#back home. tired. probably going to sleep for 2 days straight maybe or boot up my ps4 or

[merevide]

hiiiiiiiiiii all i’m back home. notable moments from my flight. i watched the first 14 minutes of inception. that’s it

[vannybarber]

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

[colormeyondublue]

Yondu & The Secretary  Chapter 2: The Love Bug

Chapter 1 Here  Chapter 3 Here A few months go by aboard the ravager ship. You find out that Yondu is the Captain, and Kraglin, the Xandarian, is his first mate. The ship is called the Eclector, and some of the guys on board are total pigs. Yondu sets up a small office space for you to work out of and you find that the work is surprisingly simple. You get into a routine and start to really settle in. You also come to find that Yondu is particularly kind; to you. To the crew, he could be a total ass. Your slight attraction to the Captain was only a thought when you first met him on Krylor, but every day it kept growing and growing with how sweet he was. Maybe it was because you were a woman? Maybe it was because you were Terran? You couldn’t be sure. This might become a problem.

One evening, your office door creaks open loudly, and you hear heavy boots thunking into the room. Yondu. You smirk softly at the thought. “So, you goin’ to Geff’s little get together?” The Captain’s voice came from behind you as you finished up the data entry from the crew’s last heist. It was Geff’s birthday. The boys decided to throw him a little party at the bar on the ship. “Me? Heh, no…probably not.” You hadn’t looked at him yet, but something caught your senses. Something, different. Something…intoxicating. Was Yondu wearing cologne? Whatever it was, it was messing with your head. It smelled like the forest back home – right after the rain, blended with tones of spices and notes of musk. “Well, why the hell not?” He seemed a little surprised. Hurt, maybe? You spun around on your desk chair to face him, “Hmm…. let me put it to you this way: I am not about to be the only female on the ship in a room full of drunk Ravagers. I already get harassed and catcalled on a daily basis, Yondu! Why on Earth would I want to put myself in a situation like that?” “You Terrans sure do use the strangest expressions. We ain’t on Earth…uh….Terra I mean.” He said with a chuckle. The small chuckle at his own words made you giggle too. “Well, regardless, I just don’t think it would be very wise of me to put myself in a bad spot, that’s all.” “Well I’ll be there. I can make sure no one bothers you too much. Then would you go?” “I don’t know Yondu…I mean Geff is great and all but –“  You were cut off by loud laughter and heavy footsteps of several ravagers going past your office door. A lot of the boys were already headed to the bar to get the party started. “ – but I don’t want to be a bother. Besides, if you show even the slightest bit of protective behavior around me, couldn’t that start rumors? Wouldn’t they think it was odd? Some of these guys really talk…”

Yondu scoffed with a slight wave of his hand. “Who cares what these idiots think. I’m the Captain, and I can protect whoever the hell I feel like. Besides, how am I supposed to keep my shit in order without my assistant who helps with our operations? The boys will probably understand that their payouts could get disrupted if they mess with our lil’ secretary, right? Everybody knows you don’t mess with a Ravager’s units.” He finished with a wink. That wink…that smirk…his scent…oh no. Your head starts to feel fuzzy. Your sternum is growing tight, and butterflies explode by the thousands in your stomach. You feel like your arms are floating. You start to notice that your head seems to be wobbling a little bit and you find yourself staring at his lips. Stop being stupid! Say something! Get a grip! His smile starts to falter after a moment or two. “Uhh…you alright?”

Your clear your throat a little louder than you wanted to, and manage to say with a shaky voice, “Uhh, yeah, no, yeah…I’m – I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired is all. But, fine. I’ll go, but only for a few drinks. I’m not staying out all night! I have more things I want to get updated in the system before you and Kraglin start gathering intel on your next mission.” “Fine, fine. Just a few drinks.” He motions with both his hands in the air. It did not turn out, however, to be just a few drinks. It started out that way, but the more you drank, the more you wanted to be close to him. The alcohol was making you feel a little too confident. The captain was drinking too, of course, but Centaurians have to drink quite a bit before they really start to feel anything. He was on his fifth glass of whiskey for the night, and you were on your third. You were definitely tipsy, but not terribly drunk. The scent coming off him just kept smelling better and better, your senses were stirred, and you wanted to dive into him. You are sitting next to each other on the couch in the lounge that was connected to the bar. You both listen to stories and jokes being told by Tullk, Oblo, and Kraglin. Laugher is plentiful, and you couldn’t be happier. Then, you feel your Captain move next to you as he throws his arm over the back of the couch behind you. The shift in the cushions causes you to inadvertently lean closer to him. Your cheeks turn bright pink and your heart starts pounding. You sit up straight, put your drink down on the table and politely excuse yourself. The others were too drunk to notice, or care, but Yondu notices. After a moment or two he gets up and follows you to the bar. You hastily get yourself a tall glass of water, and chug it down. “What was that about back there? You alright?” He asked. “Feelin’ sick?” “No, no I’m fine. I just think it’s time I headed back to my cabin. I need to get some sleep. I have an early start tomorrow.” You said as you put your glass down on the bar. Yondu eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t press the matter. “Can I at least walk you back? These boy’s is pretty drunk. I don’t want you to run into any trouble.” “Yeah, I guess that would be alright.” You fiddle with the empty glass on the bar in front of you. What am I even doing? Do I really have feelings for him? Is this seriously happening? What the hell am I supposed to do?! Your job on the ship is simple: free up the first mate’s time by entering new recruit information, keep transmission logs up to date, work up data sheets for new missions, and keep an updated archive on clients, easy heist planets, kree intel, etc… That was it! Nowhere in your job description are you supposed to fall for your Captain, your boss! “Well…should we be headin’ out?” Yondu’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over at him, his eyes were touched with slight concern, confusion maybe. “Captain, I….” You began, but the words just stopped coming out. You close your mouth and shake your head. “Never mind, I’m ready. Let’s go.” You both walk slowly back your cabin. Yondu is silent, as are you. The only sound to be heard is both yours and Yondu’s boots clunking down the walkways of the Eclector. When you approach your door, you hesitate.

“Goodnight Captain, thank you for walking me back. I appreciate it…and thank you for having my back tonight. I was able to actually relax and have a nice time.” You begin to open your door and walk in when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at his hand, and your eyes trail up his arm to his shoulder, and then to his face. You both lock eyes, and your heart stops. “Why do you keep callin’ me that? Captain. You haven’t really called me that much since you boarded for the first time a few months back.” “I – I’m sorry. I just…you’re the Captain.” He took his hand from your shoulder, “Yeah, I know that. But it just feels wrong somehow. You typically call me by my name when we ain’t around the crew.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Alright, Yondu.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Is that better?” “Yeah. I like it when you call me by my name.” A small tinge of purple comes to his cheeks. “But don’t go tellin’ anybody that! You still gotta’ call me Captain or Sir around the crew.” “Hahaha, of course. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart.” You used your index finger to draw an X over your chest. “I swear, you Terrans are odd…I don’t even know what that means.” You giggle again, “It means I’m serious. As serious as I can be. I won’t tell anyone. You have a reputation and status to maintain with your crew, and I completely understand that.” You turn and step into your cabin. Looking over your shoulder you smile a small, bashful smile at him. “Goodnight, Yondu.” With that, you closed your door. Yondu stood at the closed door and quietly said, “Goodnight, Darlin’.” He continued to stand there, frozen in place. What the hell was that? Why do I feel funny? My heart is pounding, my head is reeling. I care about what she calls me? Since when? Darlin’? When have I ever called anyone that? He shook his head to free himself of where he stood, and walked back to his quarters. You laid in your bed that night, unable to sleep. A big, stupid grin would not leave your lips no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot believe this. I can’t believe how hard this hit me. He’s so unbelievably handsome. His scent was so intoxicating. I didn’t know he wore cologne? And that smile?! Who knew blue could look so damn good. You giggled out loud to yourself. “I have a crush on the Captain. I have a huge freakin’ crush on Yondu Udonta. What the hell?!” You continued to giggle to yourself until you heard a group of footsteps going past your door. More ravagers were headed to bed from the party. You quickly covered your mouth as if someone could possibly hear you. Once the footsteps were gone, you continued to smile and giggle like a little girl. “Wow. What on earth and am I going to do? How do I even begin to handle this?” You said to yourself. Your mind raced, and sleep eluded you all night. Meanwhile, the Captain wasn’t sleeping much either. You kept popping up in his head. Every time he would close his eyes, you appeared. It wasn’t until tonight that he realized that you looked incredible in your maroon leathers. He had always thought you were attractive, ever since he and Kraglin decided to hire you when they met you on Krylor. But this was a whole new level of attraction. It made him feel…different. He had never felt this way before, he felt vulnerable. He did not like it one bit! But on the other hand, he did? It was starting to piss him off. He threw the furs and blankets from his body and got out of bed. He picked up a communicator brace from his nightstand and pushed a few buttons. It beeped a few times, and Kraglin’s sleepy voice could be heard. “Yes, sir? Everythin’ alright?” “Boy, get to my quarters. I need to talk to ya. I’m havin’ a problem.” “Right away sir.” Yondu shut the brace off and tossed it back on the table. Within a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Yondu got up and walked to the door, flinging it open. Kraglin rubbed his eye with a fist and yawned. “What’s goin’ on Sir?” “What’s goin’ on is I need to talk to ya. Maybe you’ll know what to do…get in here!” Yondu yanked Kraglin into the room and slammed the door shut. “Siddown.” He muttered as he pushed his desk chair to the first mate. Yondu sat on the bed and fiddled with his hands for a moment. “Sir?” Kraglin asked. “What do you need help with? Somethin’ goin’ on with the crew?” “No, but there is something goin’ on…I’ve been feeling funny all night. Ever since I went with y/n to the bar for Geff’s party, my head has been fuzzy, my chest is tight, my hands are all shaky and I can’t sleep! It’s pissin’ me off! I don’t know what the problem is. I only went with her to make sure the boys didn’t do nothin’ stupid, but now I can’t think straight! Every time I close my damn eyes, I see her!” A smirk appeared on Kraglin’s face, and he started snickering at the Captain. “What?! The hell is so funny?!” Yondu barked. Kraglin’s snickering turned into full blown laughing. He couldn’t help it. Was his Captain so oblivious? “Sir, sir, I’m sorry. You really have no idea what this is?” He asked. “No! If I did, I wouldn’t have woke you up to help me figure it out, damn it!” “Sir, it sounds to me that you got bit.” Kraglin joked. “Bit? Bit by what? Like a bug or somethin’?” “Ohhhh yeah, it’s happened to me before too. It’s a nasty little sucker.” He said with a grin. “Okay, so what do I do? Am I getting’ sick or somethin’?” “Yeah, you’re sick all right. Love sick.” The first mate said with the biggest shit eatin’ grin on his face. “Lovesick? What the hell is that? That ain’t a real thing.” Yondu snorted. “Sure is, Sir. From the sounds of it, you got bit by the love bug. The only way to cure it is to get some lovin’ from the person who sent it after ya.” Kraglin couldn’t believe this was happening to his captain. This was too good. Of course, he wanted to help him out, but he wanted to taunt him first. “What on Earth are you talkin’ about boy?! Just spit it out already!” The Captain shouted. A goofy little smile appeared on his lips as he realized he just used your expression. Damn it, girl. “Alright, alright.” Kraglin said between laughs. “Cap’n, you’re in love. Plain and simple. It sounds to me like you just realized it tonight.” “Love? I don’t love nobody. I ain’t never been in love before. This can’t be right…” Yondu started searching his hands for some kind of alternative answer. “Anyone can fall in love, Cap’n. I know I have. But that was a long time ago, before I joined the crew. It really ain’t a big deal, honest. Tell me, when you think of y/n, what do you feel?” Yondu pondered Kraglin’s words for a few moments. “I feel – happy. Warm? Maybe a little nervous. Unsure of myself, ya know? I wanna touch her, make her smile, make sure she’s safe and happy, hold her hands... kiss her.” The realization hit him like a blazing meteor. “I wanna kiss her? What?! I’ve never cared about that sentimental crap before!” Kraglin just shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Cap’n, love is a strange and mysterious force. It can be exhilarating. Maybe you should investigate and find out if she feels the same way. Could be worth a shot. Who knows? Could lead to somethin’.” Yondu looked confused. “Like what?” “Heh, I don’t know, happiness?” Kraglin shrugged his shoulders and stood. “I hope that helps Sir. I’m gonna head back to bed if you don’t need anything else.” “Yeah, sure, boy. Go on.” “Night, Cap’n.” The first mate headed toward to door, but before he walked out, he heard the Captain’s voice behind him, “Hey Krags, uh, thanks.” “No problem, Sir.” Kraglin walked out of the Captain’s quarters and quietly closed the door. Yondu got back into bed, stared at the ceiling above him and smiled. Love huh? Well, ain’t that some shit.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[themetaphorgirl]

road trip!

inspired by this post

please enjoy seven unsupervised teenagers crammed into an SUV for a three hour trip

I might need to write a part 2 with the actual camping trip??

but right now I need a nap so badly. so, so badly. I hope you like this though!!!

----------

Hotch flipped on the lights and both boys immediately groaned, pulling their covers over their heads. “All right, everybody up, we gotta go,” he said. 

Derek rubbed his eyes and held his up his phone. “It’s five in the morning, Hotch,” he complained. He dropped his phone on his face. “Dammit.”

“We want to be on the road before six, so let’s go,” he said.

Spencer sat up, his hair sticking up on the side of his head. “I just fell asleep an hour ago,” he complained. “Can I sleep a little longer?”

“You can sleep in the car,” Hotch said.

Spencer scowled. “I can’t sleep in the car.”

“You fall asleep in the car all the time. Get up.” Spencer dragged himself out of bed, rolling his eyes. “Are you guys packed? Do you need any help?”

Derek glanced around his chaotic side of the room. “Uh...I’ll get it done,” he said. 

Hotch sighed. “Just hurry, okay?” he said. “We gotta go. I’m going to go check on the girls.”

He closed the door and headed for the stairs. Getting a four-day weekend for teacher in-service meant they had plenty of time on their hands, but they didn’t want to sit around on campus or go to Dave’s house again. Somehow they had decided on making the three hour drive to the Mammoth Cave national park to go camping, which had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that he was in charge of getting the four youngest kids ready to go when the sun wasn’t even up, he was kind of regretting it.

He made it down to the third floor and knocked lightly. Penelope whipped the door open. “Good morning!” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He blinked. “Okay, that sounds only mildly creepy,” he said. “How are you guys doing?”

“Pretty good,” JJ said. She gestured towards her backpack and Penelope’s duffel bag on the floor. “We’re just about ready, I think.”

“Thank god,” Hotch said. “You’re definitely ahead of the boys.”

“You didn’t see that coming?” JJ said, grinning. “Let me guess, Derek hasn’t packed anything and Spencer’s cranky.”

“Yeah, you got it,” he said. He looked from JJ in her ballet school tank top, Nike shorts, and sneakers to Penelope. “Hey, Pen...are you sure that’s what you want to wear?”

Penelope looked down at her floral print sundress and strappy sandals, then back up at him. “Yes, why?” she asked.

He gestured at her collection of impractical accessories- hair clips shaped like pandas, chunky bead bracelets, dangly earrings. “You do know it’s going to be a three hour long car ride and then three days of camping, right?” he said.

“Yes, why?”

JJ sighed. “Don’t worry, Hotch, I’m on it,” she said. “We’ll meet you downstairs in just a little bit.”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Penelope demanded.

Hotch backed away. “Yeah, I’ll let you handle it,” he said.

He jogged back up the stairs and knocked on the door. “Okay, you guys, how’s it going?” he asked, opening the door without waiting for them to answer.

Derek tossed a hoodie onto his pile in the middle of the floor; he was at least out of his pajamas and dressed in a St. Thaddeus football shirt and basketball shorts. “We’re getting there,” he said. “I’m almost packed.”

Hotch looked down at the pile. “Good luck getting all of that into your bag,” he said dryly. “Where’s Spencer?”

“Shower, I think,” Derek said. “He’s packed, though.”

Hotch picked up Spencer’s backpack easily, but the duffel bag offered more resistance. “Oh my god, what does he have in here, a dead body?”

“Probably books,” Derek said.

“Does he really need this many?” Hotch asked. Derek shrugged. “All right, fine. Hopefully we can get all of this to fit between the two cars. Just hurry up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Derek said, digging through his drawers.

Hotch stopped by his room to pick up his backpack, then carried everything down to the lobby. The girls were already there with their things; JJ had gotten Penelope to change into denim shortalls and a pink tee shirt, and her accessory collection had been reduced to a large ruffled scrunchie. “You guys ready?” Hotch asked.

JJ yawned. “Yeah,” she said. “Where’s the boys?”

“Derek’s still packing,” Hotch said. He pulled out his phone and checked the group chat. “James is in the parking lot, Dave’s almost here. Nothing from Alex or Emily, but I’m sure they’re up already.”

“Alex will be up, Emily probably snoozed her alarm six times,” Penelope said.

Something thumped down the stairs. “All right, we’re ready,” Derek called, dragging his bag down the steps. Spencer trailed behind him, his hair still damp and dripping on his NASA tee shirt. 

“You’re sure?” Hotch said. “Everybody has everything? Clothes, toothbrushes, pillows, blankets? James is bringing sleeping bags and air mattresses, but everybody should have their own stuff.” He turned to Spencer. “You have your blanket?”

Spencer’s face turned as red as his shorts. “I don’t need it,” he said.

Hotch frowned. “You’re sure?” he said. “But you-”

“I don’t need it, I can sleep without it,” Spencer said, crossing his arms. “Can we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, we probably should,” Hotch said. “Let’s go, everybody grab your stuff.”

Derek sidled up to him. “I packed the kid’s blanket,” he whispered. “It’s in my bag.”

“Oh, thank god.”

The sun was just barely beginning to peek over the horizon as they made it out of Lincoln House. Hotch hoisted Spencer’s bag of books on his shoulder. It was a long walk out to the parking lot, but James and Dave were both there, their cars parked next to each other. “Hey, y’all,” James called. “Who’s ready for a three-hour drive?”

Dave groaned. “Not me,” he said. 

“I have my license, you can let me drive,” Hotch said.

“You’ve only had your license for six months,” Dave said, patting the hood of his brand new Honda Pilot protectively. “She needs someone more experienced for a long haul. Maybe James will let you drive his shitbucket.”

“She’s not a shitbucket, she’s just...well loved,” James protested. “Besides, she’s got some...quirks. Really, nobody but me should be driving her.” He jiggled the latch of the hatchback and opened the trunk; his Nissan Versa was jam-packed with camping equipment and igloo coolers. “All right, toss your stuff in!”

“It’s nice of your parents to let us borrow all their camping stuff,” Penelope said. 

James took her bag. “Yeah, we’ve gone camping every summer for as long as I can remember,” he said. “Hope you guys are ready for this. I’m not too sure how Dave is going handle it.”

“I’ll be fine!” Dave said. He jabbed his thumb towards Alex and Emily as they crossed the parking lot towards them. “I’d be more worried about ‘poor little rich girl Prentiss’ over there.”

“What about me?” Emily asked. She wasn’t wearing her usual eyeliner and she’d traded her Docs for more sensible sneakers, but she still wore artfully ripped jeans and a red plaid flannel tossed over her black tank top. 

“Nothing,” Dave said quickly. “You guys ready?”

Alex handed over her bag; she’d swapped her usual librarian dresses for a sleeveless button up top tied at the waist, shorts, and hiking boots. “Definitely ready,” she said. “Have we decided who’s riding where?”

“Well, James and I are driving,” Dave said. “I claim Hotch as my copilot, you should be James’s.”

Alex shrugged. “Fine with me,” she said. “So everyone else is going with you?”

“I’m not sitting in the back middle!” JJ said, immediately tapping her finger to her nose.

“Nose goes!” Penelope said, and Emily and Derek copied her. “Ha! Spencer’s backseat middle.”

Spencer blinked. “Wait, I zoned out for a second,” he said. “What happened?”

“JJ and I went first, so we get the captain seats,” Penelope explained. “You’re sitting in the back with Derek and Emily, and you have to sit in the middle.”

“What? No!” he protested. “I want to ride with James and Alex.”

“No, there’s not enough room!” Emily said quickly. “And you’re the littlest and the youngest, anyway, you have to sit in the middle.”

Spencer scowled. “That’s not fair, we should do it again,” he said. “I don’t want to sit in the back middle.”

“Too late, caro, you lost,” Dave said. “Maybe you can ride somewhere else on the way home.” 

Alex cupped his chin in her hand and kissed his cheek. “Three hours isn’t that bad,” she said. “Read your books and take a nap.” He scowled.

“All right, come on, everybody, let’s go, let’s go, it’s past six already,” Hotch said. “Get in the car, we gotta go.”

They piled into Dave’s car, squishing Spencer between Derek and Emily in the back. “I don’t understand why I can’t ride with James and Alex,” he said. “I could have fit.”

JJ twisted around in her seat. “We need them to spend some time alone,” she explained. 

“Why?”

“Aren’t you tired of watching James pine after her?” Emily said. 

“Pine?”

“He’s had a crush on her for three and a half years and he’s yet to make a move,” Penelope said. “I made him an extremely romantic Spotify playlist. I hope it works.”

“Wait, James has a crush on Alex?” Spencer said. Derek shook his head.

Dave backed out of his parking space. “All right, once we get to Auden’s Ridge we’ll stop and get gas,” he said.

“And snacks?” Penelope asked hopefully.

“And snacks,” Dave said. “But after that we’ll drive straight through to Mammoth Cave. I don’t believe in stops.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that will happen,” Hotch said. “Have you met these kids?”

Dave tossed him his phone. “Just plug in the address to GPS and turn on the music, copilot,” he said.

The thirty-minute drive to town usually seemed long, but for once it went by quickly and Dave pulled up to a pump at the gas station. “Remember, we’re going to get actual food once we get the campsite set up and we can stop in town,” Hotch reminded them. “So don’t go too crazy.”

“Hotch, why are you even trying, you know they’re all going to buy their respective body weights in junk food,” Dave sighed.

Hotch sighed. “I know,” he said. 

He tried to stay fairly sensible with his choices, but the other kids returned to the car laden down with snacks. “Oh my god,” Dave said. “Listen, if you guys spill anything, I will murder you. I will.”

“Relax, spaghetti grandpa, it’ll be fine,” Penelope said as she plunked down in her captain’s chair and cracked her drink open. “We’re all very well-behaved.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Penelope,” he said. “Is that a Red Bull?”

She raised the can to her lips, regarding him over the rim. “Maybe,” she said, and she took a big swig.

“Oh, god, we’re all going to die,” Dave said. “Jennifer. If you get Cheeto dust anywhere, I will end you.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise!” 

Spencer struggled with the cap of his chocolate milk. “Can somebody open this for me?” he said. 

Derek opened it easily and handed it back. “There you go, noodle arms.”

“Hey!”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guys, we haven’t even gotten back on the road yet,” he said.

“It’s gonna be a long trip,” Dave said. “All right, everybody, buckle up.”

The first hour passed by without incident, and Hotch was just starting to think that maybe this trip wouldn’t be so terrible when Emily leaned around JJ’s seat. “Hey, when are we stopping?” she asked.

“In an hour and forty-eight minutes, when we make it to the campsite,” Dave said, glancing at the GPS. “Why?”

“I have to pee,” she said.

“Ask Hotch.”

“Hotch, I have to pee, can we stop?” Emily asked.

“We just stopped, Prentiss,” he said. 

“I didn’t have to pee then,” she protested.

Spencer nudged her shoulder. “I’m trying to read and you’re covering the pages,” he complained.

Emily leaned farther. “Please can we stop?” she pressed.

“Maybe in a little bit,” Hotch said. “Just stop bothering Spencer.” Emily sat back with a scowl.

Derek wadded up his wrappers. “I wouldn’t mind stopping,” he said. “I’m out of snacks.”

“Jesus, Morgan,” Hotch said. “You ate all of that?”

“Yeah, and I’m still hungry,” he said.

“His trash is everywhere,” Spencer announced.

Derek thwacked his arm. “Don’t tattle!”

“I’m not tattling! I’m stating facts!”

“Stating facts just to get me in trouble!”

JJ glanced back. “No, Spencer’s right, it’s like a dumpster back here,” she said. 

“Clean it up!” Dave said.

Hotch twisted around in his seat. “Penelope, can you stop kicking the back of my seat?” he said.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I have to move. My legs just keep shaking and I can’t stop it, I just have to move or I might possibly exploded.”

“This is why you can’t drink Red Bulls in the car,” Hotch said.

“Or ever,” JJ added. Emily stretched out and propped up her right foot on her armrest; JJ pushed it off. “Quit it, Emily.”

“I’m squished back here with Spencer and his entire library, let me stretch!”

“It’s my armrest!” Emily stomped on the base of JJ’s seatbelt; JJ let out a piercing pterodactyl screech. “Prentiss, what the fuck!” she screamed.

“Cut it out!” Hotch bellowed. 

They fell silent. Penelope’s leg stilled. Spencer turned a page.

“Dave’s trying to drive, stop screaming,” Hotch said. “Emily, leave JJ alone. JJ, no more dinosaur noises. Derek, pick up your trash, Penelope, stop kicking me. Spencer...you’re fine, just read your book.”

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was peaceful again, quiet except for Dave’s road trip playlist. Maybe now the kids would fall asleep until they made it to the campground.

“Hey, can we turn the air up?” Emily asked. 

“Yeah, it’s a little warm in here,” Derek added.

Dave fiddled with the dials. “Yeah, we can turn it up a little,” he said. “That better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Spencer frowned. “I’m cold,” he said.

“How can you be cold? You’re squished in between us?” Emily said.

“I’m always cold,” Spencer said. “And there’s a vent right above my head. Can we turn it down?”

“See, now you wish you had your blanket,” Derek grinned.

Spencer turned red. “I don’t need my blanket,” he grumbled.

“You can cuddle with me,” Emily said, throwing her arm around his shoulders. 

He pushed her arm away. “I don’t want to cuddle!” he said. “I’ll just freeze to death and read my book, okay?”

“How does someone so little get so angry?” Emily said.

“I’m not angry! I am stressed!” Spencer said.

“Stressed about what?” Derek asked.

“I’m sitting in the middle of your dumpster pile, and Prentiss is trying to cuddle me, and I’m very tired and I just want to read my book in peace!” Spencer said. “And you guys are squishing me!”

“Prentiss, Morgan, stop pestering him,” Hotch said.

“If you guys don’t stop, I swear to god, I will turn this car around,” Dave said.

Penelope abruptly popped her seat back, leaning directly into Derek’s lap. “What are you doing?” he said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just got really carsick all of a sudden…”

“Okay, nobody is getting carsick in the new car,” Dave said. “Emily has to pee, Derek’s hungry, Penelope’s going to puke...Hotchner, text Alex and see if we can stop at a McDonalds or something.”

“Yeah!” Derek cheered.

“All right, all right, I’ll text her,” Hotch said. He glanced in the rearview mirror; Penelope’s eyes were closed but the rest of the kids seemed happy, except-

“Hey, Spence, what’s with the face?” 

Spencer scowled. “I ran out of books,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“All of them?”

“Yeah, I miscalculated how long it would take to get through all of them,” he said.

“Well, maybe you can sleep the rest of the way,” Hotch said.

“Yeah, then maybe you won’t be so grumpy,” Emily said.

“I’m not grumpy!”

Hotch checked his phone. “Yeah, James and Alex said they’re good to stop,” he said. “There’s a McDonalds coming up at the next exit.”

“Thank god, I need to get out of this car,” Penelope said fervently. “I’d be fine if it just wasn’t moving.”

James and Alex were already parked and waiting beside the car when they caught up. “How’s it going?” James asked. 

“You try shoving seven teenagers into an SUV,” Dave said. “Well, six teenagers and a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Spencer objected.

Alex laughed. “That bad, huh?” she said.

“Hotch used the dad voice on us,” JJ reported. 

“Oh, so it’s really bad.”

“Okay, you guys, stop,” Hotch said. “Let’s just go eat so we can get back in the car, okay?”

He was being optimistic, but he should have bargained on them taking their time ordering, he knew what he was getting into. Penelope had to be talked into ordering a Sprite to settle her stomach, Derek had to be talked out of getting a third breakfast sandwich, JJ tried to order six hashbrowns and nothing else, and Alex stopped Spencer from buying coffee and got him a hot chocolate instead.

Hotch settled for a hot coffee and an egg McMuffin and ate mostly in tired silence. “We don’t have too much longer to go,” James said, gathering up wrappers and empty cups and piling them onto a tray. “Hour and a half, maybe?”

“Yeah, and then we get to set up a tent and stay outside for three days,” Dave said. “I may have overestimated this trip.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Alex said. “You guys will like camping. And this isn’t even really roughing it, they have real bathrooms at the campground.”

“I draw the line at shitting in the woods,” Dave said dryly. He checked his watch. “All right, kids, we should get back on the road. Emily- you better pee again, because I’m not stopping anymore.”

“All right, all right, I heard you,” she said, getting up from the table. “Come on, Garcia, if you’re going to puke, now’s the time.”

“No, I’m okay,” Penelope said. “But I’m never drinking Red Bull in a car again. Ever.”

“Thank god,” Hotch said. 

“Alex, do you have any books I could borrow?” Spencer asked. “I finished mine.”

“I’m afraid not, darling,” she said. “You really read all of yours already?” He nodded. “Ah, you miscalculated.”

James fished his phone out of his pocket. “Here, you can borrow this,” he said. “We’re using Alex’s phone for the GPS and music so I’m not using mine. Play games or something?”

“Games?” he repeated skeptically.

Penelope snatched it out of his hand. “Not to worry, I know just the one,” she said. “James, can I download him something? Don’t worry, it’s a free one.”

“Yeah, go for it,” he said. 

Hotch picked Spencer up out of his chair and set him on his feet. “What was that for?” he complained.

“You weren’t moving, and we need to get back on the road,” he said. He brushed Spencer’s hair off his forehead. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “An hour and a half, two hours maybe?”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re in such a bad mood today,” Hotch said. He caught Derek’s eye; Derek shot him a thumbs up back. He propelled Spencer forward. “Come on, let’s go.”

They got back into the car slowly this time, everyone full and a little sleepy. Spencer climbed into his middle seat without an argument, James’s phone clutched in his hand. “You really need to try to take a nap,” Hotch told him. “You can’t function on two hours of sleep.” Spencer sighed and his lower lip dropped in a pout, but he didn’t say anything. 

Derek tossed Spencer’s favorite blanket at him. “Since you said you were cold,” he said. 

He brightened. “You packed it anyway?”

“Hell yeah I did,” Derek said. “I know you think it’s babyish, but seriously, kid, nobody cares. We care more about you being in a bad mood from not sleeping.”

Spencer hesitated, then accepted the soft ivory blanket, hugging it to his chest. Derek climbed up into the seat beside him and buckled his seatbelt. 

Penelope leaned forward in her seat. “Dave, can we please play something a little more exciting?” she wheedled. “I made you a showtunes playlist.”

“Please, no,” Dave said as he navigated the car back onto the interstate.

“I worked so hard to make it!” she said.

“Let her listen to it at least for a while,” Hotch said. “I mean...she did work hard to make it.” 

Dave sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you’re not allowed to sing along.”

She sang along, loudly and with great passion. 

Luckily, the chaos in the car had begun to settle. Spencer played games on James’s phone, frowning in concentration, while Derek put on his headphones and Emily leaned her head back to take a nap. JJ just stared sleepily out the window, watching the hills roll by.

It was just past eleven when they pulled into the campsite behind James’s hatchback; the backseat occupations had begun to perk up, although Penelope was still singing along to the Hamilton cast recording. “All right, everybody, we’re here,” Hotch said. “Who’s ready to put up tents?”

“Not Spencer,” Derek said. The youngest of their group was fast asleep, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, his blanket clutched his his chest and James’s phone threatening to slip from his grip. Derek gave him a gentle nudge and pried the phone from his hand. “Hey, pretty boy, we made it.”

“Don’t wake him up,” Hotch warned. 

“Okay, but I have to get out of the car too,” Emily said.

Hotch beckoned Alex over. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Can you get him?”

Alex peeked into the backseat. “Oh, no,” she smiled. “Okay, Derek, you get out first. Try not to- oh, never mind.”

Derek jostled him on his way out of the car and Spencer raised his head, blinking sleepily. “Sorry, pretty boy,” he said.

Alex leaned towards him. “Hi, we made it,” she said softly. “Do you want to get out of the car? You can go right back to sleep.”

He nodded, unclicking the seatbelt and climbing over to her with a barely concealed yawn. Hotch helped him out and he wrapped his arms around Alex’s neck, allowing her to pick him up. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she said, rubbing his back as he mumbled sleepily into her shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m tired too, does this get me out of setting up the tent?” Emily asked.

“Absolutely not,” Hotch said. “Get out of the car.”

“I want someone to carry me and tell me I can take a nap.”

“Prentiss, I swear to god. Get out of the car.”

[supermanshield]

Naps are overrated, anyway

~~~

There is a picture in the watchtower cafeteria of Superman and Batman, asleep on the Javelin. 

This is the story of how it came to be, and why Batman let it be.

~~~

Words: 4,092

Relationship: Clark/Bruce

A/N: I had the idea for this story a year ago. For the longest time, the summary you see right now was all I had typed out. Only now, after reading a bunch of JLA vol. 1 did I finally find the right characters, the right feeling and overall vibe, and wrote this in the past three days. 

It doesn’t completely comply with continuity, because while I imagine this set somewhere in the 1997-2006 JLA run, Bruce mentions 6 kids (he would have only had 2 at the time + a dead Jason), although they don’t make an appearance. And I'm actually not sure if the Javelin is a thing in that run, maybe that's just a DCAU thing. Just go with it.

Also, Bruce is a bit of a boomer in this. idk, I had fun writing him. 

Read on AO3

______________________________________________

Batman doesn’t nap.

.

However, that is not to say that Bruce doesn't. He's nearing 45 years of age, not a grey hair on his head, but if he were to grow a beard now, or a moustache like his father, it would show a mix of salt and pepper, so he shaves it off, vigorously and every day. Moustache and beard, those are the first things to turn grey. Then the eyebrows. When that happens, Bruce will lose. He will give in to his age and keep his beard. Not yet. If Clark ever walks in on him during his morning ritual (probably soon), he will look at him with that forgiving smile. He will say what he thinks of it, because that's what he does. (Keep it, I like it, Bruce hopes secretively, but there is a sadness present in Clark's eyes that he will never completely understand, and that's exactly why he shaves).

Clark has seen it already though, he's sure. His 5 o'clock shadow must look like a foggy forest to Clark’s microscopic vision, and even worse in the morning, right before his shave. Clark hasn't mentioned it. A conversation for another day.

If his children ever found out about this particular insecurity, all 6 of them would laugh.

 Bruce never really napped, or took time out of the day to simply rest, but now, Clark is there. To pull him onto the couch in the study when he's on his way to his desk. To keep him in bed after sex and before patrol. To fly through his window at WE at 50 floors up and pat next to himself on the couch in Bruce's office, door locked, and red cape hung up in the corner.

"It's time," he says. Every time. "You need one."

Bruce will raise his eyebrows. "Already, hmm?" he asks, almost every time.

He's made the mistake of sending him away before. (He won't do that again). Clark is the most stubborn man Bruce knows. He will say the same thing about Bruce, but that's beside the point. And It's not as if Clark distracts him from a case or work; he knows exactly when he has some time and is unable to make excuses.

Bruce is used to taking 20-minute power naps in uncomfortable positions on his desk chair, at the kitchen table behind the newspaper, with his feet up in the batmobile.

Clark sets the alarm for one hour. He pulls Bruce into a horizontal position against that broad chest, either spooning him or facing him, encasing him in his large arms (there are still 76 ways out of his hold, but Bruce can't think of a single one worth a try). They sleep.

Apparently Clark needs naps too, even though he doesn’t need sleep. Bruce has been meaning to ask him about that, wonders if it's a mental thing, a kind of meditation. Therapy.

His naps are dreamless. Afterwards, his return to consciousness is quick, he reorients on the surroundings, on Clark. Kissing him is a good strategy for grounding, Bruce has found. And just like that, they get on with their day again, because there is no time for dwelling, for another moment together. Nevertheless, Bruce is happy with what he does get. It’s more of Clark - and more time with him - than he deserves already.

 So, Bruce naps.

 ---

 After a long mission off-world, the league is on their way home towards the watchtower in the javelin. Diana is flying, with J’onn at her side in the co-pilot chair. The rest of them are hauled up in the back of the vehicle, they’re tired, exhausted, just trying to get some rest. Even Wally sits still. Only Batman is pacing up and down, his mind already on Gotham, on home, the cases that were open, the ones that he was *this* close to cracking. Batman doesn’t nap.

His mind is wandering, going at a speed that would make even Clark dizzy, but the puzzle pieces don’t make sense. Yet. His heavy boots are silent on the metal floor of the javelin, his cape a mere whisper of wind behind him as he turns to pace the other way again.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Hawkgirl’s voice cuts through the relative silence of flying through space (beeping, machinery, turbines, the jet - there’s a lot). She holds up one of her large wings, cutting Batman off from his path. “Sit down.”

He does. Next to Superman. A big mistake, although he doesn’t realize it until much later. No need to upset his teammates. He can meditate instead, stay awake. The noise of the jet doesn’t make it easy, but it can be done. Clark smiles calmly at him.

He sits straight, eyes open, breathing focused, and the turmoil in his brains slows down. Soon, they’ll reach Earth’s solar system and he’ll have access to the batcomputer. Not soon enough. Next to him, Superman is a steady support of a brick wall, but his shoulder feels warm and soft against Bruce’s, even through the suit. Underneath the cape and hidden from view, Clark’s thumb rubs circles into his side, lower back. He knows exactly what he’s doing. A Pavlovian effect has Bruce relaxing his shoulders, if only slightly. None of his teachers ever taught him how to deal with a superman when trying to meditate. His superman. His annoyingly super man.

His last thought is of Clark, and that it must be irritating to have a bat ear poking into his cheek. But then again, rarely anything physical ever annoys the Man of Steel. Then, finally, he dozes off, the roar of the jet diminished to a distant snoring.

 ---

 Bruce is proud of the watchtower. His watchtower. It stands erect on the bright side of the moon, pointing towards earth. Always looking out. Within such an enormous structure however, some simple rules are needed. There is a long list next to the fridge in the break room, and one in the meeting room. No running unless there is an emergency. Masks on outside of one’s own room. Food is to stay in the cafeteria (he’s found everyone and Clark with various wrappers and chips bags in the monitor room, so he gave up on that – it’s crossed out). Training gear stays in the gym. The coffee machine has to be cleaned once every 2 days - the stuff isn’t that good, not what Bruce is used to, but it has helped him through several meetings and dull monitor duties in the past.

. 

A couple days after returning from their outer space mission on the javelin, Bruce returns to the watchtower. There are several new members to have a meeting about. He has made up his mind on all of them already, the meeting is merely a formality.

Connor Hawke runs past – one of the new proposed members, codename Green Arrow after his father – and Supergirl flies over his head. “No running.” He stops them both with one move of his arm and a line on a batarang.

Kara turns towards him and slips out of his trap easily. “I wasn’t even running, B,” she says while she floats down. Connor has crossed his arms and looks out the window, Batman’s line still taut around his upper arms.

“There are rules. If you want to be in the Justice League, behave like it.” He reminds her of the proper use of code names too, for good measure, and unties Connor.

With a sigh, both young heroes are off, making their way towards the break room. Bruce follows them and finds Wally and Kyle already inside, but as soon as they see Batman turn the corner they scurry out through the door on the other side.  

It’s the first clue that something is amiss. The newer heroes standing around the fridge and chuckling, the second. Bruce lays eyes on the offending appliance and feels his body tense. If smoke could come out of his ears, it would.

“Flash!”

 ---

 The standard size piece of paper lies on one of the metal surfaces in the computer area of the cave. Bruce tries to ignore it while he works, but the primary colours of Superman’s suit in the image are a thorn in his peripheral vision. With a swift move and a smack, he turns it around, and gets back to his files. He has sent his notes for the meeting to the watchtower, reported that he’s too busy to attend.

He works on some of his own active cases, gathering data and looking at evidence. Most of it is paperwork, boring but necessary. He slowly makes his way through every file, meticulously and efficiently. Everything gets reported and written down in case a pattern reveals itself later. The puzzling can be done when he’s more focused. Meanwhile, the cases that are solved and closed get a little custom-made bat-stamp on the front of their manila folder before they get filed away. Alfred brings down coffee, the good kind. Time passes quickly and he’s still busy when Clark flies in.

“Hey,” he walks up to Bruce and bends down for a quick kiss. “I thought you’d be at the meeting today. Diana said you were busy.”

Bruce points to the piece of paper in explanation, Clark turns to grab it. “Wally happened. And I’m always busy.”

“I see. He seemed almost unnaturally giddy today. Oh hey, look.” Clark holds up the picture of Batman and Superman, asleep on the javelin. In it, Clark’s face is peaceful, his mouth open, despite one of the ears on the cowl that is indeed poking his cheek. “We look cute.”

“Batman doesn’t do cute, Clark.”

Clark sighs. But you do, his eyes seem to say. No, I don’t, Bruce replies with his. “Where’d you get this, anyway?”

“Wally put it up on the fridge in the watchtower cafeteria. You didn’t notice him taking it last week?”

“Clearly,” Clark points to the Clark in the picture. “I fell asleep.”

“And here I thought you always listened to your surroundings.”

“We were in space. Not exactly much I can hear out there.”

Bruce gets up from his chair. Having a Superman has once again proven useless. Only Clark can do something so silly and time-wasting as sleeping, on purpose. Naps are overrated, anyway. They’ve had this discussion many times, Bruce knows the outcome. *Always* be on high alert, he will say. Clark will push back, it’s not that simple, he will say. Everyone needs sleep, his eyes pleading, apologetically somehow. They do.  But it has taken Bruce obtaining Clark’s powers in a freak magic accident and chasing after the sun and every criminal on the planet for 72 hours straight to realise that. Now he knows the desperation, the feeling that it will never end, the knowledge that in the end, not everyone can be saved, even if you try.

Everyone needs sleep, even Superman.

Clark watches him milling through these thoughts, it must be written on his face, and holds out his hand when Bruce’s features finally relax. He’ll just have a stern talking-to with Wally and Kyle next time he’s on the watchtower.

 .

 If only it were so simple. The next time he’s on the watchtower, the picture is back on the fridge. And in the main hallway. And in the transporter room, the trophy room, and the ground level bathroom. Bruce groans, suppresses the urge to face-palm. He takes the things down one by one, systematically going through the entire watchtower. Then, he has that talk with Wally. And with Kyle. Best to keep them separated. They snicker that it wasn’t them *this* time, and don’t seem scared of him at all.  

He’s either gone too soft in his old (not old, mature) age, or he should have designed the watchtower with a lot more corners for menacing shadows.

Wally and Kyle are both telling the truth, Bruce finds out in the next couple of days when more pictures return while Kyle is off in space and Wally is busy on earth. This time, it’s not just the one of them sleeping on the Javelin. A bunch of pictures have been put up in the break room. There’s one of Clark, asleep on monitor duty with his feet on the console (Bruce makes a mental note to talk to him about that). There, right there, that’s the reason why there always have to be two leaguers watching the screens. J’onn looking desperately at a small pile of Oreo crumbles on the floor of the meeting room. Diana vigorously devouring a tub of chocolate ice cream. And Batman, pointing at the camera, the other hand on his hip.

He has no idea who took it, but it has to be one of the speedsters. All he knows is that this has to stop. No matter if one finds this kind of thing funny, there are rules, privacy issues, secret identities and all that.

The security footage that Bruce watches back in the cave that night reveal some of the newer, younger members of the league sneaking around the watchtower with a roll of tape. They don’t know where all the cameras are, clearly. They don’t know the rules, clearly. Wally and Kyle have to have set them up to do this, clearly.

Clark watches with him over his shoulder. He chuckled when Bruce showed him the evidence earlier, but now his face is serious. He mouths an Oh. “This is getting out of hand. I’ll organize a meeting tomorrow.”

---

 The next day, in the biggest meeting hall on the watchtower, over 30 faces stare at them from across the large round table. Diana and J’onn are seated on their side, for good measure. They’re victims in this too. It’s intimidating to be called to the watchtower by Superman and Batman for a meeting on professional conduct, and even more intimidating to sit across four of the original members, especially for the new ones in the crowd. Good, Bruce thinks. He stands up, and so does Clark.

“Welcome, everyone,” Clark starts, the warm and commanding baritone all Superman. “We’re glad you could all make it on such short notice…” While Clark talks, Bruce regards the crowd of heroes standing nervously, or sitting on the few available chairs. Firestorm’s flame burns smaller than normal, the new Green Arrow has his bow clamped between both hands, and even Plastic Man seems to genuinely pay attention to Superman. Wally has his chin in his hands on the table, pretending to be interested, and Kyle only seems to pay attention to a scratch on the table’s surface. “…today is not an emergency, but it is important nonetheless…” Get to the point, Clark. “It seems that whilst we acquire more and more members for the JL, some of you think this is some sort of club and not an international organization to protect the earth,” he drones on. Arthur sighs, and for once, Bruce agrees with him.  

“I will not tolerate this any longer,” Bruce cuts Superman off brusquely, in his most serious bat-voice. “Take all pictures down. And if I see another one…”

Wally huffs, interrupting him. “No fun allowed on this godforsaken rock.”

Before Bruce can retort, Clark puts a hand on his tense shoulder. “What Batman is trying to say, is we can’t do this. Even if it seems harmless. Because if we get careless about the little things, we get sloppy, and if we get sloppy, the wrong information might fall into the wrong hands.”

“You’re just as paranoid as he is,” Plastic man points at Batman. “It’s a couple of harmless images.”

“And what did I just say?”

“You’re saying no fun allowed,” Kyle supplies this time. Once again, Bruce takes tremendous effort to suppress a face-palm, and crosses his arms instead. He grunts. Really, they have 37 children here. Not just the 6 back home – a rookie number. 37, except maybe not Diana. Maybe. “Man, we bust our butts for you guys. I’m behind at work, barely get any sleep or free time and you’re getting on our case for something as dumb as this!” Kyle throws his arms up in anger. Behind him, Connor tries to shush him.

“This is work just as much as your civilian job. And more important on top of that. If you want to slack off, you can do that back home. Not here.”

“Grumpy much, bats? Someone missed their morning coffee today…” Wally mumbles.

They continue staring at each other, but it’s Superman who breaks first, uncrosses his arms and sighs. “You can have a couch in the break room… and a tv.” he looks at Bruce. At his expense, of course. “That’s it. No more images of JL members. Leave your personal lives at home.”

“Fine,” Wally sits up. “We’ll take them down.”

 ---

 A couple days later, Bruce is back on the watchtower. No weird pictures greet him this time. Much cleaner. He steadily makes his way to the break room to grab a coffee before the current meeting, but only because he didn’t have time to wait for Alfred’s Italian brew anymore. Clark is with him, already more cheerful because of Bruce’s relatively better mood.

The cafeteria is still empty, the little kitchen still clean. Save for the fridge. There, prominently in the middle of the door, the original picture of Batman and Superman on the Javelin stares him squarely in the face. It’s held up by a pair of small Wonder Woman magnets this time. Clark says something behind him, but Bruce isn’t paying attention. As he gets closer, he can tell it’s different. The paper is thicker, a nicer quality. The image is not a print, but hand-drawn in a mix of coloured chalk and high-quality pencil. The lighting, especially, is magnificent. Kyle Rayner. A new addition is the caption in curly handwriting underneath the image:

 Even the world’s finest heroes need to sleep

 Now, Bruce face-palms. Hard. Clark mutters a fuck, but regains control quickly. “I’ve got to hand it to them; they have nerve.” Bruce ignores him as he opens the fridge to grab the milk for Clark’s coffee. “It’s a good quality to have.”

“Or a bad one.”

Clark shrugs. His face breaks out into a grin. “And, I have them on my side now.”

Oh, no. Bruce whips his head up from the coffee machine to look at Clark. “Batman doesn’t nap.”

Clark inclines his head, raises an eyebrow. But *you* do. It’s so goddamn frustrating when he’s right.

“Hn. You already have Alfred on your side, that’s enough. And I’ve been good about it.”

“According to your standards, sure. Don’t you think it’s time for one later today? After the meeting?”

“Not here,” Bruce whispers.

“Back home.”

Home. It’s a good thing the security cameras don’t record sound. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ve got some time before patrol.”

Clark’s grin turns victorious, and Bruce burns his tongue on the coffee while he tries to hide a smile himself. He’ll decide what to do about Kyle’s art project later. Right now, they have a meeting to attend to.

 ---

 The next morning, Bruce wakes up to Clark kissing his jaw, his mouth. He tastes like Alfred’s coffee. Too early, as always. Not early enough, as always, because Clark is already getting up for work. He considers pulling him back into bed and just straight up explaining to Perry that Clark is late again because he’s fucking the owner, but then he remembers yesterday’s incident. He’ll have to do something about it, obviously, but he’s not looking forward to acknowledging the whole thing yet again, maybe even admitting that the younger members are right, if only a little bit. Stupid watchtower clubhouse. His foul mood must be showing on his face, because all he gets is a “Let it go, Bruce” before Clark disappears into the bathroom. He comes back out in record time, fastening his tie. “Just, let it go. Let them have a little bit of fun. They’re young.”

But not doing anything about it is not an option. Not for Batman, and not for Bruce. “If I don’t retort, they’ll keep going. This won’t die out.” He sits up in bed. At the foot end, Clark is putting on his shoes. 

“It will. You can’t fight fire with fire, sweetheart.” He walks over to Bruce and kisses his cheek. That’s it.

“That’s it. I’m going to fight fire with fire.” Get down to their level. He has kids, knows what teenagers and twenty-something year olds think like.

“No,” Clark groans. It turns into a sigh. “I’m going to be late.”

Bruce gets up. “Then go. Have a good day at work, honey.” 

Clark clenches his jaw, and swings his messenger bag over his shoulder, giving up. “I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says, already halfway out the window.

Bruce closes it behind him, and then quickly makes his way down to the cave. He lets Alfred know he’ll have breakfast on the watchtower, dons the batsuit, makes a quick stop at his desk in the cave, and beams up to the watchtower. 9 am. He’s still on time.

---  

 At lunch time, the cafeteria is buzzing with excitement, more and more heroes gathering around the fridge as they point and whisper Really? And Do you even think it was him? And Wally, this must be another prank of yours. Bruce hears shushing and He’s right there while he drinks his coffee on the other side of the room. Finally, Clark walks in and takes a second to behold the spectacle, his brow furrowed, listening in. He clearly gives up on going to the fridge to get food, and instead makes a beeline to where Batman is sitting at one of the tables. “What’s going on? Did you remove it?” he asks as he sits down across from Bruce.

“I did not.”

Wally sticks his head out of the crowd and looks at the two of them. “Hey Bats! Does this mean we can keep it?”

Calmly, Bruce sips his coffee, pointedly ignoring the younglings and the little victory he supplied for them. But of course, and without skipping a beat, Clark notices his smug mood. He leans closer across the metal table. “What, did you put your bat-stamp of approval on it?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Clark looks back over at the fridge with his spectacular vision to see what Bruce has done earlier, before anyone else was in the vicinity; his bat-symbol stamped onto the lower right corner of the caption. Later, he’ll add a rule to his original list next to the fridge. Only approved art and trophies allowed on the watchtower.

“I also hacked their phones and made sure there are no digital copies anymore,” he explains. “That should teach them to think twice next time.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Bruce shrugs. After all, he’s heard it all before. Only this time, Clark is unable to suppress a smile, he puts a hand over his, and adds “I love you.” Even that is nothing new, he knows it already, but it hasn’t happened on the watchtower yet. He allows a smile to form on his face while Clark holds his gloved hand. The rest of the league is too busy with the commotion around the fridge, anyway.  

A few days later, he finds a copy of the drawing in the cave, this one with a small Superman stamp in the lower-right corner. It may just be exactly what he needs to see after a long night of patrol. Alfred seems happy about it too, and not just about the two people in it. He now simply points to the text with a stern face instead of obnoxiously and repeatedly clearing his throat whenever Bruce comes back from patrol battered and bruised or refuses to go up to the house and his bed.

There is another one in the fortress, although Clark doesn’t spend much time there. Bruce figures he can use the reminder whenever he does go there, so far away from humanity, to work on a case. And in Blüdhaven, Dick has one on his bedside table. The last time he visited Titans tower he noticed one in the hallway. Both of those not Bruce’s doing. He lets it slide, right of his cape and cowl and cool exterior. He just hopes everyone can keep it within their inner circles and that Batman and Superman won’t get turned into one of those ‘memes’.  

[madmadmilk]

One After The One PART 2 | Tom Holland x Reader

Tinder BIO | soft TEASER | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | >>

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: If a fool knows they’re a fool, are they really a fool? (The answer is yes.) You weigh the pros and cons of meeting T, Blurry Boy, Tom-Holland-Imposter, but curiosity tips the scales.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6K grains of sand in your boots

-

“... What?”

You throat ran dry, and you’d be lying if several things didn’t just suddenly click in your mind. The pictures, or lack of pictures. “T.” His bio. It makes all makes total sense, and then it totally doesn’t.

 None of that it made it any easier to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland,” your friend exhales, repeating herself slowly.

…

This can’t be happening. You feel your brows furrow and face fall–– unsure of what to say or how to feel.

Tom Holland on Tinder? 

No fucking way.

“... Who..? How..?” you reach up to scratch your eyebrow, hoping to stir up something to deflect her suggestions.

“You know, Spider-Man? We just watched him in that movie?” Liza starts slowly, then pretends to shoot webs, nearly bumping into her drink. “Thwip-thwip, yeah?”

You begin frown and shake your head, you wave away her hands.

“Yeah, uhm, yeah I know who he is. But there’s no way that’s––“

She gives you a knowing and cautious looking, tilting her head towards you in question. Her lower lip juts out and she pulls out her phone. You can assume she’s looking up pictures of the actor, and soon enough she has some glamour shot of him in a maroon suit.

He had glasses on. The same ones in that goddamn picture he had sent the other day.

That’s not...

You hold your phone search through your chats, scrolling past conversations and laughs, looking for that one picture. Your heads rest together as you swipe up slowly to show her the picture of him that he had sent… the one with the glasses.

There’s no way––

 But you don’t say anything, solely waiting for her confirmation or denial.

“Friendly neighborhood romantic…” Liza mutters softly as she holds both phones closer to herself. “Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man…”

You take it from her and zoom in; sure enough, all those details fall into place.

Fuck.

You blink, comparing the smiles. They look identical.

But?

But Tom Holland is a A-list actor, smiley, pretty, bright and out of reach. You can’t even entertain the idea of meeting a ~celebrity~ through a shitty fucking dating app–– a hook-up one at that. It just doesn’t happen.

And the thought of him wanting to spend time with you?

“No… that’s not right,” you finally manage to say. “Uhm. It can’t be Tom.”

Upon saying that out loud, you catch yourself. You find yourself believing that it could have been him. So, it’s hard to say which part you were denying.

Liza does the critical thinking for you.

“I’m sorry, babe. This guy is lying to you.”

Liza looks at you with her big brown eyes, and you can see a little bit of pity. She nods slowly and turns away, leaving you with two phones in your hands and doubt in your heart. 

“He’s using Tom Holland’s pictures, he’s not telling you the truth, and he’s not… offering you anything else about himself. You know?”

What?

You had gotten so comfortable with the idea of him, of “T.” Of “Blurry Boy,” his own person... and not with the reality of who he could be and what he’s doing to you.

The reality that he’s still really fucking suspicious, a stranger whose life and intentions you don’t actually know.

He’s definitely not Tom Holland, regretfully, and he’s probably not like any of the pictures he’s posted–– blurry, edited, whatever. And the conversations? Maybe it’s all a persona.

You don’t know a single thing about him.

Oh…

It stings more than you thought it would, even when you knew this was already a shaky start.

Liza watches you press your tongue to the side of your cheek, processing this with no argument or fight left. She feels bad having told you outright, but you both know that it’s what you would have wanted. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

She hugs your shoulders, as you slide her phone back towards her.

You let her hold you as you try to let the shame and shock pass.

Your phone pings softly on the table.

You read the message as it glows on your screen. You scoff as soon as you check it, because who else could it be?

BB: I bet you forgot to watch the episode lol

No.

You forgot you shouldn’t trust him.

-

…

BB: ?

BB: Hello?

BB: Hey, sorry idk if you’re busy or something right now. Just wondering how you were

BB: 👀

BB: Sorry, did I do something to make you mad?

Yes–– no. Yeah, kinda.

You pull down your phone screen, musing over the fact that more messages might appear. He’s sent something new every few hours since your talk with Liza earlier that day.

God, you’re glad you don’t have your read receipts on.

You spend some time lazing around in bed, hair up and out of your face, your pants crumpled and kicked on the floor nearby. You suck in your cheeks as you pick up your phone.

You’ve been cycling through social media all day–– not looking at anything in particular, but definitely avoiding texts from You Know Who.

You know what the messages say, you know that he’s wondering where you are and what you’re doing, but how do you face him after your fatal revelation with Liza? How do you recover? Well, you start by sorting out your buzzing thoughts….

First, you feel fucking embarrassed. There’s a burning, nauseous heat on your face, all because you didn’t realize those pictures were SO obviously fake, and that you were kinda into Whoever He Is.

Second, you feel righteous anger, for being dragged around even though he promised. Ha ha ha. He’s one hundred percent a stranger on the internet, alright. And you’re a fool for letting yourself get strung along.

But him using pictures of a well-known, well-loved, heavily-adored celebrity?? Isn’t that, like, really fucking bold? Embarrassing even?

(Almost as embarrassing as you not noticing this, but you don’t let yourself dwell on that part for too long)

The angel on your shoulder reasons that, “maybe he’s still the same person underneath this facade–– he just looks nothing like what he has posted. You could still like him no matter what he looked like, right?”

While the devil swoops in with some hard facts, laughing in pity, “A guy or person who conceals themselves with lies is not worth keeping at all.”

And in this case, you have to agree with that flaming hot truth. You’re ready to fold those fleeting feelings, shove them in a box, and kick ‘em to the curb along with that inner monologue–– but as you said in the very beginning… if you knew you were being fooled from the start, are you really getting hurt?

The goblin of curiosity pulls at your sleeve and offers this funny sentiment, “Knowing this and talking to him should be fine if you establish the fact that you know that ‘this’ isn’t real.”

And that’s where you are now, staring at your phone, at the multitude of double, triple, quadruple texts that have accumulated through the day. You exhale, and draft up a frail response.

You: hey, sorry. I was busy

His answer comes almost too soon even while you were approaching the later hours of a long day.

BB: Hey!, no, no it’s okay. Sorry if i freaked out, I was just worried

You: what, you missed me?

BB: something like that. You’re definitely the best reason I’m checking my phone nowadays, besides work

You: how sweet

BB: actually, I took your advice. I turned on Do Not Disturb at like 9. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders

You: that’s great!

BB: well, I know there’s going to be a shit ton to read in the morning, and I’m still stressed about that. But I guess I’ll get used to it. Gotta save time for myself! 😤🙏(praying emoji)

You: definitely

…

BB: hey, are you okay? You seem distant

You: yeah, no. I’m fine. Just a little tired

…

BB: haha, you’re obviously not. Are you still out? Or back home now?

You: I’m back home, but it’s been a long day

BB: oh, okay! You should head to bed then. Talk to you later?

You: yeah, I guess I should

BB: good night! Sleep tight 😊 (blush smile emoji)

You: good night

-

The next day goes by with a few more one-sided text exchanges. “Blurry Boy” was really single-handedly carrying each of those conversations–– and while they’re interesting and you’re still replying, you find it hard to bring yourself to believe any of it. It has no real weight anymore, to your life or in application.

You can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s LYING to you. Straight to your fucking face.

You watch the conversations in the third person and are almost impressed with the lengths that he goes to keep up with the same story. No loss of momentum, the perfect amount of enthusiasm.

But by now, he must suspect something. The way he asks leading questions in an effort to get you to speak more. 

Unfortunately for him, you can’t help but be cold in response.

What you don’t realize, is that you want him to ask you what was wrong, one more time. You don’t realize that you want an opportunity to be mad. You want him to give you the chance to be. 

So, stop being so fucking nice, blurry boy.

Because you’re not fucking nice at all.

You ignore him for the evening, going out to run some errands so that your hands were actually busy. You silenced your phone as you wound down again for the night, only sparing it a glance at the last second.

There are a few messages waiting for you.

BB: hey, are we okay?

You: we?

BB: yeah, sorry if i’m jumping to conclusions but I’ve felt a little special here. If not, I get it. I’d just like to know

You: you’re definitely something

BB: what’s wrong?

You take a sharp inhale, tucking your hair behind your ears, and sitting up in bed to fully type out your feelings. Your opportunity to be angry is HERE, you can go off and spit words and fight–– 

You: you’re lying to me, right to my face. It was fine at first, but I still can’t wrap my head around why you’re doing this to me. It feels like we’re playing pretend and just ignoring the fact that there is NO TRUST here at all. I don’t know WHO you are and you haven’t given me any idea of who you could be! You’re using fake pictures and a fake name, and while it’s been fun… there’s nothing here. There’s nowhere “we” could go from here. If you want to continue, I’m going to need SOMETHING from you, if you expect anything from me

You drop your phone in your lap with a satisfying thump. You turn away, stretching and rolling your shoulders back in triumph.

Take that, “T.”

You shut your eyes as you imagine this mystery dude opening his phone to read out an arrow you’re shooting straight at this heart. (And it’s not the good kind). You can’t ignore that it hurts your own feelings it’s a little, not in a way that’s personal but…it’s hollowing. You didn’t know him personally, no, not at all, but a shade of it must have been real. There’s a real person in there, somewhere.

You see the message sit alone, untouched. There’s no bouncing dots like usual, no rapid silly response or praise or affection. And that’s annoying. And that’s annoying that that’s annoying.

But you got the last word in, so, what else can you ask for.

You nudge your phone further away, trying not to expect more. Siting in silence for a beat, pinching your cheeks. God, you hate this self-absorbed, attention-seeking behavior–– but you can’t help it.

You let out an exasperated whine, shaking your body to let go of the lingering vibes. You pick up your phone and snuggle back down into bed, ready to sleep after some idle scrolling. 

You’re ready to not have to worry about this thrilling 5-day experience, sure to be embarrassed about it later but… maybe you can make a story out of it. Though, that would only come after a long wink and the accompaniment of alcohol. God, you don’t even want to think about how Liza has probably already told K… Ugh!

PING!

You scramble as you hear the shrill bell tone. Your phone is bouncing in your hands as you half sit-up again. 

A message. 

You want to ignore it–– but who are you kidding.

BB: can i call you?

…

You stare at it. 

Is this an olive branch? Is he reaching out to you to show you that he really wants this? That he cares enough to finally share a fucking piece of himself?

Regardless, the call can only prove that he’s not the guy in the pictures. It’ll only show you that he’s just a guy. If that.

You rake your mind to remember what Tom Holland’s speaking voice sounded like, and immediately kick yourself for even thinking it could actually fucking be him. There’s just no fucking way. 

But let’s see how far off this guy is.

You: only for a second.

Your heart thuds unevenly as you prepare yourself–– only you have no idea what to expect. There’s nothing to go off of.

And within the minute that you sent your message, your phone rings. A blank contact comes up, “Blurry Boy” in white letters. You listen to the shrill ringtone, only picking up before it ends.

“Hey.”

There it is, his voice for the first time. It’s sleepy and thick, croaky even. He doesn’t sound like the squeaky and lively Tom Holland you knew from the silver screen. Though, it’s a stretch to even compare the two at all.

“Hey,” you speak demurely. Cool, calm, collected. And you wait. You want him to bring it up himself.

“What, not excited about our first call?”

Your face warms at his straightforwardness–– briefly crumbling under the pressure. Over text you could easily sort yourself out, but here…. you couldn’t hesitate.

“Well, I’m just glad you don’t sound like a 16 year-old boy.”

He laughs breezily, slightly muffled through the phone.

“Hahaha, I told you. I’m 23.”

“Mhm, well the way your voice cracked there really proves it.”

“Hey, come on now.” He laughs again, and you can hear rustling sheets and the faint chatter of music.

His laugh is quite pleasant, raspy and boyish. Familiar even. You want to imagine that he’s wooed by your maturity and confidence, by the way that a lull settles. But it’s more likely that he’s gathering his thoughts, or collecting his courage.

“This…. doesn’t prove anything,” you start slowly. You purse your lips, nervous ticks coming alive even through the phone.

For the moment, you feel shy, but shove it when you remember that he’s lying.

“I still don’t know who you are––“

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry–– I can’t tell you yet, but I trust you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said something like that before.”

”Uhm, yeah–– I… I wanted to call you to show you that I’m real and I care about you.... and I wanted to hear your voice too.”

There was sincerity there, but you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“But how long will it be before I get to see your real face? –– Without meeting you in a dark alley all alone.”

“Hm?”

“My friends are convinced that … you’re lying to me. In more ways that one. With the profile, with the pictures, the name.”

“Oh–– you told you friends–– uhm... Do you think I’m lying?”

“Maybe not all of it, but It’s a big world out there. And–– I don’t know.”

“But seeing my face would clear it up for you?”

He breathes deeply, and you can hear him clear his throat. The sheets rustle again.

“It’d be a start.”

“Mhm.”

“Make or break it, actually,” you manage to chuckle, offering him that relief. You wonder if physical attraction would be a big factor— like obviously, it would be something but…. you’ve come to know him as a person. So, do you care?

(The answer is yes, you do care, but poetically, you could enjoy his company just like this.)

BUT he is lying; if it’s not about one thing, it’s the other.

“It would definitely make me feeling a little bit better. To know that you’re not a monster under the bed, or some creep–– arguable but still.”

“I told you, I’m hot. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he laughs with a bit of edge, treading the line.

You laugh too, tension easing. He seems like an easygoing guy, willing to be the butt of a joke with confidence.

“That has a totally different effect, hearing you say that out loud. It’s still weird.”

“Well, what do you think I look like? Based off–– based off what you have.”

“Well, I hardly have anything so…. I don’t know. I want to say ‘tall, dark, and handsome,’ but I’m pretty sure you have… fair skin, brown hair and… nice shoulders? That’s all I got.”

“You’re 3 for 3 so far.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Pause.

“Sorry it’s taking so long.”

“Yeah, you’re weird.”

You’ve already flipped the a million possibilities of who he could be. Nothing would even surprise you anymore. But listening to his soothing voice has calmed you like the way his words always have. The conversation flows over you, and you slide deep into your bed.

You pull the covers up over your shoulders, swimming in your thoughts. It shouldn’t be that hard to reveal himself, should it? You’re both investing time into this–– reckless and blind as it may be. You would need to know eventually. You’re not being unreasonable.

Right?

“If…. If I show you my face, properly, will you keep it a secret?” There’s an anxious tone in his light voice. Every syllable ended with uncertainty, as if he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“If you want…? Why?”

“I just… you just need to. Please?”

“Yeah, uhm, I can do that.”

“Thank you,” and there he lets out an airy sigh of relief. You hear rustling again, as if he fell back on the bed. Ha?

You laugh in excitement at his small promise, you rub your eye with your knuckle as you tease,

“What, are you a celebrity or something?”

…

“How did you know?”

“Hahaha, shut uppp, T. I’m joking–– I just want to match a proper face to the person I’m talking to,” your laugh trails off. You swallow softly, “I have your voice now, so… help me piece it together now, please?”

He stays silent, making you second guess the sincerity that you just showed him. Before you can take it back he starts slow and quiet,

“If I do tell you who I am, would you go on a date with me?”

Your heart squeezes, and your clench your toes. This should be no surprise or celebration, to be honest, this is the point of it all. To find love, or at least the next lay.

“Well, that depends if you’re my type,” coy, coy, play it coy.

“I’m everybody’s type.” His voice rolls, deep, rough, ringing in your ears.

You blink, your cheek lifting in a half pointed smile. You return his tone,

“Ok, well, then I dare you. Show me.”

“I will. Are you free on Friday–– Tomorrow?”

“Already setting up a date? You’re getting waaaay ahead of yourself, dude.”

Pause.

“But yeah, sure, I might be free tomorrow.”

“Great,” he laughs at your switching moods. You feel that heat on your face again, shutting your eyes tight, and he offers a bit more, 

“Meet me by the beach? 9 PM?”

You scoff softly, he’s pushing it. It’s a public space, kind of not. It’ll be cool, breezy, dark… secluded.

But you could easily let someone know where you’re gonna be, and when to expect you back. Fair enough?

“Hmmm, send me a picture of yourself and I’ll let you know if I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“Think of it as insurance. Or a sneak peak,” you laugh softly, turning your cheek to rub you nose against your pillow.

He lets out a long, dry chuckle, taking a deep breath. You can hear him settle and stretch himself out too, “First thing in the morning. And text me back.”

“Sure!”

“Then... I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Y/N. So lovely speaking to you.” His voice is so heavy and warm, so close to your ear.

You’re almost disappointed that he cut the conversation short. A dark cloud of doubt looms over; maybe he needs time to fabricate a believable photo, maybe he’s nervous, maybe he’s getting cold feet.

You stumble on on what to say as you snap yourself back–– the worrying could be saved for tomorrow. For now, you’ll both savor this short, sweet moment. 

“Likewise. Good night, Blurry Boy.” 

You hear him exhale softly, and pull the phone away from your ear. You look at it in your hands, feeling your lips purse. Your face is flushed hot, and your stomach flips in anticipation.

Tomorrow.

-

“No FUCKING way,”

You open your phone first thing in the morning and... low and behold… he actually fucking sent you a picture of Tom Holland. Like he really had the guts to fucking do it. 

Come on, Blurry Boy.

This is not real. No way, no way, no fucking WAY.

You heart falls at the thought of losing this ~friendship~ or whatever it is. You put time into this and now its… kind of falling apart at the seams.

You hold your squished cheeks and spin on your heel, wondering if you should show it to Liza or Ry–– to share the incredulous feelings but… You remember The Promise.

It’s not that… big of a deal, especially since this scenario is fake as fuck, but you’d feel guilty. (damn.)

And also ashamed.

You straight up got fucking catfished.

Like he really had you in the snares.

There’s no way that he’s Tom Holland, and even if he “was” there’s no way that Tom would be in your city. And even though he’s a fucking liar–– keeping this a secret for another day or two… wouldn’t hurt anyone.

God.

You fall back onto your couch, legs hanging over the edge as you stare at the picture. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, wondering what to say…

The words come quick.

You: what the fuck, are you joking?

Come on, he had to be pulling your leg. Or expecting you to reply like that. You dont’ know what to think, especially when it takes him an hour or two to reply. Uncharacteristic of him.

BB: I’m really not

You: dude. Shut up. You’re not Tom Holland

BB: I am. And I can prove it. Come see me tonight, please

You have to scoff, nearly throwing your phone across the room. UHM, this has sirens and red flags written all over it. Akskdfdjhfad, like??? There aren’t even words to describe this frustration and obvious deceit.

You: Uhm, no no no. Call me right now

You were more than peeved now, honestly. He promised you honesty and some vulnerability, and this is just fucking stupid.

BB: I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’m out for work right now. Meetings all day. But I PROMISE you that I’m not lying.

Ok, funny. That’s exactly what a liar would say.

You don’t bother replying back, not sure what to even say besides, “Fuck you.” But you figure that silence might be more of a sting than any words you could conjure up.

How many tricks would you fall for? This is stupid, this isn’t fair. There’s nothing to redeem here, it’s over.

He can’t just drop a tremendous bombshell, and act like it’s real??

Who the fuck does he think he is?

There’s no way he’s fucking Spider-Man, dude.

There’s just no fucking way.

-

FRIDAY NIGHT, AROUND 6 PM

BB: So… what do you think? Will I see you later? 🤞 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: I can’t believe you’re still messaging me and making jokes. This is cruel, dude

BB: I know it seems crazy, but I’m not lying. I can explain everything! But in person would be the easiest way. I’m still running around the city, but meet me at 9

You: bullshit

BB: My name is Tom Holland. I’m taking a break in this city, and I’m looking for someone to spend time with. But I HAVE to lie low. And trust you and I want to see you and I want to spend time with you

You: You know this is fucking insanity right ?? I can’t trust you. 

BB: I know, I’m sorry. But I’ll answer anything you want if you come see me

You: i don’t know

BB: well, will i see you later tonight?

…

BB: let me know if you can make it. I’ll be there regardless but…

…

BB: Hope you see you there, Y/N.

You put your phone down squinting. You’re down for taking risks and meeting new people and trying new things–– but this whole thing is just wrong. This is too unreal to even entertain. No matter how many times you say it… It won’t sink in.

He says he can’t call, he can’t send anymore pictures, he can’t facetime–– what’s with the grand reveal and security clearance? 

He’s probably gonna eat your fucking face off, that’s why.

You look back at your feet, covered in fuzzy socks. Would you even get out of this blanket burrito to meet A Guy?

(Much less, a guy who definitely wants to wear your skin.)

It’s after classes and work and your social life, you don’t have anything planned for today. Your friends are off on dates with one another doing god knows what, and you’re at home comfy in your holey sweatpants with nothing but the warmth of your laptop and chatter of a TV show you haven’t been paying attention to.

Sigh.

There’s nothing to lose–– you chant over and over. Sometimes, that mentality is what gets you to move forward and try new things. Or gets you into trouble.

Haha.

We all know you’re going to get off your ass and go, but not before checking in with a few people. ‘Cos, you’re not entirely stupid.

“Time for a Tea Party,” you mumble to yourself. You resign to text the more rational of your friends, Liza and Ry. 

Liza has the perfect amount of encouragement and honesty, while Ryan has the best common sense and gives expert.

Sorry, K, you’re too protective and sorry, Sam, you’re way to fucking chaotic.

GC: TEA PARTY

Liza: Ur actually going to MEET HIM??? 😱

Ry: you said you weren’t going to get into trouble

You: is he trouble?? Is this bad??

Ry: YES. he could be anyone. Do you even know what he looks like?

You: … not really. He hasn’t told me much about anything. But, this is like a chance to find out?

Liza: oh my god you should go. Just go and get it over with

Ry: I don’t know… this doesn’t sound like a great idea.

Liza: i guess, one of us could come with Y/N?

You: nah, I’ll be fine alone

Ry: you sure? We could hang out somewhere in the back or something

You: no, it’s okay. I’ll just let you now when I go and drop my location with you

Liza: Phew! This is going to be SO messy. I love it. Can’t wait to hear back from you.

Liza: If we hear back from you 👀 (side eye emoji)

You: Ha ha, this is my actual life you know??

Ry: you only live once

Liza: And pls live long enough to tell your friends what happens

You: so supportive

Liza: love you! Wear your cute undies just in case!

Ry: bring pepper spray

You: Got it

You’re thrown into a frenzy. It’s like 7:45 PM now, and you haven’t showered yet, you haven’t decided what you’re going to wear or how you’re going to get there–– and more importantly, you haven’t fucking texted him back yet. 

And he hasn’t sent you anything else.

Oh, the mind games.

The way he’s making himself sad and vulnerable, but mysterious and coy.

While you get to choose to be the sucker, or the loser.

Lose, lose with great odds.

You turn on the shower, stepping into the warm steam to clear your mind.

It was made after all, you were going to meet him.

-

Yeah, you were going. But you still haven’t said anything. 

You don’t want him to know–– so you could totally just walk the other way if you see something that you don’t like. 

I mean, he knew what you looked like though. Hell, he even compared you to his ex-girlfriend, so… might as well keep the upper-hand and peer from the shadows first.

Or give yourself a head start to run away.

Though, running through sand would definitely be a big fucking obstacle.

You reach the end of the beach, standing atop beaten wooden stairs. The breeze stings your cheek, and it’s a lot colder than you thought it would be.

You’re wearing some dark high-waisted jeans and a simple pair of slip-on sneakers. You didn’t exactly know what “this” was, a date or a revelation or a sacrifice, so, naturally, you didn’t know what to wear.

Haha.

You hug yourself, your thin white billowy top fluttering lightly in the wind. Your fingers clutch at the flowery-embroidered designs on the sleeves, looking a lot like a pure maiden in distress. (Cos you sure as hell are.) You wore light makeup, and your hair was still a bit damp. The salty air was turning it coarse and wavy–– no complaints about that.

You paired this all with the bravest face you could muster

T, Blurry Boy, Tom Holland Imposter dropped this location with you, and figures that it’s on a secluded section of the beach.

You follow well-trodden paths, softly listening to music as you make your way. One earbud in. You should be thinking about a million things right now, but your mind is totally blank.

No expectations, nothing to go off of. 

As you near your destination, you look out at the water. The ocean is dark and looming; you can hear her soft waves crash over your soft music. The moon casts a silvery glow, and you can’t see colors anymore. Just white, gray, and black. Shining and still. 

It feels calm, like you’re watching a silent movie. Like you’re alone.

Only you’re not.

You see “him.”

A lone shape kicking sand with hands in their pockets. Their hood was up and back facing you. 

Great.

You hang back in the distance, weighing your options. You could still leave–– fear fully settling in after you see an actual person where they said they would be. He seems… harmless enough, like a regular guy and–– ah, fuck.

He turns around.

You see him, seeing you.

He pauses, then leans forward to get a better look.

You freeze too, holding your breath.

There’s nowhere left to duck and hide. It’s just you and some piles of fucking sand.

And him.

Oh, god.

The figure raises their hand, fucking waving. Then they start moving towards you, picking their feet up high to trek over the sand.

Fucking hell, you could turn away now but you don’t. You let out a shrill, grating laugh and square up to meet him halfway.

Their shape isn’t getting any clearer–– especially now that they’re facing away from the moon. His face is shadowed and hard to see, but you get close enough to see him.

I––

“Hey!” he excited calls out, catching the shine of his smile…. And…. you’re speechless.

Jaw to the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates, speechless.

He keeps talking, smiling with his eyes crinkled as he gets very very close to you. You could smell his musky cologne, mixed with ocean spray, and disbelief. His voice is low and coated with tired happiness,

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you came.”

His voice breaks at the end, broken in more ways that you can understand at this moment. You’re just so confused––??

He can’t stop grinning, eyebrows sloping downward as he lets out an airy sigh of relief. He looks up towards the sky for a moment, moonlight catching on his cheeks and nose. Glimmering.

Wait, wait, wait––

When he comes back, he does another thing you can barely wrap you head around–– he hugs you.

He reaches forward, giving you ample time to turn away (but you don’t), and hugs over your shoulders. You felt a human weight on you, the side of his hoodie smushing against your face. 

And… you slowly hug back around his waist. Your left hand awkwardly pats his back as he mumbles,

“Sorry, this is too much. Sorry, God. Thank you.” 

He doesn’t make any motion of moving away despite his words. You can feel his warmth, and slightly desperation in the embrace; something that feels a lot more intimate than you were prepared for.

“Thank you.”

“It… It’s okay,” you murmur back, doused in shock. And shock is better than terror, right?

You pull away, squinting your eyes and making a face. His hands fall off your shoulders, and quickly shove themselves into his pockets. He gives you a moment. A well needed moment. When you open yourself back up, your brain is able to process a few more things.

He’s standing there in some dark denim jeans, clad in converses, which seems like a horrible decision for the beach, a dark green hoodie pulled up over his head, another horrible decision when you’re meeting someone for the first time on a dark beach, and a denim jacket, enviable. His face is softened and friendly, lips pointed in a gracious smile, while his dark eyes twinkle even in the shade.

He senses your uncertainty as you eyes fan over his face. Your jaw was still hanging open too. He pulls his hood down, ruffling soft brown hair in an inadvertent dramatic reveal. Nice.

He scratches behind his ear, still wearing a gleeful expression,

“So… what do you think?”

What do you think???? What do you think about this situation?? His hair??? The entire man in front of you???

Or the fucking fact that he was who he SAID he was???

I can’t believe this is–– this is––

All manners and social cues and sense exit the building as you stammer brainlessly,

“You’re! You’re–– You’re Tom––”

He nods, confidently, you note. And tilts his head, locks falling over,

“I am.”

“You are.” You breath out, maybe smiling now, you’re not sure. You can’t exactly feel your face anymore. 

Your head tilts in the same direction as his, your hair falling over your collar. His eyes follow those fallen strands, before locking back with yours,

“I’m Tom Holland. ‘I told you so,’ and it’s nice to formally meet you.”

Tom Holland.

The brunette bites his lip before smiling neatly as he gets close to your again. No personal space with this guy. He sticks a hand out for you to shake.

You’re looking from the outside in as you take his hand, bobbing softly. You’re trained on the sight of his thumb holding the side of your hand, rubbing softly.

You find your way back to his face.

Exactly like the movies.

The wind blows and he turns to the side, showing you the sharp cut of his jaw, and his eye-shut-tight expression.

Better, actually.

“H… Hey, Tom. Nice to meet you too,” you finally fumble. You shake your head slightly, trying to regain that calm, collected, confidence you practiced so hard on the way here. You want to say more, but you can’t fathom what would come next, 

“Uhm, sorry, I’m… still processing.”

Tom nods, bobbing his whole body, as he takes a step forward. His smile points devilishly, way too easily. His eyebrows twitch before settling, as he lowers his head, hitting you with some sultry jaw-clenching and puppy dog eyes.

“Take your time.”

You laugh, tonguing your cheek. He does too, and you share a starry stare.

The waves crash in the distance, a white noise you were glad to have. A welcome distraction from your loudly beating heart. Something to close the gap of silence––

Only Tom couldn’t handle the lapse of quiet, after all, he gets paid $$$ by the minute. He starts conversationally, knowing exactly how to stir up your already swirling emotions.

Light, teasing, reeling you in, the brilliant boy flashes you a toothy grin and spares not a single ounce of chill,

“So… am I your type?”

Holy fucking fuck shit god damn.

You just got catfished by Tom Holland.

-

A/N: WELL, reader has been caught in the net. What do you think, is “Tom Holland” /our/ type? Adfasjdl, the whole concept of this is so funny lol. Can u imagine seeing the man you saw movies screens… waiting for you in person??? Unfathomable. Anyway, sorry the past two chapters have just been build up,, there’s gonna be a lot of mushy stuff coming up soon. Thanks for your patience!

It’s really hard to find time to write, but yeah taking smaller chunks like this makes it easier for me. Expect updates every 1-2 weeks, usually around Sat-Mon nights. Thanks so much for keeping up!

And you know what to do, please like and comment and reblog! It keeps me going :)

All my love,

Madmadmilk 🥰

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks!

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: At last!!! I almost didn’t make it, but here I am, literally in the eleventh hour (well, okay, three minutes to go until the eleventh hour, but still)! All the thanks to @mskathywrites , @fang, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and all that stuff I need. I still love this story, and I hope y’all will, too! 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 4

Kimber knows she’s staring, but she can’t stop herself. His fingers, rough and strong from years of the hardest work, brush circles over her wrists that send her pulse fluttering through her veins. So many emotions flicker behind his eyes, some of them mirroring her own, some of them alien and unreadable. So many years have passed, so much water under the bridge, as the saying goes. 

The thing is, he was completely right earlier. She could have called him, once she learned who he and his family were, once she found a way.

But he had left town with her phone number memorized. He was in a much more logical position to get in touch, and right away, at that. And he never did. She knows he had a good reason, a completely reasonable one that would make sense if she just asked him.

But she’s scared and drained and confused and more than a little ashamed, and she’s tired of making a fool of herself.

She drops her eyes before the tears fully form and murmurs a quiet thanks as she loosens her hands from his grip. Though walking away is not what she wants to do, she forces her legs straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a firm click. 

She’ll feel better after a hot shower. That’s all she needs, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. They’ll figure this out tomorrow, and then Dean and his brother will ride off into the sunset, and everything will go back to normal. She’ll go back to her classes as usual, helping out the occasional hunter or scholar with some lore, and she’ll bury all these feelings behind her heart again, drown them so deep they’ll never dream of resurfacing.

At least, that’s the fairy tale she tells herself as the scalding stream washes the saltwater from her cheeks. 

She actually does feel moderately restored by the time she steps out of the bathroom. She feels a little ridiculous in Dean’s clothing. The sleeves of the t-shirt hang past her elbows, and the pants legs are rolled up several times to keep her from tripping. 

At least the waist has a drawstring, she thinks as she rounds the corner back into the room. She pulls the towel from her hair, shaking it out a little just as Dean looks up from his laptop at the small table. His mouth opens, eyes widening. She’s not sure because of the poor lighting of the room, but his face seems to color a little as his eyebrows lift.

She is suddenly, acutely aware that she did not put her bra back on when getting dressed in his white t-shirt that is probably not nearly as thin as it feels.

Dean clears his throat, turning back to his computer, swallowing whatever comments have entered his mind. Kimber can’t decide whether to laugh or blush even harder and settles for the third option of hanging her office clothes up so they can air out a little before tomorrow. 

With nothing else to do, she drops onto the edge of the bed gracelessly, feeling every minute of the last few weeks catching up with her. Uncertainty and fear claw at her, ripping away what little defenses she has left. The image of the mutilated doll flashes before her eyes, red paint splashed luridly on her favorite comforter. Her lungs clench, and she sags on the mattress. 

She presses her fingers hard against her face. Acid burns at the back of her throat, bitter and biting. Her fingernails are just beginning to dig into her scalp when she registers the click of the laptop closing. Half a moment passes, then the bed dips beside her. 

She doesn’t consciously decide to move; her body simply molds itself to his side as Dean slides his arm around her back. He turns into the embrace, his other arm gathering her tightly against him. His cheek comes to rest on top of her head. The silence between them is the comfort she needs, his warmth and solidity the anchor that keeps her from drifting too far into panic.

When he finally speaks, his words rumble through her nerves, settling heavy and soothing in her chest.

“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch, Kimber. I’m sorry they got into your house, but I’m glad I was with you. I…” She rises gently with his deep inhalation, pressed as she is against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

She hears what he isn’t saying, and her hands drop from her face, her arms slipping around his middle as her eyes close.

“Me, too, Dean.”

...

“That pumpkin pie was somethin’ else,” Dean murmured. His arms were folded behind his head as he stretched out on top of Kimber’s bedspread. He crossed his ankles, settling in like he belonged there. His thin t-shirt stretched across his wiry frame, jeans lying enticingly low on his hips, and she could just see a glimpse of pink toe through a hole in one of his socks.

A pleasant, off-balancing thrill skipped down Kimber’s spine, twirling through her stomach and making her head spin a little. Dean’s jacket was hung carefully on her desk chair, his boots lined up on the floor underneath, and his button-up overshirt folded neatly on the desk.

Her parents had gone to bed long ago, and she had snuck Dean in the back door. After their exhilarating but chilled stroll that afternoon, she’d decided against the treehouse. Dean had been amused but willing, although he’d had one stipulation that had nearly made her laugh aloud.

“We get caught and your folks kick me out, you’re bringing me your mom’s leftovers to school every day for breakfast. I’m not missin’ out on home cooking just because you can’t stand to be away from me.”

Now, seeing him so comfortable on her bed, like he just belonged...Kimber knew the smile on her face was on the goofier end of sappy, but she couldn’t help it. He was just so damned…

“Cute,” he said, smirking up at her. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not cute. I’m adorable.”

She sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine, you’re gorgeous, adorable, vital, the absolute most. Now close your eyes so I can change.” Smirk still firmly in place, Dean dutifully closed his eyes. She knew, despite the short time she’d known him, that she could trust Dean to keep his eyes shut.

She spent a few seconds regretting the lack of any silky, dramatic nightgowns or cute, sexy little matching pajama sets. Oh, well; couldn’t have everything. She stripped quickly, tossing her school clothes into the hamper and slipping on her “Aaahh!!! Real Monsters” t-shirt. Thick socks and plaid pajama pants completed her night ensemble. 

That she had just been naked (however unseen said nakedness had been) in front of Dean Winchester had not escaped her. She licked her lips, cheeks warm, and turned slowly back to the bed. He lay still, chest rising and falling steadily, and she marveled, not for the first time, that he was here, in her room. Just for her.

Her pulse jumped, her lungs tightened, and for just a second, Kimber panicked.

“You can, uh...you can open your eyes. I’m gonna go brush my teeth; I’ll be right back.”

She fled silently down the hallway, brushed her teeth in record time, and then stared in the mirror. Her hair was just her hair, nothing amazing or horrifying; no point trying to fix that before bed. Maybe…make-up?

“Kimber. What the hell?” she muttered. “You’re not seducing him, just be cool. Jeez. You can’t wear make-up to bed.”

She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing her skin dry with a hand towel more forcefully than necessary. She gave her reflection another once-over and took a deep breath.

“You’re his choice, too,” she reminded herself. “Just chill.”

She found him exactly as she’d left him, completely relaxed on the bed, eyes still closed. She thought for a moment that he might have fallen asleep. Kimber wasn’t sure if she felt more disappointment or relief.

“You left in a little bit of a hurry,” he murmured, eyes still closed, and she started. “Everything okay?” She almost put him off, could feel the brush-off on her lips, but his eyes slid open, pinning her on the spot. She got the eerie sense that he would know, that he already knew she was trying to put on a front, and she deflated a little.

“I’m nervous,” she finally admitted. The heat in her cheeks turned up a few degrees, spreading down her neck, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I’ve never...snuck a guy to my room before. I just...this is mostly new to me, but with you, I want...I don’t know.”

Without a word, Dean slid from the bed and crossed the room, his mesmerizing eyes never leaving hers. He stopped a few feet away and waited, his arms open. With the bed suddenly out of the equation, Kimber felt a hidden knot of anxiety untie in her chest. 

She let out a breath and stepped into his embrace, her arms circling his waist in a way that felt easy and right. Dean’s lips pressed a warming kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is your room, your space, but even if it wasn’t-” He paused, leaning back and brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Kimber, look at me.”

She did, and his earnest expression left no room to doubt his next words. It barely left room for breathing.

“ ‘M not here to make you feel uncomfortable or scared. I’m here because you want me to be. The second that stops, the second I make you feel something you don’t want, that’s it. Period. Does that work for you?”

His eyes, so plaintive and weathered in that moment, cut right to her heart. Never in her life had Kimber felt so safe, so protected, and so very sad. She couldn’t think of any words that lived up to the magnitude of what Dean had just said, so she simply squeezed him tighter, pressing her face against the side of his neck. 

“Can you stay?” she asked. She knew he had obligations, probably needed to get back to his brother or at least check in with his dad. She felt terribly selfish in her warm, safe house with her parents right down the hall. Still, she asked. 

“Yeah, I can stay for a while.” His smile, soft and open, laid her doubts to rest. They settled onto the bed, fumbling a little awkwardly to find a position they both liked. There was some bumping, mumbled apologies, until they finally sorted out a comfortable twist of limbs that didn’t set her heart beating out of her ribs or threaten to cut off blood flow to anything important. 

She relaxed by increments, her cheek resting on his collarbone. He hugged her close with his left arm, his right hand combing slowly through her hair over and over. The silence settled around them like a second blanket, soothing and heavy.

“What do you want to do when you finish school, Kimber? College?”

“Probably,” she murmured. “I don’t know specifically, but I like research.”

He snorted, and she poked him in the side.

“Shut up, you jerk, I do. And I like sharing the information. I like helping people. I don’t really want to be a teacher, but maybe I can find something where I can do all of that.”

Dean resumed combing her hair, having paused when she poked him, and they settled a little more closely together.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

She blinked slowly, sleep pulling at her eyelids. Her thoughts spun out languidly, losing their urgency as his warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her pajamas. 

“How about you?”

His answer came quickly, rehearsed and without thought. “Join the family business. Dad’s been training me for years. Don’t have a lotta choice, but I know I’ll be good at it. Was raised for it.”

Her fingers crept up, her eyes staying closed for longer and longer periods between blinks. She slid her thumb over his chin, just brushing the line of his bottom lip before sliding slowly up his jaw. 

His words weren’t emotionless, but they were automatic. There was so much he never said, and she hated to push him, afraid he would just leave or shut down, but…

“But what do you want?” She persisted, drowsiness interfering with her usual restraint. “Who do you want to be?”

He was silent for so long, she nearly gave in to fatigue. She drifted on the edge of unconsciousness, fingers stroking through the silky strands of hair behind his ears. She felt his face turn, his lips press against her wrist.

“I want...this,” he said. Even half-asleep, she couldn’t mistake the raw longing behind his words. “I want...I want to work a boring, regular job and come home to someone who missed me all day as much as I missed her. I want my kids to cannonball into my legs so hard they knock me over. I want…”

His words choked off, and she stilled her fingers against his cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“I want a house. No...I...when I was little, Dad would come home, and he would just...sweep Mom up sometimes, swing her around, when they weren’t fighting. Even when they were, he’d do it sometimes anyway just to get her to laugh.”

She felt his face shift beneath her hand, but his smile didn’t feel quite right, and she moved closer. His arm tightened around her back, and he smoothed the palm of his free hand down to cup her jaw.

“I want a home. I want to be a dad, a husband. I want a family.”

She felt childish, shallow next to the depth of his simple declaration. Dean wanted what she had, what she took for granted every day of her life. This was the first time he’d spoken of his mother, and though curiosity burned hot inside her, she didn’t dare ask further questions, afraid she’d break the spell of the moment.

Dean’s voice dropped until she could feel it more than hear it, his lips pressing softly against her forehead.

“I want to come home and hold someone until I fall asleep every night. I want to wake up to her and know that my whole day, every day, is gonna be just that, all over again.”

She lifted her face to his then, and in the darkness of her bedroom she could only just make out the barest lines of his features. Their noses brushed, his hand gently pulling at the back of her head, and their lips met. His cheek was damp under her fingertips, and her heart clenched. 

She pulled his head down, brushing her lips over the tears trickling down his cheekbones more by feel than by sight. Both his arms came around her then, pulling her against his chest as he buried his face in his hair. They breathed together, memorizing each others’ scents, heartbeats, rhythms as the night crept by. 

The moment didn’t pass so much as gradually relax until Kimber felt him shift beneath her, smoothly sliding her off his chest and down to the pillows. He kissed her temple, and her face automatically turned to his, chasing his lips. She felt him chuckle against her mouth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I gotta go. Need to check on Sammy, make sure he got dinner, did his homework, all that mess. I’ll see you tomorrow. Walk you to school?”

She nodded, humming her agreement even as she blindly reached for him. Something soft brushed against her fingers, and she automatically pulled it down, cuddling against the fabric. 

“Hold onto that for me. I’ll get it back from you sometime.” She felt a kiss press to her forehead, and then the click of her door closing. She breathed in, Dean’s scent surrounding her as she slipped under again, his button-up shirt pillowed under her cheek and tangled in her fingers. 

…

Chapter 5

[brideofcthulhu10]

Could you do a reaction where the lost boys are hanging out with their S/O at their house. It’s 3 am and s/o falls asleep. They hear a crash down stares so the boy investigates, his face all vamped out. They find the s/o younger sibling in the kitchen who is around 4 yrs old with their hand in the cookie jar. The sibling sees them with their fangs and runs over to them yelling “Kitty”! The next night their s/o tells them they are tired because their younger sibling Made them look for a cat.

Okie doke, super specific but I think I did a damn dandy job on it if I do say so myself lol. Well, I hope you enjoy it!

The Bats Being Cats

Lost Boys × fem!S/O fluff with little brother

David 

It was a rare occurence when David slept outside of the hotel, but with the numerous break ins he didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone. You insisted you weren't alone! 

"Having a stray neighborhood cat you feed doesn't count as protection," he retorts, arms crossed. 

"No that's not what I mean-"

"-Just let me keep any eye on you, kitten. Please?"

Being asked please by David just made your heart ache. Pleasantries were partially limited as it was but David was not one for saying please. You sighed, taking his hand in yours. "Fine, but please don't kill anybody. My parents would be pissed if someone got blood on the carpets."

All had been going pretty well, you managed to cook him up a home made meal for once having to repeatedly remind yourself absolutely no garlic, and after a slashers marathon on TV you were ready for bed. It was only 2 am! David was far from tired, but at your behest he obliged under protest. Being the nocturnal vamp he was, he just laid beside you while you slept enjoying the peace and quiet. Beds weren't exactly his forte so it didn't make him any less awake. Too squishy. The loud banging coming from the kitchen didn't exactly serenade him into slumber. 

An intruder huh? Well, you did say not to kill them… but you never said anything about mmaiming. Besides, he had to skip a blood meal to be here, might as well have some fast food while you were off in dreamland. David gently scooted himself off the bed as best he could without disturbing you and pulled the blankets over. Watching you burrow against the pillow made him smile softly, pushing your hair out of your face. Slowly he leaned in for a tender kiss, after all he wasn't in a hurry. "Sleep tight kitten, I'll be right back."

Carefully he slunk down the stairs with ease. Sure enough a stream of light trailed off from the dining room. The closer he got the more he continued to hear rattling within the kitchen. Drawers slowly rumbling as the were slid open, the cabinets squeaking, the… chairs being scraped across the floor? 

Okay so they were a very short burglar, whatever. Turning the corner with fangs ready to tear into whatever pitiful mortal thought it wise to enter his mate's home- who the hell is that?

Rather than a short man dressed in all black, he had come to find a small boy sitting on the counter in a red race car t-shirt with matching race track print shorts elbow deep in a dog-shaped jar labeled "COOKIES". Currently the tiny pastry thief was smeared with chocolate chips and crumbs, half a cookie sticking out of his mouth. There was such a heavy awkward silence and they both just stared at each other until the boy finally gasped. "Wow you're a big kitty!"

"Ki-?" Immediately David became flustered as the little one scrambled off his kitchen chair ladder and HUGGED HIM. David immediately scrunched his body together as if it could make him smaller. He hardly hugged anyone other than you, the sensation was almost so foreign he nearly rejected the crumb coated tyke who was smearing chocolate on his jacket. Grrrreat. 

"Uh.. Yeah sure, kitty, let's go with that," he quickly dismissed the kid, awkwardly patting his head. "Kitty says off to be or I'll tell-"

"You can't tell Y/N! She'll tell mummy when they can't back!"

Mummy? Go figure you forget to mention you had a little brother! "Well then we better go to bed then, huh? Otherwise we'll both get in trouble. See, your sister doesn't want me getting lost around the house showing off my teeth. So we gotta keep that a secret, got it?"

The boy quickly nodded, pretending to zip his lips shut. Watching David put the cookies higher that the chair could help him reach. With cheeks puffed up he stomped away, whining under his breath that the mean kitty was no fun. David rolled his eyes, sinking away his fangs back into his mouth. With dawn approaching he debated his options, quickly scribbling down a "sleeping in here, do not open" to tape on your closet, using a wadded up towel to seal up any cracks. Not ideal, but better than being burnt to a crisp. Once the sun went down again, he came out to see you utterly disheveled. How were you tired you slept half the night, if anything he should be tired! Well apparently your little brother B/N insisted he found a giant, bossy kitty cat "with a dumb hair cut" in the house and demanded you spent all day helping him find it. David hadn't the heart to tell you, although the chair cut line made him tempted to scare the little turd. Maybe not, so he just shrugged it off suggesting perhaps the kid was sleepwalking.

Dwayne

Well Dwayne had a fair share of handling children before, but this was ridiculous. It seemed like a cute little suggestion, spending the night at your house. He wouldn't exactly get much sleep. Still, he didn't mind cuddling with you in your bed, get the opportunity to maybe look around your room and get some better insight about who you were before he met you. Besides, any opportunity to sleep in a real bed again that wasnt caked in cobwebs was a golden opportunity in his eyes. 

You certainly were a trooper, you insisted on staying up as late as you possibly could. After ordering from a pizza shop he opted just to devour the barbecue wings while you nibbled down on classic pepperoni. You insisted there was no garlic, but he wasn't going to risk anything spoiling tonight. When his hunger couldn't be satiated you offered him the uncooked beef shoulder your mom was saving for dinner next week. It was disgusting, wringing it out like a sweaty sock, watching your juice pitcher fill up with red juices. When you struggled to squeeze out  anything else, Dwayne straight up dug his teeth into the partially dried hunk of meat until it started to turn grey. The entire process was gruesome. You couldn't help make a face, although you were still glad he had some sort of blood. 

"What's animal blood like anyway? I mean, usually you drink human right? Is animal like… vampiric vegetarianism?"

Dwayne pondered the inquiry, wiping the red from around his mouth. "I guess the best way I can describe it, it's like junk food in a way," he explained, polishing off the last bit and smearing his mouth on his jacket sleeve. "It fills you up okay, but not as well as human blood. Eventually it won't be able curb the hunger for very much longer."

"Hm. So it's like having potato chips for dinner," you asked, going to rinse out the jug before he had the chance to lick up the remainder. 

"Pretty much."

After dinner, you settled on the couch watching the IT miniseries on tv, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Half way through the three hour series you had dozed off, head lightly nuzzled beneath his arm into his chest. Gently he swept you up into his arms, carrying you down the hallway into your room. Just as he laid you down he heard a bunch of clanking around in the kitchen. Looking back at you he pushed your hair out of your face, stealing a gentle kiss. "Don't worry princess, I'll handle this one," he whispered against your lips. Guess he was going to get that human blood after all. With fangs bared he swept through the hallways with ease, slinking into the dark kitchen ready to strike, and then the lights flipped on. Standing beside the fridge was a young child, couldn't be more than 4 or five sitting on the floor with a handful of pinwheel cookies. Literally caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the bits eyes turned to saucers. "KITTY CAT!" 

Dwayne flinched when the crumbly toddler hugged his waist. Alright so you had a brother. That was new. Carefully he lifted up the toddler, balancing on his hip like he had done with Laddie. "Well hi. I wasn't expecting a cookie thief tonight."

"Are you Y/N's kitty? You're really big!"

"No, I'm a big ol' panther. I usually eat all the bad kids who stay up past their bedtime," he teased with a fanged grin. "Know any?"

The boy rapidly shook his head. "Nope! Uh uh! I was uh, sleepy walkin'!" 

"Oh well, then I guess we should get you back to bed then, huh?"

Laddie used to pull the same thing all the time. They always put him to bed around 4:40 am, sometimes he could push it to almost 5, but then Dwayne would catch him sneaking around the tunnels at 6 am. Except with Laddie he would just hang upside down with him or go back to Star. He couldn't exactly do that with a four year old human. Instead he shuffled his boots through scattered toys, kicking them out of the way as he tucked the little boy in bed. Out like a light. Boy he was good. Softly he tip toes back into your room and laid beside you until the sun started coming up. He snuck into your parents room with their dark, heavy curtains drawn and wedged himself into their walk in closet just to be safe. Thank god your dad hates sunlight too. The entire day time he could hear your little brother shouting "Kitty?! Mr. Kitty?!"

Cue your groans as you lazily followed him, shooing the boy away from where Dwayne was currently sleeping.

"B/N, you were probably just sleeping after you ate all the freakin' cookies and dreamt there was some big dumb cat."

"No no no, honest Y/N, I saw him, I did I did! We jus' gotta keep lookin'!"

Dwayne chuckled, he'd have to apologize to you once the sun came up.

Paul

Yes! A sleep over at Y/N's place! Finally! He never got to go over there because your parents were such fuddy duddy same-old! Now with them gone for a weekend trip to San Diego, he had you all to himself! Oh he was so giddy when he jumped through your doorway. Wow. Fancy! Two stories, a big ol' tv in the living room with one giant wrap-around couch?! Is that the new Sega system?! There's a freaking pool in the backyard! He's just geeking out!

"Dude, babe, why didn't you tell me your parents are loaded," he exclaimed, jumping over the edge of the couch onto the cushions. 

"I mean the stuff is nice I guess," you shrugged, sitting next to him. "Honestly I just love being with you guys in the hotel. I hadn't really thought about it."

Paul raised his brow. "So, you're gonna give all this up?"

"Well, eventually whenever I decide I want you to turn me." 

Cuuute. Paul just snickered, nibbling on your neck. After that, you were up almost all night. Getting high in your bedroom, concocting bizarre stoner munchies down in the kitchen, video game competitions on the giant television, making out when you were supposed to be watching a scary movie… making out when you guys are skinny dipping in the pool… whole lot of heavy petting. Finally you had tuckered out in his arms, burrowed beside him with his jacket draped over you. Oh god you were so adorable. It was only 3:45 in the morning, so he had a few hours before the sun came up. 

"Okay sleepyhead," Paul huffed, lifting you up in his arms ", bedtime!"

You groaned some half mumbled whine about not being tired which only made him chuckle. "Shhh, chill out kitten. Time to crash. I'll still be here tomorrow night, mkay?"

It was hard for him to put you down. Not that he didn't want to- you wouldn't let go! You kept clinging to his shirt and whining until he had flopped on the bed with you. "Can't get enough of me, huh baby? Eh, I can't blame ya." 

You mumbled something along the lines of "shut up" then went back to sleep. Still adorable. Well he got cozy, gently rolling you off of him once he was sure you were asleep. That's when a loud crash came from the kitchen. A break in? 

Paul sat up- and was immediately yanked back down! "Fuck meee," he groaned, looking over at you. Really?! You were holding his HAIR?? "Ugh, babe you suck."

In a frenzy he managed to untangle the chunk of his blonde hair caught in your vice grip. Carefully he peeked around the corner of the hallway. It couldn't be your parents, he would have been able to hear their car perfectly. No this was down in the kitchen. 

Raccoon, burglar, hobo squatters, whatever he was, it was a little past midnught but he could still go for a snack. 

There was a light on in the kitchen just barely illuminating the living room adjacent to it, Paul could see some sort of shadow shifting around, clinking sounds of glass were, the fridge opening. He tore around the corner, fangs ready to dig into his newest treat. Apparently, someone else was craving a snack. 

There was a breakfast bar hanging off the counter top by the sink in the center of your kitchen, and happily wedged in a tall bar stool was a mop top kid sporting batman pajamas with a big ol' glass of milk and the jar of cookies with the lid off. 

"Whoa!"

"Oh! Shit- uh, hey kiddo," Paul stuttered.

"Shit," the kid questioned, making Paul choke. Crap! 

"Oh crap-! I mean fuc-! I mean-," he smacked his forehead in frustration just so he'd shut the hell up, plunking his butt in the stool trying to process what to say. 

The boy was still staring at him, then with a firm hand, pointed right at him. "You're a really tall cat!"

"Yeah? I like to this so." Paul chuckled, snatching a cookie from the jar, not even waiting to finish chewing before he asked him "What's your name kiddo?"

"B/N," he answered. "You're not gonna tell me sister right? I saw you wrestling with here earlier. Are you like a lion or something?"

Again, Paul nearly choked on his cookie, knocking back the milk. Fuuuuck that kid saw you guys on the couch. "Uh, yeah! You're sister is trying to be a lion tamer, so I'm helping her!" Leaning his cheek on his hand he gave him a sneaky smile. "And I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me and your sister. Your mommy and daddy wouldn't be real happy if she let a big ol' lion in."

B/N nodded firmly as if he was given the most intense secret mission of his short life. Paul just spent a few minutes with the oddball talking about video games, the best cartoons on nowadays, showing him how to stick up some devil horns and head bang. Kid was a natural! Tongue out and everything! With snack time over he shooed the boy back to bed, tucking him in awkwardly.

"Good night Mr. Lion. You're awesome," he yawned, snuggling into bed. Paul felt a twinge of guilt, knowing one day he'd have to take this kid's big sister away… maybe they'd wait just a little longer. Wedged happily inside Y/N's closet atop a pile of her unmentionables with plenty of clothes and some duct tape courtesy of said lovely babe, he couldn't help but hear the boy burst in with excitement, jumping on her bed. 

"Ugh, B/N it's like 9 am, what is it," you groaned from your bed, trying to roll back over under a pile of comforters. 

"You wouldn't believe it! I hung out with a lion last night! He was huuuuge!"

"Yeah? I met he smelled like kitty litter and weed," you half mumbled. 

Oi!

"Nuh uh! Don't you remember? He was the one you were wrestling with in the jacuzzi!"

You sat up straight, your face bright red. "You little twerp, you supposed to have been in bed by then!"

Paul had to stifle a laugh, rolling over. He'd explain it later. After all, lions weren't morning cats.

Marko

When you mentioned your parents flying to Florida to take care of your granny, he couldn't resist the urge to spend the night with you. At first you seemed opposed to the idea. You weren't supposed to have guests over! If your parents caught you home with a boy of all people, they'd kill you then dance on your grave. 

"Pretty please baby doll," he'd hugged, nuzzling his nose into your neck. He wiggled his arms around your neck, teasing beneath your ear with sweet kisses until you practically melted. "I'll be good. Honest, baby girl. No one else is gonna see me, it's not like you'll get caught."

"Well…," you'd hesitate. Well, of course all it took was those bonnie blue eyes, Marko pouting out his bottom lip. "Okay fine, but only if you don't cause any trouble."

"When do I ever?"

You were sure to stock up on snacks for the night. Chips, soda, three types of gummies. You two were the dynamic duo of sweet tooths, if it weren't for his hyper healing he was sure his fangs would've rot out by now. 

 But you were determined. Tonight had to be a perfect sleepover for you and your boyfriend. Later in the afternoon you managed to sneak into the blood drive going on at the beach and steal a cooler of AB negative. After all, it was a special night.

 In regards to the sun, you had made up the guest room with heavy curtains tightly taped to the wall to prevent any light. You even made sure the closet was cleared if that wasn't enough. 

You were so excited once he arrived, practically jumping into his arms. Marko gushed over how cute your room was. Posters, plushies, a plethora of reading material along a wall-height bookshelf, although once he spotted your bed there wasn't much talking left over. When you two were all done having a good ol' time doing the Devil's tango, you insisted on him having a home cooked meal for once. 

"Don't you ever get tired of greasy, soggy chow mein," you ask, sauteing a pan of teriyaki soaked beef. 

"It is not soggy," Marko insisted, feigning offense. 

"You didn't say it wasn't greasy though."

After you two fattened up on a sundae making contest, you crashed on the couch with him, laying comfortably on top wiggled tightly in his arms. Even Marko grew drowsy slurping on the end of a blood pack. You were just so sweet and soft, he couldn't resist the allure of the perfect cuddle partner. Eyes were drooping, almost dozing off.

The sound of clinking glass in the kitchen jolted him awake. You two were supposed to be alone, or so he thought. 

It was nearly impossible to wiggle out from underneath you. When he began to move you verbally whined, holding onto him. "Shhh she it's okay baby girl. I'll be right back," he cooed, lifting you up then laying you back down on the couch. Draping his leather jacket over you, his heart nearly kickstarted again when you snuggled up against it with a weary smile. "Oh you're gonna bring me back to life just to kill me, babe."

Again that loud thump in the kitchen drew his attention. Someone must've either been real stupid or had some twisted death wish to break into your house. With teeth bared he stepped in, swinging the door open. 

Oh! At first he thought maybe it was a raccoon, but following the trail of candy wrappers led him right to the culprit. A guilty six year old covered in chocolate. 

"Well, hey there," Marko chimed, crouching down to look at him. "Where'd you come from?"

"My room," the smart mouth retorted, trying to hide the candy behind him. "Are you some sort of cheetah?"

Marko burst out laughing, the light glinting off his set of fangs. "Heck yeah I am. And who are you?"

"I'm B/N," he mumbled. "Is that why you and my sister were having a roaring contest earlier?"

It was hard not to laugh at that, biting on his bottom lip. "Yeah, but you gotta keep it a secret, okay? It's official Cheetah business, I'm sure you understand."

B/N was a tricky one, Marko could definitely see the family resemblance once he asked

"What do I get if I'm quiet?"

Tricky little bugger wasn't he? That smirk was so familiar it was almost weird. Kudos to this kid for playing the hustle. Bad judge of character though. Marko leaned close and grinned, baring his fangs again. "Well, for one I won't eat you."

The boy gasped, but instead of crying he just laughed. "Okay, deal. Throw in a candy bar?"

"Hm.." Marko tilted his head still squatting in a frog position with his hands resting on his knees. "Well I can't argue with that. You got a deal, kiddo."

Escorting the boy back to his room, Marko crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "You're pretty smart, kiddo."

"Yeah, Y/N always say never get played for a sucker," he sighed between yawns. Typical. He was nearly hustled by a 6 year old. Waltzing back to you he lifted you up still wrapped in his jacket and laid you in your room. If you had been alone he probably would've kept you in the guest room with him. But somebody had to watch the little punk. So wearily he slunk into the quiet room, locking the door for extra measure so no nosey kids came bursting in. He hadn't heard much while he was sleeping that day, but when he came our again you were frazzled after putting your brother to bed around 7pm. Apparently he insisted there was a talking cheetah in the house with a bad attitude who wanted to eat him. "Nah," Marko insisted, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. "I hear punk kids are too tough and chewy for cheetahs to eat."

[stayforya]

TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE | HWANG HYUNJIN

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: to all the boys i’ve loved before!au

words: 1.8k

summary: your letters are your most secret possesions. you write them when you have a crush so intense you don’t know what else to do.

a/n: this is a series and you can find the others here. we wanted to do this for a looong time and it’s finally here :) hope you enjoy <3

there are some days you have no time to anything else but study

and these are the days you can’t even stop to chat with anyone or even check the weather

you just leave home in a hurry

on that specific day, the sky was so, so blue

and the sun shining so bright

you didn’t even bother to check if it would rain later

you had a lot of things to do the whole day

classes, presentations, researches

so you didn’t take any umbrella or coat with you

because you were sure you wouldn’t need

and when you finished everything, at 5pm, you just had to come back to your dorm and everything would be fine

so you went out and ran your errands for that day

being busy made your mind focus only on studying

and it was good, since you worked very hard to be there

but the bad part is that sometimes you just didn’t have time to do other stuff

to go out sometimes

to watch the soccer team games, as your friends always invited you to

it was the competitions season, so almost every weekend there was a game and they liked to attend all of them

actually most of people went to cheer for the team

but you didn’t have interest or time, to be honest

after your busiest days, you’d definitely accept the invitation

not now

anyways, you didn’t stop that day

just for lunch, because you needed to eat well to hang on

while eating you were still studying for the next presentation

thankfully no calls, no conversations, no distractions happened

and you finished your day exhausted

every letter of this word

e x h a u s t e d

it felt like your body would collapse at any moment because your mind was so tired

you would sleep very early that night, definitely

the good part was that the next day was saturday and you would be able to relax a little bit

maybe watch your favourite series

eat something delicious

just the thought of it made you smile

at 5pm there weren’t a lot of people on the building where you had your classes

since it was friday, people probably finished their stuff earlier to go home as fast as possible

the front door opened and you breathed the fresh air

the sun was setting but you felt a cold breeze out of nowhere

when you looked to your left, the clouds were so heavy

you knew a storm was about to start

calculating the minutes you’d definitely get home fully wet because of the rain

and you didn’t have an umbrella or a coat

you felt shivers because of the weather change

ok, you just had to run

in 3, 2, 1...

“y/n!”

behind you, someone you knew very well

a colleague you had some classes with

“you forgot your test”, she was swinging the paper in the air for you to see it

“omg I did!”, you slapped your own forehead going towards her, “thank you”

“I thought you’d need it this weekend so I ran to give it to you”

“thank you”, you hugged her

“are you going home?”

“yes, I’m actually going right now”

at the moment you finished your sentence

the rain started

the noise was huge because of the strength of the rain

“did you bring an umbrella?”

“I didn’t...”

“how are you going back home under this storm?”

well... you’d have to wait

“I’ll wait a bit”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could borrow you mine”

“no, girl, I’m fine! I’ll wait. your place is in the opposite direction”

“are you sure?”

you assured her you were fine and she ran under the rain, luckily covered with her umbrella

and you didn’t even have a coat to protect yourself a little bit

ok, think straight

would you survive running for a while under the rain?

you didn’t even think twice

you just started running because for some reason you thought you’d reach your dorm quickly if you just ran as if the world was ending

you were wrong, though

while running, a thunder scared you so badly you had to find somewhere to hide under and wait again

you ran to a roofed place in the center of the campus

it was a rounded space where people usually sat to chat or lunch together

it wasn’t spacious but under that roof the rain couldn’t reach you

then you noticed

your hair was so wet

and your shirt too, but not as much as the hair

you didn’t use your bag to protect your hair, but to protect your shirt, because your hair would dry easier than the shirt

you tried to find something on your phone that didn’t need wifi, but there was almost nothing to do until the storm ended

so you decided to just wait

sitting there you could see everything around

then you heard someone coming from behind

you turned to look who it was

and suddenly a guy was running to where you were

you frowned

he was wearing shorts and football boots, but a huge hoodie protected his upper body from the raindrops

he took off the hood and you saw his face

“sorry”, he said, “the rain...”

you knew him

maybe everyone knew him

he was hwang hyunjin from the soccer team

you didn’t know a lot about him, but he was one of the main players

he was very popular too

not just because he was a soccer player, but because he was handsome

when you saw his face, his hair longer than the last time you saw him, you knew why every single person would fall head over heels

“it’s strong”, you said, not knowing how to properly answer so the mood wouldn’t be awkward

he sat far but not so far

the place wasn’t big, you had to share the part where the crazy windy rain wouldn’t reach the two of you

“how long have you been here?”

“a few minutes”

out of the corner of your eye you saw him nodding

“did you forget your umbrella too?”, you didn’t mean to keep the conversation going on but what else to do? you two had to chat, it’s like a rule when two people are together in an weird situation

“I did”, he giggled, “I showered after the training and when I headed out, the rain had started”

“not our lucky day”, you said

“at least I had this hoodie. your hair is all wet...”

he looked at you, worried

not really worried because you were a stranger to him

but maybe? like, the way his expressions changed would mean ‘worry’ in a face expression study

or pity???

“ah, this?”, you touched your hair, “it’s almost dry”, you lied

when you noticed, he was already taking off the hoodie

“here”, he handed it to you

his hair was messy after that but he managed to fix it just with one hand

“what? no! I’m fine, thanks”

“come on, your shirt is wet too. you must be cold”

“what about you?”

“this one will do the job”, he pointed at the shirt he was wearing under the hoodie

you accepted it because there wasn’t much to be done

you were cold indeed

your hair wasn’t dry

and the rain didn’t show any signs of stopping any time soon

you put it on

it was so warm it felt like a hug

“much better”, he smiled and looked somewhere else

he was known for being handsome but you didn’t know he was such a nice person

not that you expected him to be a bad one, but at his position he could brag like other guys from his team did

and he didn’t

he was nice

“what if the rain never stops?”, he wondered

you chuckled

“don’t even say that”

“we could see what happens here at night. maybe aliens come to visit, maybe we can see shooting stars. what if we discover a mystery?”

he was definitely trying to make you laugh again

“aliens would take us with them if they saw us here”

“nah, I don’t think they are interested in us”

“why?”, you sounded curious

“I don’t know, I feel like they actually hate humans”

“yeah, humans aren’t that lovable”

he agreed

it was getting darker already but the lights around the campus turned on

the rain was still pouring

not so strong

you could head home now, just a few minutes running and you’d arrive

but the conversation with hyunjin was so interesting

you didn’t notice you had to take the chance to go home before the storm started again

you talked about all the possible events that happen while we sleep at night

just funny ideas you didn’t share with other people often

you didn’t even get to think about those stuff

you two didn’t talk about yourselves

just about any other thing

you wouldn’t ask his name if you didn’t know already, because you two didn’t even think about it

he didn’t ask yours too

you looked at the hour on your phone

“I have to go”

“me too”, he stood up

“here”, you started to take off the hoodie

“no no no no, take it”

“huh?”

“you can give it to me later”

“we may never see each other again”

“the campus isn’t that big”, he laughed, “but it’s yours. take it as invitation to attend tomorrow’s game”

“thank you”, you said, “but don’t expect me to go”

“oh”, he pretended to be feel hurt, placing his right hand on his chest

you smiled and he smiled back, a little dimple appearing on his cheek

you looked away so he wouldn’t notice the silly smile you had on after seeing that

hyunjin walked to his place, you walked to yours

inside his hoodie

his warm hoodie

you put your hands in the pockets and ran again when you felt the raindrops

the next day, you went to the soccer game

there were so many people

you weren’t expecting to see him or talk to him

just to have fun with your friends

but for a moment he looked at you and smiled

it was a brief moment

and it made you smile back

hwang hyunjin,

now I understand why you’re so loved – you’re fun to be with, and this is one of the best qualities someone can have. I didn’t expect a sudden storm would lead me to the same place as you, nor that we would have so much to talk about. it was definitely one of the things that made me have good feelings towards you. we were strangers, you still don’t know my name and we don’t see each other often, even in the same campus, but as strangers we talked as if our minds connected. and they did, I guess. I still have your hoodie, in case you don’t know. it doesn’t smell like you anymore, but it’s not the smell that reminds me of you. the hoodie itself brings back the memories of that evening, when the rain was just the background of our meeting.

love,

y/n

[imagine-what-would-happen]

A Little Bit of Grey (Part 2)

Hey guys! So part one has started to get a bit of love and I’m just so excited to continue this story so I decided to continue writing! I really hope you guys enjoy the story as much as I do! Also this part is basically half the length that the first one was but due to it being May the 4th, I’m deciding on posting two parts today, hopefully the second will be longer. So here goes nothing! P.s I watched The Rise of Skywalker tonight for the first time and I’m crying as I’m writing this. Send help.

Link to Part 1

Link to Part 3

Link to Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

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It was hard to keep track of time while in space... not that Kylo had much experience of living on one planet for long enough to think about the time in which the sun or suns rose and set. That was probably one thing he disliked most about the position he was in... not only being on the dark side but it was the position of being Han Solo and Leia Organa’s only heir... their son. The constant travelling between planets due to his mother’s leadership in the resistance, his father’s constant journey through space with Chewie. He would never admit it but one of his favourite memories was being hugged by Chewie as a child when his father was too busy making some deal.

Chewie wasn’t a father figure in the slightest... but he was a friend. He was the one who was there when Kylo... well when Ben needed someone to hold onto. Kylo was different... he did not need someone to hold his hand, he held himself together. He could manage more than perfectly well on his own. He didn’t need anyone; not like anyone would want to be there for him anyway.

Kylo Ren hadn’t seen the wild girl in what must have been a few days at least. It was hard after all to keep track with no sun in sight. He convinced himself that after what happened in her cell, she would be glad to be rid of him permanently, but he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t leave his mind.

As Kylo continued his practice run through on his trial course, he could tell that he wasn’t functioning at full capacity. His swift movements were near clunky. His breathing ragged instead of timed. He saw her scared eyes everywhere as lasers shot at him, he heard her scream from the cell with every cry that his lightsaber made. His lack of focus was made obvious as he got wounded on his leg in two different spots, falling to the ground. He Force slammed the shooting droid into the wall, making it smash into several pieces in which it could not return from.

The First Order believed that if you did not get severely hurt while training, then you weren’t learning anything, thus the lasers are set to full effect, there was no option for stun. Kylo had several marks across his body from his first few times training on this ship, he promised himself he would never get another, that he was better than some dumb droid with a blaster.

He let his dark locks fall in front of his face as he bowed his leg onto his knee, his wounded leg completely laid down. He was tired of losing, of never being good enough. He especially hated asking for help, though he knew better than trying to walk on the wounded leg, and he was not about to hop all the way to his chambers. He looked over to the window that led to the corridor as a stormtrooper was passing by, he Force controlled him into going to get him whatever could suffice as a crutch. He knew he would look weak in front of everyone else, but he had no choice. Unless... unless he Force controlled his leg to be able to walk without a limp. He had no idea if that would contribute to permanent damage but he wasn’t about to wait on the floor.

He Force controlled himself up, beginning to put weight onto the damaged leg, he winced; a bolt of pain ran up his spine. This was going to be exhausting. Slowly but surely he took one step at a time using the Force for his leg, he made it to the door. This is when it was going to matter. He took a deep breath in and began walking down the illuminated and polished hallway. He tried not to shiver as he felt beads of sweat rolling down his back, licking his dried lips, he always forgot to bring water, he shook his head and nearly crumbled to the floor. He gasped, he could not lose focus.

Leg... Walk... Leg... Walk... This was all he repeated in his mind, his mantra all the way to his room where he could finally be freed from the pressures of being Kylo Ren. Being the most frightening person aboard.

His room’s door slid open and was quickly shut behind him, he finally began hopping, he was alone, he didn’t care. He was utterly exhausted. Being wounded, and trying to use the Force for over ten minutes straight was terrible. Kylo collapsed onto his abnormally huge bed, he hated it here.

This was his last thought before sleep overcame him, drifting him away from everything he knew... everything he despised.

Screaming, he could not get away from it. It surrounded him, obliterating him and reviving him with a scared gasp of his own breath. He was surrounded by darkness, all he wanted was to see something, see someone. He grasped for anything around him but it was all empty... empty darkness. It was his worst fear. He truly was alone now. He tried to reach for his lightsaber but it was nowhere near, it was gone. He reached down into his boot for his blade, it was always there. No one knew of it... no one, except her. She stepped out of the shadows holding his blade. He nearly sighed in relief to see her, her hand out stretched for him to take his blade. He looked into her eyes, as he tried to reach for it, she did a sweeping motion, holding the blade tight and slicing right across his already permanent scar across his face. Another slice across his upper arm. He hissed and retreated a few steps. He rose his hand to take control of her but the Force wasn’t with him, he truly was alone. He couldn’t see the girl anymore, but then a heat rose from the bottom of his spine, slicing all the way up, he could feel a piece of his locks becoming cut from the motion.

He bolted up, awake finally, the remanent of his scream leaving his lips, his dried lips. He bit them as he felt the pain from his leg finally reach him. He flipped on the light switch next to his bed. With a low moan, they all flickered on, he could see that he had violently kicked all his blankets off his bed, at some point he must have thrown his pillow across the room. He could feel both the dried sweat on himself and the newly formed from the nightmare.

He ran his fingers across his face, following the trail of the scar from bottom to top, he had to get the girl off his mind. If staying away from her meant this for him, he had to go see her immediately. He slowly pressed himself off his mattress, a mixture of hopping and limping as he made his way to the shower to clear his mind of the horrors that terrorized him.

He breathed in the steam around him, it both calmed him and put him on his toes. The steam felt good on his skin, he could nearly relish in all the heat, but yet he always feared that there was something or someone just passed the fog that he could not see, whatever it was, it was after him. He shook the ideas away. Get cleaned up, find a way to get to the girl without limping in front of the whole First Order.

Kylo could not last in the unease much longer, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around himself he held himself on anything available as he maneuvered across his room to his radio. He knew how he was going to see her.

The commander wanted to pace, he needed to pace, he was not sure of what he was doing. In truth, he was never sure of anything he did, but he did it either through the pressures of his own rage and emotions, or pressures from Snoke. There was no time for the Kylo Ren to second guess or even doubt himself. He sat on his desk’s chair, without realizing it, he had slowly begun spinning himself around as he got lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t until he heard a knock at his door that his breath got caught on its way out.

“Com- eherm... come in” he tried to state in a commanding tone but he sounded so off, he rolled his eyes at himself. He was getting worse by the day.

His chamber doors hissed open and there stood, with furrowed brows and arms crossed, the girl. The stormtrooper practically threw her into the room. “Commander, shall I stay to make sure the scum doesn’t get out of line?”

“No need, you’re relieved of your duties here,” Kylo stated, barely batting an eye at the uniformed man. The girl did not stand awkwardly in his room, she stood with confidence. The same look of confidence that stated that she would kill him. He was glad, at least he thought so, he wasn’t quite sure why he liked her in that state. Perhaps it would make her keep her distance, maybe it would make him hate her, he needed something.

The doors hissed one last time as the stormtrooper exited the chambers.

Kylo sat more upright and placed his arms on either armrest. He tilted his head to the girl. He wanted to offer her to sit, it was near instinct, but he figured he should go against it. He had still yet to figure out her name or how she even got aboard his home, he knew absolutely nothing about her except for her opinion about the rebellion, which was a strange one due to not seeming to favour the dark side either. “Why are you here?” he began.

Her eyes became pointed at him, shifting her weight to one leg, “You ordered your goon to bring me here, didn’t you? I can’t believe I let you out. This is such an upgrade from the cell.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing and looking away.

Seriously? We were back to this? Kylo began to push himself up to stand but then second-guessed himself. He shouldn’t show that he was weak, she would definitely try to kill him then. He took a deep breath, “I don’t care what you think, I asked you a question. You can either help yourself and answer me or I could pull through on the threat I made to you back in the cell. I can get whatever I want.” His eyes locked on hers. He didn’t mean a word of it. He didn’t want to Force her into doing anything. In the cell he did not mean it as a threat, he meant it as reassurance. He didn’t want her to be scared of him, he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to use the Force on her with how drained he was.

She searched his eyes, perhaps she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. One thing Kylo had always been good at was his bluffing face, he did have an uncontrollable rage within him, but he had an even more stubborn side, he would not break.

Two words were all that were whispered in that room.

“Try me.”

[detectivecarlosreyes]

Academy Together, Friends Forever 2/10

Also on Ao3    

(Beginning) (Next Chapter)

Buck was on the last flight to Austin that same night after Bobby had allowed him to leave early, making him promise to keep him updated. By the time the plane touched down, it was the early hours of the morning.

He sends a quick text to Owen, letting him know he’s arrived and on his way to the hospital. While he waits for a response, he bounces his knee with nervous energy as his anxiety for TK grows with each passing minute.

Buck frowns down at his phone as the Uber pulls up to the hospital. Owen still hasn’t responded, but after looking at the time, he’s not surprised. Thanking the driver, Buck hikes his rucksack high on his shoulder and heads inside.  

Dusting off his rusty charm, Buck manages to sweet talk his way up to the TK’s room despite the fact that it was well after visiting hours. He thanks the nurse graciously with a smile and a light touch on the arm before pausing in the doorway and taking in the scene before him.

Owen was passed out with his head resting on the bed next to TK’s hand which he holds firmly in his own. Buck grimaces at the posture, he knows for a fact that Owen is going to wake up aching all over; something he learned the hard way waiting for Maddie and Chim to recover from their own ordeals.

Buck quietly sets his pack down out of the way against the wall and moves over to Owen’s sleeping form. Grabbing the folded blanket that had been placed on the side table, he opens it up and gently drapes it over him. Owen doesn’t even stir, indicating how completely exhausted he must already be waiting for his son to wake.

Which brings Buck’s attention to the man in question. He pulls up a chair to the other side of TK and passes a critical eye over his visible body.  Physically, you would barely even know that TK had been injured aside from the edge of gauze peeking out the top of his hospital gown.

Buck leans forward in his chair, resting his elbow on the bed and carefully takes TK’s free hand in his, being careful of the IV tube attached to the back of his hand. He bows his head touching his forehead to TK’s fingers and prays. He prays to the unforgiving universe to spare TK, just like it spared him so many times over in recent years.

Not releasing his hand, Buck settles back in his chair, tapping his finger in time with the heart rate monitor on his knee. He sits unmoving for the next several hours, keeping a silent vigil over his brother while the rest of the hospital continues to sleep.

** ** **

Owen wakes slowly to the quiet sounds of the hospital waking up for the day. He groans as his neck and back protest the position he subjected it to. Straightening up with a yawn, he feels the lightweight of the blanket fall from his shoulders. Frowning in confusion, he wonders where it came from, knowing for sure that it wasn’t there when he fell asleep.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he starts to notice the subtle changes that seemed to have appeared while he was sleeping; the half-empty plastic cup of water sitting on the nightstand, the chair on the other side of the bed is in a completely different position, the bag resting against the wall and TK’s other hand had moved to his stomach.

 The scuffed sound of boots behind him pulls him from his observations to reveal one rather tired-looking Buck. Owen watches him as his focus goes immediately to TK as he assesses any changes, before eventually noticing that Owen was awake.

“Hey, Owen. I got you some coffee, figured you might need it after sleeping in that chair.” Offering a half-smile, he passes Owen one of the two coffee cups in his hands which Owen accepts only to set it down on the table and pulling Buck in close for a warm hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He pulls back, running an evaluating look over Buck’s face, not liking what he’s seeing. “When did you get here?”

They move back to their chosen seats and sip at their coffee. “The flight landed just after midnight and then I came straight to the hospital.”

“And from the looks of it you’ve probably been awake this whole time, when was the last time you slept?” His concern clear in his voice.  

Buck scratches behind his ear in discomfort and looks away, knowing Owen was not going to like his answer. “I had a couple of hours at work which was maybe like nineteen hours ago, but if you’re talking a proper sleep, that would have been before my shift, making it around 30 hours or so.”

Owen's eyes widen in disbelief. “Thirty hours! Jeez Buck, how are you even functioning right now? You flew here after a 24-hour shift only to sit here and watch the two of us sleep. You should have woken me.”

Buck shrugs and shakes his head, “You looked exhausted. I wasn’t going to wake you, knowing that you probably haven’t slept much yourself while watching over him.”

Owen looks over at TK and then at Buck, taking him in completely and seeing his weary posture and bleary eyes. “Alright, let’s go.”

“What! Why?” Buck quietly exclaims.

He moves around the bed and picks up Buck’s pack. “You and I are going home.” 

“Owen, it’s alright, you don’t have to. I was just going to get a hotel room.”

Owen waves a dismissive hand at Buck’s words, “No way, no son of mine is going to stay in a hotel room when I have a perfectly good guest room he can stay in. You need sleep and I need a shower and breakfast, it’s a win-win situation here.”

Buck gestures to the sleeping form of TK, “What about TK? I don’t want him to be here alone, what if he wakes up and we’re not here?”

Owen chuckles, “His ‘boyfriend’ Carlos,” he says with air quotations, “said yesterday that he’d stop by before work.”

Seeing movement by the door, Owen smiles. “Speaking of which, perfect timing.”

Said man was hovering in the doorway until Owen beckons him inside, introducing the two of them. He watches as they shake hands, making a brief assessment of each other before smiling in greeting and he can’t help but shake his head at their protective posturing.

Glad that they seem to approve of each other, Owen gestures to Buck that they should head out while saying to Carlos that he’d be back in an hour or so. Buck smirks as they leave, happy to see that TK found someone much more worthy of his respect and TK’s affections than his ex.

Tagging: @seaofashes @buckleystrand @diazbuckleysworld @diazsbuckley @justsmilestuffhappens @confessions-of-a-shipperholic @spell-of-the-rain @novemberhush @sparksfly-buddie @bluebelle88 @adamngoodbuck @overtimeme

Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list 💖

[justanalto]

it’s q&a time!

tagged by the lovely @besidemethewholedamntime! 

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? light blue or red, depending on whether my hair is wet or dry

2. Name a food you never eat. there isn’t much I don’t eat, but if I had to choose, a very specific melon candy that just tastes nasty.

3. Are you typically too cold or too warm? too cold! I got too used to university heating and now I’m cold all the time

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? willing myself to start my friend’s profile so I can build up my portfolio before deciding to get on Tumblr. or i was scrolling through Tumblr. i’m not sure. 

5. What is your favorite candy bar? i’m pretty partial to a good kit kat bar, especially because they come in so many flavors! 

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? how do we define professional? because I’ve been to a baseball game, but i don’t know if we’d call college sports games ‘professional’. 

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? one of the lyrics i was harmonizing along to absentmindedly. couldn’t tell you which song it was, though...

8. What is your favorite ice cream? mint chocolate chip! 

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? tea! leftover from this morning and kind of cold unfortunately

10. Do you like your wallet? yes! i bought it at camden market when i was in London last year. it’s made completely of cork and i call it my adult wallet because i spent my college career wandering around with my wallet on a lanyard/attached to my phone case. 

11. What was the last thing you ate? ....a salad

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? lol no

13. The last sporting event you watched? the super bowl, I think? after that they sort of cancelled sports

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? either cheesy or caramel. no in between. 

15. Who is last person you sent a text message to? one of my friends, because we were discussing her diet coke intake

16. Ever go camping? i have! not for a long time, though. 

17. Do you take vitamins? i’m trying to on a regular basis, LOL. when i do i literally have to take a whole mouthful of ‘em. 

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? nope! 

19. Do you have a tan? i haven’t had a proper tan since July 2018 because i spent last summer in the north of england/interning in an office environment. and now of course we’re all stuck at home

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, because i can guarantee it won’t make me sick! 

21. Do you drink soda with a straw? it depends. is it out of a can or a cup? or a mug? where am I? if it’s a can, no, I’ll just chug it straight out. if it’s in a cup, probably. in a mug, i’m probably at home, so no again.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? white ones....

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i live by the motto that you can speed to exactly 5 miles per hour above the speed limit.

24. What terrifies you? heights, this goddamn pandemic and turning out to be worthless

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my door with my honors college hat hanging on the doorknob

26. What chore do you hate? washing the goddamn bathtub. i HATE cleaning tile grout.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? the Australian students I met while I was on exchange. either that or finding nemo

28. What’s your favorite soda? ginger ale. is that a soda? if not then Pepsi. I do miss vimto tho

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? usually i go in, but I can be convinced to use the drive-thru.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to? my dad. I asked him if he wanted me to make him a salad for lunch.

31. Favorite cut of beef? ribeye, probably. 

32. Last song you listened to? ‘Grow As We Go’ by Ben Platt

33. Last book you read? I’ve been stuck on the same book for weeks -- “Into the Interior’ by Michelle Cliff.

34. Favorite day of the week? it’s quarantine, what are days anymore. jk i’d probably have to say either Mondays or Wednesdays, mainly because I know what day it is due to the fact that there’s new try guys content. 

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? ...no. but maybe i’ll learn to?

36. How do you like your coffee? past coffee and straight into espresso, and at that point, i take it only with the following dunkin’ syrups: thin mint, heath bar or red velvet. and then with a ton of almond milk. iced. 

37. Favorite pair of shoes? either a pair of gray ankle boots I got two years ago or my black flower-patterned sneakers! 

38. The time you normally go to sleep? 2-2:30ish? I’m trying. 

39. The time you normally get up? 9, but whenever on the weekends. 

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets for the sole reason that I’ve been awake to see the sunrise only a handful of times, one of them voluntary. 

41. How many blankets on your bed? three, although I have accidentally kicked one to the floor.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. they’re round and white with a floral pattern around the edges. it’s nice and pastel, and I’m pretty sure we’ve had these plates since before I was born. there are some newer ones, but they’re kind of the same. 

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? anyone who knows me will know that i am an ABSOLUTE lightweight. i drink like a fresher, which is to say i drink mikes, Smirnoff ices, twisted teas, angry orchard and rekorderligs (rip rekorderligs, i haven’t had them since i got back from Europe and they’re fantastic). i also like pink moscato LOL. 

44. Do you play cards? not in the way of poker or blackjack? I play the kids’ games, like 21 and Big 2. 

45. What color is your car? silver

46. Can you change a tire? ooh, no...although I should probably try to learn...

47. Your favorite province? Tuscany province, because Florence is literally the only place I’ve been to that’s located within a province. other than Quebec, but I really liked Florence. 

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? i’ve had maybe 3 in my life and while being a temp was enriching, i worked at a dunks for a spell and kind of found a family there! so that was nice. 

49. How did you get your biggest scar? went down a hill on a scooter, wiped out and almost got hit by a truck. it’s on my ankle. 

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? ha....nothing? although I hope my family appreciates that i did the dishes. 

i tag: @swifteforeverandalways @crazyrichfilipinos @peacequack @coffee-esque and anyone else that wants to do it! 

[shesawriter39049]

|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 4

2K SNEAK PEEK (Full things looking like it will be between 10-11k)

GENRE:SMUT/ ANGST

AU SUMMARY :  A powerful alliance made up of of 4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have inforced. Sooo now, it’s game on…

WARNINGS: Very,very breif mentions of somone OD’ing and breif mentions of sex work! Just so ya can’t say I didin’t warn ya!

LOCATION : 40 Sudbury St, Boston, MA 

TIME: 2:07 PM

“Don’t look too excited to see me…” A coy smile tugged on the corners of sheriff Morales lips as closed the door walking over to take a seat in front of Taehyung.

Facial expression still reading the same amount of inconvenience, annoyance,exhaustion, unamusement, lack of interest, shall I continue?

“You litterally arrested me, after I just hopped off a 15 hour flight, outside of Leo’s viewing, yes...Monti I’m fucking thrilled to be here…” The level of crass that danced throughout his voice earned a chuckle from the elder.

“It’s not like I took you away in cuffs I just simply asked if we could talk down at the station, you know you didn't have to tell me yes..” There was an underlying condescending demeanor that laid within his voice.

Taehyung’s eyes instnatly rolled to the back of his head as he huffed out a exaggerated sigh “Yeah because I’d totally prefer the alternative which would be you on my door at 1am while I’m in the middle of having sex. Yeah no, I’m good on that, I’d rather just ride down here, in that gaudy ass ford and talk ...” Reclining slightly in his chair as, lacing his fingers together to cradle behind his neck.

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m sorry my work car isn't boujee enough to go with your Gucci…” Tone snarky as every as he gestured to Tae’s baby pink, slim fit, Italian cotton dress shirt.

Earning an unamused brow raise from the younger “Actually this is one of my more modest pieces it’s Hugo but continue..” A smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he continued pushing the officers buttons. Clearly the two of them were very comfortable with each other by now, weather that’s a good or bad thing is currently up for debate.

“Oh my bad Fugo…” Sheriff Morales rolled his eyes not even aware of the miss pronunciation triggering a low chuckle from Taehyung.

“Hugo…” he countered almost sign-song like, always one to have the last word and at that point Morales was over it. 

“Listen kid, I don’t care about your overpriced Easter Sunday shirt! I care about the two 18 year- old boys that have turned up dead within barley 72 hours!”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed in confusion as he ran his fingers through his hair, actually deciding to stop being a little shit and listen.

“I don’t know if you’re aware , or if you were already out jet setting while buying more Gucci, and Hugo” Making sure to put  emphasis on the pronunciation of “Hugo” since Taehyung corrected him moment’s prior.. “But almost 3 days ago, we found him…” 

Raising his Ipad to show a picture of a person Taehyung didn’t even remotely recognize, earning no type of physical reaction. Which is what Morales was secretly checking for, but taehyung knew that already, trying to catch him off guard to see if the faces would trigger any emotions. Only in all honesty this one really didn't!

“He was found dead in the back of car on the side of the highway, a really nice one actually...Mercedes AMG, completely doped out, he appears to have OD. There were some needles,and a combination of other drugs in addition to some cash left in the car ...” 

Okay, now Taehyung was really confused, that it definitely was NOT the kid from a couple nights ago. Dropping his neck, squinting, adjusting the angle of his head  slightly as he continued investigating the picture. Almost as if he was trying to see if the face would change the more looked at it  but no, that just wasn’t him!

After a few seconds, of observing Taehyung’s body language and lack of response, he moved onto the next picture .Keeping the device facing him until he was ready for Tae’s reaction..

“Around 11am today….we found, him…” Flipping the Ipad around to show the  second picture and thank god Taehyung was a pro when it came to his poker face , because THAT’S the boy he recognized..gazing straight ahead, almost aiming through the paper at this point.

“Channel 2 don’t even know about this yet-”

He heard Taehyung clear his throat as he re-adjusted in his seat “So, why am I here, why am I getting the breaking exclusive!?Not like I’m some damn reporter  reporter running around in penny loafers.” Keeping the same dry snarky tone, not wanting to show any inflated emotions in response to the second image.

“No smart ass your not...if you’d shut up and let me continue maybe will get to why your here yeah!?” Brow arched at the implied question, whilst tae didn't even verbally respond, just flagging his hand gesturing for him to continue.

“ANYWAYS,it appears the two of them are, well were kinda sorta friends, but this kid, the druggie if you will, is pretty well known around that area as such. His name is Jeff, he’s 18 and has been in and out of rehab more times than anyone can count. The boy on the right..”

Cringing internally he never wanted to know the boys name...he just didn't, almost a second away from internally screaming so he didn’t have to put a name to the face! 

“Chritstian, 18, foster kid….he was found in the back bathroom of a packie he works at down in the Dot-”

“Again, no disrespect but why. Am. I. Here!? I’m tired, I have a migrane and I’m hungry please get to the point.” The aggervation was dripping from his tongue at this point, way past exhausted and disgusted to listen to some long drawn out story.Even though after the past 50 some odd hours he’d just spent in China all he really want’s is to go home and crawl in bed with you!

Rolling his eyes at Teahyung’s lack of patience before continuing the story.

“This packies a little shady, actually a lot shady, everything from drug deals to sex work has been rumored to happen in the storage room. The only cameras they have outside, angled in front of the back alley entrance. There low quality, probably intentionally but the quality was atleast good  enough for us to see this…” 

Pulling up a video on his ipad, propping it on it’s stand for the two of them to watch together. Around 1:30Am they can see Christian, who phsycially backed into the alley, get out of the Mercades heading into the store. Gazing at the screen as Morales speeds up the tape a good 10 or so minutes. Only to find Jeff walk up to the same door, due to the time, the packie was technically closed, it even seems Christian willingly let him in. 

Just as Taehyung was about to make a snarky comment about how this has nothing to do with him, you can see the tail end of a car parked at the end of the alley. It’s unclear if Jeff actually got out of the car or not, but just the placement alone at this time of nigh is hella suspect. 

Zoomining in slightly on the car in question ...even through the pixelation, there’s a little custom badge by the back fender. 

The realization has the loudest cackle ripping from Taehyung's throat, while Morales jerks back in his seat not even sure how to process current display unfolding before his eyes. The combination of jet lag and just utter disbelif has Taehyung’ combusting until his face is damn near the same color as his shirt, and tears are threatening the corners of his eyes. 

“Ah, shit, that’s funny…” Leaning up to bracing his weight on his arm as he cradled the side of his face between his middle finger and thumb. A smug smirk tugging on the corners of his cheeks as he gazed back in Morales direction. 

~~~~A GOOD 72-ISH HOURS PRIOR~~~~

(Picks up where part 3 ends) 

You found yourself almost caressing the back of his head the more the reporter talked, apparently it was some random woman who found him. She said she was just driving home from work around 5am, she was a nurse and the light was left on, out of habit she just felt the need to see if everything was okay.

[Woman on the new’s being interview ]

“The position of his head, and the way his jaw laxed, could just appear as he was sleeping to the naked eye. But I’m an ER nurse have been for almost 15 years I recognize the symptoms right away. I tried to revive him prior to calling 911, even against my better judgment ,but he had been out for at least an hour, it was no use…” 

[Reporter]

“The police are still trying to put two and two together as it really doesn't make sense, there was cash in the car, as well as the car itself is a mystery. We have finally identified the young man in the car, his family as also been contacted-” 

Right as she was about to say his name, and ask if anyone knew anything to please contact the police he shot up, almost bolting for the door. Almost as if he knew the boys name it would seem all too real. Little did you know it’s because Taehyung puropusly never asked for his name, he’s not stupid is men knew, they even had a pciture of his ID. But Tae felt like this boy deserved to have something for him, and him only...so his name was never spoken.

You contemplated back and forth for a couple moments before ultimately decided to go check on him.

The sound of your heels echoed through the hallway of the “Employees only” area..trying to figure out where he could be “I’m over here..” The bass in his voice rumbled off the walls , almost startling you, not expecting for him to actually reach out to you.

You found him resting against the wall hands in the pocket of his jack, gazing up at the ceiling

 “ The boys did a full z30, and went over it with a black light..not that it even matters now.” Voice trailing off slightly as he brought his attention down to his boots, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

 “They actually ended up taking the car to some park,I guess they decided to change locations  after I knocked the mother fucker out. Opting to not sterilize an entire car on his property,while he tends to his dislocated dorsum. “ A slight smirk moved up his face as he gazed over at you “So if you're thinking I’m worried about me..I’m not..the plate was switched, garmin removed, and the cars not even registered.I’m just….” Shaking his head in slight disbelief as he runs over the past 24 hours in his head.  “I don’t think he really even know how fucked up and dangerous this all really is, especially when you barely know what you're doin’ to begin with. He’s a walking death wish and he’s gonna fuck around and have it granted by someone that coudle been his ally..” 

Even though his tone was hushed you could still feel the anger radiating off his body, raking his fingers through his hair, sinking back into the wall. “Come’ere, I know you didn't come out here to listen to me bitch from a far…” Signaling for you with his fingers, trying to hide the smile that was tugging up your face as you swayed in his direction. Opting to give him his space, not in the mood to get your face cracked, emotions far too fragile for that right now. You’ll end up shooting his indecisive ass, at this point. 

Once you were in arms reached he pulled you into his frame, a slight squeal leaving your throat from how quickly he grabbed you

One hand resting on the hinge of your jaw the other one your waist , palm soothing up the small of your back. “How are you feelin’?” The question threw you off a little you found your eyes fluttering away from his and he noticed instantly. Tilting your head until you had no choice but to look at him. The emphasises on the  word “you”  let  you know he was well aware that your always the one checking on him ..asking how he’s feeling. Now it’s his turn to do the same, I mean sure a good 17 years a litter but at least it’s a start right!? 

Letting a deep sigh leave your body before responding “I’m angry, confused, and a little scared if I’m being honest but-”

Cutting you off immediately , shaking his head, a scof leaving his body in response “Over my dead body, will anything ever happen to you, so you can scratch that shit off your list of issues real quick..” He wasn’t asking , he was telling you how this was going to go and his tone left zero room for debate.

Tilting your head back slightly, blowing out a slow breath , you could feel your eyes burning as you kept fluttering them. Attempting to cut off the tears desperately trying to run down your face, funny thing is, even though you cried eariler today. That’s not a common trait for you no matter how upset you get, your not the most intune with your emotions either if we're being honest. You didn’t open up easily and hated, crying in front of people more than anything, you were just as much as a working progress as Taehyung.

The phrase “over my dead body…”was used very frequently, typically over minor issues, even jokingly for most. But it would always hold a deeper, darker meaning in your heart, the last person to say that to you was your mother. Used in the same context as Kim Taehyung and she meant it, wholeheartedly!  You found yourself trying to pull away, not wanting to let him see you fall apart, because you knew you were going to. The more you tugged the tighter his grip became, “Tae please. Let. Me. Go…” You wouldn't look at him, staring up at the light fixture to your right, tone extremely dry, almost passive. The grip you held on his forearms got even tighter as you waited in silence,almost clinging to him.

He wasn’t going to fight you on this, if you wanted out..here ya go, the last squeez on your waist wasn’t possessive. Almost comforting as if he was letting you know if you wanted to come back he’d be right here. Tentatively loosening the grip he healed around your waist, letting you pull away from him, almost losing your balance in the process. Not realizing how much you were leaning on him despite trying to pull away all at the same time. 

Yet you didn't move, the grip you held on his arms never faltered, dropping your gaze down to your feet, as he gently took you back into his arms. Bringing your hips flush to his, I guess you never realized he eased you the same way you did him. The feeling of your chest rising and falling against his as you coxed yourself out of crying, a single tear managing to slip out of your right eye before you could stop it. Turning your head, brushing it onto your shoulder hastily, your grip tightened as both eyes started to betray you simultaneously. Even though you refused to look back at him, he could feel your stomach tensing as you tried to slightly choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.. 

Not forcing you to look at him, respecting your privacy in that aspect bringing his hands up to rub lightly circles into your back as he nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck.  A side of Kim Taehyung that few would ever get to see, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck, cradling the back of his head in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere…” the words brushed against your skin, funny how he automatically knew what triggered this without you even having to say anything. You didn't respond, only squeezing him a little tighter before pulling back, almost aggressive whipping your face before racking your fingers through your hair. A sheepish smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you finally made eye contact with him.

Neither of you said anything as you stepped a little closer, soothing your hand down his chest, over his stomach slowly. Suddenly feeling almost uncomfortably open and vulnerable in front of a man that’s been inside you more times that you can count. His eyes felt like they were burning straight through you as he gazed back in your direction. You couldn’t help but let your hand trickle down his zipper, trailing your fingers up and down his clothed length earning a hiss as he gripped your wrist.

“You know your thighs can’t handle another round from me right now, you need to fuckin chill before I have you bent over the bathroom counter.” 

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE, OR I guess...that’s all she posted lol ! Hopefully you guys are excited for part 4 !!! Lemme know! 

Love you guys as always,

Rocki

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​ , I hope you still love this as much as the first time you read it. I know I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 4

Kimber knows she’s staring, but she can’t stop herself. His fingers, rough and strong from years of the hardest work, brush circles over her wrists that send her pulse fluttering through her veins. So many emotions flicker behind his eyes, some of them mirroring her own, some of them alien and unreadable. So many years have passed, so much water under the bridge, as the saying goes. 

The thing is, he was completely right earlier. She could have called him, once she learned who he and his family were, once she found a way.

But he had left town with her phone number memorized. He was in a much more logical position to get in touch, and right away, at that. And he never did. She knows he had a good reason, a completely reasonable one that would make sense if she just asked him.

But she’s scared and drained and confused and more than a little ashamed, and she’s tired of making a fool of herself.

She drops her eyes before the tears fully form and murmurs a quiet thanks as she loosens her hands from his grip. Though walking away is not what she wants to do, she forces her legs straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a firm click. 

She’ll feel better after a hot shower. That’s all she needs, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. They’ll figure this out tomorrow, and then Dean and his brother will ride off into the sunset, and everything will go back to normal. She’ll go back to her classes as usual, helping out the occasional hunter or scholar with some lore, and she’ll bury all these feelings behind her heart again, drown them so deep they’ll never dream of resurfacing.

At least, that’s the fairy tale she tells herself as the scalding stream washes the saltwater from her cheeks. 

She actually does feel moderately restored by the time she steps out of the bathroom. She feels a little ridiculous in Dean’s clothing. The sleeves of the t-shirt hang past her elbows, and the pants legs are rolled up several times to keep her from tripping. 

At least the waist has a drawstring, she thinks as she rounds the corner back into the room. She pulls the towel from her hair, shaking it out a little just as Dean looks up from his laptop at the small table. His mouth opens, eyes widening. She’s not sure because of the poor lighting of the room, but his face seems to color a little as his eyebrows lift.

She is suddenly, acutely aware that she did not put her bra back on when getting dressed in his white t-shirt that is probably not nearly as thin as it feels.

Dean clears his throat, turning back to his computer, swallowing whatever comments have entered his mind. Kimber can’t decide whether to laugh or blush even harder and settles for the third option of hanging her office clothes up so they can air out a little before tomorrow. 

With nothing else to do, she drops onto the edge of the bed gracelessly, feeling every minute of the last few weeks catching up with her. Uncertainty and fear claw at her, ripping away what little defenses she has left. The image of the mutilated doll flashes before her eyes, red paint splashed luridly on her favorite comforter. Her lungs clench, and she sags on the mattress. 

She presses her fingers hard against her face. Acid burns at the back of her throat, bitter and biting. Her fingernails are just beginning to dig into her scalp when she registers the click of the laptop closing. Half a moment passes, then the bed dips beside her. 

She doesn’t consciously decide to move; her body simply molds itself to his side as Dean slides his arm around her back. He turns into the embrace, his other arm gathering her tightly against him. His cheek comes to rest on top of her head. The silence between them is the comfort she needs, his warmth and solidity the anchor that keeps her from drifting too far into panic.

When he finally speaks, his words rumble through her nerves, settling heavy and soothing in her chest.

“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch, Kimber. I’m sorry they got into your house, but I’m glad I was with you. I…” She rises gently with his deep inhalation, pressed as she is against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

She hears what he isn’t saying, and her hands drop from her face, her arms slipping around his middle as her eyes close.

“Me, too, Dean.”

...

“That pumpkin pie was somethin’ else,” Dean murmured. His arms were folded behind his head as he stretched out on top of Kimber’s bedspread. He crossed his ankles, settling in like he belonged there. His thin t-shirt stretched across his wiry frame, jeans lying enticingly low on his hips, and she could just see a glimpse of pink toe through a hole in one of his socks.

A pleasant, off-balancing thrill skipped down Kimber’s spine, twirling through her stomach and making her head spin a little. Dean’s jacket was hung carefully on her desk chair, his boots lined up on the floor underneath, and his button-up overshirt folded neatly on the desk.

Her parents had gone to bed long ago, and she had snuck Dean in the back door. After their exhilarating but chilled stroll that afternoon, she’d decided against the treehouse. Dean had been amused but willing, although he’d had one stipulation that had nearly made her laugh aloud.

“We get caught and your folks kick me out, you’re bringing me your mom’s leftovers to school every day for breakfast. I’m not missin’ out on home cooking just because you can’t stand to be away from me.”

Now, seeing him so comfortable on her bed, like he just belonged...Kimber knew the smile on her face was on the goofier end of sappy, but she couldn’t help it. He was just so damned…

“Cute,” he said, smirking up at her. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not cute. I’m adorable.”

She sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine, you’re gorgeous, adorable, vital, the absolute most. Now close your eyes so I can change.” Smirk still firmly in place, Dean dutifully closed his eyes. She knew, despite the short time she’d known him, that she could trust Dean to keep his eyes shut.

She spent a few seconds regretting the lack of any silky, dramatic nightgowns or cute, sexy little matching pajama sets. Oh, well; couldn’t have everything. She stripped quickly, tossing her school clothes into the hamper and slipping on her “Aaahh!!! Real Monsters” t-shirt. Thick socks and plaid pajama pants completed her night ensemble. 

That she had just been naked (however unseen said nakedness had been) in front of Dean Winchester had not escaped her. She licked her lips, cheeks warm, and turned slowly back to the bed. He lay still, chest rising and falling steadily, and she marveled, not for the first time, that he was here, in her room. Just for her.

Her pulse jumped, her lungs tightened, and for just a second, Kimber panicked.

“You can, uh...you can open your eyes. I’m gonna go brush my teeth; I’ll be right back.”

She fled silently down the hallway, brushed her teeth in record time, and then stared in the mirror. Her hair was just her hair, nothing amazing or horrifying; no point trying to fix that before bed. Maybe…make-up?

“Kimber. What the hell?” she muttered. “You’re not seducing him, just be cool. Jeez. You can’t wear make-up to bed.”

She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing her skin dry with a hand towel more forcefully than necessary. She gave her reflection another once-over and took a deep breath.

“You’re his choice, too,” she reminded herself. “Just chill.”

She found him exactly as she’d left him, completely relaxed on the bed, eyes still closed. She thought for a moment that he might have fallen asleep. Kimber wasn’t sure if she felt more disappointment or relief.

“You left in a little bit of a hurry,” he murmured, eyes still closed, and she started. “Everything okay?” She almost put him off, could feel the brush-off on her lips, but his eyes slid open, pinning her on the spot. She got the eerie sense that he would know, that he already knew she was trying to put on a front, and she deflated a little.

“I’m nervous,” she finally admitted. The heat in her cheeks turned up a few degrees, spreading down her neck, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I’ve never...snuck a guy to my room before. I just...this is mostly new to me, but with you, I want...I don’t know.”

Without a word, Dean slid from the bed and crossed the room, his mesmerizing eyes never leaving hers. He stopped a few feet away and waited, his arms open. With the bed suddenly out of the equation, Kimber felt a hidden knot of anxiety untie in her chest. 

She let out a breath and stepped into his embrace, her arms circling his waist in a way that felt easy and right. Dean’s lips pressed a warming kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is your room, your space, but even if it wasn’t-” He paused, leaning back and brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Kimber, look at me.”

She did, and his earnest expression left no room to doubt his next words. It barely left room for breathing.

“ ‘M not here to make you feel uncomfortable or scared. I’m here because you want me to be. The second that stops, the second I make you feel something you don’t want, that’s it. Period. Does that work for you?”

His eyes, so plaintive and weathered in that moment, cut right to her heart. Never in her life had Kimber felt so safe, so protected, and so very sad. She couldn’t think of any words that lived up to the magnitude of what Dean had just said, so she simply squeezed him tighter, pressing her face against the side of his neck. 

“Can you stay?” she asked. She knew he had obligations, probably needed to get back to his brother or at least check in with his dad. She felt terribly selfish in her warm, safe house with her parents right down the hall. Still, she asked. 

“Yeah, I can stay for a while.” His smile, soft and open, laid her doubts to rest. They settled onto the bed, fumbling a little awkwardly to find a position they both liked. There was some bumping, mumbled apologies, until they finally sorted out a comfortable twist of limbs that didn’t set her heart beating out of her ribs or threaten to cut off blood flow to anything important. 

She relaxed by increments, her cheek resting on his collarbone. He hugged her close with his left arm, his right hand combing slowly through her hair over and over. The silence settled around them like a second blanket, soothing and heavy.

“What do you want to do when you finish school, Kimber? College?”

“Probably,” she murmured. “I don’t know specifically, but I like research.”

He snorted, and she poked him in the side.

“Shut up, you jerk, I do. And I like sharing the information. I like helping people. I don’t really want to be a teacher, but maybe I can find something where I can do all of that.”

Dean resumed combing her hair, having paused when she poked him, and they settled a little more closely together.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

She blinked slowly, sleep pulling at her eyelids. Her thoughts spun out languidly, losing their urgency as his warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her pajamas. 

“How about you?”

His answer came quickly, rehearsed and without thought. “Join the family business. Dad’s been training me for years. Don’t have a lotta choice, but I know I’ll be good at it. Was raised for it.”

Her fingers crept up, her eyes staying closed for longer and longer periods between blinks. She slid her thumb over his chin, just brushing the line of his bottom lip before sliding slowly up his jaw. 

His words weren’t emotionless, but they were automatic. There was so much he never said, and she hated to push him, afraid he would just leave or shut down, but…

“But what do you want?” She persisted, drowsiness interfering with her usual restraint. “Who do you want to be?”

He was silent for so long, she nearly gave in to fatigue. She drifted on the edge of unconsciousness, fingers stroking through the silky strands of hair behind his ears. She felt his face turn, his lips press against her wrist.

“I want...this,” he said. Even half-asleep, she couldn’t mistake the raw longing behind his words. “I want...I want to work a boring, regular job and come home to someone who missed me all day as much as I missed her. I want my kids to cannonball into my legs so hard they knock me over. I want…”

His words choked off, and she stilled her fingers against his cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“I want a house. No...I...when I was little, Dad would come home, and he would just...sweep Mom up sometimes, swing her around, when they weren’t fighting. Even when they were, he’d do it sometimes anyway just to get her to laugh.”

She felt his face shift beneath her hand, but his smile didn’t feel quite right, and she moved closer. His arm tightened around her back, and he smoothed the palm of his free hand down to cup her jaw.

“I want a home. I want to be a dad, a husband. I want a family.”

She felt childish, shallow next to the depth of his simple declaration. Dean wanted what she had, what she took for granted every day of her life. This was the first time he’d spoken of his mother, and though curiosity burned hot inside her, she didn’t dare ask further questions, afraid she’d break the spell of the moment.

Dean’s voice dropped until she could feel it more than hear it, his lips pressing softly against her forehead.

“I want to come home and hold someone until I fall asleep every night. I want to wake up to her and know that my whole day, every day, is gonna be just that, all over again.”

She lifted her face to his then, and in the darkness of her bedroom she could only just make out the barest lines of his features. Their noses brushed, his hand gently pulling at the back of her head, and their lips met. His cheek was damp under her fingertips, and her heart clenched. 

She pulled his head down, brushing her lips over the tears trickling down his cheekbones more by feel than by sight. Both his arms came around her then, pulling her against his chest as he buried his face in his hair. They breathed together, memorizing each others’ scents, heartbeats, rhythms as the night crept by. 

The moment didn’t pass so much as gradually relax until Kimber felt him shift beneath her, smoothly sliding her off his chest and down to the pillows. He kissed her temple, and her face automatically turned to his, chasing his lips. She felt him chuckle against her mouth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I gotta go. Need to check on Sammy, make sure he got dinner, did his homework, all that mess. I’ll see you tomorrow. Walk you to school?”

She nodded, humming her agreement even as she blindly reached for him. Something soft brushed against her fingers, and she automatically pulled it down, cuddling against the fabric. 

“Hold onto that for me. I’ll get it back from you sometime.” She felt a kiss press to her forehead, and then the click of her door closing. She breathed in, Dean’s scent surrounding her as she slipped under again, his button-up shirt pillowed under her cheek and tangled in her fingers. 

…

To Be Continued...

[lululawrence]

2017 Fics Written by lululawrence (1/2)

Master Fic Masterpost / Buy me a Coffee?

Easy, Breezy, Beautiful (5k)

“Louis, I can’t go to school like this! Help me!”

Louis looked his sister up and down and found that her uniform looked pretty par for the course and her golden brown hair actually looked nicer than usual. Unsure what the issue was, he just rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up the rest of the way.

“Okay, erm...so how exactly can I help you?” he slowly asked. Maybe if he tried to have her tell him what she expected of him he could figure out how to help her.

“I need something to cover this spot on my forehead! It’s massive!”

...or the one where Phoebe has a makeup emergency and, luckily for all of them but Louis especially, Harry is just the man to help.

Bloody Mary (1k)

The Mosquito Direction crack fic you never knew you needed.

I Don't Know What To Believe (6k) - Part Two of the Everything You Do Is Magic Series

“The fuck is that?” Louis asked. Harry took his eyes off the baby for the first time in who knows how long and didn’t say anything, just held the card out to Louis. Louis, however, seemed to be a bit spooked at a baby showing up in their kitchen with no warning and wasn’t moving any closer.

Harry waved the card in his outstretched hand, showing he was getting a bit frustrated with Louis’ lack of cooperation. “It’s a fucking baby, that’s what! Take the damn card and read it!”

Louis gave Harry his classic unimpressed face. “I know it’s a fucking baby, you twat. Whose baby?”

“Maura and Bobby’s, I’d imagine,” Harry mumbled quietly, letting his arm fall to his side.

Or the one where Harry and Louis find Niall has somehow become a baby and turned up on their kitchen table.

The Day Is Up And Calling (4k)

All Harry was trying to find was his flatmate, Ed, but if he finds Ed's new fit employee instead? Well...things could be worse.

bend me, shape me (4k) - Co-Written with @dimpled-halo and @a-writerwrites

“You forgot something, didn’t you, darling?” Louis didn’t bother to look at Harry, but his voice said everything Harry was sure he’d see in his eyes if he did. There was an undercurrent of teasing, but a sort of condescending agitation that Harry was, unfortunately, very familiar with.

Shit. He’d forgotten something.

“Were we supposed to go somewhere?”

Louis didn’t answer — he just ran his thumb over the head of his fully hard cock and groaned, the sound of it going straight to Harry’s groin. “Um. It’s not your birthday…” Harry was wracking his brain. “Our anniversary is May 10th. Um…”

“Our marriage anniversary is May 10th. Husband.” Louis was staring at him vehemently now. And, of course. Of course that was what it was. An anniversary.

****

Harry forgets an anniversary. Louis helps him remember.

I Found A Love (4k)

Louis adjusted his suspenders a bit and picked up the next book when someone cleared their throat behind him, making Louis jump. He spun quickly around, hand on his chest and just barely remembered to not drop Diana Gabaldon’s newest thousand page hardback that would definitely have done damage to Louis’ feet.

Standing in front of him was someone who looked like he had just walked out of a motorcycle commercial. He had his hair pulled up in a bun, was wearing what looked to be an expensive as fuck leather jacket over a ratty Rolling Stones t-shirt, and were those sparkly boots? Louis wasn’t quite sure how to take him, but he certainly had a presence. He was also likely confused about his location and was clearly about to ask where the DVD section was.

Or the one where Louis is a nerdy English major who may just run into his happily ever after while working his shift at the local library.

That's Not My Name (3k)

He froze for a second, because he hadn’t expected to be hit with such an intense gaze. Green eyes beneath a beanie and loads of curly hair made Louis miss a beat before coming back to himself.

“Uh, hi. Sorry. Can I take your order?”

The boy (man?) gave a shy smile and said, “Just a caramel macchiato, please. Grande.” Louis nodded as he scribbled onto the cup and punched it into the register.

As the boy held his phone to the machine to pay, Louis asked, “Name please?”

“Oh, uh, Marcus.”

Louis scribbled Marcus on the cup and handed it off, but not before giving the boy a smile and nodding over to where he’d be able to pick up his drink. Louis watched him a bit longer than he probably should have, then forced himself to move on.

Or the one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time...for over a month.

Be A Daymaker (5k)

“If you guys purchase fifty items between now and Saturday’s live, then Louis here will do one of my live sales next week.”

At Lottie's announcement, Louis did a little dance of mock excitement and Harry gasped.

“Yeah, you’re all wondering why that would be so great, right?” Harry scoffed. Who would complain about this arrangement other than Louis? Harry knows from chatting with some of the other regulars that he wasn’t the only one of Lottie’s viewers with a crush on her brother. “Well, not only will he do a live, but he’ll do the live in an outfit of your choosing.”

Or, a completely self indulgent AU where Louis and Lottie are a consultant team for LuLaRoe and Harry is one of their most loyal customers.

Love Me Like You Do (4k)

“Yeah, but is working in a field completely unrelated to what I’m educated in and what I want to do really paying my dues? And Lou, I’m 28. I’m 28 working a job I don’t enjoy, still living with my best friend, minutes from my mom’s house.”

“You’re saying that living with me isn’t the best part of your life right now, fucker,” Louis complained, poking Harry in the ribs where he knew he was sensitive. Harry squeaked and moved his arm to protect his side before apologizing.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just…” Harry sighed. “I feel like I’m just treading water and I have been for ages now. I’m glad I have a job that covers what I need it to, and I’m incredibly lucky to have you with me as well, but like…”

Louis waited, but the silence wasn’t filled.

Or the one where it's time for Harry's ten year reunion and Louis being his fake boyfriend for the night changes things more than they expected.

What Happens Next (5k)

“So anyway,” Louis said on a yawn, making Harry yawn as well. “What can I do for you?”

“Uhm. Well, I was wondering how a free vacation sounded to you.”

Harry knew he had Louis’ attention fully because his voice suddenly sounded much more alert.

“I’d say you’re trying to sell me something, because nothing in life is free. However, I am listening.”

Or a fic where Harry has to pick up the pieces and ends up on the couples cruise that should have been his honeymoon...with his best friend Louis.

Validation (4k)

“Hey, how are you?” Harry asked. He’d found that sometimes just a smile and a kind face was all that was needed to brighten someone’s day.

“Oh, uhm. I’m alright. Can you validate me?”

Harry chuckled inwardly, but decided to go ahead and take him literally.

Or the one where Harry worked in a parking garage and he totally didn’t mean for this, the whole validation of people as well as their parking tickets, to become a thing. It just kinda...did.

Cake, Phone, Harry (3k)

It was so innocent. Louis hadn’t been expecting it. “See you at home around 6!” Harry’s text read, and then at the very end he’d snuck one of those very graphics Louis had come to dislike so much.

A smiley emoji.

Or the one where Louis is probably the last holdout when it comes to using emojis, but that doesn't last forever.

Same White Shirt (10k)

“Oh my God. What are you holding?”

Harry was startled to hear an English voice coming from behind him that he didn’t know. He’d thought he knew all the English employees around here. When he turned around there was a man with the most stunning eyes and incredible cheekbones known to man in the doorway looking with absolute distaste at the suit Harry had just been thinking of so fondly.

“It’s my suit for the show,” Harry said firmly. This guy was obviously an assistant if the badge and plate of fruit he was holding were anything to go by, but as he began walking to where the table was in the room, Harry noticed he was walking with a slight limp. Oh shit.

Or the one where Harry's on the Late Late Show for a week and several misunderstandings with a certain mouthy assistant James recently hired make things that much more interesting.

Now That It's Over (8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis' dates.

A Word We've Only Heard (7k)

So, where are you headed?” Liam asked, not wanting to sit in awkward silence for their journey.  It was twelve hours to Chicago, and that was far too long to sit and not chat with his fellow passenger in front of him.

“Chicago,” he answered, his blue eyes meeting Liam’s own.  “It’s home.  Been on the road for quite some time now, it’s the first time I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed in almost a month.”

Liam whistled.  “You must be pretty excited.”

The man gave a soft smile, which made him look younger than Liam initially expected; he might even still be in his twenties.  He wondered what kind of a life this man had led to look so tired until he smiled.

Or, it's 1951, Harry is the owner of a music shop, and Louis is a traveling salesman making his way back home.

No Chance At All (5k)

As an omega, Louis naturally had the ability to sense alphas, so it wasn’t like this was an unusual situation for him. The difference here was that this man smelled so strong and so ridiculously good. Louis had never been so attracted to someone’s scent before. Add the fact that this worker whose name tag read “Harry” looked like some kind of greek god with his long curly hair and dimples as he chatted up the older woman ordering currently, and Louis was already a goner.

Or the one where Louis just wants to drink good coffee and work on his homework in peace, but the alpha barista is charming to everyone but him, and that just pisses him off.

(Make You Want To) Scream (16k)

While Louis' left hand plays with his nipple, his right reaches down and wraps around his dick and that's when he really knows something is wrong.

The dick in his hand does not feel like his own.

Nothing Please Me More Than You (8k)

This guy came in every day and without fail said or did something that made Louis pause and puzzle over what it meant. His accent was American, but it had to be some regional dialect from nearby or something because everything sounded sharper when he spoke. A little more crisp. Like he’d worked with one of those dialect coaches that had been used when talking pictures first started being made.

Louis shook his head and tried to rid himself of lectures from the film history course he’d taken last semester. It obviously had no bearing on what was going on with hot dude in the corner. Still, Louis would love to pick his brain and figure out where he was from. How his hair always looked so perfect. If he liked to kiss boys.

Or...the one where Louis is a barista and Harry is the hot dude that comes in every day and does nothing except sit in the corner, writing in his notebook, all day long. But what Louis learns when he sneaks a peek inside the notebook changes everything.

Let Me Make It Better (4k)

Dan's house was large and spacious, but there were still only five bedrooms for a family of, what would soon be, nine. The division seemed quite simple, in Louis’ mind. Mom and Dan would obviously get the master suite, Lottie and Fizzy would share the largest room with Phoebe and Daisy getting the next largest, the newest twins would get the smaller room that was closest to the master suite, and Louis would take the smallest room right beside the bathroom since he didn’t have to share.

Lottie and Fizzy vehemently disagreed.

Or the one where Louis was seven years old when he moved in next door to Harry, but now that they're in their senior year of college, everything is starting to change.

My Cup of Tea (2k)

In which Harry is the trainer for Louis' new hire class, and his quirks might be exactly what Louis needs to pay attention.