good.

Good? Why do I deserve good? He thought. Maybe death and loss are part of everyone’s reality. Maybe, just maybe he was making the pain worse by fighting this… Maybe she, like him, was also scared. Would she even feel the same if he told her? What would he say? That he’d been in love with her for, well, he wasn’t sure when it happened. They’d always playfully flirted with each other. Sometimes she stole his beer, took a few sips, and handed it back. He liked the idea of putting his lips where hers had been. Dean imagined about how she would taste. He- he needed to tell her. Tell her everything.

Why was he making himself so miserable? This had to end, he was being stupid. It was his own fault for not confessing sooner. Dean gathered his courage. In one fluid motion, taking y/n by surprise, he knelt beside her, took her hands in his, and turned her body to face him.

Dean looked up at y/n. There it was. A mixture of torment, sadness, and longing. All weakly camouflaged by an icy look in her eyes.

“Y/n, I-“ Dean froze. I, what? Come on, spit it out, man! You’ve got this. “I haven’t.” Haven’t what?! Words. What are words? “N- not once. Not since I- I realized…” shit. Dean froze again as y/n’s breath quickened. Her eyes wide, listening to him speak. Her nails unknowingly digging into his palms in nervous anticipation of what he was trying to say. Why couldn’t he just spit it out?!

-----

You feel your pulse racing. You’re hanging on to every word pouring from those perfect lips. Every. Word. As your gaze dances across painfully beautiful green eyes, your expression softens.

“Not since I realized I love you.” Dean finishes in a low, rough voice.

Your breath catches in your throat. Is this real? Are you breathing? Did Dean just say what you think you heard him say?

“Y/n, I love you. And I have for a long time now.”

You release a big breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Gently you lift his rough hands up to your mouth, brushing your lips across his calloused knuckles.

Unable to speak, you keep your hands on his as he reaches up to your cheek to wipe away a single tear. Am I crying?! You think to yourself. Apparently. Yes. The rush of emotion and relief that you’re feeling, knowing that he feels the same way that you feel keeps you tongue tied.

Your reaction to his words was the catalyst Dean needed to keep going. He continued, “I love you. I haven’t been with anyone for a while now. Not since I realized that you were right in front of me the whole time. Exactly what I’ve been searching for.” Dean was on both knees by this point.

As if Dean were searching for the next words he wanted to say, his head dropped down against his hands (which were still holding yours in your lap) and he drew a shuddering breath.

You could feel his soft hair against your leg. Why does he have to be so damn sexy?! As he composes himself, you reach out and run your fingers through his hair. His head jolts up at your touch. You smile at him, “I love you too, Dean. I just never knew you felt the same. Why are you only telling me now? Why hide it for so long?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. Or lose you.” He whispered as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“Hurt me? Uh, didn’t ya think this whole ‘apparent unrequited love’ thing was killing me too?” you say sarcastically with a smirk. But in truth, that wasn’t fair to Dean. Because he didn’t know how you felt either. You’d never told him. Sure, you always flirted with each other and you found him insanely attractive and hot. Especially when he got protective over you during a hunt, or some creep at the bar. How many nights did the two of you stay up laughing at each other’s stupid jokes and throwing back a few beers? You’d always enjoyed each other’s company.

You repeat yourself, but softer this time, with longing in your voice. “Why now, Dean? Please. Tell me.”

“Because I was tired of denying myself the one good thing that ever came into my life.” He said heatedly. “Because I can’t think when I’m around you. You drive me absolutely fucking crazy, y/n. I can’t sleep without thinking of you. I can’t eat, hell, I can’t even put a beer to my lips without wishing it was you that I had at my lips. I want. No. I need you in my life. By my side. I need to - taste you. Breathe you. Y/n, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. I see it in your eyes, I see the way you look at me. And I’m scared shitless of how deep these feelings go. This-“ Dean gestured between the two of you, “Is something that I never even knew it was possible to feel.

Without skipping a beat, Dean put his hand behind your head and pulled you into his lips. It was a tender kiss. Gentle, soft. You could feel the fire growing inside you. He felt so good. Your hands found the stubble on either cheek as you kissed him back. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and found yours.

The kiss became more forceful, and full of need. You didn’t want it to stop. It couldn’t stop. If it did stop, that may be the end of the world as you know it.

Dean stood, pulling you up with him as he wrapped both arms tight around your waist. He began running his hands over every surface of your body he could reach. He pulled you flush with his body, never breaking apart your lips. You could feel the heat radiating off him. You ran your hands down his powerfully muscular back. This. This man. Him. Dean. Dean is what you want.

Dean broke the kiss apart. “I love you, y/n. I love you so damn much it hurts.” He said, his voice breaking.

“I love you too, Dean.” You say, smiling up at his face, tangling your fingers in his hair.

With a small grunt, Dean lifts you up by your ass and you instinctually wrap your legs around his hips. You feel a growing bulge in his jeans. You pull his face back in to yours. You can’t think straight, you want him so bad, you can taste it. Your core is aching with need. The need for him growing more intense. Only he can quench this fire burning you up.

Dean carries you clumsily down the hall to your room. Your arms still entwined around each other, holding each other together, holding the universe together.

Once inside Dean puts you down and you both stand there, staring at each other, breathing heavily. You both suddenly fly towards each other. Grabbing and pulling clothes, pulling each other’s lips down hard on your own. You unbutton Deans blue jeans and he unclasps your bra. Your t shirt and shorts long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

The feeding frenzy of ripping each other’s clothes off slows to a savory pace as you tug and pull off Deans pants, leaving nothing to hold down the massive tent in Dean’s boxers.

He pulls the straps of your bra from your shoulders, slowly. When the cold air hits your nipples, they perk instantly Dean lets out a sharp hiss. “Oh, y/n.” He teases the soft flesh. First with his thumb, then with his mouth. As you feel his tongue against your skin, you let out a sigh of pleasure. His eyes dart up to your face. He lifts his head and softly kisses you on the mouth. “I would love nothing more than to throw you onto this bed and fuck you senseless right now.” Dean said with a growl, but then his expression softened. “But if this is too much, we can stop. You’re in charge… as per usual.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you playfully smack him on the arm, grinning.

“Hey now!” you say laughing, “I’m not always in charge when we do hunts.”

Dean rolls his eyes and says sarcastically, “Yea, ok. Sure…”

You lean in and plant a kiss on his neck, “Well, I guess – since – I’m the one – in charge,” you say playfully between kisses. Trailing them down his chest and belly, stopping at his boxers. His erection obvious. “Then, I’ll accept nothing less than-“, you pull his boxers down revealing his full length. You flash your eyes up to his. He’s hungrily watching you, “-being fucked senseless.” You say as you take him into your mouth.

-----

She was so fucking beautiful. Perfect. The most perfect thing he’d ever seen. As y/n started bringing her kisses down his torso, Dean could feel his erection stiffen even harder. When she stopped to pull down his boxers, he could feel his shaft weeping with anticipation.

He was so worried that he had crossed a line earlier. It totally took him by surprise that y/n wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

“Well, I guess, since I’m the one in charge, I’ll accept nothing less than being fucked senseless.” Y/n said as she looked up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Damn! She was so hot. Dean had never been this riled up by anyone before. Oh, if that’s what you want, Baby, then that’s what I’m gonna-

Dean wasn’t able to finish his thought stream. Y/n had taken his whole length into her mouth. “Oh FUCK!” Dean screamed out, grabbing y/n by the hair. He slowly began to guide her head at the pace he wanted. Her tongue, her mouth, her! She was about to make him come already. Dean pulled himself out of her mouth. “Bed. Now.” He commanded with a sly smile.

Y/n laughed, “whatever you say, Baby.” As she climbed onto the bed, she did a dramatically slow striptease style crawl that made Dean’s erection throb.

Dean crawled up her body, kissing every inch of her he could reach. Y/n made a little pleasurable whine as dean kissed her thighs while he pulled down her lacy black thong. Her center was absolutely dripping wet. Dean wanted to live between those perfect thighs. Spend years there, never come back to reality. Was time even moving at all? What day is it? What year is it? He didn’t care. None of those things mattered. None of it mattered because he had his y/n. His. Mine.

The only thing that existed was the two of them.

Dean dove his face between y/n’s thighs to her soft center. She tasted like Spring sunshine. Dean took his time, savoring every shudder that ran through her perfect body. Every gasp, scream, and moan that came out of her perfect mouth. She was getting close to coming.

-----

Your whole body is on the brink. Every move dean makes brings you closer to the edge. You need this release and you need Dean to give it to you. You feel yourself climbing, building, then suddenly – the earth shatters around you. You scream “Dean! Oh, DEAN!”

Dean keeps going while you ride out the high, he slowly brings you back down. You sigh, “Dean that- that was- I-“ you have no words. He seems to understand what you’re trying to say because he smiles.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart and core flutter at his words.

He climbs between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance. You place your hands on his hips and start to guide him in. With one smooth powerful thrust, he slides his whole length inside you, filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. You both gasp. He smiles and kisses your forehead.

His pumps start slow at first, then become more deliberate, more powerful. You love the protectively dominate power he radiates as he’s on top of you. Dean is a MAN. And he feels good. He feels so damn good. You start to feel yourself building again to what you knew would be another earth-shattering orgasm.

Dean found his rhythm and savored every movement, every stroke. He could stay here for ages.

As you feel yourself building, your need for him grows stronger. Dean... He was yours. And you were greedy for more of him. As his rhythm quickened, you dug your nails into his ass pulling his thrusting hips toward you with more force at each thrust. He catches the hint.

Without ever breaking the two of you apart, he flips you over onto all fours and doesn’t hold back. His urgency makes you cry out in pleasure. “Baby, yes! That’s it!”

“You want more? You want me to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before?”

“YES!” you scream, reaching around and slapping his thigh. That does it. He unleashes himself. You hear him roar with pleasure, holding onto you so tightly, pulling you against him so fast and hard. The sound of flesh slapping echoed around the room mixed with both your cries of pleasure.

“Baby, I’m about to come!” you pant.

“Come on. Come for me Baby.” Dean says breathlessly. “I want to know that I’m the one to make you come.”

-----

Dean was talking out of his mind in the throes of ecstasy. The thought of y/n coming… of him coming inside her, was throwing him over the edge. Just as he felt himself going over, he felt y/n tighten around him.

-----

Just as you feel Dean twitching inside you, you feel yourself tighten around him. The sheer power of your shared climax hit you both like a freight train.

When you felt him pull out, you felt empty with his warmth gone. Dean lays back on the pillows and pulls you into his arms. You settle yourself in the warmth and comfort of his body. Dean absent mindedly plays with your hair as you lay your head on his chest and you both breathe heavily while you float back down to reality.

“Dean?” you say softly.

“Mmm?”

“That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

Dean chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Glad I could be of service.”

He’s such a smartass, you think to yourself laughing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest with you either.” You say, picking up your conversation from earlier. “I know I’m partly to blame for this dance we’ve been doing around each other for - who knows how long.”

“No, you were right. I should have just nutted up and told you how I felt. It just crushes me to think that I was causing you pain because you thought I was seeing other people.”

You absent mindedly draw circles on his chest with your finger. “I don’t know, I suppose we’re both to blame. I mean, look at this mind-blowing sex we could have been having all this time.”

This coaxes a real laugh out of Dean, and you feel his chest moving up and down from the laughter. But then he stops and you see a seriousness wash over his face. The same pain you saw in his eyes earlier, but maybe – perhaps you are imaging it – less pain, more - hope?

“I meant everything I said earlier.” Dean says in a husky, deep voice. “I am scared shitless to lose you, or to know that I’d be the source of your pain if you ever lost me. I mean, hell we’re hunters, we know how this ends eventually.” Still holding you tight, Dean continues, “I guess, If I’ve got one life to live, even if it’s a short one, I want you by my side. Always. I want you. All of you. The sassy you. The smartass you. The bossy you. The…” he paused to run his thumb across your lips, “The incredibly sexy you that I can’t keep my hands off of.” Dean smiles “I didn’t know that happiness like this, or these – feelings - were even possible to feel. And that’s just it. You made me feel. You pulled me out of a darkness that I didn’t even know I was in. You made me – free.”

[angryinternetduck]

Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

“Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

[physicalturian]

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 1

Summary : Being overwhelmed with work is exhausting. To release some of that stress, you make your way on a website to talk to strangers. One of them strike your interest and while the conversation flows you find yourself being dommed online. An unusual occurrence you might get a liking to. The thrill of letting someone take the control when too much weight is on your shoulders, no strings attached. Unless...

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5034 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Masturbation / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Vaginal fingering... If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

. . . . .

Boredom makes you do crazy things. Lack of free time too, mix them together and you end up stumbling on a website, talking to strangers from all across the world.

 With my work done, it was already pretty late, but I deserved some distraction for working so hard. I did not really care how late it was, I wanted to relax and have some fun, no matter the kind of fun.

Arriving on the home page, I stared at it “Clean chat or NSFW chat? Well…” I mumbled to myself, clicking on the NSFW tab, I had to find a name now. It had to be explicit enough so that the person would know what I want right? Yeah, but what do I want? Huffing, I typed down “Entertain me” Before entering and getting matched with a random person.

 They did not stay long, and their names were surprising to say the least. It took me a lot of time to match with someone that did not have a weird name, and did not leave the minute they got matched with me. I almost gave up too. Now, I was not one to kink shame, but neither was I into anthro dogs and role playing as people’s daughter.

 But funny enough, when they had a slightly normal name. They’d be the most boring person ever, I had to laugh every time people who had “dom” in their name, were the least charismatic people I’d ever met. I had to give it a thought and wonder, were they dom or did they just top their whole life?

 Huffing, I pressed the escape key on my keyboard once more to refresh the conversation and leaned back on my pillows. “At this point, I should just go to sleep.” I pondered out loud, my eyes riveted on the loading screen. I had probably skipped everybody on this website, and now they couldn’t give me anything. When I was about to leave, I was matched with someone named “A real doctor”.

 I couldn’t help the chuckled that escaped my lips as I leaned forward and wrote down.

 Entertain me: Now, are you really a doctor? Or do you want to get people to be horny over you?

Entertain me: ah, wait, also, how old are you? I’m 23, she/her.

A real doctor: There is no reason for me to lie, I don’t even need to tell them I’m a doctor to have them horny. People are always horny on this website.

A real doctor: 29, he/him. How long have you been looking to be entertained?

 Laughing I shook my head, I was surprised to meet someone who was 29 when most people I’d met until now were 18 or 19. I skipped them too. But I was definitely relieved, and it showed in my reply.

 Entertain me: thank god you’re 29, I was afraid I was going to catch a case! So many young people here, it’s frightening.

A real doctor: Are you telling me I’m old?

Entertain me: no no no, definitely not, no you’re the perfect age don’t worry. But since you’re asking so kindly, I’ve been here for about two hours and I have not had a single one good conversation.

A real doctor: Good, then I’m here to change that. What kind of entertainment are you looking for?

 I stared at my screen for a second, for some reason I was starting to feel excited. His question was a good one, and valid one too, and now I had to give him an adequate answer. Running my hands over my face, I was going to type back when he sent something.

 A real doctor: I guess, since we’re both on the NSFW chat the question is: what are your kinks? Your limits, perhaps?

 I don’t know why I answered so quickly, but my fingers did the talking.

 Entertain me: Hey maybe I should ask you that, maybe I want to dom you. How about that? You’d be surprised with how versatile I am.

A real doctor: You’re cute, but I don’t recall mentioning domming. Quite the lapsus you did there, I want to play a game with you but to do so you’ll have to tell me your kinks and your limits, dear.

 Why did I blush? A stranger called me dear, and I was feeling funny inside. For the first time tonight, someone was taking the reins and I kind of enjoyed it a lot. With my hands shaking slightly in excitment, I typed,

 Entertain me: I suppose you make a fair point…

A real doctor: Of course, I do, now do tell me.

Entertain me: right away, sir.

 I said half-jokingly, but that did not go through with the text. If anything, it fueled a certain fire, and perhaps I’ll admit I was testing the waters.

 A real doctor: Already catching on I see, good girl.

 Why was that so hot? My breath hitched and I simply looked at those words a few seconds, taking them in. Sighing, I leaned towards the left and open the drawer of my bed table, grabbing my toy. What am I doing… I thought. Putting the vibrator next to me, I took my time to reply.

 Entertain me: first of all, that’s kind of hot and you are definitely entertaining me.

A real doctor: I barely started, good to know you’re already hooked.

Entertain me: oh fuck off, it’s just the charisma. You got the pzazz, that’s all.

A real doctor: Check the attitude, and give me an answer.

 Gulping, I typed back, weighing my words this time.

 Entertain me: Well, avoid degradation because that’s not my cup of tea but… I suppose, while some of those might be hard through a screen… Body worship is cool, very cool… The entire idea of BDSM is lovely, I like praising, spanking, public stuff has some appeal and…

 I didn’t write the last one, feeling like it was too much. Should I say that? It sounds to fucking submissive. Which is my role right now, clearly, so I should just go for it. Sighing, I read his message and groaned, writing back.

 A real doctor: Go ahead. And? I want clear answers and you’re not done yet.

Entertain me: I like to please my partner, is that a kink?

A real doctor: A service sub? How cute. I’ll definitely make good use of that. Any limits?

Entertain me: I’m never showing my face, but pics are okay. I mean, if you’d like some of course. Consent and all that. I’m willing to try other stuff if we take things slow, too!

 Oh god, that sounded desperate. I don’t even know what he looks like and I’m telling him all of my deepest tastes. “Well, that’s the idea, right? I’ll never meet him, but I can have some fun, right? It’s all about having some fun, both of us. We both get off, and then never talk again.” I whispered to myself, looking up at the time. Noticing it was already 2 am, I was going to leave but I couldn’t find the strength to do so and waited for the man’s reply.

 A real doctor: Very well, I love the eagerness. I’ll be taking notes of those, now you’re curious about the game, aren’t you?

Entertain me: Don’t flatter yourself, if it’s some weird shit I’ll just leave. It really all depends on what’s your game. And please, don’t tell me it’s truth or dare.

A real doctor: Give me some credits, I’m not a teenage boy.

A real doctor: You’ll like it.

A real doctor: The game is this, I tell you what to do, and you do it.

Entertain me: okay…

A real doctor: Interested?

Entertain me: I’ll need more details, but I haven’t left, have I?

A real doctor: You haven’t indeed. Good girl, see you want to be ordered around. It’ll be my pleasure.

A real doctor: Your hands off your keyboard, I’ll be guiding you. All you’ll have to do, is read me. Is that alright?

 I took in his words for a moment. Was I really going to let him tell me what to do? My own voice resonated in my head, telling him that was the fun of it, it was hot. It was exciting, and different, nothing bad could happen.

 Entertain me: Would it be interesting to tell you I have a vibrator next to me right now, sir?

 I facepalmed behind my screen, maybe that wasn’t his shit. Maybe he just wanted me to finger myself or something, maybe I fucked it all up and now I was going to go to bed horny and sad. My self-depreciation dissipated when I saw his reply.

 A real doctor: It’s interesting, speeds?

Entertain me: Five, sir.

A real doctor: Hands off the keyboard, lay on your back, let’s start.

 And I did. With the laptop right next to me, I laid on back and waited for his words, following each of his instruction. Each in a separate message, fired like bullets.

 If you’re dressed, I want you to get completely naked. Undress slowly. Feel yourself. Your hands caressing each of your curves. Brushing over your breasts. Stop there. Pinch your nipples, hard and tug. Feel the sting. The warmth that follows. Spread your legs wide. Let one hand travel between them. Slowly start playing with yourself. Your fingers slowly spreading your folds. Rubbing yourself for me. You’re enjoying this, you like being ordered around. You want to be played with, you’re doing exactly as I’m telling you, like a good girl.

 I arched my back, a hand still on my breast while brushing my finger against my clit. I was burning up, my head digging inside the pillow, it felt strange. He was not wrong, and I could feel my arousing growing and growing.

 A real doctor: Want to continue? Are we still good, dear?

 Groaning I turned on the side and wrote with one hand.

 Entertain me: yes, sir.

A real doctor: Good. Back on your back, take your toy.

 Grabbing it, I waited for the next instruction, my hand having left my clit. It was pulsing, I never thought this would have so much effect but I was starting to get angsty.

 Brush it between your folds. Slowly. Get it wet for me. Good, like that. Keep at it a while. Your free hand, I want it caressing your body. Feel every sensation. Feel every touch, every brush.

 I let out a huff and wrote him, while still brushing the tip of my toy between my folds. I was starting to breathe heavily, feeling needy.

 Entertain me: it’s cold here, goosebumps.

A real doctor: Imagine my warm hands traveling your body.

Entertain me: fuck, can I fuck myself? Please sir

A real doctor: Already? No, no. Not just yet, let’s take our time.

 Groaning, I let my head hit the pillow and considered turning on the vibrator but thought against it. He had not told me to yet, I should wait, make it more fun. But fuck, I needed it.

 Let’s start slowly. You asked nicely, like a good girl. And since you’ve been listening until now… Put it in, speed one. But don’t fuck yourself. Leave it there. Legs spread wide. Now that your hands are free, bring them back to your chest. Give yourself firm, hard, gropes. Feel the vibrations inside you. Slide your hands down your torso, to your belly and gently brush your hands on your inner thighs. Feel the texture, your cold fingers on your burning skin. I want you to rub your clit, take a deep breath and start playing with it. Feel the electricity coursing.

 See yourself, enjoying the idea of being commanded. Look at yourself, look down at your hands. See yourself masturbating for me. Feel your toy stretching you, filling you up. Now start pumping in and out. But not too hard. That’s it, good girl. Slowly, very slowly. It’s painfully slow, isn’t it? Keep doing good, and we’ll speed things up.

 I whined and brought a hand to my mouth, muffling the noises escaping it. My roommates were probably sleeping, I had to keep it quiet. I hate how slow paced it was, but I loved how thrilling it was to do this. I bucked my hips to try to meet the toy as I pulled it out to pull it back in, slowly.

 Look at you. Shoving a dildo inside you. Just because I told you so. I blushed and let out a whimper. You’re actually enjoying yourself. You are being entertained, just as you asked. I can almost see the smile on your face. Tell me, is my good girl desperate yet?

 Bringing my hands to my hair, I got the wild strands of hair out of my face and wrote back. My face was on fire, but no one would know. What happened here was between this stranger and I, no one would know how I was being guided to fuck myself by a total stranger.

 Entertain me: sir… can I up the speed?

A real doctor: Very cute, you haven’t answered, dear.

Entertain me: please…

Entertain me: sir.

A real doctor: Alright, dear. You can put it at 2.

A real doctor: But you stop the thrusting, I want you to keep it deep inside you. Close your legs and feel the vibrations, when you think you’re close, you stop. Understood?

Entertain me: yes sir!!

A real doctor: How eager, lovely. Hands off now.

 Huffing, I did as he asked and upped the speed. A giggle escaped my lips before my breath caught in my throat and I could feel everything strongly, with how deep it was. I closed my eyes for a moment, missing some of the messages but opened them again, and read everything while feeling the sensations inside me.

 Angle it right. That’s right. Turn the speed one notch now. It should be at three, if you’ve been following right. See your face, you’re enjoying this. How cute, I can only imagine the sinful sounds leaving that pretty mouth of yours. It can probably do a lot more than moan. It can whimper. As it’s being fucked. As you’re being fucked. Bring your fingers inside your mouth and suck on it. That’s it, suck it. Push the toy deeper inside you. You can speed up the pace. Not too wild.

 “Fuck” I breathed out, my fingers hooked in my mouth as I met each of thrusts. I wanted to go faster, I wanted to do as I pleased and find a quick relief. I knew myself; I knew what to do but there was this thrill in giving the control to this stranger. My walls were clenched around the toy, I could feel it against my walls even more at each thrust. I desperately grabbed my blanket, almost making my laptop tumble off my bed and muffled my voice while biting down the fabric.

 I was surprised when a whine came out of my mouth, I put my hand over my muffled mouth to, hopefully, muffle it better.

 A real doctor: You’ve been good. Such a good girl, haven’t you?

 I sighed and leaned on my side, typing very slowly. My thrusts, slowing down as my focus was on the conversation.

 Entertain me: Yes sir, I’m so good

A real doctor: Good. Then I want you to grab the base of your toy and…

A real doctor: Fuck your brains out, go wild. While you’re at it, speed at 4.

 My arms were screaming for me to stop, it had been so long. But I felt the knot in my stomach grow in excitement and did exactly as he had asked. The pleasure was so good, it was so good. I had been waiting for this since we had started. One hand was gripping the base of the vibrator tight, while the other was rubbing my clit. My eyes rolled back a few times when it touched the right spot, but then I had to thrust more and lost it. I hated it but at the same time, I loved the mix of pain and pleasure of the fast and deep thrusts.

 Here we go. Hard, and fast. I want you to go wild. Let yourself go. Fuck your hole good. Groan, squirm, moan, plead for more. I’m sure you’re sore, but you’re doing so great. Such a good girl, doing exactly as you’re told. Keep going, don’t stop. Feel your toy stretching you out. You’re so wet, you can probably hear it, right? God, such a good girl. Spread your legs wide and keep going, good. Good. Now, read well, dear.

 I want you to go to the last speed, and keep your toy deep like last time. Don’t move it. Cross your legs and keep it there. I’ll count to 20, you’ll keep it there until I’m done. Are we good? Don’t answer, just follow my instruction. Come on, last speed. And here we go. That’s it dear. Good. Let’s start.

 Then he started sending a message for each number starting from 1. I watched the screen with half-lidded eyes, feeling the toy vibrating inside me, my hand starting to go numb from the said vibrations. My thighs were a bit sore, but I ignored it and moved the toy slightly to angle it only to find the right spot, I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation, only peeking to see the count was at 13. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My thighs were closed around my hand so hard, it hurt a bit but I was getting close.

 That’s it, what a view. Fucked out, exhausted. But you’re not done yet. Pick up the pace now, thrust and shove, hold it there. And again. And again. Hit that sweet spot. That’s it. Good girl, so obedient. Feel the soreness between your legs. Feel your clit throbbing. Feel yourself getting closer. Just from being told what to do? Pay attention to the throbbing. Fuck yourself hard a minute again. Then keep it there. That’s it, yes. I’m sure you must be quite the sight. I want you to be noisy. To be loud. Get wild. Buck your hips against the toy. That’s it. So obedient.

 My legs tensed the moment the knot inside my stomach reached its peak. I let out a high-pitched breath inside the blanket and let my head fall back on the pillow. I hadn’t realized I had contracted my whole body, and let out a chuckle at the realization. Slowly, I turned back to the screen, moving my tired arms to type back.

 Entertain me: I am good, exhausted, and I came, sir.

 I laid back on the pillow with another sigh. What time is it? How long did this take? I should probably get up and get cleaned but I’m too lazy right now.

 A real doctor: Good.

 I saw him type but typed my question faster.

 Entertain me: But it’s weird, you didn’t get to get off. Do you need anything? I could send you pictures if you want, I feel kind of bad that you just… helped me out and I did not do anything.

A real doctor: Oh, you did plenty. I get off on knowing you did as I instructed. And you did, didn’t you?

Entertain me: Yes, of course. Yeah, it was hot… And I enjoyed it, yes.

A real doctor: Is that so? Anything else you’d like to share? I’ve never had such obedient girl. You are very interesting.

Entertain me: Come on, it’s just in this setting that I’m like that. I’m very feisty in real life, I was just wondering what it’d feel like to let go of the control for once, I guess.

Entertain me: But if you need more feedbacks… I hated/loved how long you took to up the speed, and I am genuinely physically drained haha. But in a good way! A very good way.

A real doctor: Let’s talk more once you’ve hydrated. Get some water, and if you can, get cleaned up. I’ll be right here, alright?

Entertain me: right, right. Brb.

 Moving the laptop on my pillow while I sat up, I wrapped my toy with the towel that I had set under myself. When my feet met the ground and I balanced myself, I felt my legs wobbling a bit then made my way to the bathroom silently. I turned on the sink and let the water flow until it was warm and cleaned my toy before cleaning myself and getting changed.

 I made a detour by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a sandwich before going back to my bed and sitting down, tailor-style, with my laptop in front of me. There were a few new messages from the doctor, so I put down my food and was ready to reply.

 A real doctor: If you’re willing, I would like to see a picture of your body to check if you’re good.

A real doctor: Now this website does not allow it, but if you have any media in mind, I’m all ears.

Entertain me: Yeah, sure, yep. I don’t have any bruises or anything, but if you’re that worried yeah! Maybe Discord? You’re a doctor, I feel like you don’t have discord.

A real doctor: I don’t know if you’re bratty, or if you are being an idiot on purpose.

Entertain me: omg none? I was voicing my train of thought!

A real doctor: Right. HandSurgeon#4766

Entertain me: Funny name, don’t judge mine. It’s my personal discord, so no sexy pic just, well you’ll see.

 Going to the friend list, I pasted the username in the search bar and added him. I was added back very fast and bided him good night on the website once I was sure it was him on discord. I made sure to save the conversation, just in case… Maybe for later use, if I felt bored.

 HandSurgeon: I don’t even know what’s your profile picture, but I’m not going to mention it again.

Edelweiss: It’s a tardigrade, come on. It’s fun, a bit, right?

Edelweiss: Anyway, let me take that nude for you sir 😉

HandSurgeon: Don’t call it that, it’s to check if you didn’t go too crazy.

Edelweiss: That’s what they say, then they ask for more

 I had to strip down naked once more to take the picture before getting dressed back up, it was getting late but I was still buzzing with energy. I probably won’t talk about this with my roommates, but if they asked why I was up so late I’d have to find an excuse. Telling them I was working would probably work, but then I’d get yelled at for not taking care of myself and having the worse sleep schedule.

 Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: Here we go. Sorry if I’m not your type, maybe we should have talked about that first. Now I’m self-conscious, but it’s too late haha…

HandSurgeon: You look gorgeous, don’t go thinking you’re not my type. You are very, very hot. I can see you have food next to you, that’s good. You are taking care, good girl.

HandSurgeon: I can also see from your clock that we’re on the same time zone.

HandSurgeon: Which is good and bad, it’s already 3 am and you are not asleep. Why is that?

Edelweiss: living the student life, only the best life. I was working on some project for my master degree, and I thought: hey I’m horny, let’s go on that funny website.

Edelweiss: And here we are.

Edelweiss: Why are you awake? Shouldn’t you be… getting some sleep to be saving lives in the morning or something?

HandSurgeon: I had just finished a 10 hours surgery, I needed something to distract my mind while working on some paperwork. You did very well in being distracting.

 It felt a lot more real when I read his message. It was now sinking in that he was really a doctor, not any kind, a surgeon. I was not going to ask more details, the less I knew the better. But it was slightly intimidating and at the same time interesting to know he was the real deal. My pride was swelling when I read I was able to distract him from his work, he had done his fair share of helping me out too.

 Edelweiss: I am sorry? Is it… important paperwork? I could let you be, if you want. We could talk another time, when you’re free? My sleeping schedule is fucked up, I don’t know about yours but I am going to be online many late nights haha.

Edelweiss: if you want to, of course. Maybe you don’t want to hear from me again. Actually, I thought I’d be the one to leave the website and not come back, but I kind of enjoyed our session… I wouldn’t mind doing this a bit more if we’re both in the mood of course.

HandSurgeon: You’re so nervous. Don’t be, I’m not going to let you go. What kind of dom would I be if I let such an obedient girl go? Go to sleep, we’ll talk later Edelweiss. Any reason for that name?

Edelweiss: god I didn’t want you to ask, it’s just. It’s a cool flower, it means strength and toughness you know? I’m a tough woman, I deal with shit. I can handle shit, you know?

 I read my message many times, thinking maybe I should have found something funny but thought not. It was just bonding, we were discussing, getting to know one another. It wasn’t half bad. I turned off my computer, and moved to Discord on my phone, to keep talking. When I looked at his picture, it was just a white bear, it looked cute. Funny how he had such a cute picture and he was domming someone on the side, two sides of the same coin I suppose. Come to think of it, maybe he could be an old man, maybe he wasn’t who he said he was…

 HandSurgeon: Interesting, I like it. It’s better than calling you ‘Entertain me’. Not very creative, if you ask me.

Edelweiss: Oh right, because ‘A real doctor’ is better? Maybe you’re not even a doctor. Maybe you’re catfishing me. And I sent you a nude. Oh my god…

HandSurgeon: I am not catfishing you, I can send you a picture. What do you need on it?

Edelweiss: Uh, I don’t know? Write down my name on a paper, and hold it against your chest, then take the picture? With the date! Yeah.

 There wasn’t any reply for a moment, I was starting to panic. Then I received the picture and gasped loudly. Surrounded by the darkness of the room, it was all that could drown my shock. I had to take a double take as I wrote back.

 HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: I mean, … Thank you for... it’s uh. Very. You’re not catfishing me. Nope. I understand why HandSurgeon now, you uh. Yep. Nice gloved hands, very slender. Most people would have held a huge piece of paper between their index finger and their thumb.

Edelweiss: but you opted for middle finger and index. And a smaller paper. Almost as if you were posing really. I do not mind. It’s uh. Enjoyable. Not an old man, no. And the scrubs and all, love it.

HandSurgeon: The scrubs, yes. You believe me, good. You can rest easy now, go to sleep Edelweiss. You probably have work to do tomorrow, and so do I.

HandSurgeon: Sleep well.

Edelweiss: Sweet dreams doc!

 I stared at the screen a bit longer before leaving the app and turning my phone face down on my night stand. What a night. I was so tired, and yet buzzing with excitement. It was strange, it was a strange dynamic but I wanted to discover more. I wanted to know more about this world. What else could this man offer me?

 Closing my eyes, I thought, maybe I could buy a connected sex toy? Sure, they were for couples, but they could definitely be used for other people. It could be fitting if I wanted to give him the control…

 My hands met my face full force and I groaned, I had met this man at best 4 hours ago and I was already desperate to have another session. I was already desperate to let him have the control.

 But it felt nice, so nice to not be in control for once. Yes, I had to hold the toy and read, but he was the one guiding me, it was elating! God, what am I doing? No, it’s alright. I’m an adult, he’s an adult. We’re both consenting adults, having fun. Nothing bad there.

 I’m a sore adult though. Maybe I’d need a few days before letting him have his fun. My eyes closed; I was thinking back on how his undershirt was hugging his form. Was it legal to look like that? I mean, I did not know what he looked like, but the little I saw was enough to make someone dream. His long-sleeved grey shirt was showing off his muscles and it definitely made me weak.

 I scoffed into my pillow, a surgeon. I wonder what else his hands could do. Fortunately, I’ll never meet him in real life, if I met the man I did not know if I’d want to jump him or run away from how intimidating his entire being was.

 It only took me a lot of stupid questions and day dreaming, for my brain to finally shut down and let me sleep. I went to sleep a lot easier than I usually did, perhaps it was because of the nice fucking I gave myself. Or perhaps it was thanks to the energy I spent overthinking the situation. Whichever it was, I was passed out in no time.

 Tomorrow I’ll talk more to the hot doctor and have a bit more fun with him.

[Part 2]

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 5

Word count: 4.0K

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Adam: You followed me

I stare at the three words, blinking with tired eyes. All I want to do is sleep, especially after the day I’ve had with Holden, but the baby decided kicking me was more important. So here I am at four o’clock in the morning checking my social media when I should be getting another three hours of sleep.

I rub my eyes, unsure of how to even respond to the message.

It’s just a statement. I feel flabbergasted by it- really, we haven’t talked in years- well, technically months, but the last time we saw each other we just fucked, and our child went to see him without my knowledge or consent. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to those three words?

Y/N: I think we need to talk.

I sigh, setting my phone down. Might as well get straight to the point. The sooner I tell him about the second baby and ask why he would see Holden without at least running it past me the better. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Hopefully I can sleep at least a little bit longer. I’m going to need it to deal with the moody adolescent I’ll be seeing in the morning.

~

“I made some toast and bacon. Just let me just finish cutting up these strawberries and then breakfast will be ready,” I inform Holden as he hops down the stairs.

He picks up the filled plate waiting for him on the table, throwing the food into the trashcan and setting the plate on the counter, giving me an expectant look.

I stare blankly back at him. I know he’s waiting for a reaction. He wants me to blow up so then he feels okay yelling at me instead of starting the confrontation himself. Instead, I just say, “That’s wasteful.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack from its usual spot by the door and making his way outside, letting it slam shut behind him. I release the breath that I’ve been holding in, popping a strawberry into my mouth.

I open my Instagram app to catch up on the posts that I’ve missed, freezing when I see that I’ve received a DM. I forgot that I sent a message to Adam last night. Well, technically this morning. After I sent the message, I passed out hard, and I thought the whole thing was a fever dream.

Adam: What about?

Adam: Here’s my number

My fingers tap the screen quietly as I add his phone number into my contacts, saving it and staring at it blankly.

Well. No time like the present.

Before I can even realize what I’m doing, before I can even think things through and decide what to say or whether this is a good idea or not, or hell, even what time it is in Chicago right now, I click on the phone icon.

I curse to myself, raising the phone to my ear. Absentmindedly, my hand raises to my mouth so I can chew on my fingernail. Nail-biting is a nervous habit that I gave up years ago, but I guess old habits die hard.

“Hello?” His groggy voice comes through the phone.

I can’t breathe.

The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs. All I can think about are his hands on my body, sliding down to grip my hips. The twinkle in his eyes as I would pull my shirt over my head.

And not to mention the last time I saw him. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but it suits him. It looks good on him. And he bulked up since the last time I saw him, too- his abs definitely looked and felt like it, anyways.

“Hello?” He repeats, sounding more awake and borderline annoyed now.

“Adam,” I respond softly, suddenly feeling shy. Come on, where did my confidence go? I’ll need it to get through this conversation.

“Y/N,” he says, all sounds of annoyance out of his voice. “You actually called, I didn’t think that you would-“”Sorry for waking you up,” I blurt out, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s seven in the morning here. Chicago is an hour behind Philadelphia- it’s what kept me from calling the boys on the team late at night for several years.

“Oh, no, no, don’t you ever worry about that,” he reassures me. It’s quiet. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, to let him know what I want to talk to him about, but I just can’t get the words out. I feel them stuck in my throat, clawing to escape. “So, how’s Holden?”

And there it is.

That question is what spurs me to speak, to dig into the man who hid a huge secret like that from me. But I guess I’m doing the same thing to him now.

“I don’t know, how is he, Adam?” I spit out.

He sighs. He sighs. I want to punch his perfect fucking face.

“If I had realized that you had such a problem with it-“”Such a problem with it?” I repeat, not believing my own ears. Suddenly I’m reminded of why I decided not to tell Adam about this baby and why he wasn’t ready to be in Holden’s life for thirteen years. Hell, it sounds like he’s still not ready.

“My son lied to me about his intentions of going to Chicago, traveled halfway across the country by himself, and saw someone who he’s never met before. Yes, I have a fucking problem with it,” I growl.

“Our son.”

“What?”

“He’s our son. You said my son.”

All I want to do right now is to reach through this tiny screen and hit him upside the head. Really, after I lay out all of my concerns, this is all he has to say to me?

“Whatever. When are you coming to Philadelphia next?” I question. I don’t want to air all of grievances and talk about the new baby over the phone. I’ve had enough communication classes to know that you need to see someone’s nonverbal behaviors instead just hearing what they have to say.

“Why? You want to see me?” Suggestion laces his tone.

No, asshole, you already got me pregnant again.

“Yes. We need to talk about Holden… and some other things,” my voice trails off at the end, not sure how to warn him about such big news.

“Some other things, eh? Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” he responds, clearly thinking that it’s something regarding us and our relationship, well, our dislike or lust for one another or something, instead of picking up what I’m trying to hint at.

“Cool. So, can you take a trip to Philly sometime soon or are you going to wait until hockey season?” I inquire.

“I can take a trip there, just for you. And Holden, of course.”

I can’t help but let a small smile slip onto my face. That sentence shows me that he’d be a good dad if he just put in the effort. It infuriates me that he’s kept that from Holden for years just because he hasn’t felt like working towards a relationship with his son.

“Good. Let me know when you’re in town so we can meet up.”

“What? You’re not going to invite me to stay with you?”

“Goodbye, Adam.” I hang up before he can respond. All I can imagine the rest of the day is his reaction after that phone call. He would have that small, knowing smile on his face, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five minutes to check and see if he got a new text from me or to send the fifth one in a row to me- one that I still would not respond to.

And my heart skips a beat at the thought of that.

~

It’s been a week since the phone call and since Adam sent me a screenshot of his booked ticket to Philadelphia two weeks from then. For some reason, maybe it’s the stupid, hopeless romantic part in me, I had hoped that he would book his plane ticket and hotel room for that night or even the next day. But he told me he had some ‘lose ends’ to tie up in Chicago before leaving.

And it’s also been a week since Holden has said a word to me. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve asked him about his day, his friends, cooked him his favorite meals all week, I even offered to take him to Target to get a new video game.

None of that has worked. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that after everything I’ve done for him and everything I’ve sacrificed for him, and how Adam has done none of that, he looks at Adam like a God and me like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

I know it’s what I’m supposed to do as a mother, care for my son and make sure he’s happy, but it’s just- it’s just- ugh.

I start to feel my blood boil as my mom’s voice echoes in the back of my head. Life’s not fair.

It’s then that I realize that I’ve given him enough space and time to figure out his feelings and how he wants to proceed. I don’t want to give him too much space that he begins to resent me and feel like I don’t care about him.

I know that feeling all too well.

I knock on his bedroom door softly, waiting for him to open it before I just walk in. It creeks open slightly, and just as I expected, eyes matching my mom’s peek out to glare at me.

“Can I talk to you, Holden?”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.

“Please, you don’t even have to talk, just listen,” I beg.

Fortunately, he opens the door the rest of the way, watching as I walk into his room and sit gently on the edge of the bed. He sits down on his worn computer chair, laptop open to some video game I don’t recognize on his desk.

“I want to start by apologizing for yelling at you last week,” I begin, taking a deep breath. Apologizing isn’t something that comes easy to me- I grew up in a family where the words ‘I’m sorry’ were unheard of. My parents were always right, and I was always wrong.

“I realize it probably wasn’t easy for you to go to Chicago by yourself to meet your dad. Holden, I just want you to realize that I would do anything to protect you, and I love you with my whole heart so realizing that you were in such an emotionally taxing situation without talking to me about it first-“I pause to sniffle, starting to feel tears well up in my eyes. “I felt helpless. And I couldn’t stop wondering why you didn’t feel like you could share that with me and then I realized that it’s because I don’t share stuff with you either.”

He watches as I lift my sleeve, wiping the tears from under my eyes. His face is still blank, but his eyes look like they’ve softened. He’s understanding my words so far.

“So, yes, this baby is also Adam’s baby. And he did ask about you when I saw him back in February, but I let my pride get the best of me and I told him that he didn’t deserve to see you. I’m sorry for robbing you of meeting your father earlier,” I genuinely apologize, maintaining eye contact with my son.

He shifts in his seat, his hard exterior softening with every word. “Well, I’m sorry for calling you a shitty mother. And saying all of that other stuff. And, if it makes you feel better, I did go to the computer programming camp. I just saw Adam when we had a night off.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nods.

“What did he tell you? About not being involved in your life?” I ask carefully, curious as to what Adam told Holden to turn him against me like that.

“He just told me that he was working through some stuff,” he shrugs, acting like he doesn’t care but I know my son well enough to tell that he does. “And he wasn’t ready until recently to meet me.”

I bite my tongue to keep it from releasing an insult towards Adam. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” I nod, probing him to go on. “Pretty awful. I don’t think I want a relationship with him, mom.”

A mix of emotions run through my body at his word. I feel anxious, because now I have to tell him that Adam’s coming next week and will want to see him, sadness, because my son now recognizes how his father did not want be involved in his life, and anger toward Adam for making him feel like this in the first place.

“Well,” I cough awkwardly. “He’s coming to Philadelphia next week. I’m going to meet him to tell him about the baby. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. It’s all up to you, bud.”

I stand up slowly, rubbing my belly as the baby begins to kick. He always seems to do that whenever I move even just a little bit- he’s an active little guy.

“Oh,” I turn back around just as I’m about to close the door. “How did you even find out who your father is?”

“Please mom, I’m not stupid,” he grins slyly at me, sliding his headphones onto his neck. “You lived in Chicago when you got pregnant with me and worked for the Blackhawks. I figured, since you said you worked a lot, the only guys you really had a chance to be with were on the team. And when I asked you about my dad for that project for school you said he was Swedish, so I just went to the Blackhawks roster in 2020 and found the Swedish players, messaging them some really uncomfortable and intrusive messages on Instagram.”

I chuckle at that, shaking my head. It will never not blow my mind how clever and smart he is. As I close the door to his bedroom, I hear him say, “On the plus side, Alex Nylander is a really nice guy.”

~

The day is finally here. Being eighteen weeks pregnant makes it really hard to hide my baby bump, but I somehow manage to find a baggy sweatshirt that I’ve stolen from one of my ex-boyfriends to cover it up. I don’t want to walk into the restaurant we’re meeting at and have him immediately know.

Somehow my jeans still fit on my legs, but I have a feeling by the end of this lunch they’ll be unbuttoned. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.

I get to the restaurant before Adam, just like how I planned it. I wanted time to scope out my exits in case I need to bail halfway through this meal- knowing Adam, it’s a possibility. I haven’t thought through what I was going to say too much.

I know I need to talk to him about why he would keep Holden going to Chicago to see him a secret from me, and we need to talk about the baby.

But mostly I just want to hear him grovel. The secret, sadistic part of me wants to hear him beg for forgiveness for making me raise my child by myself for the past thirteen years. I want to hear him admit that he fucked up- I’ve never heard Adam Boqvist admit that he fucked up before.

He shows up two minutes late.

I know because my phone is sitting face up on the table and I click on it every five seconds to see what time it is. I tell myself that if it gets ten minutes past noon and he’s still not here, I’m going home and giving up on dealing with Adam ever again.

But then he’s standing in front of me, familiar toothy grin on his face, black beanie on his shaggy hair, and a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“You’re late,” I state sternly, not letting any sign of emotion onto my face. I need to let him know I mean business. I need to let him know that I’m never getting into bed with him ever again.

“Yeah, sorry, there was a line at the grocery store,” his grin begins to slip, but as he holds the bouquet out towards me, it takes over his face once again. “I got you these.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t make any movement towards them. His smile falls once again and I begin to feel guilty- he did buy these flowers for me, but he also impregnated me and left me twice.

He slides into the chair across the table from me, setting the flowers on the table and coughing awkwardly. “So, have you ordered yet?”

“Just water,” I respond shortly.

“Do you want to split a bottle of wine?”

“I’m not really a day drinker,” I eye him over the top of my menu, then go back to skimming through the items. It’s a charade, though. I already know what I want.

“Are you two ready to order?” The peppy waitress appears at our side, notepad open in her hand.

“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I announce, folding my menu.

“I’ll take that too. And a bottle of your sweetest wine, please,” the blonde orders, passing his menu to the waitress. When she leaves, he turns back to me. “I know you like the sweet stuff.”

I take a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase. I’d rather get through this meal as soon as possible. The sooner we get done talking about this stuff, the sooner I can get out of here.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

He chokes on the sip of water he’s just taken from his glass, water dripping down his chin and landing on the table in front of him. I can’t help but watch with a content smile as he coughs, trying to catch his breath.

“Excuse me?” He utters through coughs, wiping his chin with a napkin.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “I’m due in November.”

“Well, uh, congratulations,” he says unsurely.

I roll my eyes, muttering, “You clearly haven’t gotten smarter since last time.”

He seems to catch on to the hidden meaning behind my comment, his eyes widening. “Oh is it- since we-“”It’s your baby,” I conclude bluntly.

A smirk begins to spread across his face. I can’t believe it. He’s smirking just after I told him that he got me pregnant accidentally for the second time.

“Why do you have that look?” I snap.

“My little swimmers work pretty well, don’t they?” He inquires confidently, sipping from his water and succeeding this time.

I lean across the table, turning it on him. “I don’t know, do they? Are there any half-siblings that I need to worry about?”

The smirk is replaced by a look of genuineness now. It startles me, the sudden change of emotions. “No, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

I lean back in my seat, the sudden seriousness too much for me to bear. I fiddle with the napkin sitting next to my glass, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, so it’s a boy.”

“Another boy,” he echoes my very thoughts the moment I found out the sex.

I grin at the thought of my second child. When he’s been kicking me at night and keeping me awake, I think about what he’s going to be like. Is he going to cry a lot or is he going to be a quiet baby like Holden was? Will I have to keep an eye on him every minute or will I be able to get some breaks?

And what about when he’s older. Will he like hockey like his dad? Would he like the Flyers because we live in Philadelphia, or would he like the Blackhawks because his dad plays for them?

“Speaking of boys, how is Holden doing? He hasn’t been responding to my texts lately.” Adam means for the question to sound casual, but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice. Maybe he isn’t as much of a shitty father as I think he is.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” I confess.

He doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face. I don’t expect him to. I know how it feels to feel unwanted and unloved by your child- I felt it when Holden told me that I’m a shitty mother. And although Adam deserves the consequences to his actions, I can’t help but feel a small amount of pity for him.

“I deserve that,” he sighs.

“You do,” I agree, knowing that I’m shoving the knife deeper into his heart. “But just give him time to decide what he wants to do. It’s all so fresh to him.”

He gives me a small, vulnerable smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to see you while he was in Chicago, Adam?” I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I found out about the situation.

He shrugs, not saying a word.

“Yes, you do know,” I persist. “So just fucking tell me. Enough of the bullshit, we’re in our thirties now. It’s time to focus on the children, not your fucking pride.”

He looks baffled by my sudden outburst, but it inspires him to answer. “I was afraid that if you found out, you would stop him. Then I’d never get to meet my son.”

“I would have stopped him,” I agreed, causing him to open his mouth to begin arguing with me. I start to speak again before he can begin. “And reschedule the trip to a time that works better with my work schedule so that I could go with him. Yes, you’re his father, but you’ve never been in his life. You’re essentially a stranger to him.”

He narrows his eyes at me like my words are a challenge. “Not anymore.”

I narrow my eyes at him now. “Really? What’s his middle name? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color?”

He doesn’t respond and I scoff, taking a sip of my water again. “That’s what I thought.”

We’re quiet as the waitress returns with our meals. I cut my noodles, taking a bite of my food.

“I don’t want it to be that way with this baby,” he says, quickly adding, “And Holden anymore. I want to be there for this baby from the start. Or from now, I guess. And I want to be there for Holden, if he ever wants me.”

Mixed feelings begin to flush through my body. This is what I wanted for my kids from the beginning, an active father figure. And Adam’s offering it now, but why am I still feeling so hesitant?

After years of expecting him to step up as a parent and him never doing it, I have reasonable doubts when it comes to Adam’s parenting ability.

“Well, you know it’s up to Holden. You can’t force him to like you,” I begin slowly, trying to phrase my words in the best way possible. “But with this second baby… we can try it. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. I’ll text you the address and time.”

“But my flight leaves tomorrow,” he whines. “Can’t you just reschedule for today?”

“You have so much to learn, Adam,” I shake my head. “I just hope you realize that being a parent means that you’re selfless more than selfish. Tell you what, go back to Chicago if you want to. But if you go back to Chicago, the only time you’ll communicate with the boys is when they want to talk to you.”

[insomniamamma]

“Surf City Goodness”: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: This is the same AU as “Ferris Wheels Are for Old People” and “Liminal” but you don’t have to read those to read this one. Ezra loses his arm in an automobile accident which kills his brother, Damon and orphans his niece, Cee. Reader lives across the street from Ezra and they’ve been friendly for sometime but now it’s something more. Set after  “Ferris Wheels Are For Old People” This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ ‘s Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of sex. Mentions of drug abuse.  Mentions of traumatic injury/surgical scars. Mentions of Reader’s ex.  Cee needs her own warning, but mostly this is just fluff. Ez and Cee and Reader enjoy a trip to the beach. I will include some songs from Cee’s playlist at the end.

          Iggy Pop's voice warbles out of the speakers. "I wanna go to the beach, I don't care if it's decadent, I don't know where my spirit went, but that's alright..."          "This seems a bit bleak, Birdie," says Ezra.          "Quit your griping, you'll get your surf city goodness soon enough," says Cee and grins. Part of the deal they've worked out is that Cee gets to pick the music for any road trip longer than two hours, otherwise it's NPR until the signal fades and then whatever classic rock they can pick up. The three of you are crammed in the cab of Ezra's battered Ford Ranger. Cee is the smallest so she sits in the middle. The truck's bed is full of gear, air mattresses and sleeping bags and towels, a cooler filled with food and another filled with beer. I don't know what conditions we'll find exactly, Ez told you, We haven't been back here in some time.          "If there's spiders I'm sleeping in the truck," you said and Ezra smiled, and pressed his remaining hand over his heart.          "Never fear, Sunshine, I will protect your from our arachnid friends."

         "Hey Sunshine!" Ezra calls from his front porch. You look up from your laptop to see Ezra and Cee laden with grocery bags.          "Hey, Ez, you need a hand?" He smirks. This is an old joke between the two of you. When Ezra first came home, with Cee and without his arm, they were unloading Cee and Damon's things, bags and boxes and you, without thought had asked if he needed a hand, it just came out and you'd clapped your hands to your mouth, and then spluttered, I'm so sorry I didn't mean--and Ezra laughed, of course I need a hand. I'm down to just the one.          "Always," he says. You loop the plastic bags over your arms, sweating packages laden with ground beef and bratwursts and chicken thighs.          "You all having a party?"          "We're going to the beach," says Cee. "You should come with us. It'll be fun."            "Jesus, Cee," he mutters and then collects himself and smiles, "I had meant to ask you before this one jumped the gun-"          "It's fine. Really."          "You still working remotely?" asks Ezra.          "For now. There's some talk about keeping my department remote."          "Good thing or bad thing?"          "Good thing," you say, "I like working in my pajamas."          "Good thing because you could come with us," says Ezra.          "Ez--"          "I'm dead serious," he says, "Cee's got a four day weekend. We've got decent internet. Damon saw to that before...well, before. Mind you, this will probably be something of a working vacation. Ma's house has stood empty sometime. Damon used to keep it up but..." Ezra trails off. It's a small town. Damon's drug problems were more or less public knowledge. You think of the files you still need to edit, but for once you're ahead of the game. None of that is due until midway through next week. You've got some wiggle room if things go south.          "Yeah? Yeah, fuck it. I'm coming with." Ezra smiles wide, revealing his dimples. And that's how you end up in the cab of Ezra's beat-to-shit truck listening to Cee's fun and somewhat baffling playlist.

         "Talk to me, baby,I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh, Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy, I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean..."          "Is this a parody?" Asks Ezra, "Like a Weird Al Yankovic thing?"          "No," says Cee, "It's an actual song. One of the Jonas brothers did it."          "Someone greenlit and recorded this on purpose."          "Yep."          "A song. About eating cake on a beach." Cee gives you a sly look.          "It's a metaphor, Ez," she says, "They're eating something but it's not cake." You have to hold in a laugh, watching the gears in Ezra's brain grind, watching his eyes go big.          "Ohmygod! Cee!" Cee cackles and you snort laughter. "You are fifteen years old! You are a minor child! You should not be going there! You should not even know that there exists!" Ezra's cheeks go red. Cee is wheezing, eyes screwed shut with laughter, her own cheeks flaming, "You. Should see. Your face," she says.          "It's not funny!"          "Oh, it's funny," you say, "She got you good."          "Come on, Ez," says Cee, "You think I can't recognize a poorly veiled sexual reference when I hear one? It doesn't take a genius--"          "You are a terror," says Ezra, and Cee grins, proud of the title, "And you--" he arcs and eyebrow in your direction--"Are not helping matters." You give him your brightest smile.          "What can I say? I thought it was just a song about some goofballs eating cake by the ocean." He huffs, but you can see the smirk creeping up his cheek as he drives.

         The house at the end of the driveway is small, a cottage really, single storied and built up on stilts like the others around it, painted a faded robin's egg blue with white trim. The garage is underneath the house, room enough for one car and next to it is a room built to shelter the water heater and plumbing. A wooden staircase snakes up to a deck that wraps the entire structure. Sea grass sprouts in clumps from the sand. It's hot inside, a stale heat, and the first thing you do is open all the windows.          "I think there's a couple box fans in the storage space," says Ezra, "I'll go fetch them."          The back deck overlooks the ocean, pale expanse of sand and the gentle lap of blue-green sea, a wooden staircase reaches down to the sand below. The day is bright and hot and shot through with high cirrus clouds. You and Ezra have stripped the sheets from the beds and popped them in the washer, loaded the dishwasher, put fans in the windows.          "This is cleaner than I expected," says Ezra, "Maybe Damon cared more than I gave him credit for." Ezra's face clouds. You take his hand, squeeze his fingers in yours. You know little about Damon other than the town gossip and what Ezra himself has told you. You don't understand the convolutions of their relationship, you just know that Damon is a slow-healing wound, and that it does Ezra no good to pick at it. You tug at him.          "C'mon. Let's get changed. Cee's already got her suit on."

         "Turn around, Birdie, let me get your back." Cee rolls her eyes but does as she's asked. Ezra sprays sunscreen across her bony shoulders and rubs it in.          "I found a boogie board under the deck," says Cee, "And some toys from when I was real small. I found those floaty things you all used to put on my arms, remember those?"          "I do," says Ezra, "Damon chucked you into the surf without so much as a by-your-leave. It scared the hell out of Ma but you laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You're good to go, Little Bird."          "Thanks, Ez." And she's down the stairs, heading towards the surf.          "Your turn, Sunshine," he says and you turn your back to him. He presses a kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, that one place that makes you squirm and shiver, right on the line between erogenous and ticklish.          "Menace--" you say and then squawk when the cold spray hits you, soothed by the passage of his calloused palm across your shoulders, gently gripping the nape of your neck, and you lean back against him briefly, relishing his solidity, his warmth, his hand rests lightly on your hip.          "Let me get your back," you say. Ezra turns his back to you and shucks out of his t-shirt. He's already ditched his prosthetic arm. Don't know how seaworthy it is, he'd said, as expensive as it was I don't care to find out. You shake the can of sunscreen and blast him with it.          "Christ! That's cold!"          "We gotta make sure Cee reapplies after a couple hours," you say, smoothing your hands over his broad back, relishing the slide of his tanned skin beneath your palms, "She'll burn to a crisp otherwise." You press your fingers into the tight muscles of his neck and he makes a contented sound like a purr in his chest.          "You're always so tense right here," you say and dig your fingers in, feeling the thrumming muscles loosen somewhat under your touch. Ezra leans back into you as you did to him moments ago, your arms snake around his shoulders, tuck your face against the side of his neck. This thing with you and Ezra is soft and languid and you're not sure how to define it. This is not the fevered, clawed territory of young lovers, the sort of push and pull you had with your ex, the idea that love had to keep proving itself somehow. With Ezra there is nothing to prove. He seems content to ride this gentle wave, to let things play out in their own time.          "Turn around," you murmur against his skin, "Not done with you yet."          "Now, I am perfectly capable of applying--" he starts, but you see his eyes drop, and know it for what it is. You've known Ezra for a while. The two of you were always friendly, since you moved in across the street from him. Ezra before was even more exuberant, had a swagger about him, confidence in his own skin that is only just now trying starting to return. Ezra before would preen under your gaze if he caught you looking at him while he repainted his deck or put down mulch in his garden, Ezra now shrinks from your eyes. You can see the self-doubt seep in. The worry about his scars, that the loss of his arm makes him less, somehow.          "I know," you say, "Maybe I just want an excuse to get handsy." He arcs an eyebrow at you, that brief flash of doubt replaced with his more familiar smug smirk.          "Well, have at it, by all means," he says. You spray him with the sunscreen and start rubbing it in, smoothing over his freckled shoulders, down his upper arms, mindful of the tender skin at the end of his stump, the dips of his clavicles, his broad chest, littered in angry pink scars that shout in contrast to the rest of his skin. Punched indentations along his ribs where they'd stuck in tubes to drain the air and blood out of his collapsed lungs. You work your way down along his soft belly and back up his sides, a hissed intake of breathe and you stop.          "Does that hurt?"          "Nah. Tickles."          "Mmm-hmmm. I'll have to remember that so I can use it to my advantage later."          "Oh and I'm the menace," he says, his arm curls low around your hip, pulling you nearly flush with him, and you complete the motion, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him tight against you, your chin notched over his shoulder. Cee is creeping up the stairs with a battered plastic bucket in her hands. She shoots you a grin and you know exactly what she has in mind. You back up a little, cup Ezra's stubbled cheeks in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose.          "Surprise," you say and take a big step back. There's just time enough for that little furrow to start between his brows and then Cee dowses him, a whole bucket of seawater poured directly over his head. He splutters. His eyes go big and round. Cee is doubled over laughing.          "Oh," he says, blinking salt water out of his eyes, "Oh that's it. Today's the day, Cee! I am going to drown you!"          "Gotta catch me first, old man!" says Cee and pelts down the beach. You run after them, their bright laughter peals through the warm summer air. Ezra grabs Cee and dunks her into an oncoming wave. She emerges splashing great fans into Ezra's face.          "It is only proper that I took my vengeance," says Ezra, holding his hands out to deflect the spray.          "I don't think the Geneva conventions apply here, you douche-canoe," says Cee.          "Oi! That language--" This is your opening. You grab Ezra around his waist and push off backward into the oncoming wave, pulling him down with you. The two of you come back up, coughing and laughing, arms slung around each other. There's no shadow in Ezra's eyes now, you press your lips to his, the waves roll over you, the tide dragging at your bodies while you and him remain still. Press of your lips to his, your tongue licks out and tastes salt on his lips and he opens for you, his hand cupping the back of your head, guiding you against him, his tongue stroking against yours, no battle for dominance, this, just the plush heat of his mouth, the heave of your chests when you finally break apart, waist deep in the ocean.          "I--" says Ezra and Cee's splash hits at face level.          "Gotcha!" she crows, and starts running.          "You miserable little rat!" He hollers, chasing her through the surf. You stand hip deep in the water and laugh. You're not sure what you and Ezra are to each other. Lovers? Friends? Family? Whatever it this is, it feels right and good. It feels like being home.

A/n: Here is a sampling of Cee’s beach trip playlist:

“I Want To Go To The Beach” by Iggy Pop

“Telstar” by The Tornados

“Cake By The Ocean” by DNCE

“Rockaway Beach” by The Ramones

“Misirlou” by Dick Dale and his Del-Tones

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 5.5 (knj)

Chapter 5.5: “No. We had our first makeup.”

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N talk about their relationship.

word count- 2.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- none! just extreme fluff

a.n- This didn’t fit well in the next chapter but I wanted to end the angst in the last chapter on a better note. Let me know what you think.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

Namjoon awoke earlier than the sun the next day, his head heavy and his eyes sore, evidence of last night’s vulnerability etched into his features. Unlike most times you weren’t tangled up in his arms, instead he saw you on the other side of the bed, curled up in a fetal position, one hand between your knees while the other rested under your cheek, making your mouth pout. He frowned at how your eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in your sleep, making you look distressed.

Sighing, he rose up, walking to the other side of the bed to his luggage and digging around for painkillers for his headache. Before he walked to the fridge to grab water, he pulled the comforter higher over you, lightly caressing your cheek, his eyes trailing the necklace around your neck, the pendant resting on the sheets next to your hand.

He sat on the couch, pulling your laptop on the coffee table towards him and turning it on to be greeted by the proposal you were supposed to be working on yesterday. The document seemed to be littered with little comments, and he felt anger flare within his chest as he read them. He knew he was snooping, and he should just minimize the window and go on Netflix as he was initially planning, but he couldn’t help it.

Y/N, are you an idiot?! This is not possible! That is not how this company works

Please fix this. We know you are better than this rubbish.

Let’s discuss this when you get back from showing off in Detroit… this is nonsense.

The comments were too casual and berating to be from your staff and he could only assume they were from your board members. You never talked much about your relationship with the board other than the occasional complaint about wanting to buy them out to have full control, but Namjoon never expected this amount of disrespect from them. As he looked at your sleeping form across the room, he felt a bubble of guilt rise within him. Now that the haze of jealousy and self-hate he was in last night had disappeared, he couldn’t help but realize how mean he had been in his comments to you. If you were dealing with all of this from your board, you didn’t need to be dealing with it from him too. He wondered why you never shared this with him, as he rubbed his face and leaned his head back over the couch. He had seen you become frighteningly more stressed and tired over the last month but he always stopped himself from asking questions, thinking he was projecting his own troubles on to you. In hindsight, he should have known better. Over the past month, Harry had texted him twice to ask if you were doing alright, and even at drinks on Friday, Siwon had pulled him aside to remind him to make sure you relax this weekend. He should’ve known better.

He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about your relationship. It had started with a promise of honesty, of never hiding yourselves from each other, but somehow the distance and the stress had made you both recede into yourselves. Unlike Namjoon, you were the kind of person who never seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve, and he wondered if you felt similarly to how he had been feeling these past months with your work too. Were you also caging yourself in, afraid to share your stress with him?

“Joonie…?” You groggily traced your hand on his side of the bed to find it cold and suddenly last night came back to you and you feared for the worst. You had thought you had resolved your fight. Sure you hadn’t talked about it fully yet but feeling the emptiness made your heart stop. Was he gone? Shooting up, all traces of sleep were gone as you searched the room for him, eyes still puffy from sleep calling his name again, louder this time.

“What’s wrong? I’m right here, babe.” He walked over and you relaxed watching him climb into bed, his back against the headboard as he kissed your forehead, while you moved to sit cross legged between his long legs in front of him.

“Sorry.” He felt you shake slightly as he smoothed your hair to comfort you. You looked up at him, your palm coming to rest against his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Thank you for last night.” He gazed at you, hoping to convey his true gratitude, his hand wrapping arounds yours in your lap. People had always left him alone when he was in that headspace, and he was amazed that you had not only confronted him but managed to pull him out of it. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way.”

“Don’t apologize.” You looked at him sternly before a blush crept on your cheeks and you averted your gaze to your joined hands. Now that he was in a better place, you felt your guilt from last night coming back. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I made it hard for you to believe that I love you.”

“It’s not that… I think I just had a fucked up idea of how girlfriends show love.” He smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I just got insecure about you not being jealous or territorial… I don’t know. It’s pretty dumb” He chuckled humorlessly.

“Oh… I was jealous.” You looked at him with wide eyes as he looked at you with shock. He was sure you were trying to placate him but he wanted to hear your reasoning. “I… I rationalize my feelings. I don’t go off the first thing, you know?” You shrugged sheepishly as you continued. “I feel a thing and then I go ‘hmm wrong reaction, let’s fix that’ so yeah of course I was jealous, are you kidding me? But then I thought it wasn’t an adult response to feel like that so I pretended till I was okay with it.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh at that. He spent two days feeling like he was defected for being jealous of random men, even Yoongi. Of course you had more restraint over your emotions than him. He was in awe of you and he felt like a complete idiot. He leaned forward to pull you closer, arms around your waist to pull him to his chest and kissed you once, before you pushed him off.

“Hey! Stop laughing at me! I’m being vulnerable here!” You pouted, moving your arms around his neck. You knew he wasn’t laughing at you and you were glad he took your confession so well. To be completely honest, you had always felt your trait of rationalizing your feelings was your worst - it created a rift between you and other people who often deemed you as cold and heartless. It pained you that this same trait had made Namjoon so insecure.

Namjoon to his credit, stopped laughing immediately, instead looking at you with a fond smile. “I’m sorry baby. I’m laughing at myself - at how much of an idiot I am.” He once again kissed you, his lips moulding to yours, moving languidly. “I can’t believe that was my barometer for your love. Shit, I’m a fucking idiot.” He giggled, his lips a few centimeters away from yours.

“You’re not an idiot, Joonie.” You frowned a little, cupping his face as you looked into his deep brown eyes. He poked lightly at the corner of your mouth, hoping to remove the frown, looking at you seriously before speaking.

“I hope you know, you don’t have to filter yourself for me, Y/N. You can tell me if you feel jealous or stressed or sad or angry or whatever. I won’t ever judge you.” You felt lighter hearing his words, even though you knew that by now your feelings filter was pretty much an automatic response, it felt nice to hear that you didn’t need to be as careful around him.

Seeing your smile, Namjoon kissed you again, moving your backwards till you laid down under him. His kisses were relaxed, slow, as if he had all the time in the world, and it made your heart blossom. However, you knew that you still needed to talk about his feelings from last night. It wasn’t like you to let things stew, and so before things could get more heated you suggested going to the roof to watch the sunrise. Namjoon finally agreed after a few more lingering kisses, both of you changing into your hoodies and sweats before walking up to the rooftop.

You both laughed when you reached the top of the stairs at the obscenely large no entry sign that was much more evident now that you weren’t in a wild haze of emotions. Choosing to pointedly ignore it once again, you open the door to walk to the edge of the railing. It seemed that the rain last night had cleared the air, the cool morning breeze feeling fresher as you looked over downtown Detroit, the first rays of sunlight breaking over the shiny skyscrapers.

After a few minutes of enjoying the view, you turned to your boyfriend, intertwining your fingers. He had a small smile on his face as he looked over the city, his other hand under his chin, elbow resting on the railing. The first few rays of sunlight reflected off his face, making him look almost ethereal. “Joon, can I ask you something?” Still looking at the view, he hummed in approval. “Why didn’t you tell me you collapsed last week?”

“Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me how hard your board was hounding you for this proposal.” He looked at you pointedly, squeezing your hand, as you let out a sigh.

The cat was out of the bag for the both of you. It felt odd to talk about your stresses after so long, and therein lies the problem. The two of you started this long distance with promises of keeping each other updated but started rethinking that as soon as the stress piled on. Neither of you wanted to burden each other with your stress, but the more you both talked about it you realized the two of you had just been disrespecting each other, assuming the other couldn’t handle your reality and taking away their autonomy to make that decision. You both talked in hushed whispers as if discussing a shameful secret. Well, you guess it was pretty shameful the way you had been hiding in the bathroom at work to avoid talking to people, or that your one glass of whiskey after work had turned to four.

Namjoon assured you he wanted to share your burden and he wanted to share his with you too. He told you about his own shame - of trolling the internet for self-esteem destroying messages - chuckling at your proclamation that you would report every single message till they didn’t exist. It felt nice to finally tell someone, tell you, about his tortuous midnight habit. He also shared his stress about interviews, the anxiety that comes with having to translate for everyone and making sure he does the good job at representing not only his band but his country internationally.

“Okay this cannot happen again. We can’t fuck our communication up this bad every time we do long distance!” you exclaimed after almost two hours of you catching each other up on your less than ideal month. Namjoon was now sitting on the floor, back against the railing as you sat between his legs, your back on his chest and his chin resting on your shoulder. You squeezed his hand in yours. “We need to strategize how to be better!” You turned sideways as Namjoon burst out laughing.

“Damn you really are a CEO. You want to strategize our relationship?” Namjoon had calmed down enough to look at you incredulously.

“Joonie! I’m just trying to make sure we don’t fight again. I didn’t like it.” Namjoon sees your face fall at that as you look to the ground, a little sigh escaping, before he lifts your chin to look at you. You looked at him sadly. “We really had our first fight, huh?”

“No. We had our first makeup” He looks at you with conviction, eye contact not wavering in the least before he kisses you softly on the lips, watching a small smile evaporating your frown. “Okay let’s do it. What’s your strategy, boss?”

And so the two of you came up with three rules to foolproof the rest of your long distance. One, you switched your calls from goodnight to good morning calls, when both of you had enough mental semblance to stitch a proper sentence together (and so you could scold each other if you ended up pulling unnecessary all-nighters). Two, you would never assume the other person was not mentally ready to hear about your stress but would instead ask if they were okay with listening to you. You were to never assume you were a burden on the other person, because you both wanted to support each other. And lastly, your safewords were no longer for the bedroom, instead you both decided to use the colour system on your fights or heavier conversations, giving each other the opportunity to call yellow or red on a topic you weren’t ready to discuss. You didn’t know if this strategy was the best, but you would never know unless you tried it out.

With the sun getting higher and your stomachs growling for sustenance you decided to stand up, looking at the view one last time before venturing downstairs. The city was alive, cars moving around, people rushing to their Sunday plans. It was beautiful. You leaned back, closing your eyes as you took in the sun. “Ah! Healing rooftops!”

“You know, I don’t get the ‘healing power of rooftops’ thing you have.” Namjoon looked at your blissed out face as he put his arm around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at the view, thinking of last night. “All I see are empty offices. Doesn’t it feel lonely?”

“Nah, Joonie. You’re looking at it wrong. For every empty office that means that that person is home safe with their loved ones. Isn’t that the opposite of lonely?” He was taken aback by your positive spin on the situation. He smiled at you warmly as his arms tightened around you. He loved that even though you always said you were cold and people called you Ice Queen, all he ever saw was a soft-hearted optimist. He kissed your cheek as you giggled.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Joonie.”

————

previous | masterlist | next

[chemiste]

Voicemail. ~one-shot~

a/n: howdy babes, last night i was reading through @toothpastekissy​ masterlist, basically gobbling up everything and came upon Leaked Feelings! I loved the concept of it so I decided to write my own version :) lmk if y’all want a part two!

ALSO, i recorded myself singing both songs i wrote for harry,,,, if ya want to know the tunes i was thinking for them, comment if you want them and ill post em.

my masterlist

There they were.

The leaked files.

When you got a call at 4 am this morning, you did not expect your publicist to be telling you some of your exes songs were leaked.

“What’s that got to do with me?” You asked, still half asleep.

“They’re about you, Y/N.”  Well now you’re awake.

“What?” You shot up out of bed, padding over to your white desk, fuzzy pink socks on your feet. You opened your laptop and jumped onto twitter, scrolling through with one hand while the other held your phone. #StylesLeak was trending worldwide, as was #Y/N.

HarryUpdates tweeted:

OMG OMG RED ALERT WE GOT LEAK SONGS Y’ALL

FineFuckinLine tweeted:

OOF, what the fucccccck did harry do to Y/N? These are all apology songs!!! No wonder the break up was hush hush

E!News tweeted :

Hey everyone! We know Harry Styles and Y/N L/N stans are up early this morning! Leaked songs from Harry sales have been put out on the web for everyone to see. The two singers had called it quits 3 years ago, but now they’re the trending topic again! #shipname is now trending #1 worldwide, I didn’t ever think we’d see that one again! Go to our website for more!

You heard you publicist let out a big sigh, you put your phone on speaker and set it down on the desk next to you so you could keep looking.

“There are 7 songs, and each one has your name in it or as the title.”

It was a bit of shock, to say the least.

You had hung up with your publicist a while ago and were now debating on whether to listen to the songs or not, you had found a fan account that had the leaked files all ready to go for your entertainment, but something made you hesitate clicking the url.

“You Bastard!” You screamed, shoving him back into the wall. 

Mascara was streaming down your face, the satin red cocktail dress you wore now crumpled as your crouched to grab your suitcase from underneath the bed.

“Please listen, it’s not what you think—“ Harry started, you whipped around to the man before you, fire burning in your eyes.

“Oh, really Harry? How is me hearing you say ‘yeah Y/N is alright, but gotta keep the media happy ya know’ on a voicemail I probably wasn’t supposed to get not what I think?” 

Quickly, you zipped the bag closed, kicking your heels off and shoving your feet into your beat up converse. He let out an exasperated breath, tears starting to shine in his eyes.

“I—I was drunk Y/N! I was with some friends just joking around and—“ 

“Drunk words are sober thoughts Harry.” 

You snapped back, slipping your tench coat on and racing for the stairs, luggage in hand. You rubbed away the endless tears running down your face as you made it to the living room, collecting your keys.

H raced down after you, mumbling over words—

‘Excuses’, You thought.

Right before you opened the front door, he grabbed your hand that was wrapped around the handle of your suitcase. 

“Please Y/N, can’t we just sit down and talk this out—“ 

“There’s nothing to talk about Harry, you made that perfectly clear when I had to listen to you compare me some ‘other models’ while at a very important record dinner! I had to fucking sit there, eyes on me, and act like you weren’t ripping my heart out one word at a time!” 

You snatched your hand out of his and moved out the door, 

“Don’t call me,” was the last thing you said before slamming the door shut.

Bringing back those memories was something you didn’t want to do, it had been 3 years since the break up. Harry didn’t come after you, even though a part of you wished he had. Wished he had tried harder to get you back. But alas, shortly after, he started dating a model, Camile or something, and your relationship was tossed aside like yesterdays newspaper. 

You moved back and forth with your mouse on the link, eventually you closed the page. Instead of fully chickening out, you decided to go to your favorite platform for celebrity gossip, tumblr.

“At least one of his die-heart fans must have the lyrics written down already.” 

You mumbled to yourself, logging into your secret side blog about cats, Captain America, and cute outfits. 

After not that much digging you found a blog, harrysmygod, (you definitely rolled your eyes at the name) had a whole posting written out about it already.

“They’re sure on top of everything, I’ll give them that.”

You started to read.

Hello my harries! 

So if you’ve been up these past few hours, something big has happened! HARRY STYLES HAD SOME FUCKING SONGS LEAKED!!! And no, I don’t mean songs that could have been on the FineLine album, I mean OLD songs! 

And they’re about, you know my fav girl, Y/N! Now, we know their break up 3 years ago was very quick and hush-hush, not much details ya know? 

BUT WE GOT THE JUICE NOW LADIES!! 

The boy wrote 7 songs that got leaked, and you wonder why I know they’re about her? Y/N is a lyric or title word used in all of them! Thats right, all 7 songs. I’ve done the best thing for everyone and written out the lyrics for you to look through, I’ve only kept one chorus and each new verse, if you listen to the song and its repeated I only wrote it down one for you, blah blah you get it? 

Great! Heres the first one, it’s called Voicemail.

You took a deep breath and scrolled down.

The look on your face,

The hurt in your eyes,

Made me realize, my lover was gone,

I never got to say goodbye.

Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.

The words I had said, not true,

I’m so sorry you heard them too.

When you came home in that dress,

Mascara dripping onto your chest.

I knew I had fucked up,

One voicemail turning us to dust.

If you ever hear this song,

Know that I was wrong,

You were the best thing in my life,

Now those flames have turned to ice.

Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.

Y/N, please remember the love we once had together,

So I know I am real

And then maybe, we could try to heal.

Heaaaaaaaaaal.

Wow you guys, this SONG! Totally sucks that harry didn’t mean to release them cause totally invasion of privacy (sorry harry), but lucky for us we’ve got some info on what happened between Y/N and him! 

I’m thinking maybe a voicemail gone wrong? They could have been in a fight and he said something that cut too deep? Lmk what you guys think, heres the next on called Gone.

You scrolled through them, you read all the songs. Lover’s Funeral, Drunk Thoughts, Empty Seat, Your Sock Drawer, and then finally, Y/N.

Alright, we’ve made it to the last song my dudes. And personally it’s my favorite!!!! This was the last song leaked, but I feel the most important. Here’s Y/N.

Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,

You make my heart fly,

I feel as though I could touch the sky,

I only need your love to try.

My love, love, love

You shine brighter than any star above.

Make me count everyday,

I should have tried to make you stay.

Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N

I know we can agree

That I’m a bastard

Im a flake,

You made the right choice

Walking out on me

But could I have

A second chance,

I know it would be worth it

In the end

Because I’d get,

On one knee,

And promise myself to you

For all eternity.

Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N

My love, love, love

Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N

My love, love, love

You gasped, basically jumping away from the computer like it was on fire. Thoughts raced through your mind, you grabbed your head, trying to keep it all together. 

He wanted to marry you? Impossible. 3 Years ago this man was thinking about proposing, then how could he say all those horrible things about you?

“He’s not worth another heartbreak, stop it, stop it!” You chanted to yourself.

While you paced back and forth making a dint in your soft white carpet, you had tuned out the notifications for instagram, twitter, and calls coming through to you. 

But then a certain dial tone popped up that you had only set for one person.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

You glanced to your phone on the table and froze.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent you a message.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent you a message.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “Mrs. Styles.”

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “I Should Have Fought.”

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Sent a voice file “I’m Sorry.”

<3

here’s part 2!!!!!!!!!

[spaceskam]

a little bit of belmanes for @excusemyfrenchgh ​ and you’re probably asleep or going to sleep because time zones, so, like, good night/morning depending on when you see this aslkdjfalkdjf

ao3

There was something convenient about having two Manes men on their side.

Alex and Greg were both ungodly intelligent, quick-witted, and good looking. Together--especially after they'd gotten comfortable with each other again--they were an unstoppable force. They could get anything done in an impressive timeframe and even found free time to add in a few jokes. Michael had gone full heart-eyed over it after a couple of meetings and Isobel had to admit he wasn't alone. It  was  charming.

Greg in particular had already found himself in Isobel's good graces long before he started working with them, but now she felt a little more obsessed with him every time she saw him. He'd make the trip out there every weekend and never failed to text Isobel on the way to say  something.  Whether it was to ask what her favorite kind of candy was or if she liked bubble tea, he would always show up with something. At first, he'd bring something for everyone, but that changed a couple of months in when he brought her flowers because they reminded him of her. Then they'd started to text a bit more reliably and Isobel felt like a teenager.

"How do I know if he likes me back?" she asked. Michael took a deep breath.

"Are you seriously asking me this? We're not twelve. Also, you're one of the most confident people I've ever met, just ask him," Michael said. Isobel rolled her eyes and scrunched up her nose. He wasn't really a good person to ask anyway, he'd screwed up his relationship with Alex all while  knowing  they were in love. He wouldn't know how to tell if it hit him in the face.

"I just need to get in the perfect situation where he knows I'm interested," Isobel said, staring at her phone and trying to decide what to say. Greg had let her know he was going to work out and so she had around thirty minutes left to come up with a good response. "I think I'm going to change into something that looks like I also work out and send him a sexy selfie."

"I'm leaving," Michael said before she could finish her sentence, grabbing his things and standing up. She scoffed in mock-offense.

"Do you think I'm too old to send thirst traps?" she asked. Michael looked more than a little scandalized at the idea of that and started heading for the door.

"Bye!"

Isobel laughed and slid off the chair and headed towards her bedroom. It felt like a solid idea, as good as any. She changed into something that she would typically go to yoga with her mom in and maybe splashed a bit of water on her face to give the impression that she had actually done something. It took her about ten minutes to get a picture worth sending.

And, it was worth it, because she got one back.

Greg's response was him from the shoulders up and from a hellish middle-aged man angle, but he made it work due to his smile and the fact that he was tinted red from exertion and glistening with sweat. It came with the message of  'great minds think alike'  and it was cheesy and didn't add anything to the conversation and Isobel found herself stomping excitedly like a teenager. She liked that feeling. She never really got to experience that before.

When she was an actual teenager, she'd been too scared to date anyone considering the whole alien thing. And then with Noah, it'd all moved so quickly. They met and within the year they were married despite all the questions from her brothers which, honestly, should've been a red flag. It didn't matter. She was allowing herself to feel it now.

For the next couple of days, they sent pictures back and forth and if some were a little more risque than the others, neither of them mentioned it. Isobel got pictures of him in bed, of a burn scar on his hip (totally relevant because she was baking), of him in his cute little teacher outfit with his cute little button-ups. In return, she sent him full body mirror pictures of her outfit each morning, of her in the bath after a bath bomb (totally relevant because he asked what they looked like), of her drinking coffee each morning to show off her collection of mugs. It was  easy  and fun and Isobel was on top of the world.

"You look happy," Michael said as she strolled up to him with bagels and coffee in hand. He wiped his hands on his jeans and she was in too good of a mood to think about how gross it was as he reached for his coffee.

"I  am  happy," she announced, "Greg is coming down today and I'm going to make a move."

"Please not in front of me," Michael said. She rolled her eyes.

"As if you don't do gross shit in front of all of us all the time," she said. Before he had any time to argue, she spoke again. "Don't worry, I don't plan to do anything to hurt your precious little eyes."

"Thank you," he said, giving a playfully exasperated sigh. Isobel smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

The day passed slowly with her anticipation. She refused to let the idea of rejection enter her mind. He was into her and she knew it. And, well, if he wasn't, it didn't matter.

They all met up at Alex's cabin in the woods where they always met up since Max blew up the last one. That being said, he was allowed to know where the cabin was and he typically joined their get-togethers via video chat. It was Alex's rule and Isobel personally found it hilarious.

Greg showed up later than everyone else like always and Isobel met him at the door, flashing a smile and receiving a shy one in response. He held out a mug with a dragon design on it.

"I saw this, thought you'd like it," Greg said. Isobel smiled as she took it from him.

"Thank you, I love it."

No one commented on it seeing as they'd stopped finding it joke-worthy after the first few times and they quickly got to work. Alex and Greg got out their computers. Alex the more tech-savvy of the two, but that didn't mean Greg didn't know what he was doing.

They spoke of Mr. Jones, Deep Sky, Project Shepard, the overwhelming and looming threat of literally everything, etc. It'd become something redundant at this point, but Isobel didn't care if it meant seeing Greg every weekend.

An hour in, he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head as if it was starting to get uncomfortable. Isobel saw her way in.

"Here, let me help," she offered, moving behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. If his cheeks and his neck started to burn red, Isobel didn't say anything.

Keyword: Isobel.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, get a room," Rosa scoffed. Michael and Alex both snorted, keeping their eyes off of Isobel and Greg. Isobel tried not to act embarrassed. She  wasn't  embarrassed. 

"Maybe we will," Isobel said easily. Greg took a deep breath and she grinned. 

"Oh, God," Max sighed through his video chat. Isobel didn't back down though, dragging her thumb from between his shoulder blades and up to the base of his neck as Greg let out another breath.

"Don't let me stop you, get back to work," Isobel said easily.

And they did, sort of. Greg stopped typing at some point, his eyes closing and his head drooping forward as he let her dig into his shoulders. She didn't stop even when her hands started to hurt.

"Alright, you two are the worst, go home," Alex laughed. Isobel tilted her head and blinked innocently. 

"What ever do you mean?"

"Yeah, we'll go," Greg agreed, standing up and closing his laptop in one swift motion, "I'll drive."

Isobel's eyes widened a bit and she looked at Michael, raising her eyebrows. He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her, but she didn't pose any argument to leaving. She gladly went along with it.

"So," she said as she said in the passenger seat of his car, "Should I show you the way to my house?"

Greg looked over at her for a moment and nodded. "I could reciprocate."

And because Isobel liked to have fun, she said, "Reciprocate what?"

Greg took a deep breath and smiled, shaking his head as he backed up to turn the car around and drive out of the woods.

"Literally anything you want."

"I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

To say the least, Isobel lost any doubt that he liked her back.

[sandalwoodhusbands]

we are citizens of halloween town || 6k 

There’s a pile of books glaring at him from the coffee table. Three books, all neatly set one on top of the other, notes in black ink surrounding them. Lucas reaches for the thickest one.

It’s ugly. Brown and worn around the edges, kinda smelly like any book from the library this old would be. The bane of his existence, really, hate at first sight, some would say.

He glares back, nose scrunched up, before-

Well. He lays on it, okay?

He takes the fucking book, curls his arms on top of it and rests his head on the crook of his elbow. So what. It’s not like anyone’s going to judge him for it.

His boyfriend is drawing with crayons in the seat opposite of him. Give him a fucking break.

Fucking October.

He’s not someone particularly mindful of the seasons of the year (he’s not his ridiculous nerd of a boyfriend), would even say he enjoys autumn. But there’s something about October – the change in the weather, suddenly you blink and it’s night and you have five assignments due that you swear weren’t there before.

There’s no break from summer going into another school year. There’s sun in the afternoons, all warm, but not scorching hot, and whispering in your ear to come out and play, enjoy it before it’s gone. But you’re stuck inside, staring out the window trying to finish your fucking bio essay.

And then it’s night, and it should be chilly, because it’s autumn, but somehow it isn’t and either you have your boyfriend wrapped around you, or a blanket, but you can’t have both. But you kinda want both. So you settle for your boyfriend on top of you, and try to shield the uncovered parts of your body from the cold as much as you can.

It’s always fucking October.

So he’s tired, napping on a suspiciously smelly book because he’s earned this, alright? Just a little break.

“You good there, baby?” asks Eliott, because he’s a fucking angel.

“Hmm.” He says, words slurred against the table. “Just chilling.”

Eliott laughs lightly at that, and Lucas smiles into his forearm. The laughter warms his skin up, like a breath of summer wind, all the way from his belly and down to the tip of his toes, right where they wiggle against the fuzzy carpet through the hole in his sock.

He’s so ridiculously enamored.

Eliott hums from the other side of the table, catching Lucas’ calf with his feet and trapping it between his legs. “You do look very cozy right now.”

Lucas tilts his head up slightly, flashing Eliott a tired grin. “Shh.” He tuts. “I’m sleeping.”

Eliott laughs again, this time louder.

“Oh, alright. My bad” he says, but his legs keep playing tug with Lucas’ under the table. “Baby needs his rest.”

Lucas bites his lip to keep the laugher in his throat, as to not give himself away – although Eliott already knows. He always does, when it comes to Lucas.

It’s then that a little voice decides to make itself known.

“Eli!” the voice chastises quietly. Lucas hears a light thud, and then a shushed voice that says “use your inside voice, Lulu’s sleeping!”

Through closed eyes, Lucas can picture the little boy at the other end of the table. Shaggy brown hair, messy and way too long at the front, because he refuses to get a haircut. He can imagine the boy tugging at Eliott’s shirt, or maybe smacking his small palm flat against Eliott’s arm, big green eyes that match the color of his dino pajamas staring up at his big brother.

A silent snort, and then a gasp. Lucas buries his smile on his forearm.

“So you’re saying I have to be real quiet, so we don’t wake up Lulu?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Eliott agrees, and there’s enough mischief in his voice that it makes Lucas open his eyes. He barely has time to raise his head up to see the way his boyfriend picks his brother up by the waist, fingers diving to his sides.

Loud giggles erupt across the room, happy and carefree, and Lucas can only watch fondly as the little boy squirms in Eliott’s hold, eyes bright with laughter and cheeks dusted with pink.

“But Jules!” Eliott says between shrieks of laughter. His eyes shine when he looks down at his brother. Lucas falls just a little bit more in love. “You have to be quiet too!”

Eventually, the laughter dies down, leaving the living room in a state of comfortable quietness. Jules pouts up at Eliott “You cheated.” He complains, petulantly. In a way only a kid could.  

Eliott chuckles airily, pushing strands of curly hair off Jules’ eyes with an amused shake of his head. His eyes find Lucas’ over Jules’ head, happy and clear. Lucas smiles at him, and Eliott grins back.

Jules’ cheek is smushed in the crook of his brother’s neck. He’s quiet for some time, eyes droopy as Eliott resumes back to his sketchbook. Both he and Lucas follow the line of Eliott’s hand in wonder.

“Ma said to ask if you’ll take me trick or treat this year.” He speaks softly. There’s every ounce of innocence in his tone when he asks. “Please?”

The question makes Eliott freeze. He immediately turns to look at Lucas, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Lucas knows what he’s thinking. Emma’s party.

Emma’s party, the one they had planned weeks ahead. Because when you’re in uni and every one of your friends have chosen a different degree it’s harder to match plans. Because they probably won’t see everyone until Christmas break again.

Jules follows Eliott’s line of vision, startling when he finds Lucas most definitely not asleep. He smiles at first, all big and sweet, like every time he sees Lucas, before his face sets in a look of determination. Jumping off his brother’s hold, he circles the glass table until his knees bump with Lucas’ shins.

He holds his arms up wordlessly, and Lucas picks him up on autopilot.

Bony knees dig into his stomach, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care, doesn’t care when Jules spreads his small hands across Lucas’ cheeks and looks at him with big, glassy eyes, asking “uncle Lulu, will you pretty please take me trick or treat this year?”

How could he say no? Not to this boy cradled in his arms, the sweetest kid he’s ever met. A little Eliott, so small when he first met him that he fit in the crook of Eliott’s elbow. He was just four months old then.

Four years later and many, many babysitting sessions later – because date night is a very serious thing within the Demaury’s. Every Demaury. Except maybe baby Jules, for now – he’s never loved a kid as much as he loves him. He never thought his heart was capable of holding so much love inside, for Eliott, for this family.

For he considers himself part of it, and he thinks (knows) it’s mutual.

So it’s no surprise. Not to him, or to Eliott, maybe even to Jules, when he answers “of course we will.” And then, because Jules is grinning, and Eliott is too, and he’s got his family in his arms and his world staring at him, he boops Jules’ nose. Because he’s so fucking happy this is his life. “Anything for baby Jules.”

Jules scrunches up his nose, eyes going crossed, before lying his head on Lucas’ chest. Eliott is already waiting for him to look back, sketchbook forgotten in the corner.

There’s a light in his eyes that Lucas is all too familiar with. He gets it himself every time he sees Jules riding in Eliott’s back, or sleeping against his shoulder on long car trips.

Do you think about the future?

I do.

And, in that future…?

It’s never finished, the question.

And in that future, am I in it? Do you see us in your future? Do you see me? Do we make it? Do I?

It’s never said, but they both know it, because one hour later, or two, or one breath away, when they find themselves holed up in their room, their duvet up to their shoulders and Eliott tracing lines across Lucas’ bare stomach, there’ll be a stupid tv show playing on the laptop, and they’ll look at each other in the dark with a smile.

I think you’d be a good dad.

Yeah. You would, too.

And that’s the end of the conversation, every time, because one second later Lucas would have his mouth over Eliott’s, a hand to his neck, and all thoughts would fly out the window at the finger trailing down his back softly.

“I want cookies for dinner.” Jules says tiredly against Lucas’ shoulders. His eyelashes flutter when he speaks, hand closed in a tight grip on Lucas’ sweatshirt.

He hears Eliott’s quiet groan. “God fucking damn it.”

They have cookies for dinner.

***

Eliott has been going on about the differences between spandex and latex for the last 20 minutes.

There’s only so many times you can hear the words “lycra suit” being thrown in a conversation before you get the need to push your boyfriend up against the wall and kiss him senseless to shut him up.

He just wants to take a nice shower. Make out a little, then eat dinner in bed. Eliott’s already rid of his shirt, so he stands in the middle of the room with a bare chest and black track pants hanging low on his hips.

He’s very appreciative of his boyfriend’s beauty, even when said boyfriend is running his ear off.

He’s sitting on the desktop table, back turned to the window. He’d been revising some notes when Eliott had barged into the room like a hurricane. He hadn’t questioned Lucas’ choice of study location (it’s not the first time. He doesn’t have a problem with chairs. It’s not a gay thing, Basile. The table is just comfier- shut up), just had shoved his phone in Lucas’ face, rambling about delivery dates and costume prices.

Lucas had blinked, very much confused, but had wasted no time in trapping Eliott’s waist between his legs. Eliott had just given him a happy look and continued talking.

Now he sits here. His legs are still wrapped around Eliott’s hips, arms circling his middle, and he’s long given up on keeping his back straight, or understanding what’s going on, so he pillows his head on Eliott’s stomach. With every word that Eliott says, the vibrations travel down to his ear.

“This is nice.” Lucas murmurs against Eliott’s stomach, when Eliott finally goes on a rant break. He rubs his cheek on the warm skin, smiling a little. His boyfriend smells nice, like their body soap and a hint of cranberry juice that he’d spilled on his pants during lunch.

Eliott looks down from his phone. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ hair, tightening his grip on his shoulders with his free arm. “You’re nice.”

“You’re nicer.”

“And you’re lucky you’re cute, because I know you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the past twenty minutes.”

Lucas snickers to himself, snuggling closer to Eliott when he feels fingers drawing shapes at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, but what did you expect when my shirtless boyfriend is right here?” He says, and kisses softly between Eliott’s pecs to seal his words. “C’mon.”

Eliott tuts. “I know what you’re doing, Lallemant.”

Lucas turns his head up to grin at Eliott, fitting his hands on the small of Eliott’s back. He presses one kiss to his stomach. Two, three, tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips in the last one.

“What am I doing?”

Eliott exhales.

“You’re trying to distract me with sex.”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes. No use in denying the obvious. He looks at Eliott through his eyelashes, slowly leaning in to leave another kiss to the expanse of his chest, teeth grazing the skin teasingly. “Is it working?”

Eliott shudders, and one blink later Lucas has a face full of Eliott’s hand.

He gives Lucas a disapproving look, spread palm covering his mouth. Whatever made him think that would help his case, he doesn’t know. Still, Lucas gives in this once, only because he looks very cute under their bedroom light right now.

He makes a muffled sigh against Eliott’s hand, rolling his eyes jokingly as Eliott retracts his hand back. Eliott squints at him. Lucas squints back, neither of them moving.

At the end it’s Lucas who breaks. He sighs again, looking up at Eliott and curling his arms around his neck. “Okay. What is it?”

Eliott laughs loudly, a sound that makes their bodies shake and Lucas’ face break into a smile even if he’s not sure what they’re laughing at.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Eliott laughs again, and he goes to slide his hands under Lucas’ ass to lift him up.

Lucas secures his grip on Eliott’s waist and neck as his body leaves the desktop table, flashing him a shit-eating grin. “You already know I wasn’t listening. No surprise.”

“Yeah, but don’t say it to my face.”

He presses teeny, tiny kisses to Eliott’s cheek as an apology. “Sorry, baby. I promise I’ll listen this time.”

“You fucking better.” Eliott threatens. He walks them around the apartment like the boy wrapped around his body fucking weights nothing. It’s a really fucking cute habit – albeit a bit weird at the beginning, when Eliott would just pick him up out of the blue at the most random times.

It helps me think, shush, Eliott had said the time Lucas had asked him about it. And that’d been it.

He’s his boyfriend’s personal light bulb, he supposes.

“I was talking to my mom this afternoon, and I think Jules is going through a Spiderman phase.”

Lucas smiles internally at the image of little Jules tricking his parents into buying anything Spiderman related he sees at the store.

He can imagine how the conversation went down. A blankie? He needs it, because it’s cold. And a toothbrush, because it doesn’t matter if he has one already! Two toothbrushes means more teeth-brushing time, and that’s good. That t-shirt, please mama, and maybe the pajamas too? The mask?

Wait a fucking minute.

“Oh hell no-“

“He’d lose his mind if we got him a Spiderman suit. Can you imagine? And to make it even better! Wouldn’t it be fucking cute if we matched? Like mini and maxi Demaury? So I’d get one too, and then-“

“I am not wearing Spandex.”

Eliott shushes him, sitting them on the edge of the bed. “And then I had a brilliant idea.” Lucas doubts that. He’s already dreading the next words that will come out of Eliott’s mouth. “Deadpool! Me as Spiderman, you as Deadpool, the fucking hottest couple of all Paris.”

Ah, there it is. He can’t even pretend like he didn’t see that one coming.

He drops his head to Eliott’s shoulder, an amused little huff falling from his lips. He knew he had lost the battle the very second Eliott entered the room.

“You in?” Eliott asks, bumping their heads together softly.

He’s one beat away from saying ‘of fucking course I’ll be you your better superhero half, you fucking beautiful dork’ when a weird thought flashes across his mind.

“Wait, what? Since when do Deadpool and Spiderman go together?”

Eliott pulls him back by his shoulders, frowning. “Are you serious?” His mouth gapes at Lucas’ blank stare. “My God, Mika really taught you nothing.” He murmurs.

“What? Eliott, I’ve seen all the movies. I can assure you I’ve never seen Deadpool and Spiderman in a scene together.”

“Well yeah, I mean the comics?” Eliott asks, like it’s obvious, and for one second he looks confused. Then realization dawns on him. “Lucas Lallemant, you haven’t read the comics?” The disbelief in his voice makes Lucas’ cheeks turn pink, his silence being enough answer. Eliott squeaks in outrage. “And you call yourself a fan?”

“I just never found the time, okay.” Lucas defends himself, pulling on Eliott’s hair weakly.

“I have so much to show you. So. Many. Gay. Superheroes, Lucas.”

The glee in Eliott’s voice turns Lucas’ smile into mush. “You’re ridiculous.” He says, but doesn’t mean it.

Eliott kisses him then, as if he can see through Lucas’ words. He kisses him soundly, hands cupping Lucas’ face and lips moving against Lucas’ at a slow pace. Lucas kisses back, digs his knees into the mattress to push himself against Eliott, smiling when he feels Eliott’s smile on his lips.

“But,” he says between kisses, panting. Eliott whines, like it’s a personal offense that Lucas stopped kissing him “isn’t Deadpool like, pan?”

Eliott gives him a dirty look that screams you did not just stop kissing me for this.

He kisses the side of Eliott’s mouth to make up for it.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, why aren’t you Deadpool and I’m Spiderman?”

Eliott takes Lucas’ face in his hands, bringing their faces impossibly closer together. From that distance their noses rub together with every breath, heavy and shallow. “Because you, baby,” Eliott whispers, thumb moving to press down on Lucas’ bottom lip wetly to prove a point “are my little merc with a fucking mouth.”

Lucas smirks proudly, parting his lips. “And a mouth I have.”

Eliott pulls him into another kiss. It’s a little rougher around the edges, but they’re both smiling into it. Eliott’s tongue slides between his parted lips, and Lucas catches it with his teeth. He pushes at Eliott’s shoulders until they’re both lying on the bed, chest to chest and Lucas’ knees on either side of Eliott’s waist.

Eliott has his hands spread across the curve of Lucas’ ass, and Lucas has been going at his neck for a while when Eliott starts shaking his head. He pulls back to look at Eliott, confused.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never read a Marvel comic.”

“And I can’t believe I’m surprised that you have.” Lucas grumbles back.

Eliott shoots him a lazy grin, raising one eyebrow. “What was that?”      

“I’ll wear the spandex?”

Eliott’s grin turns wicked. He’s already regretting this.

 ***

He regrets it. For a series of numerous reasons.

Okay, regret is a heavy word. He just… Halloween wasn’t a thing for him growing up, that’s all. When he still lived with his mama she’d always shut down the windows and lock all the doors three times, just in case, because she’s always had a struggling relationship with demonic creatures.

And Lucas, well, he’s always had a struggling relationship with the dark. It’s just fucking scary, okay? It’s scary, and lonely, and everyone always tells you ‘oh don’t worry, there’s nothing there!’ But you can’t fucking see that, can you?

See where this is going?

So yes, he hates the fucking dark, and everywhere he looks there’s shadows lurking in the corner and people in costumes that are fucking ugly, and fuck his life. Fuck his life, and also Eliott Demaury for, on top of everything, making him wear the tightest piece of clothing he’s worn in his life.

He thinks he’s funny, shooting Lucas knowing glances every time he flinches at a loud noise, looking ridiculously beautiful in that stupid Spiderman costume. Although, if he has to be appreciative of something, is the way Eliott’s long torso looks in the red and blue fabric.

He’s got his face mask in one hand, same as Lucas, so the costume only reaches up to his neck. His hair is all messy, grey eyes shining bright under the last rays of sunshine, and Lucas thinks his sexual awakening would have gone a lot smoother had this been the version of Spiderman he grew up with.

Or maybe he’s just in love.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.” Eliott says in his ear as they walk past a group of kids with their brains in their hands. “Seriously, relax. It looks like you’re sucking on a lemon. Not a good look on you, baby.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas laughs, dragging his gaze away from them. “You love me in any shape-“

A loud thud behind them makes Lucas gasp. He turns his head around so fast he’s impressed he didn’t snap his neck, and the sudden coil in his stomach eases when he sees it’s just a near neighbor taking out the trash.

God, he’s a loser.

“Fucking hell.”

Eliott doesn’t laugh this time. He just bumps their shoulders together quietly, offering him a soft smile before resting his hand on the small of his back, dangerously close to his ass.

That’s another thing. For some reason, his boyfriend has decided in the past three hours that he’s really into Lucas in this costume. Really into it.

He’s lost count of the times Eliott has slapped, kneaded and squeezed his ass since they left home. He had to physically hold Eliott’s arms around his waist on the subway because Eliott’s hand kept traveling south. After the fifth time it happened Lucas slapped his hand away.

“I can’t help that you’re so hot!” Eliott had whined.

“Well, you’re gonna fucking have to.”

He would have been more concerned if the attention hadn’t been 100% on him.

(And Eliott does have a point. These costumes really leave nothing to imagination, and it makes their bums looking fucking great.)

Just then Eliott’s hands drops one inch lower, slender fingers brushing against the swell of Lucas’ ass. Lucas narrows his eyes, taking one step away.

Reaching behind his back, he grabs at one of the swords strapped to his back. “See this? I’m gonna poke you in the eye with it if you don’t stop touching my ass” he hisses under his breath, tilting Eliott’s chin up with the tip of the plastic sword. “There’s kids around.”

Eliott points to it. “You should use that to fight the trashcan from earlier.”

“I hate you.”

Eliott pouts, looking at him pleadingly. Lucas straps the sword back with a sigh and puts Eliott’s hand back on his ass. He can’t even pretend to be grumpy when Eliott looks so damn happy as they keep walking.

“You know I’m only kidding, right?” Eliott says suddenly, sliding his hand from Lucas’ ass to curl around his waist. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ cheek. “I love you, slight apprehension of the dark and all.”

Lucas raises Eliott’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it wordlessly. He smiles against the cold skin.

He swears he just heard a wolf howl, but he doesn’t tell Eliott about it.

-

Eerie music comes from the big speakers propped up in the Demaury’s yard. There’s a big pumpkin at the front door and spider webs hanging from the doorframe and windowsills. There’s a small sized sticker of a ghost plastered to the wall, looks like it’s barely holding on in there – probably put there by Jules. It makes Lucas smile.

Jules squeals when the sees them. He’s dressed in a black Spiderman suit, a literal small version of his older brother, and when they stand together it makes Lucas warm.

“Lulu, you look so cool!” Jules squeaks excitedly, hugging his legs. Lucas crunches down to pick him up, letting him touch everywhere in wonder. Eventually he finds the swords strapped to his back and looks at Lucas with wide eyes. “Can I play with the swords?”

Lucas laughs, dropping Jules to the floor to grab the swords.

“Be careful though.”

With that, Jules sets off running. Never too far away from them, he walks ahead on the street. The swords rattling across the pavement make an unsettling noise, and Lucas holds on tighter to Eliott’s hand when the cross a park with no streetlights.

For being the city of light, they should fucking invest on some streetlights.

Jules clinks one of the swords against something metallic, and Lucas jumps.

“I fucking hate Halloween.” He groans into Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott just laughs.

They walk so many houses Lucas’ feet start hurting. Jules’ pumpkin bag is brimmed to the brink with very sweet candy that gives Lucas cavities just by looking at it. They make quite a trio, the three of them.

They pass groups of high-schoolers and little kids with their relatives - Lucas sees a lot of questionable costumes. Some of them he wishes he could unsee. It’s less scary like this though. Despite the theme, the streets are full of people. Loud laugher and the occasional shriek, nothing scary about a five year old wearing a skeleton costume and making ‘boo’ noises at them.

It makes Lucas relax.

Since Jules isn’t tall enough to reach the doorbell, he takes turns in dragging him and Eliott by the wrist to call at the door for them. They get complimented for their costumes a lot – someone says they make a beautiful family, and it makes Lucas blush and Eliott say thank you. Jules keeps himself busy nibbling on a strawberry licorice wheel.

On the way back, when it’s much, much later – much darker, and much colder – a girl stops them. She looks older than what they’ve seen all evening, and there’s a small group of them, girls and boys alike standing a few feet away from her, dressed similarly to her.

“Sorry to bother you guys, but I love your costumes.” She says excitedly. Guess you don’t see two grown ass men in expensive costumes going trick-or-treat in the suburbs of Paris, Lucas thinks. “I’ve always loved this pair.”

Eliott turns to look at him with a ‘I told you so’ grin. Lucas huffs amusedly, and Jules looks at them confusedly from his place in Eliott’s hip.

“Thank you.” Lucas says politely, “love your costume too.”

The girl’s grin widens. “Do you mind if I take a pic?”

They look at each other through the masks and shrug at each other.

“Sure.”

Eliott drops Jules to the ground and Lucas walks over to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and shuffling closer. Stupidly, he smiles behind the mask, as though it’ll make a difference for the picture. He stays still.

A moment later Eliott is spinning him around, hooking his fingers under Lucas’ mask and lifting it over his nose before pressing their lips together. Lucas loops his arms around Eliott’s neck automatically, and Eliott wraps his around Lucas’ hips.

He hears someone whispering something that sounds a lot like ‘oh my god they look so fucking hot’, and it makes them smile into the kiss.

“Yuck!” Jules says all of a sudden. He goes to tug at Eliott’s leg. “I’m tired Eli, can we go home now?”

Lucas muffles his laughter in Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott picks Jules back up again and secures him on his hip, saying goodbye to the friend group.

Jules spends the whole way there, with the candy bag gripped tightly in his hand and his head drooping to Eliott’s chest every few minutes. Eliott carries him with one hand and holds Lucas’ with the free one. When they drop Jules off at home he’s been asleep in Eliott’s arms for a while.

The person from the house two blocks away was right: they make a beautiful family.

-

It’s darker than it’s been all evening, or at least that’s what Lucas thinks. They’ve decided to walk to Emma’s after dropping Jules off at Eliott’s parents’. It’s a cold night, and he’s seriously considering putting his mask back on to fight the biting cold hitting his cheeks.

It’s quiet for most of the walk, no kids screaming (probably eating their Halloween candy as dinner) or cars rushing through the streets (on the way to getting passed out drunk at a bar or in some house party). Just the sound of their steps and their voices being carried away by the wind.

Eliott’s got his hand in Lucas’ and he’s telling him about something he saw on a store glass a few blocks back. His fingers are cold, because he got the only Spiderman costume in the store without the hand gloves, and the tip of his nose shines pink every time they walk under a lamppost. He looks like the cutest Spiderman Lucas’ ever seen.

Eliott stares mid-rant when he notices Lucas staring at him. He looks back funnily, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“What?”

Lucas shrugs, matching smile of his own. “Nothing.”

Eliott squeezes his hand.

”What time is it?”

The question is sudden, and Lucas looks at Eliott curiously. After a beat of silence he just reaches inside the pocket on the costume’s belt, where he’s got both his and Eliott’s phones. The phone screen lights up their faces when he unlocks it.

“21:21”

Eliott’s expression turns solemn.

“Can we go somewhere before going to Emma’s party?”

“Sure?”

He doesn’t have time to think what any of it means when Eliott is suddenly tugging at their joined hands, rushing them through the empty streets. Lucas keeps his gaze set on the back of Eliott’s head as they run; they’re both panting, the cold air turning their breath into white smoke, and they’re both laughing a little although he’s not sure why.

The tight fabric of their costumes accentuates the curve of Eliott’s back, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing while they run. Lucas understands Eliott’s fixation a little better.

They’re standing in front of a gate Lucas knows all too well when Eliott asks him to close his eyes.

“Run and keep my eyes closed at the same time? Shit, love, I know you like to skip class but you must have heard about self-preservation.”

Eliott grins at that.

“No running then.”

Eliott walks behind Lucas, wrapping one arm around Lucas’ shoulders and covering his eyes with the other. Lucas thinks he could tell Eliott that he doesn’t need to cover his eyes for him, that he wouldn’t peek anyway if Eliott asked. But he likes Eliott guiding him better, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He thought his heart would stop beating this fast every time they walk in here after such a long time, but it still does.

“This is spooky,” Lucas comments quietly. Branches tweak and crunch under their feet, and breaking the silence feels like an offense. “Is this the part where you finally murder me? Very Halloween-y.”

Eliott’s warm chest rumbles against his back when he laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been playing the long game. No one will suspect me.”

Lucas hums. “Very smart of you.”

“I know.”

They walk a few more steps until Eliott finally stops. He stays still as Eliott circles his body. His eyes stay closed even when Eliott removes his hand, waiting for instructions.

“Wait here.” Eliott whispers. His breath hits Lucas’ mouth, and Lucas reaches forward to grab his hips. “With your eyes closed.”

Lucas lets go of Eliott in surprise.

“Eh, no!? I’m not keeping my eyes closed, Eli, what the fuck? It’s dark and it’s Halloween, and hell fucking no.”

Eliott grabs him by neck and kisses him silent, before whispering against his lips “Just for a second.”

Then his touch is gone. Lucas’ heartbeat fucking skyrockets.

The sound of faint branches cracking makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand. He tells himself that it’s just his idiotic boyfriend doing fuck knows what, but when you can’t see it’s really hard to convince yourself of something you can’t check.

A particular loud squeak makes him jump, and he bites on his tongue to avoid yelling. He moves forward at the noise, in search of Eliott’s body. When he finds nothing but air he’s this close to saying fuck it all and open his eyes, to the cost of Eliott’s disappointment, because he’d rather live, thanks, and he’s sure Eliott would appreciate a boyfriend to be disappointed in than no boyfriend at all.

But then Eliott says “okay, you can open them now.”

And when Lucas does, Eliott’s face is looking at him upside down.

He’s-

Eliott is hanging from a thick tree branch with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Lucas’ mouth drops open.

“Oh my fucking god.” Lucas breathes. “Oh my god, you fucking idiot, get down here! You’re gonna break your fucking neck.” He says, waving his hands above Eliott’s body without touching, afraid the wrong touch will make him fall.

Eliott surges his hand forward to cup Lucas’ face, beaming. “It’s fine.” He pulls Lucas closer, palms fitting over Lucas’ cheeks and grey sparkly eyes staring into Lucas’, and Lucas breathes.

He breathes, wrapping his fingers around Eliott’s wrists, and smiles up at Eliott helplessly.

Eliott makes a sweet sound. “Trick or kiss?” he whispers.

“You’re an idiot.” He whispers back, but he moves his hands from Eliott’s wrists to his cheeks and brushes their lips together softly. Eliott sighs into the kiss, brushes his knuckles across Lucas’ cold cheeks, fits his thumb under Lucas’ chin.

He lets Eliott sneak in a couple more kisses - to the corner of his mouth, to his nose, then back to Lucas’ lips again – before taking a step away.

“Okay, get back down now.”

Eliott’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Lucas’ voice. He looks like he had forgotten where he was for a second, and it takes everything in Lucas to stop himself from walking over and kissing him again.

Smiling dopily, Eliott crunches up to hold the branch with his hands. He flips one leg over the branch, sitting on it for a second before moving down a branch, and then another one. His feet gets stuck in between two, and Lucas snorts.

“Some Spiderman you make…” Eliott shoots him a death glare, shaking his feet free before crunching down on the closest branch to the ground. “If you fall and die, I won’t cry at your funeral.”

Eliott hops down easily, moving to curl his arm around Lucas’ neck with a smirk. “Liar. You’d cry the most.”

“You dumb fuck,” he says, but he rubs his cold nose on Eliott’s neck before looking up at Eliott. “You cute, dumb fuck.”

Eliott kisses him soundly. “Merc with a mouth.”

They kiss again, Lucas tipping his body forward and curling himself closer under Eliott’s arm. He moves his hand to press against Eliott’s jaw as Eliott’s tongue slips between his lips, sliding it up and down the smooth material covering his chest. He sighs softly into the kiss when Eliott’s hand goes to the back of his head, scratching a little.

They pull back to catch their breathing. There’s red in Eliott’s cheeks, from the cold or the kissing, Lucas isn’t entirely sure, and he raises up on his tip toes to leave a kiss under his eye.

It’s then that a loud fucking metallic noise comes from inside the bridge.

Lucas looks up at Eliott with wide eyes. “Should I bring out the swords, or…?” He jokes weakly, but his knuckles turn white under the costume where he’s gripping Eliott’s arm.

Eliott frowns, looking behind him before looking back at Lucas. “Let’s just get out of here.”

And well, Lucas isn’t about to argue that.

Later, when they’re back outside and the lampposts light up the streets and Lucas has stopped clenching his jaw every time he hears a noise, Eliott says conversationally

“I’m gonna make a movie about you.”

Lucas grins up at Eliott. “Oh yeah?”

Eliott hums. “Yeah, wanna know how I’m gonna call it?” he asks, waiting for Lucas’ nods. “The hero who was scared of the dark.”

“I thought I was supposed to be an anti-hero?”

Eliott stops, and with him Lucas. He puts his hand in Lucas’ neck. Brushes Lucas’ cheekbone with his thumb, small smile like he knows something that Lucas doesn’t. “Nah. Not for me.”

Lucas kisses him. He keeps their hands intertwined all the way to Emma’s party.

End.

[thewalkingfanfictions]

I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader (part two)

I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader

Part One / Part Two

Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)

Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control. Can “dat gay shit” be a genre?

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

A/N: I hate this. So fucking much. I am, however, willing to write a part three with somma dat gay smut, if y’all want. I won't do it if no one says anything, though, so someone better comment. This is a threat.

Words without A/N: 2342

Masterlist

<—————————————>

The two of us crept through the old, neglected house. It was big, two stories with several rooms on each floor, and crawling with vamps.

Looking at Lidia over my shoulder, she motioned that she was going to go north, and waved me the other direction. Taking off as silently as I could, it wasn't long until I ran into the first group. How they hadn't noticed me yet, I guess we'll never know.

Creeping closer, I got within a few feet before the group of three tensed up and turned towards where I stood. Baring their teeth, two of them launched while the third took off through a doorway. Coward.

Dispatching them was easy enough, and I was quickly on to another room, leaving a stack of bodiless heads behind me. The next rooms were much of the same: alternating between empty bedrooms, to ones with two or three vamps chilling together, the job was simple enough. It wasn't until the very last room on my side of the building that I ran into trouble.

Seven, all together, and they already knew I was there. The one from the first room who had run when I showed up was standing beside them.

Fourteen bloodthirsty eyes glaring down at me, they slowly began surrounding where I stood. My heart beat in my ears, and I strengthened my hold on my machete, trying to form a plan. I should work on the big ones first, as they could pose a larger threat--but I should really save the bigger ones for after, so I can focus more of my energy on them--but at the same time, the smaller four could be more trouble than the big ones, they are more, and they are probably faster--or I could just focus on whoever came at me first--but what if they all launch at the same time? Am I really overthinking this right now?

Fuck it.

One of the smaller ones came forward to glare at me, sharp, disgusting teeth on display as she inched ever closer. As she got within reaching distance, she opened her mouth to say something--only to be cut off by my blade disconnecting her head from the rest of her. Her body fell to the floor like a...well, like a body, and all was silent for a moment, before the rest of them launched. Slicing and dodging and trying not to die was becoming increasingly more difficult as all six of the rest fought for a piece of me. I felt the side of my face light with a sting as one of them struck out and hit me, just before my blade cut through their flesh, hands grabbed me from behind, and I swung back as hard as I could, listening to the "shlingt" of the blade cutting through its neck. Before I could move to swing again, another body was grabbing me from behind and pulling me back, turing in their grip to swing again, my wrist was caught in their fist, making me look up at my opponents face.

Familiar, smokey-honey eyes surrounded by locks of fluffy brown hair graced my vision, and my breath caught in my throat at being so close to that perfect face.

"Sam?"

He pushed me behind him and went to work on a vamp that was right behind me, hacking its head off before turning to me with a bashful smile.

"Heh, uh, hey? Fancy seeing you here," a cheeky smile lit up his face as he turned back to the fight. My heart did an odd little "per-thump" as I gazed at his muscled body (now clad in a red and white flannel that did wonders for his shoulders (not that I would, uh, notice that.)) Shaking those very-not-me thoughts out of my head, I launched back into the fight beside him.

I knew there was something familiar about his room.

It wasn't long till we had dispatched all but one. The thing launched at Sam, who had at some point in the battle lost his own machete. He dodged gracefully around the vampires outstretched claws, and managed to get ahold of him from behind, holding the beasts arms behind its back and looking up at me. Well would you look at that. It was the same asshole who'd run away before and warned the others.

"(Name)!"

Wasting absolutely no time, I stepped forward and beheaded the thing, splattering blood onto Sam's face in the process. Good riddance.

Dropping the blood suckers body to the ground, Sam stepped over it, and walked towards me without so much as a second glance at the thing. A worried look came over his face as he moved closer, and his hand reached out to trace a thumb over the side of my face. Hissing, I couldn't help but flinch back at the sudden pain that erupted under his fingertips. My own hand flew to my face on reflex, coming away sticky with blood.

Apparently the thing that punched me earlier got me a bit more than I'd realized.

"You're hurt. We should get back and clean you up before you get infected, you might've gotten vamp blood in it."

His hand carefully traced over it again, this time taking care not to hurt me, and his eyes shone with his concern for me. It was kind of sweet, actually. We only met, like, less than twenty four hours ago.

"I knew there was something familiar about you," I mumbled, gazing up into his eyes, which silently questioned me in return. "Your room. The pre-packed bags, and the half-drank coffee next to the pile of papers and the laptop. It looked a painful lot like what my room usually looks like before a hunt," I smiled.

He grinned back at me, gaze dropping a bit lower than my eyes for a half a moment before darting back up. Licking his bottom lip, (an action I definitely didn't gawk at) he opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.

We both flinched away from each other, and it was only then that I realized just how close we had been standing, and that his hand had still been rested gently against the side of my bleeding face. Turning quickly towards the interruption, I locked eyes with my sister, who stood beside the larger figure of her bedmate from the night before, both smirking and gazing at us knowingly. I felt an ugly blush crawling its way towards my ears.

"Uh-uh-I-uhm-hey--hi-ah-uhm--" Sam stumbled from a few paces away from me, looking far more like a human-lobster hybrid than he had a moment before.

An ugly snort came out of my sister at that, and her smirk only grew as she looked between the two of us, looking like she was trying to refrain from saying something that I would most definitely punch her for. I wonder how hard it would be to dig a grave her height by myself.

"Shut up."

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

The ride back to the hotel was literal hell.

Lidia waited exactly six seconds (I counted) after we were both safely in the car and following the brothers' Impala down the road before she started interrogating me, that stupid smile still clinging to her face.

I've never wanted to punch her more.

I didn't know my face was capable of turning that red.

I was out of the car practically before it had even stopped rolling, and back in the hotel room before anybody else had even gotten out of their rigs. I could feel eyes on me the entire time, and hear my sisters uncontrolled laughter even through the closed car doors. I made sure I was already in the shower before she could get up to the room to bother me any more.

The water was nice, one of the best I'd had in a hotel, actually, and that is definitely the only reason I was in there for as long as I was. Yup. The only reason. It had nothing to do with avoiding my womb mate, and absolutely nothing to do with the thoughts going through my head about a certain 6-foot-something brunette.

After a good solid hour of wasting hot water, I finally decided it was probably time to get out. I'm sure Lidia wants to wash off too. Good luck with the few drops of hot water that I left you, punk. Drying off my hair and pulling on the baggy sweats and a tee-shirt that was way too big on me that I had thankfully remembered to grab from my bag before I rushed in here, I opened the door enough to peek out.

Of course, because it's only my luck, I got a nice side view of Dean with his tongue down my sisters throat.

Apparently they heard my exaggerated gagging sounds, because they split off and looked towards the bathroom door, eyes lust-drunk and lips red and swollen. Gross.

"Oh, don't act like you're not jealous, (nickname)," Lidia chided sassily, before rolling her eyes dramatically. "If you were in there any longer, we woulda started fucking, instead of being the polite person that I am and waiting for you to leave first."

I cringed at the thought of having to see that again, and flipped her off, before grabbing up a book and heading for the door as quickly as I could, listening to the two of them chuckling at me as I went.

“Loser.”

“Punk.”

"Your boyfriends waiting for you over in our room again, (name)!" I heard Dean say just before the two of them erupted into aggressive kissy noises, "(Name) and Sa'am, sitting in a tre--" the door slammed closed behind me.

Children. They are both complete children.

I found myself standing in front of the brothers door without even realizing I'd started walking yet, and I was knocking before I had the chance to try and compose myself. Fuck you, muscle memory.

The door opened before I'd even finished knocking, like Sam had just been sitting on the other side and waiting for someone to get there. His face flushed as we locked eyes, and I think he realized how it came across, too. I smiled at his cute ass dimples before my eyes dropped to take in the rest of him. Grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips (I'm not drooling, you are) and a plain white tee that had to be a good two sizes too small (holy mother of pecs). I probably stood there for a solid minute before realizing that it was really kinda weird for a totally heterosexual man to be staring like I was, and promptly looked away, clearing my throat and blushing stupidly once again.

His earthy chuckle was enough to break me out of my stupidity.

"Uh, so, uhm, uh--" I cleared my throat again, trying to reel my mind back into my body and refusing to look at him "Our siblings were dangerously close to fucking again and I really didn't wanna have to see that again, and I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you like last night but I totally get if you say no and I'lljustgofindsomewhereelsetogoI'msorryI'llleave--" I was half way through turning away when I felt him grab ahold of my arm, and pull me back towards him, his laugh cutting through the aggressive amount of self-loathing that was rushing through my system at the moment.

"Its okay, please don't go, Dean said to expect you over while he was there."

I paused for a second and stared at him, dumbfounded. He's a fucking angel.

Blushing stupidly, I nodded and followed behind him as he turned and swept his arm as an invitation to follow him inside. I stepped through the doorway, very aware that his hand still rested on my arm, and moved to sit on the bed when he pointed to it.

"Your face is still kinda busted up, I've got a first aid kit in here somewhere, let me help you," I was opening my mouth to protest when he turned and gave me a playful glare, like he already knew what I was going to say.

Soon enough, he was kneeling in front of me, one large hand resting on my shoulder while the other tilted my head to look at the cuts and the forming bruise. I couldn't look away from his kaleidoscope eyes.

Smearing some cold cream on my face (which I assumed was Neosporin, that's what it smelled like, anyway) I flinched slightly, which made him move both hands up to my head to hold me in place. Letting go for a split second, he reached for a bandage and moved back to cupping my face, and gently laid it over the split in my cheek. Being this close to him, smelling his freshly washed leather-and-old-book scent, I was practically drooling. It took far more restraint than it should have to not lean into the weirdly-soft hand that was cradling my cheek so gently.

Soon enough, he was done patching up my cheek, and looked up from his work. When our eyes connected, it was very much like the first time they had last night. I never wanted to look away. I don't exactly know when we started leaning in, but at some point we had. My eyes closed of their own accord, just a fraction of a second before his peachy lips were on mine. It was really just a peck, and far too soon he was pulling away from me, looking nervous. Before he had the chance to ruin the moment, or I had the chance to chicken out, I reached up and grabbed a handful of his shirt, and pulled him right back to me.

One of my hands found its way into his hair, the other still clinging to his shirt, terrified of him disappearing from my grasp. His hips found their way between my knees, where I still sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my body closer by the small of my back. By the time the both of us were too out of breath to continue, and he had to pull away, I was already far too lost to his hands.

Okay, so...Maybe I am a little bit gay.

                                                          fin