#but when I tell them they should buy some furniture and decor they are very opposed

[datamodel-of-disaster]

One of the things that never fails to baffle me is how many people genuinely don’t care about the space they live in.

People who paint their own house landlord white all over in preparation for when they might want to sell -even if they have no such intention in the near-ish future.

People who move to a foreign country as an expat and then live in a quasi-empty flat until they leave again (years later!), because they imagine it would be a hassle to move if they own stuff.

People who go to IKEA when they get a place of their own, fill their apartment with all the typical utilitarian stopgap stuff, and somehow never acquire “nicer” or more personally curated items down the line no matter how financially comfortable they get.

…

Idk.

I just… don’t understand it.

It’s not about money. Like, I have seen literal homeless encampments, squat houses and cardboard box shelters, that looked like the person who used them cared about the space.

It’s not about minimalism. Minimalism is a stylistic choice. Owning only a desk, a desk chair and a bed and using the cardboard boxes those came in as a kitchen table is NOT a stylistic choice.

I don’t know, and it makes me weirdly uncomfortable? There’s plenty of forms of design and decor that do nothing for me (or that I think are hideous), and those are still different to this strange absence of care for one’s space.

[1d1195]

Honey II

Read Honey here | ~6.2k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, pining, maybe a daddy-kink if you don't blink. There's a shitty guy, some jealous Harry (from said shitty guy as well as NIALL 😍) and some mentions of self-care 😉

Summary: You cannot flirt with my nanny. He texted Niall while Cece ate.

Someone should, Harry. By all means YOU should. But I’ll handle it if you cannot.

Harry scowled and threw his phone aside. “Sorry m’gonna kill Uncle Niall, Cece,” he told her. “But he’s stupid.”

The routine became easy. Breakfast with Harry, tummy time with Cece, cleaning during naptime, laundry at lunch time. At eleven in the morning, she sent Harry three pictures of his baby regardless of what she was doing which he didn’t respond to other than reacting with a heart to each of the pictures.

Cece loved Miss Honey. Her smile was bright when she saw her and her giggle was coming easier and easier while she played with her.

Niall is stopping by to grab something I left. He was already out. You can let him in.

Okay, thank you for the heads up.

Other than delivery drivers, people didn’t really come by. She hadn’t had friends over not that she necessarily wanted to have them over... not after her first family. From then, it was always kind of weird to have people visit someone else’s home to hang out with her. She preferred dinners or going to their houses. If Harry were to throw a party or cookout at his extravagant pool, she would invite her friends—at least that’s what she did with her previous family—but Harry didn’t seem much like a party-thrower.

“Hello?” The Irish voice sang into the house. “Miss Cece, where are you?” He called.

She smiled and brought the baby toward the front door holding her in front of her stomach. Cece giggled at the sight of Uncle Niall. “Who’s that, Cece?” She asked pressing her lips on to the top of her soft hair. “Is that Uncle Niall? Did Uncle Niall come to see you?” She kicked her feet and Niall looked like he was melting as he took her from Miss Honey. “Is it this folder?” She asked. “I found it in the garage,” she said. “It must have slipped out of his bag. When I took Cece to the store, I was going to swing by myself."

Niall was in awe. The house was clean—to be fair, it almost always was, but it was different now. Plus it smelled like the citrusy fall candle she was burning on the counter; only adding to the fresh clean feeling of his friend’s place. Whatever was cooking in the oven smelled delicious. “Do you... cook for him?” Niall asked.

She blushed. “Well, it’s mainly for me, but obviously there aren’t a ton of recipes for one person, so I always have extra,” she rationalized. “I cooked for my old family.”

Niall bounced Cece as he looked around. There was a throw blanket on the sofa adorned with leaves and it’s fall y’all patterned across it. that wasn’t there before. Along with some fall pillows. It matched the little pumpkins on the side tables and the leaf and flower centerpiece on the coffee table. Harry had decorations? “Did Harry buy those throw pillows?”

“I... I have this tendency to fall asleep on the sofa watching movies and wanted something softer than the sofa arm,” she felt weird explaining all this to Niall. “I should probably get them out of here and back in my room. Did Harry say something? He doesn’t like it?”

Harry hadn’t mentioned it. Which was insane because when Cece’s mom wanted all new living room furniture in the middle of her pregnancy, Niall wasn’t sure Harry was going to let her live at his house after all. Harry was very particular and liked things to be his way. “No, no. He’s fine. It just looks...cozy,” he said. “It’s nice he’s got a woman’s touch that he likes,” Niall said encouragingly.

Her phone vibrated on the counter and she glanced at her watch reading the message. Can you tell Niall to let go of my daughter and get his ass back here before I fire him?

She smiled sending a thumbs up in response. “I believe you’re going to be fired.”

“What a drama queen,” Niall muttered. “I love you more than Dada does,” he cooed and kissed Cece sweetly on the cheek. “You should decorate the outside, too,” Niall said as he handed the baby back to her. “Harry would like it,” he smiled. “If you have a ton of leftovers, send them for lunch with Harry tomorrow. With the way it smells, I bet it would taste delicious reheated as well... Bye Cece!” He waved and blew a kiss at her.

“Say bye Uncle Niall,” she cooed shaking her head at Harry’s best friend.  She waved Cece’s hand for her. “Bye Uncle Niall.”

*

His office door slapped open against the wall, and he looked up from his desk even though he didn’t need to.

“Niall’s here,” his secretary called. He rolled his eyes.

“You love her,” Niall gushed.

“I do not,” Harry scowled defensively at his paperwork in front of him. “Love who?”

“Your nanny obviously.”

“I absolutely do not,” he shook his head. “I am not in love with someone I employ.”

“So we’re not in love either?” Niall frowned.

“Do you have something you need, Mr. Horan?” Harry deadpanned.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Harry, she’s sweet, funny, and intelligent,” he listed. “Not to mention your house has never looked cleaner nor cozier and she can cook.”

Harry used to order out each night since he was too tired to cook when he got home. Then with Cece, it made even more sense. But now, since he was very much glued to his schedule of coming home on time for dinner so he could see Cece before bed and relieve Miss Honey of her duties for the evening.

He hadn’t anticipated her making dinner for him. In fact, he hadn’t anticipated much of anything she did for him. He thought taking care of Cece was going to be it. The cleaning and cooking was beyond what he expected.

He ignored Niall.

“And hello? She’s good with Cece.”

She was great with Cece actually. But he wasn’t going to give into Niall’s teasing. He continued looking at his computer screen ignoring all the reasons Harry thought she was perfect as well but had to ignore because he would rather die than ruin what he had with her for the sake of his daughter. There was no one better to trust Cece with—even after a month or so of her working, it was obvious. He was so sure there wasn’t anyone better. “Also, she was going in the pool when I got there, so she was in this itty, bitty bikini—” Harry’s gaze snapped to Niall and his eye twitched as he scowled again. “I was joking, but I think I’ve proven my point.”

“I’m not in love,” he grumbled. Harry didn’t love anyone beyond his baby girl, his company, and his family.

“Say it all you want. But I’m not the one that got his underwear in a twist over the thought of seeing her in a bikini when it’s not summer anymore." Harry ignored him still. "You let her decorate," he reminded him.

"We have similar tastes," Harry mumbled not wanting to let on that he didn't give two shits if the house was decorated but when he came home from work watching her sip hot apple cider on his sofa and reading a book to Cece, he wanted to move to a place where it was fall all year round.

"Are you going to let her decorate the outside of your house for Halloween?”

He was not in love. “It’s a holiday,” he reminded Niall. “I want Cece t'have a—”

“Uh-huh. Sure. It’s definitely for Cece... by the way, make sure I get the leftovers from dinner tomorrow. I already asked Miss Honey,” he said. “Here’s your folder,” he laid it on his desk and left with a wave and mischievous smile. "She found it in the garage and was going to swing by herself. Because in case you haven't noticed, she's perfect."

If there were leftovers of whatever delicious thing she had decided to cook, Harry was going to throw them in the middle of the road on his way to work just to spite him.

*

The weekend was unfortunately eventful.

Cece fussed a ton. Harry sighed when the monitor alerted him to her waking. He got up and headed to her crib where he spent several minutes rubbing her little belly as he watched her. “Y’need t’sleep, Miss Cecelia,” he smiled at her tiredly. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had been fortunate enough to have Cece sleeping soundly overall for the last couple months. But for whatever reason, her little cries woke him up today.

He checked his phone and noted there was an alert from the front door camera. He saw two people standing under the entrance. His favorite nanny and a man that he didn’t recognize.

Given the situation, this was suddenly and very much her house as much as Harry's. As evident by the pumpkin décor on the steps visible in the video as well. So she could do what she wanted. Even if that meant going on a date.

Even if that meant Harry was painfully aware of how upset that made him.

Her arms were wrapped around her stomach and Harry felt something painful ache in his stomach. She looked completely uncomfortable. The guy leaned closer toward her, forcing her to step back until she was against the side of the entryway. Harry’s blood boiled. She pressed a hand against his chest, maintaining distance between them. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the screen and briefly noted he forgot about Cece’s waking. But Cece was asleep again. Therefore, Harry was able to worry about the other woman that lived in his house. He quickly sent her a text before he kept his eyes glued to the camera. If this was some kind of flirting thing, fine. He would confront the boiling jealousy in the comfort of his own bed. But Harry had a sister, female friends, female employees and now a daughter. He knew when someone was uncomfortable.

The camera signaled someone was outside, so I checked the feed... Are you okay?

He didn't want to listen in. There was a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross. Fortunately, she pulled her phone from her pocket and read the message--clearly looking for a distraction and further fueling his worry. Without answering, she tucked her phone back in her pocket and Harry thought that he was overreacting. She was fine. He just needed to go to bed.

But then, she shook her head repeatedly, slowly.

Harry dropped his phone on Cece’s floor where it landed on the rug with a quiet thud. He took off downstairs nearly missing the last step before he was at the front door, yanking it out of the way blindingly fast. She jumped at the sudden movement in the middle of the night—even though she only saw Harry’s message seconds before. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he lied. He was very grateful to interrupt. “Cece has been awake, and I’ve tried—”

“No problem,” she rushed out not even glancing at the man. She brushed passed Harry hurriedly.

The guy blinked in surprise at her quick departure. He tried to peek behind Harry’s frame that blocked most of his view. “I’ll call—”

Harry smacked the door shut and waited for him to leave—watched him walk to the end of the driveway where he waited for an Uber for three minutes. She sighed, putting her hands on the back of her head, breathing heavily. “Harry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She began pacing behind him, but Harry’s eyes didn’t move from the end of his driveway. “He was completely fine and then I needed to Uber and—”

“I told you not t’Uber,” he scowled at the window beside the door waiting for the man to disappear.

“Well, it was one in the morning, and I don’t know how your driver situation works—”

“Then you call me,” his voice was rougher than he wanted it to be. The thought of something happening to her hurt. Hurt a lot.

She ignored him, feeling guilty but trying to explain her side of things. “My friend had left with a guy she met, and she was my ride. I didn’t even know she left,” her voice cracked. “I Uber all the time, Harry. Alone at night, I don’t care...it’s... whatever... But he was insistent. He wanted to make sure I made it home safely. Which didn’t set off any alarm bells and I pride myself on having a good gauge of that kind of thing. So, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought he was just being a gentleman. When he got out of the car and the driver took off...” she shook her head. “I’m just so sorry. I didn’t know—” Her voice cracked again, harsher this time. Then she pressed her lips into a line as she looked down. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered trying to force the tears to stay behind her lids.

The man was gone from the edge of his driveway. Harry shook his head confused how she could be apologizing for literally nothing. She didn’t do anything wrong. “What are y’apologizing for?”

“For him coming back here! I don’t bring people back to the house I’m living in for free. I would never want to put someone like that within a three-mile radius of Cece. I was just trying to get him to leave and I—” her voice choked off again.

“Love,” he said gently. “S’okay,” he promised reassuringly. “Y’can invite friends over. I wouldn’t really want him, but it sounds like we’re on the same page.”

She sniffled, breaking Harry’s heart. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked. She shook her head. “I need a verbal answer, love.”

“No, he didn’t hurt me,” she whispered. Barely loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I was just trying to think of a way to get inside without him following me,” she whimpered. “He just wouldn’t shut up about how nice it would be to...” her tears started to flow. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

Harry didn’t think. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed up and down her back. “S’okay,” he promised. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “You could have banged on the door or something,” he assured her.

She sniffled. “I didn’t want to wake the baby.”

He smiled softly. Of course she didn’t. “Please call the driver next time. Day or night. I should’ve told y’that,” he murmured. “It would make me feel better. And he’ll only let y’have someone else in the car with you if y’say so,” he promised.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re allowed t’have a life here, love,” he promised. “Friends, dates, whatever y’want.”

“Well, I’m not dating for a while,” that was fine by Harry. Gently, she pulled from Harry’s embrace, and he felt completely cold. It wasn’t from his lack of clothes either.

She wiped her eyes. “Do y’want me to...get y’anything?” He asked.

She shook her head of the thought. “No, I’m sorry to have interrupted your sleep—”

“Don’t be. But y’didn’t. Cece was up, I was checking on her when I saw m’phone’s notification,” he explained. “But even if she wasn’t up... I wouldn’t have minded,” he promised. “Really.”

Her eyes trailed over Harry’s body. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was wearing nothing but boxers. His shoulders were broad, his arms were taut with lean muscles that didn’t bulge massively but were still beautifully sculpted. His hair was in disarray, probably from his pillow. His stomach was flat, ridged with muscles, and covered with tattoos. “I didn’t realize you had so many tattoos.”

He smirked. “Yeah, um...guilty pleasure of mine.”

Harry really shouldn’t say pleasure around her. It made her think of things that would give her immense pleasure. Like the boxers that outlined a plump dick (which wasn’t even fully hard it seemed. Jesus Christ, she wondered if she was going to get pregnant just from looking at it) and showed off his muscular thighs. She shook her head trying to keep her eyes focused on anything other than Harry’s groin area. “I um... thank you,” she whispered. “For getting me.”

“Of course, love. Any time,” he promised. “I know y’work for me and I respect your commitment and seriousness t’your job. It’s something I value in m’employees at the office too. But Niall also works with me too and he’s m’best friend and he’s very comfortable asking me t’bail him out of dicey situations. So if y’need something, y’jus’ have t’ask.”

She nodded. “Okay... thank you,” she repeated. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Miss Honey.”

*

Harry was frustrated. It was a busy time of year, so he had been staying an hour, sometimes two later than he was supposed to. He ate reheated food that she had cooked (which was still delicious) but mostly he was upset because he wasn’t getting to see Cece before bed. The pictures she sent in the afternoon and just before bed helped but didn’t make up for the real thing. He missed his daughter.

And honestly? If he was real with himself, he missed eating dinner with the pretty woman that was kind enough to make dinner in the first place. He missed watching an episode of whatever show she liked before she went for a swim in the pool and then to read in her room. Up until Harry had started staying late, she had gone for a swim every night and Harry was in awe. The pool was heated sure, but the air was cold. But she was insistent—all to get her laps in so she could work out. Now, when he got home, she was already in her room. Only coming out to say hello, give the lowdown on bedtime and making sure he knew which food was for Niall the next morning.

It seemed she wasn’t dating, so at least Harry had that. Even though he told her she could, he was glad she wasn't. It wasn’t right or fair of him to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it. The few times he saw her out in the pool in a bathing suit (that was not an itty-bitty bikini like Niall had described) he felt possessive. If she had an itty-bitty bikini, Harry thought he might lose his mind--the pretty one piece with a cutout created by a crisscrossing bow around her middle was tantalizing enough. He didn’t let his gaze linger for long (he didn’t want to be creepy) but he thought back to the guy that followed her home and terrified her. No one deserved her kindness. No one deserved to see her vulnerable and alone in anything less than what she wanted. She made Cece feel safe. She made Harry feel safe.

“Why don’t you go home?” Niall suggested. “You’ve been staying late all week, and I know you miss Cece. Take a half day, go spend some time with your daughter. Or even Miss Honey,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Harry shook his head. “I already took a ton of time off—”

“For a very good reason! Harry,” Niall sighed. “You have an adorable baby daughter. She’s only going to be little for so long. You need to enjoy it.”

With that thought, Harry couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. He entered the house using the keycode. It didn’t even faze her. If someone used the code, then she assumed it was someone who was allowed to be there. But also, the sound of the vacuum cleaner was humming and creating more noise than she could have heard with the door opening and closing. But she must have sensed it because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled finishing the spot she was working on. Harry could make out the wrap around her body while she vacuumed. Wearing Cece like a body ornament. It was adorable. “I could hire someone for that, y’know,” he called over the droning noise.

She turned the vacuum off and turned around showing off the little babe at the same time. She kicked her feet. Harry thought his heartstrings were going to snap with how much love flooded him. Someone that loved him so unconditionally. It felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“You’re home early,” she smiled and loosened the wrap around her and pulled the headphones off her little head to keep her ears safe from the vacuum sound. “Is Dada home to play, Cece?” She smiled excitedly. “Is Dada here to play?” She repeated, passing her to Harry. Cece immediately settled into his embrace, making his heart hurt. Niall was right, this was well worth it.

“I was just going to do laundry,” she said. “Do you want anything to eat?” She asked.

“I have people who could do your laundry,” he told her, his lips attached to the crown of Cece’s head. “And y’don’t need t’do my laundry either,” he frowned. “Or Cece’s.”

“Yes, but you are saving money by letting me do it. I’m all about coupons. I’m like a BOGO sale, you know? For a business owner, you don’t see a good deal when presented.”

He rolled his eyes. Niall listed a lot of great qualities about her. But he didn’t list how stubborn she was. Especially when it came to things like using the driver or doing his laundry. Harry wanted to shake her sometimes.

“Niall said you have a business trip next weekend?”

His eyes snapped to meet hers. “You talk to Niall?” Like regularly? Casually?

He was so going to fire him.

“Yes,” she smiled and then laughed to herself, a private joke Harry wasn't privy to.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. Niall’s just funny.”

Harry was going to kill him. Then fire him.

“Oh?”

“He just he tells me he’s going to marry me if I keep making such good food for him to eat.”

So fired.

“Speaking of,” she continued while Harry let that linger in silence. “Little miss needs to eat,” she said. “I can do it if you want—”

“Thank you,” he was sincerely appreciative. “But I have it covered,” he smiled. “You can take the rest of the afternoon to yourself if you’d like.”

She smiled. “That would be great. I just have a few more things to do but I’ve been dying to go to the bookstore. They’re having a sale on all paperbacks,” her eyes glowed.

Harry smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

“Just shout if you need something.”

Harry went to the kitchen, took the bottle that was warmed and ready on the counter (she must have just put it out while she was vacuuming nearby).

You cannot flirt with my nanny. He texted Niall while Cece drank from her bottle.

Someone should, Harry. By all means YOU should. But I’ll handle it if you cannot.

Harry scowled and threw his phone aside at the pretty fall throw pillows. “Sorry m’gonna kill Uncle Niall, Cece,” he told her. “But he’s stupid.”

*

Harry often found himself defaulting to her and all her knowledge. She had a background in psychology, as that was what she studied in college—a concentration in child development. All of which he knew from her application. Harry was well educated, but he would never feign to have more knowledge that he didn’t have.

Which is why when Cece continued to fuss and fuss more than she had since she’d been born, Harry didn’t know what to do.

“Love?” He knocked on the door. It was two in the morning, and she was obviously well off the clock. Harry battled for several minutes trying to decide if it was worth it. He didn't want to bother her, but frankly, he was exhausted. But she answered anyway, hurriedly.

She was wearing a pair of leggings and a blue tank top. One that was thin and made Harry’s stomach ache with desire. Something lower ached with desire too. But fortunately, he had enough foresight to put on a pair of sweats before waking her. She rubbed her eye looking like a toddler coming to their parents’ bedroom. Her hair tie had fallen from her braid letting the strands fall haphazardly out of the twist.

He thought about kissing her. God he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be alone in the middle of the night with her.

Gratefully, Cece called out. Reminding him of why he had woken her up in the first place.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you check on her? She’s so fussy. I don’t know if m’doing something wrong?” It killed him that the baby was fussing. He hated to wake her almost as much. However, she didn’t even bat an eye to it and hurried to Cece’s room. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be,” she yawned. “I was... actually reading,” she smiled. “I shouldn’t be, but I can’t put the book down.”

How was that so hot sounding? It shouldn’t have been. He had watched her read on the couch a hundred times. But it was hot. So hot he was glad there was an extra layer to hide how it made him feel.

Harry was glad he was going away for the weekend. He needed to clear his head of the pretty girl that was invading his every thought when he had no right to think of her that way. “Oh yeah, Miss Cece just wants to party, huh, sweet girl?” She smiled and pulled her from the crib and hummed. “Daddy has to work early tomorrow, Cece. can have our own party tomorrow, okay? But Daddy’s got to sleep,” she whispered. “I know you’re a party girl,” she cooed. “But you can’t party when you’re sleepy,” she reminded her.

Harry was not thinking of it like that but the way she said Daddy (twice) made his chest ache with something he wasn’t used to feeling. It probably didn’t help that her tank top did little to hide two hardened, protruding bumps on her chest that made Harry want to lick his lips (and her). He was going to turn the heat up before bed because it must have been chilly.

Harry tried to keep his gaze PG, but she was so pretty, he was thanking himself for the moment of clarity he had that made him put on pants because he wouldn’t be able to hide the way he felt about seeing her sleepy and beautiful.

Fuck Niall and his stupid observations. He is so fired when I get back from my trip.

After a few more hums and coos, Cece fell back to sleep. She kissed her hair and gently laid her back in the crib. “She’s almost four months, of course—she might be hitting a little sleep regression. It’s perfectly normal. I’ll do some research and see what I can do to help alleviate—”

“Thank you,” he felt exhausted. Sleep deprived and sad about leaving—even if it was just for the weekend. “Seriously. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Of course, Harry. That’s what I’m here for. Probably a good time to stop my book too,” she reached out and squeezed his arm. “Get some sleep. I’ll have breakfast in the morning before you fly out,” she promised.

“I didn't mean t'interrupt your book,” he said softly. “Y'don’t have t'get up earlier, she can lay in bed for a bit,” he offered.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’ll just nap when she naps,” she shrugged. "Cece will want to see you before you leave," she smiled so effortlessly. Like Cece would really know if he was gone. But the way she said it made him believe it. She squeezed Harry's forearm. “Goodnight, Harry,” she said sweetly.

*

Harry was staring at Cece like she was going to disappear while he fed her. She gently pushed the cup of tea she made him (with three sugars) in front of him. “I haven’t left her once for this long,” Harry reminded her.

“I know,” she frowned. “She’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“I know.”

“Really, Harry. I won’t let anything happen to her. I love her beyond belief,” she promised.

But Harry felt something creep into his stomach. Something that felt like an overwhelming urge to kiss her. A way that had him aching to make Cece a sibling and he thought that maybe he could shift the real estate in his heart that was reserved for his company and open it for someone else. He shook his head as if a bug had flown in his eye. Ridding himself of the unrealistic thought that was wriggling it's way into ever inch of his mind.

No, he didn’t love her.

That would be ridiculous.

It took her two weeks to figure out what Harry liked to eat for breakfast most. As stubborn as Harry was, she was more so. Every day she made something new: omelets, waffles, French toast, everything he could think of, she tried. But when she told him she was going to make crepes, he stopped her and told her: just scrambled eggs and toast.

So, she made him scrambled eggs, toast, and sliced up some avocado on the side. “Thank you, love. Y'really didn’t need to.”

“I have it on good authority you rarely eat until like two in the afternoon if I don’t feed you,” she smiled. “Happy to help,” she promised. Because that’s what she did. Helped and helped and helped.

“Why don’t y’tell your friend m’going t’fire him if y’don’t stop talking t’him.”

She laughed and Harry enjoyed the sound more than he thought possible. “Niall?! Shouldn’t you fire me?”

He shook his head. “No way, love. You’re the best there is for Cece, you’re stuck here,” he smirked. Her heart fluttered and she realized she hadn’t spoken as Harry glanced at her. He cleared his throat. “I mean... as long as you like it here,” he attempted to recover (poorly).

“I love it here,” she nodded excitedly. That beautiful smile that Harry had honed in on during her interview spread across her beautiful face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you,” he smiled. Genuinely.

It took every ounce of Harry’s shaky control to keep himself from saying he would miss her too, while he was gone. Maybe as much as he would miss Cece.

*

It was only a two-night stay. But the first night was hardest. He called as soon as his last meeting finished. He watched her play with Cece through the video call. When her phone died, it took five minutes for her to get rebooted. She grabbed her laptop to continue the call and set it up on the floor for Harry to see Cece during her tummy time.

Cece didn’t seem to notice much that Harry was on the computer screen. In fact, she didn’t pay much attention to either of them while they chatted at all. Even when Cece fell asleep, he found himself asking her all kinds of questions about school and work. How she decided to become a nanny and the like. He asked about her family and if she missed them. Her family was still hours and hours away from her, so he was confused as to why she wouldn’t move with the previous family she nannied for.

“Truthfully?” She sighed. “I love this coast so much,” she smiled fondly. “I grew up here and I went to school here. I loved my nanny family, but there’s just something about it here,” she explained. “My family kind of... they don't..." she sighed. "They don't visit much and I think they would come up to visit even less if I lived across the country. I adore my family. They mean so much to me. It would have been hard to be even further away from them.”

Harry wanted to hold her and never let go. This woman loved hard. Harder than anyone he knew.

Eventually, when it was so much later than it should have been to be chatting on the phone with someone he was employing to take care of his daughter, without talking about said daughter, Harry said goodnight and got ready for bed. As he brushed his teeth, he opened his text messages.

Niall...

Yes, Harry? It’s eleven and I’m in bed.

... she’s perfect.

Who Cece?

...

No shit, Harry. You’re an idiot.

When Harry closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but think of her.

*

When Harry returned home, he rushed through the door, dropping his bags and hurrying to the living room. Harry was on the floor beside the coffee table where he showered Cece in kisses all over her little face. The only pause he had was looking at the lovely girl giggling on the couch at their reunion. “Ugh, Cece, you’re making me jealous! I wish someone would be that happy to see me when they get home,” she giggled.

But Harry couldn’t let her think that for a moment longer. He crossed the room, pulled the book from her hands and straddled her, locking her in place. He cupped her face before she could question anything and kissed her. Kissed her long and hard. Eventually he nestled his hips between her thighs. “I like you so much. I’m so happy t’see you when I get home,” he groaned peppering her face and skin with more kisses. “I trust you with everything. You have my whole world most of the day. And... when I get home m’so happy t'see Cece. But love, m’thrilled t'see you as well”

“Harry,” she whispered. “She’s right there."

“She's not looking,” his voice was husky as he pulled on the neck of the blue tank top that stared in all his dreams. He tugged it down her chest a bit hoping to see those pretty, hardened—

The phone call waking him up for the day put him nearly in a cold sweat. “Ugh,” he moaned reaching blindly for the nightstand for the phone. He pulled the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He grumbled.

“Hello, Mr. Styles this is your wake-up cal—”

He smacked the phone back into the receiver and begged for the dream to come back before it went away. What was underneath that tank top? He glanced at the clock. If he fucked his hand, he wouldn’t have time to shave. That wasn’t very business owner of him. Or maybe it was. He was CEO, the meetings wouldn’t start without him.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and wrapped his hand around his hard dick. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he pretended he knew what was hiding beneath the thin tank top of the woman who lived in his house.

*

The weather fucked him royally. He was supposed to be home that evening. Supposed to be eating dinner with his little baby and the pretty nanny. It felt completely unfair that the weather had made it so he would be stuck in a stupid airport, and he would have to go directly to work in the morning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she promised. “Maybe you can take the day off later in the week,” she suggested. “Actually... I was going to ask you if it was possible for you to do that anyway, so maybe this works out. Or maybe your mom—” He knew she was trying to distract him. Which he was grateful for but he was still so frustrated.

"What do y'need?" He asked, his voice stiff. He didn't mean for it to be. He was just upset.

She cleared her throat. “I just have some appointments I’ve been rescheduling over and over trying to find a day that's best for them. I don’t want to make you take the day off, but I know you’ve been nervous about your trip. I’ve been waiting—”

“Of course,” he said hurriedly. “Which day?”

“Wednesday, if possible. If not I can reschedule again.”

“Sure,” he’d take the whole week off if she asked. Cece time and helping the perfect angel? She didn’t need to say anything else.

“Thank you, Harry," the gratitude in her voice made him ache.

“You’ve worked nonstop for almost two months, love. Y’do more than I ever expected. S’least I could do. Plus, staying home with m’daughter isn’t a bad thing.”

She smiled. “She misses you,” she promised. Harry was pretty sure Cece wouldn’t know if he was away or not; work or overnight stay irrelevant. But it was nice she was saying it for his benefit. “She does, I swear,” she continued, somehow understanding his silence. “Especially at bedtime and when she wakes up. Little Miss doesn’t sleep well without you here,” she cooed. Harry imagined her holding the baby on his couch looking utterly comfortable and natural.

“Well tell her I miss her, love her, and kiss her for me too.”

She pressed a bunch of kisses to her skin loud enough for Harry to hear and that soft little giggle as well. Harry smiled, feeling marginally better about his cancelled flight. “See you tomorrow, love.”

“Can you say, bye bye Daddy,” she whispered. “Come on you can do it,” she encouraged. It was much too early and of course she knew that, but Harry loved that she tried anyway.

He wanted to tell Cece to give her a kiss from him as well.

--

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[pumpkinsy0]

ik u answered this like a month ago i think but do u have any more hcs on papercut moving in together and the gang coming to their apartment or whatever else they move in to

its ok i love them, i do have hcs of em i play w them like theyre my barbies

•as soon as curly realized bc its his house now, he cluld leave the doors open and not get w pony behind closed doors, he PURPOSELY left the doors open, pony however keeps closing it out of habit, its like “baby, wyd??? leave that door open😏😏” “🙎🏻‍♂️”

•for a good while, they were buying used things, like of course they cleaned it, but yknow. sometimes it was online, other times just stuff they found outside w a sign that said “take me”

•it took them a solid month or 3 to FULLY get things together, partially bc they were busy or something along the lines, but also bc they argued on where to put furniture

•ideally speaking, if they were able to, i think it would b obvious that theyre both maximalist, but in different ways, u can tell who added what, VERY quickly, maybe it takes a while for them to rlly decorate the place how they want to, but tbh, wouldnt call it decorate??? more so they just add shit they like and find a place for it, its not like they have a design in mind here

•they dont rlly have any rules for their house, at MOST maybe its to take ur shoes off at the door, but they dont rlly enforce that, they dont care THAT much, just dont make an absolute MESS of the place and ur free to do whatever

•they would get plastic plates and silverware at first, just bc they didnt rlly have ACTUAL appliances, but even when they did get it, they didnt stop using the plastics bc they didnt feel like washing dishes, but at some point they had to stop cause they were wasting money😭

•darry and soda r the guys that goes “maybe u should put up a picture here”, they give sone decorating tips, they let pony take some things from their home to put into his and sometimes they still come over w things pony can have!!! curly aint have much from his house to give tho

•the gang could not LEAVE after they came over, cause like pony man,,,hes left the nest, they rlly growin up💔💔💔, they said theyd leave but then stayed for another hour

•darry and soda would cook for pony and curly, pony CAN cook, but its just that hes not used to cooking DAILY, him, darry, and soda would switch who would do it daily, so pony and curly would b ordering take out or eating junk food for a good chunk of the week

•pony and curly would get very home sick, family means everything to them, and now they dont rlly see them all that often, so they always call home, just ti hear their voice at least and know whats happening back at home, this also means that pony and curly cling to each other more, they remind each other of home!!!

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in IKEA

The title says it all, really.

1. Adolin & Shallan

Adolin: This place is such a maze!

Shallan: Yeah, it kinda reminds me of my time in the chasms with Kaladin.

Shallan: There could be a chasmfiend made entirely of hex keys around any corner.

Adolin: You’ve already mapped this place in your head, haven’t you?

Shallan: Well, duh. 

2. Kaladin & Teft

Kaladin: Ha, look at the size of this bed! What kind of spoiled lighteyes needs a bed this big??

Teft: Kaladin, lad, that’s a bed for two people...

Kaladin: ...

Kaladin: I knew that. 

3. Sebarial & Palona

Sebarial: Genius, really, setting up all of these fake rooms to make people imagine their homes looking like this.

Sebarial: Makes you want to buy way more than you came in for.

Sebarial: And it all seems cheap, but it sure adds up!

Palona: Mmm...and the pathing really forces you to see everything, no matter what you’re looking for.

Palona: Urithiru is mazelike already--think Dalinar would give you a floor to set up something like this?

Sebarial: Are you SURE you don’t want to marry me?

4. Dalinar & Stormfather

Dalinar: I think it’s good for people to build their own furniture.

Dalinar: I never felt as clear-headed as I did when I dug that latrine that one time.

Stormfather: Bah, this flimsy wood could never stand up to a storm.

Dalinar: Most people keep their furniture inside.

Stormfather: I’m listening and learning here.  

Dalinar: What?

Stormfather: What?

5. Lopen & Rock

Lopen: Now, see, people say the REAL fun is the food!

Rock: Ha! These meatballs are not as good as chouta with fried cremling claws, but they’re still pretty good!

Lopen: Of course! Nothing beats chouta!

6. Wyndle & Lift

Wyndle: Oh, this is SO exciting!

Wyndle: Look at all of these WONDERFUL chairs!

Wyndle: I can’t wait to add some of these to my chair garden!

Lift (dragging her feet): Is this the LAST time I let you pick our activity. 

7. Denth & Tonk Fah

Denth: You know what I hate about being a mercenary?

Denth: People think you have no sense of style.

Denth: And sure, interior decorating isn’t a big part of our life.

Denth: But just look at this pillow I chose and tell me it wouldn’t look great on any modern couch.

Tonk Fah: Hey, that old lady you stabbed to get that pillow seems to be coming around.

Denth: And people NEVER appreciate the lengths we got to to get a good deal!

8. Szeth & Nightblood

Szeth: I like this place.

Szeth: There is no profane stone anywhere, and the seemingly endless maze of empty rooms devoid of all life reminds me of the inside of my own head, only they took out the screams.

Szeth: And some of the plastic fruit is nice.

Nightblood: That’s great but can we get back to my thing now?

Szeth: That sofa wasn’t evil, sword-nimi.

Nightblood: Then why was its name looking at me with those beady eyes?!

Szeth: I think the umlaut is just part of the spelling, sword-nimi.

Nightblood: I think we should destroy it, just in case.

9. Siri & Syl

Siri: Look at this!! A tiny frying pan!

Syl: No, look at this!! It’s a blue stuffed shark!

Siri: Look at how colorful this rug is!

Syl: I don’t even smoke, but this ash tray is shaped like a COW!

Siri: I can’t believe Vivenna and Kal said we “couldn’t be trusted in the marketplace”

Syl: I know! We make such good decisions!

10. Jasnah & Navani & Elhokar 

Jasnah: It is nice of them to include pictogram instructions, so that even men can assemble this furniture. 

Navani: Engineering for men. Very progressive of them. 

Elhokar: How am I supposed to screw in all these screws with just this hex key?! Also, these dowels definitely do NOT fit in this hole! And I am definitely missing some pieces!!

Elhokar (muttering): I bet Kaladin could build this bookcase.

Jasnah: Should we help him?

Navani: Give it five more minutes. 

[queenlua]

30's meme: 1, 11, 45, 52?

1. What was the first piece of furniture you bought?

my *very* first piece of furniture was a futon whose cost i split with three other roommates, freshman year of college. i napped/lounged/homeworked on that futon probably more than anyone else all four years of undergrad, lmao. we got it from a habitat from humanity sale and it was CLUTCH

my first non-cheapo/non-ikea furniture would be the wooden dinner table i split with my husband when we moved in together. it's SO pretty and nice and i love it so much... and he DEFINITELY had to talk me into it because i have no sense of ~*~interior decoration aesthetics~*~ and was like "do we really need this idk it seems too fancy...." (he was 100% correct and, come to think of it, is responsible for pretty much all our furniture. it's ok, i contribute all the stuffed animals, i'm helping)

11. What’s something you saved up for and then regretted buying?

for years all my skibrah buddies were like "bro you gotta get an Epic Pass it's the only way to ski bro" & one year i FINALLY caved and got an epic pass and... then due to illness/injury i wasn't even able to USE the thing to the fullest, and also, most of the bit of skiing i wound up doing was at a NON-EPIC MOUNTAIN, so. all i got was the warm n fuzzy feeling of "paying lots of money to the evil conglomerate that's slowly jacking up the price of skiing all across the entire world." UGH

45. What’s something you wish you had more time for?

if i had an extra three hours a day i could do job + all my hobbies + get adequate sleep. however i do not have those three hours so more-often-then-not i sleep less than i'd like (and uhhh sometimes i job less than i should, but, don't tell my boss that)

52. Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them?

Oh yeah, absolutely. Though I guess there was a little back-n-forth, like...

High school: Relationship with mom was so-so but overall fine

College: Relationship with mom gets much worse. In hindsight, she was definitely working through some Empty Nester Feelings TM and i kinda got the brunt of that, but also, I probably wasn't as nice about it as I could've been haha

First job out of college: Mom's SO much more chill. So chill that, when I end up doing a residency in another city & plot to land a job on the west coast, I'm like "why don't I just move back home for a bit in-between gigs"

Living at home again: BAD idea lmfao. Things are really tense and bad

West coast job: Both mom & I are still a little wounded for a year or two, but stuff's much better from there on out, and nowadays I definitely count mom among my best friends.

(my dad was present through all this but that relationship's always been stable, by the virtue of me being Basically The Same Person As My Dad, lol)

[jikookuntold]

Where is your red line when you would admit that jikook is not dating ? Now when you see that Jimin is free, Jungkook is alone too, inviting whoever will come to his home to not be lonely and Jimin is nowhere to be seen. How do you feel now?

Nowhere.

Never.

And I feel great, Thank you. Lol

But don't go anywhere, I'm not done yet. I have questions too. My question is why you are so bothered by me believing in Jikook dating? I know many people out there believing in the most crazy stupid things, and I can't give a shit about it. Why can't you be the same? Or is it because you wake up every morning and monitor all the activities of Jimin and JK to see if you can find an evidence that is slightly not aligned with the idea of them dating? And then you come to your fake tmblr accout with 2 following and spam the blogs who turned off anonymous asks? This is a very obsessive and pathetic behavior if you ask me. Anyways I'm going to ignore you for the rest of this post because this is not about you, and your ask was just an excuse for me to write my thoughts.

Based on VHopeKook live last night, JK decided to invite members to "his place" to talk and have dinner together, and only Jhope and Taehyung accepted his invitation. So, Jimin not being there means that Jikook is not a thing? Okay, let's imagine if Jimin was one of members who responded JK's invitation. Wouldn't they repeat the same thing, saying that this proves they don't live together? The same people said that Jikook haven't seen each other in months, and it was only a matter of time to be proven wrong.

The story these people are trying to make is some type of a mutual pining. We see Jikook talking about each other, watching each others' videos and lives, JK invites jimin for food, Jimin invites JK for dance practice, JK invites Jimin to do boxing, Jimin wants JK to make him noodles and JK wants to watch his performance at music shows. They should take Yoongi's advice for that ARMY and just date. Lol

It's funny how people were getting hit tweets by making fun of JK building a mansion in Itaewon saying he doesn't need a mansion when his house has no decoration and he uses secondhand furniture. These people completely ignore the possibility of Brunnen actually not being his (only) place to live, since we already know JK is a very neat and perfectionist person. Apparently making fun of JK is more acceptable than that.

Wherever JK lives, he simply can not play loud music there, he can't do karaoke at 4am and not having neighbours on his door complaining. There is only one place that has no other residents and it is Brunnen building because it's all rented by Hybe entertainment, and as we can see JK uses that place for doing his special lives (which always include midnight loud music and karaoke) and other activities. Yes, he has clothes, kitchenware, a pethouse and other personal things in that place, and we can tell he has spent many nights there. But don't forget that JK is a millionaire, he can afford many things. He can afford things in double, he can buy more than one pethouse, and he can have more than one place to stay. It's not that hard to understand.

So let me give you a scenario; JK is leaving for LA (in a few hours the time I'm writing this post), he needed to pack some stuff, and since some of his clothes were in Brunnen, he stopped by to do the laundry and finish his packing. Since he was alone he invited the member in their group chat. Jhope came by because he loves to spend more time with members right before his enlistment, and Tae also came because he was alone. Jimin didn't come because he was tired or unavailable. VHopeKook had a great time together and shared some minutes of it with us, then VHope left, and JK kept getting ready for his business travel. And again, none of this had nothing to do with Jikook being a couple and living together.

[katyspersonal]

It is always so hard to recover the default settings of my brain after someone had already fiddled with them.

I live completely settled and accepting that nothing in my life will ever get better. That Russia will just keep getting digged deeper and deeper into its grave and I'll never be able to leave it (I am poor, nor I have qualifications important enough). That I'll just die here, and alone, and unloved, and very soon after my mom passes away because I can't fully care for myself. That everything will just keep getting worse, that I'll never reach the civilized world, that I'll always struggle with money for as much as food, that nobody will want to be my family.

But I accepted it, there is no need to worry too much if nothing can be changed. So it hurts even stronger when some asshole crawls back, telling me that he can't have a future without me, how much he wants to take me out of this mess and give me better life, how he has money to buy everything he ever wanted but it all means nothing if he can't buy me gifts and see places with me and meet holidays with me. How he just wanted to have a family at last in his life and only saw me as such - not because I was the only one who would accept, but because he only liked me. Because in the end I dropped my guard and felt hope. My brain completely rebuilt my concept of life and future from "dying alone, cold, unloved and pretty soon" to imagining doing everything there is to do in life together with someone I love.

But apparently he got too scared and uncomfortable with how fixated I became on meeting irl already, since I kept asking him about it? Of course I was impatient! I could not wait to take walks in the places he showed me together, and let him teach me how to cook, and watch all the shows he wanted me to show together, and do house stuff like picking furniture, cosplaying, decorating for holidays, taking care of pets, having long talks before falling asleep etc.. Yet he thought that was cringe and it made me sound "obsessive and entitled" and he went all "woah chill, you should be more HUMBLE and grateful for the OFFER, actually I was not in my right mind when I offered you, I am not really that desperate for you so why can't you just visit me once in a while for holidays or something :)"

And I just can't rebuild myself back to how I used to be right away. The vision of a better future became so apparent, so integral for my thoughts and feelings every day, that I kind of lost the idea. Like walking out of a house only for the door to lock itself behind me, so I can't even walk back in and am stuck outside.

I feel like my life just tries to teach me that I can't be loved or wanted. Why else I keep facing betrayals? Because it should be apparent that if something sounds too good to be true - then it IS.

[the141ghost]

Simon didn’t even try stifling his laugh over the fact that Johnny immediately called him out on his shitty description.

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah, well… Not like I’m there enough t’be able to give you a good an’ proper description of the place, am I?”

It was partially true.

He was barely there, there wasn’t exactly any use in leaving around nice furniture for a burglar to take if they ever broke in. But, another reason he didn’t want to put down too solid of roots was because he knew he was already running on borrowed time. Between his life before the military and his life during, it was amazing that he’d managed to avoid kicking the bucket so many times.

He was well overdue a bitter reality check, but for now, it would have to wait.

Now, he had Johnny to think about. He had Johnny to decorate his house for, to get proper, nice furniture for, though he would most likely have to intervene with Simon's shoddy attempts at decorating. Was it even an attempt if you didn’t do it at all, actually? He didn’t think he had a single decoration in the whole house. 

He had the necessities; a mattress, a fridge, a microwave and kettle, and a fully functioning bathroom. There wasn’t an oven in the house when he had moved in, and he’d never bought one to fill the gap between his counters. He wasn’t going to be there, let alone actually use the bloody thing, so why would he waste the money?

Johnny might ask him to buy one. He’d just tell him to pick his favourite, he could use it whenever he stayed over, as much as he’d like.

And Simon decided, very quickly, he’d like it if he stayed over a lot.

He was, unfortunately, very well aware of his… questionable cooking attempts.

Hence why he has a secret stash of Dairylea Lunchables in his office on base, he’d even bought a little fridge for the sole purpose of putting food away. He did typically need to devour at least five of them at a time to sate even the tiniest bit of his hunger, but after that, he would usually manage to find himself some real food.

Johnny… maybe didn’t need to know that yet, actually.

“Alright, you can cook,” he agreed, one corner of his lips curling up into a lazy smile. “So long as I get to watch you.”

The comment about Johnny telling his mum he didn’t want to go with Simon did amuse him, however. While he fought the urge to mock even the idea of Johnny ever saying something like that, he managed out a fairly coherent sentence, though it was still laced with humour.

“Well, whatever little Johnny wants, yeah?” He may have spoken teasingly, but it was the fucking truth. 

Whatever Johnny wanted, Simon would find a way of getting it to him, no matter what it was. Considering that Simon would wholeheartedly say he’d never felt like this about anyone before, Johnny was really shoving him headfirst into the deep end. Simon didn’t have the best survival instincts when it came to the Scot, though. He took it all in, finally allowing himself to stop his lungs from burning and aching, and to just… feel what he’d desperately wanted to for all these years. Like taking that first breath of water when you were drowning, it almost felt like a high. Everything stopped hurting, you weren’t scared anymore.

Simon quite liked the idea of drowning in John MacTavish, and now, he could. He wasn’t scared, not of Johnny.

Never of Johnny.

He didn’t know why, but hearing that Johnny had a ‘thing’ for him nearly elicited a reaction that would have put everything else to shame. Hearing that Johnny loved him? That, quite truthfully, might be what actually kills him.

But, hearing something so casual and yet so much of a turn-on…

Well, that nearly fried Simon’s brain altogether. A thing. What did that even mean? And why was Simon’s entire body flushing with heat at the insinuation of what it might mean?

God, he needed a cold shower…

His touch-starved side only reared its head further when Johnny continued, making him into even more of a blushing mess than he already was. He wondered if he should feel stressed that Johnny’s mother would find out. But, from their brief interaction, she seemed respectful and kind enough. And, she was kind to his Johnny, so as long as Johnny was happy with it, then Simon was, too.

Simon was sure that the first time Johnny referred to him as his boyfriend, he would genuinely die. The crushing warmth that he imagined Johnny saying it with would rival the fucking sun itself. He’d let it all burn to hear those words come from Johnny’s mouth.

It was going to be an absolute minefield to navigate, Simon was sure, especially while at work. He was still Johnny’s superior after all, he wouldn’t want anyone to accuse Johnny of trying to climb the ladder unfairly or him giving Johnny any special treatment—even though he already did.

They’d have to keep sneaking around on base, at least at first. They’d stick to formalities—or as formal as they usually were, changing anything now would just add suspicion—especially around their higher-ups.

Simon would make it work, though. So long as it was Johnny, he’d always make it work.

A small frown teased at his lips as his mind continued to wander. Would Johnny find it hard to take orders from him now? That wasn’t really something that should happen in a relationship, should it? It should be equal, everything, at least that was what Simon had heard. Once they were both better, he’d risk broaching the subject, make sure that Johnny wasn’t getting cold feet about the situation.

Honestly, Simon didn’t find he was too worried about the prospect of having to sneak around while at work. They’d pretty much been doing it anyway, though now they could actually find a private moment to themselves to do things that Simon had only dreamed of doing with Johnny. 

Price clearly approved. If he knew the man well enough, and he liked to think he did, he was probably already making mental plans of what paperwork he needed to edit or ‘lose’ in order to keep his boys safe and secure.

Worst case scenario, he’d have to edit it himself. If, for example, he and Johnny had gotten together when they were both Sergeants and only later had Ghost been promoted to lieutenant…

Well, that wasn’t breaking any rules, and it wasn’t something anyone could try and deny, either.

“You’re probably going to be in here longer than I am, mind you,” Simon began, stretching his legs out with a quiet groan. Everything fucking ached. “Or… at least some hospital. Could always get your surgery recovery done at one closer to my place, get you into PT up there, too. Unless, y’know, you fancied hanging around closer to base while you got fixed up enough to travel. Gaz and Price probably know more about, uh… that kind of thing. Feeling wise.”

Simon really had to fight the urge not to call it ‘our place’ when he was referring to his house. Johnny had shown interest, and that was more than enough for him to hand the fucking keys over then and there.

“A- Johnny, if at any point, you change your mind about all this… Just… Tell me, yeah? I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

It won’t break my heart. It was already broken a long time ago. You would have just given me a little more life, a little more hope. More warmth in a soul that was so frigid I didn’t ever think it would be able to thaw again.

“I’m happy you fancied coming back with me. And… As fucked up as it sounds, Johnny, I’m happy we almost died together. If we hadn’t… Fuck, this wouldn’t have happened, would it? Would’ve just continued dancing around each other until one of us took a round to the head.”

Johnny rolled his eyes at Simon’s ‘description’ of the house. “I asked wha’ it’s like, not what the bleedin’ listing fer it was,” he said with fond exasperation. He didn’t think he was going to get anything better than that out of him though, so he had to make do and imagine from that basic description.

He had always imagined Simon living in a flat in some city, probably either London or Manchester, so to find out he lived in a bungalow in a lovely neighbourhood was a bit of a shock, though not an unpleasant one. It sounded like an idyllic little place, something that was so completely opposite to Ghost that he found himself somehow even more excited to see this place, to explore this corner of Simon’s life that he had apparently predicted completely wrong. It sounded like someone else’s life entirely.

Also, he’d mentioned there was only one bed in the house…

The idea of doing something as normal and boring as going food shopping suddenly sounded like best day plans he’d ever made, if he was doing it with Simon. And going on an IKEA trip with him, too? It sounded perfect, like a couple moving into their first house together.

The thing that really stood out to him, though, was Simon’s mention of ‘every time’. Every time? Like he was already planning for this to be a regular thing, Johnny staying around at his, like it was something they might do every time they had leave. Or maybe even just take leave, unprompted, to spend some time away from work with each other… Now wasn’t a nice thought?

Simon seemed almost shy to be sharing this part of himself with Johnny, like he was nervous he might judge him for it. Which was a ridiculous idea, honestly, because… well, okay, depending on what he saw he might judge him, but it was never going to put him off. If it turned out this place was a shithole? Or that it was as undecorated as his room on base? Well, Johnny would just have to help him redo the place.

As best he could with half his bones broken, that was.

“Aye, that sounds perfect,” he agreed, realising he hadn’t spoken yet, too caught up in his dreaming, “And ye better be lettin’ me cook, I’ve seen some o’ yer attempts here. Disgraceful.”

Johnny was going to reply nicely, until Simon called him that.

“Well, I was gonna say she will be, but maybe just fer tha’ I’ll tell her I dinnae wanna go,” he scoffed, “Bastard.”

But, because he was nice, he still gave Simon a proper answer.

“She’ll be fine wi’ it, don’ worry. She, uh… ye probably already guessed she knows I, y’know, have a thing for ye, bu’ I reckon she’s probably worked out it’s mutual by now, too,” he thought specifically of them staring into each other’s eyes with Johnny’s hand pressed against his heart, “So… when I tell ‘er I’m staying wi’ you, she’ll probably work out we… talked about it.”

He really wasn’t sure what language to be using here. Made it official? Had they done that? Was Simon alright with Johnny calling him his boyfriend, provided it was not in a work context and would not get them into trouble?

God, he hadn’t even thought about that yet. Their relationship was definitely not allowed. How on earth were they going to dodge around that?

[fabulivonline]

Is a Study Table important? Why?

So, do you think that bookish knowledge is all-important to work in a very good company or to open a business? No, nowadays, bookish knowledge is not that important. Students used to work to develop their skills, used to make different contacts, and build their minds when they were in college. So, don’t ever think you are very talented and intelligent if you have 100% of bookish knowledge. This knowledge is not going to help you in any way than to bring grades. So, this is the article for those students who are still in school and studying to pass their exams. The piece of furniture that I am going to tell today is very important for them to study hard and pass their exams with the best grades. 

Usually having this particular piece of furniture is frequently regarded as the most suitable material, especially for similar furniture pieces. This furniture piece is just for children or kids who want to study and they are plain and simple tables that are also used for writing purposes. As education has now almost become online, this particular furniture piece is not used often by students. Among all the woods, solid wood and premium engineered wood are considered the most common types of wood used for these particular furniture pieces. It completely depends on the size of the room or the place where you wanted to place this furniture piece.

They are just simple and plain tables that are used for studying or writing purposes. Many students usually love to decorate their working tables by adding their favorite color schemes. If the person likes bright colors, then he may choose red, green, blue, or green storage containers for making their writing desk or working desk more unique and more creative. Yes, you must have thought that right, that this is nothing but the study table. This table usually helps in organizing books correctly so that it will be much easier for you or your kids to pick anyone and start reading. 

It will definitely depend on the size of the room or the place where it is to be kept and where the children or the students can comfortably study and prepare for their exams. Before buying a study table, you need to make sure about the height. On this writing table, there can be many essential study materials that can be kept comfortably. With this writing table, you should also have one very comfortable chair or a standing desk. The main use of the study table is that it usually helps in organizing the books correctly so that it will be very helpful for kids to pick and choose the book accordingly. An individual will need to spend a considerable amount of time researching on the writing desk to get the right support and comfort.

People should always have peace in their study room so that the children can easily study by giving utmost concentration and dedication. If there is a study table kept in the room, you should also have a chair or a standing desk for kids to sit upon. If you want to study for long hours and that too with dedication and concentration, you need to choose the selected colors for working or the writing table. Generally, a writing table is almost between 26 to 30 inches in height for a very comfortable seating position. There are many kids who cannot feel comfortable studying at the study table but those who feel comfortable studying at the table eventually provide the assurance of comfort to your child. Before buying a writing table, the best way to check the height is to get your child to test the seat and see if he is comfortable or not as he will be the only one to use that entire furniture piece.

If your child studies in the study room or by sitting at the study table, then this practice of studying will always sharpen the mind and also improves concentration. Some of the selected colors for working or the writing desk are green, light green, pastel blue, cream, and white. But it is said to agree that nowadays, luxury home décor has eventually replaced the writing table and most kids use to study sitting on their bed or sofa. If you start studying sitting in the study room, then you will realize that it is a space of dedication where you can sit and study and you will not get disturbed by other people at your home. There is a high chance that if you study sitting on the writing table you will not get distracted just because your sitting position is erect. The most important part to study in a good environment is just to choose the area with minimal interruptions. 

[callivich]

The latest instalment of arrow&calli write!

Part 1 (Calli) // Part 2 (Arrow)

“We do this together, or not at all,” he demanded.  “So you gotta tell me what you want, too.”

Ian deflated a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he slumped back into his chair.

“It’s not bad here, I like the pool and the fact that everything’s clean and new but…”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, a silent request for Ian to continue.

“It doesn’t feel like a home.”

Mickey nodded, he understood that. No matter what they did to the apartment - buying their own furniture and adding their own pieces of decor, it didn’t feel truly comfortable. There was always that strange feeling that they didn’t quite fit. And it wasn’t just the apartment, it was the West Side in general - everything was different. And not in a way they could adapt too. It had been a year and they’d tried - making nice with the neighbours (very reluctantly on Mickey’s part) and trying the restaurants and bars nearby - but they just didn’t like it. Maybe that was ok? Mickey didn’t feel like a failure. They’d tried it and they didn’t like it, there was nothing wrong with that. Still, he knew what Ian meant. “I know. Feels like we’re never gonna settle…..like it’s temporary. Like it’s someone else’s place we’re crashing in.”

“Yes!” Ian agreed enthusiastically before his face fell, “I’m such an asshole though, I’m sorry, I made us come here and we don’t like it and -”

“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered, kicking Ian’s leg lightly under the table. They’d been over this before - trying their best to communicate and act like adults, it wasn’t easy but fuck….they had talked for hours, going over their feelings and listening to each other. It wasn’t as bad as Mickey had thought it would be, but it was still difficult. Afterwards, things were better but it seemed like Ian was still dealing with some lingering feelings of guilt. “You’ve apologised, we’ve moved past it or whatever. It’s��.done. Ok?”

Ian paused, pursing his lips. “Ok.” He shrugged. “Just want you to know I wouldn’t ever do that-”

“I know. I know, ok?” Mickey grabbed another donut and started to eat, before setting half of it down on the table. “So, we’re gonna move, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ian seemed relieved and Mickey wondered exactly how long he’d not been happy here. That was probably a conversation for another time though.

“Guess we need to start searching listings and -”

“We should get a realtor.” Ian was picking at a donut, licking the sugar from his fingers. “It’s what people do.”

“Since when are we people who use realtors?”

“Since we have some savings and a joint bank account and we’re married and running a business together which won’t leave us much time to go and look ourselves.”

Mickey sighed, probably a bit too dramatically, but he realised Ian was right. “If they’re an asshole who judges us -”

“They won’t be. We’ll choose a nice, normal person.”

“Yeah, unlikely. Two gay, ex-cons running a weed security business. They’ll be lining up to turn us down.”

“Mick. Come on, let’s just look.” Ian was already getting up to fetch their laptop, which he placed in the middle of the table. Mickey couldn’t help but smiled at his eagerness. There was something so endearing about him wanting them to do everything together this time around. He was tapping away, his brow furrowed as he searched for realtors in the Chicago area.

They scrolled through various sites, with Mickey pointing out who looked like a judgemental asshole and Ian struggling to keep a straight face. Eventually, they found a company that didn’t, according to Mickey, have any assholes if the pictures of the realtors were accurate. The number was busy when they called so they went to fill out the contact form on the website, Ian dictating as he typed.

“My husband and I are looking for a - ….. one bedroom?” Ian looked at Mickey expectantly, waiting for his opinion.

Mickey leaned close to Ian, focusing on the laptop screen, suddenly feeling nervous. “Or two…maybe. Between your siblings and their kids staying round whenever they fuckin’ feel like it and….y’know, whatever else…..we’ll need space.”

He didn’t say it out loud but the implication was clear. ‘Whatever’ meant a kid. Their kid. It didn’t meant definitely, hell….Mickey might never be ready but the fact was, he wanted to think about it. He wanted them to have the option.

Ian tried his hardest to act natural, to stop himself from grinning and kissing Mickey’s cheek and reiterating just how great a dad he would be if he wanted to.

“Ok, two bedrooms. What else do we want?”

[rynne311]

Pizza and Beer

Summary: When friends move, you help out in exchange for pizza and beer. Those are the rules, even when you don't like beer and you like your friend way more than just a friend.

Word Count: 1353

The offer had been simple enough. Jason offered you pizza and beer if you helped him move. You weren't sure how much help you could actually be, but you weren't about to pass up the chance to spend the day with your friend. Deep down, though, you wished this was a moving in together kind of move instead, but for as well as Jason knew you, he was no mind reader, especially when it came to your feelings for him.

You were surprised when you got out of the moving truck he'd rented to find all of the big furniture had already been moved in. You assumed that meant he'd already moved his gear to avoid any wandering eyes as well. Together, you spent all morning moving all of the smaller boxes in tandem. The time flew by as you both joked around with each pass in the hallway and stairwell.

Before you knew it, every last box was upstairs and you were busying yourself unpacking them while Jason took care of grabbing the pizza he'd promised you. This may not be your home, but you tried to add your personal touch to the apartment.

"Helping reward's here," he announced as he set the pizza box and a couple of beers on the empty coffee table. You made a mental note to grab some large decorative books for him to put there. With a smile, you got up from your spot in front of the bookcase and joined him on the couch for a well deserved break.

The two of you had finished most of the pizza, and were quite satisfied you'd found the best pizza spot in the neighborhood, before Jason noticed he was the only one with an empty bottle. When he looked a little closer he realized you hadn't even touched the beer he'd grabbed for you.

"You good over there?" he asked. You almost thought he might still be joking around and about to make some crack about some pizza spilled on your shirt. When you looked down and confirmed nothing had fallen onto your shirt, you couldn't hide the confusion that painted your face and furrowed your brows together.

"Yeah," you confirmed cautiously. "Why?"

"I mean you've busted your ass all day and now you won't touch your beer," he explained. "You usually go drink for drink with me and now you're not so it seems like something's wrong."

"I'm fine, I promise. I just don't like beer," you explained. His puzzled look begged you to continue. "When we're at the bar I always get mixed drinks or wine. Now if you'd made a pitcher of margaritas, you never would have had a chance to even try them. But a blender really isn't the top of the list to unpack."

You may have answered his question, but you left him with so many more. He brought his own drink to his mouth in an attempt to hide his visible confusion. It almost worked, but you caught the way his brows furrowed from above the bottle.

"It's probably safer this way anyway," you remarked, trying to inject a bit of humor. "You know me and tequila are a dangerous combination. Just like the song, sometimes it just means clothes start falling off."

Jason hummed in absent agreement, but you could tell you'd already lost him. He'd jumped down the rabbit hole of questions, and he wasn't going to be really listening, or at least processing what was said, until he reemerged.

"So why'd you come today?" he asked. "When I asked you, I told you I'd get pizza and beer, so you knew I didn't have anything else to offer, but you still accepted."

It felt like a now or never kind of moment. One of the ones where you could be bold or you could be practical. You mulled over your options for what felt like an eternity, and while you wanted to be bold, you didn't want to lose what you had. Instead of answering, you grabbed another piece of pizza to buy a little time. The eye roll you got in return told you Jason knew exactly what you were doing.

"I thought I could be helpful," you finally answered as you finished your slice.

"That doesn't feel like the whole answer," Jason scoffed.

"Maybe," you confirmed. "But it also begs the question why you asked me to come help today if you already had everything moved in up here but some boxes in a half empty moving truck, or why I'm the only person you asked to come help you?"

Taking a page out of your book, Jason snagged your untouched beer to avoid having to answer.

"You want a full answer? I'll give you as full an answer as you'll get for right now," you began. Now it seemed you may have finally found the courage to be bold. "I wanted to spend time with you. You're always off wrangling supervillains and drug lords, which don't get me wrong is great and all. It has dropped the number of break-ins in my building to almost none. But that doesn't mean I don't miss you, because I do. I always do. A lot."

He started to choke on his drink, telling you you'd given a little more of an answer than you'd wanted to give. You couldn't say you were a fan of this emotional vulnerability, but your chest did feel ever so slightly lighter. You tried to read his face for a moment for some sort of reciprocation, but feeling the heat rise in your own face forced you to turn back to your empty plate. Your eyes only darted back over to him once you heard the bottle connect with the table.

"Maybe I wanted to spend time with you too. Maybe I didn't want all of the noise with my brothers and Roy around, especially when they manage to break something." With each 'maybe,' his voice grew a little more pointed and defensive, and you thought you could see a vulnerability that mirrored your own in his eyes. "Maybe I wanted this place to have your touch and feel like you. Maybe -"

You cut him off, leaning across the couch and kissing him. It was too rare in life that you got a second chance on a now or never moment, and you didn't want to squander it. You could only describe the feeling as a wave of excitement followed by a rush of relief when he raised his hand to your face and pulled you closer, returning the kiss.

"Maybe," his voice was softer now, almost cracking, "Maybe I've wanted that to happen for a very long time."

You felt breathless, but that didn't stop the smile from growing across your face. This time when you looked in his eyes, they seemed to share your mixture of excitement and relief. You couldn't help yourself as a small chuckle broke through.

"You like me, you really, really like me," you teased in a sing-song voice, only pausing to make kissy noises in the air. "You like -"

Having had his own feelings confirmed, Jason cut off your teasing as he pulled you into another kiss. When you both finally let go, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, watching as your eyes shifted back into focus. He wore a self-assured grin as he said, "There's no maybe about that."

"No, I don't think there is," you agreed. You sat back a little, trying to sear this moment into your memory forever. "Who would've thought a stupid beer could make this happen?"

"I should have brought you some beer to not drink ages ago," he joked, pulling you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You settled into your contentment in his arms, knowing now you may never have to leave this feeling again. "Next time I'll have tequila, it sounded like those consequences are fun."

You rolled your eyes in response as you wiggled a little closer into his side. Yeah, some post-margarita consequences now sounded a lot more appealing.

Tags:

Everything: @societiesholyskittle @pickyblue12 @icycoldbeanieweanies @thoughtfullychaoticdreamer @bloatedandlonly @sakurafille @jason-todd-squad @childofposeidonforlife @webcraft4eveh @bookish-and-shy @dnarez @thirstiestpotato

Jason: @jason-todd-rh @princessowly1234 @manymanyenvelopes @drarrylov3r @axa-vega

Want to be tagged? Let me know via message or ask box!

[beyondspaceandstars]

Halloween Decorations

Relationship: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff! Summary: After you and Natasha buy your first house, you go a little crazy decorating it for Halloween but your girlfriend is a bit hesitant about it. A/N: early Halloween one shot?! I’m sorry I can’t help myself! I love autumn and this is just a short and sweet thing :) and i love domestic WLW fics im sorry djfalkdjfs

Masterlist

You nearly couldn’t believe it when you and Natasha had finally closed on a house. It was something so monumental that had felt light-years away. You two had been through so much with her Avengers work and your job as a nurse, something as peaceful and quaint as a home seemed ridiculous.

But apparently it wasn’t. The home was your reality. Life in the suburbs was your reality. And you were absolutely obsessed.

You and Natasha hadn’t had many items when it came to actually moving in. Natasha was naturally a minimalist having been on the move constantly in her life while you were coming from a studio apartment. You had practically been forced to downsize upon leaving your parents’ home but that all could change.

You could shop and decorate to your heart’s content — and Natasha’s as well, even though she didn’t seem very interested. It had taken you days to convince her to go couch shopping with you and when that task alone proved to be annoying you didn’t inquire much from her about the rest of the furniture. She just accepted it all, never complaining or batting much of an eye. It had annoyed you a bit that your girlfriend didn’t appear to be interested in the making of the home but you slowly realized this was just out of her wheelhouse. She wasn’t uninterested as so much as she didn’t know how to respond. A milestone like this was probably something she never thought about and you accepted that, taking it step-by-step.

So, for that obvious reason, you took on the rest of the decorating. From plants to bins to throw pillows, the shell of a house was slowly becoming a home. A real place for you and Nat to start a life.

One of the things you had been most looking forward to upon having a home was the holidays. Not only were you excited to host Thanksgiving or Christmas, but you were also excited to decorate for it all. Your decoration needs hadn’t been fulfilled with just some hand towels and motivational quotes. You wanted to dive into the holidays, really get the whole house in the mood.

When you had brought this up with Natasha, as expected, she didn’t match your enthusiasm.

"Halloween? You’re making a list for Halloween decorations?"

You had nodded, jotting down a reminder to get some fake skeletons and spider rings.

"We have to decorate for Halloween," you had explained. "If we don’t we won’t get any trick-or-treaters."

Natasha had sighed, sitting across from you at the kitchen table. "It’s just… Haven’t you already spent the past few months decorating this place? Don’t you want a break? We could skip one Halloween."

You had gasped, waving your hand in dismissal. "That’s insane. Of course, we have to decorate. It’s one of the coolest holidays to decorate for!"

Despite your attempt at persuasion, Natasha hadn’t been convinced, just shaking her head as she sipped her coffee, eyeing you over the mug. You had gotten quite used to your girlfriend’s pessimism towards little things here and there. She was a guarded person, one night to enjoy something and who knew what could happen? But you felt she’d come around at some point. She couldn’t sit in a house full of hanging fake ghosts and tiny pumpkins and not be a little pleased.

You spent nearly your entire Saturday shopping for decorations. You lugged in the bags carefully, surprising Natasha who was sitting at the kitchen counter doing some paperwork.

She eyed the items are you placed them on the counter beside her laptop. "Did you buy up the entire store?"

You chuckled. "Just about! And this is only the indoor stuff. I have outdoor decorations in the garage already."

Natasha’s eyes grew wide at that. "Really, honey? Don’t you think maybe it’s a bit…much?"

You waved a hand in dismissal. "Absolutely not. It’s going to make our home all festive and cozy."

"Okay," your girlfriend shrugged as she turned back to her work. You took that chance to get started on the decorating. You began pulling out some window clings you had found. You had quite the variety: blood splatters, ghosts, witches, everything to slap up on your windows for anyone passing by to see.

Once the windows were done, you moved onto the lights. You had found some cute little skeleton hanging lights to decorate with around the windows. Then there were the orange and purple ones you began stringing up around the living room. You could feel Natasha eyeing you curiously as you went but you ignored her, happily humming away decorating the space.

After the lights came the nick-knacks and wall decor. You had found the cutest little arrangement of ghosts to put around on random shelves in the home. They would peek out from behind little photos and vases. You thought one would look really nice on the big bookshelf you had bought for the place but as you began putting it up there you realized you were slightly too short. You frowned and went to go hunt for a chair when you saw Natasha standing in the doorway, holding out a stool for you.

You shuffled over to her, looking at the little stool she brought.

"Need some help?" She asked, a bit shyly. You grinned.

"Are you asking if you can put up Halloween decorations?"

Natasha scoffed as if that wasn't exactly what she was asking. "N-No," she insisted. "I was just seeing if you need some help with that one. And-And maybe you'll need a stool for hanging those signs you brought." She tried to casually motion over to the bag of decorative wall signs you had bought. The one staring at you two said: "Broom Parking" which you just thought was the funniest. You couldn't help the smile forming on your face now.

"It's okay if you'd like to help decorate for Halloween, Natasha," you said, taking the stool from her and made your back to the bookshelf. Your girlfriend let out a sigh and followed you. She became your little spotter as you climbed up to put the last of the ceramic ghosts up.

"I was just watching you put everything up and... and you shouldn't have to do it alone," Natasha said. She held out her hand to help you down. You accepted. "This is our home and it should be decorated. Especially for Halloween."

Your heart swelled with such pride hearing her say that. You just about started crying which you knew was going to make Natasha scoff at so you hid it by throwing your arms around her. She jumped a bit at the action but eventually, her arms made their way around your waist.

"Thank you," you mumbled into her neck.

Natasha chuckled. "I didn't do anything."

You pulled away and brought one hand up to her face. Your girlfriend looked quite confused but you ignored it and said, "You're trying. You're trying to get comfortable here and let down your guard. It's okay, you know. You can do it. We can have this home, we deserve it."

Natasha gave a small smile. "Okay, babe." That was all she said but it was enough. You hadn't expected more and you knew she probably was not feeling this sappy moment so you pressed a light kiss to her cheek then headed back towards the Halloween decorations. You pulled out the faux-wood sign declaring a spot for witches to park their brooms.

"Now," you turned towards your girlfriend, "do we hang this in the living room?"

She shook her head. "We should hang it by the shoe rack."

You let out a loud laugh. "I knew you had a knack for decorating."

Your girlfriend blushed as she began pulling out some of the temporary hooks you had bought to hang the signs. "Just don't tell anyone."

"I make no promises," you smirked. "I'm gonna tell the team you want to redecorate the compound."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest but then abruptly stopped. She seemed to be considering it for a second. "Actually, do it. I think I have a few ideas." She wore a devious smirk that made you not even want to ask what was going through that big brain of hers.

You shook your head. "You're such trouble."

"Hmm," Natasha hummed as she stuck the little plastic hook to the wall. "But you love me."

The sign was placed perfectly on the wall, right above where you threw your shoes next to the door. You turned to your girlfriend and threw an arm around her. She leaned into you, letting out a content sigh.

"That I do," you mumbled. "I really do."

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

To Build a Home - Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

To Build a Home - Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Going baby shopping should be a great idea? Right? But things take a turn. You share a cute moment with Bucky as you read the pregnancy book he claims he bought for you. This ends with a moment with you and Bucky in the baby room.

Word Count: 3400

Warnings: Fluff, also a hint of insecurities and thinking about the past. Pregnant!Reader

a/n: This is Part 2 to my one shot. Read part one “Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader” Anyhow, Part two will be taking place when you are 6 months pregnant. You and Bucky get a little bit of help from some friends. Also, I would like to apologize for the first section of this, it might hurt a bit.

Five months later

Blue, Pink, Red, Purple, you could see every color of the rainbow on all four store walls.

Steve thought it was a great idea for you, Wanda, and Bucky to go to a baby store. You and Wanda were so excited to go and look at baby items. Meanwhile, Bucky's face was blank as a ghost. Even though it has been five months since him finding out you were pregnant, it still catches him by surprise that he'll be a dad in a couple of weeks.

In the store, Bucky and Steve were together looking at furniture since they were the 'strong one' out of the group. Meanwhile, you and Wanda were looking at baby clothes, plushies, blankets, and decorations. Without hesitation, you gravitated more towards the boy section than the girl section. Even though you and Bucky wanted to wait until they were born to find out their gender, deep down, you knew they are a baby boy. The first thing you get is a pair of suspender top and bottom set that came with a bowtie. The shorts were the color khaki and the shirt was light blue. You turn to Wanda to show her what you found. "Look what I found for him." your heart filled with joy and happiness. You had a soft smile on your face.

Wanda grabs the piece that you were holding and places it against your stomach "he is going to look handsome" she smiled and scrunched her nose. She was truly happy for you and glad that you picked her to help you throughout this journey.

Across the store, where the furniture was located, Bucky and Steve were looking at furniture. Bucky was tense; he wasn't sure if he wanted to be there looking at baby items. He stared at the same baby crib for the past 3 minutes when Steve notices that he wasn't doing anything "hey, is everything alright?" he pauses to place his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know this is new to you and something you least expected to happen. But you deserve this."

Bucky started to shake his head, and slowly tears form in his eyes "are you sure about this, Steve?" his voice gets small and shaky. "Just a decade ago, I was murdering people without my own will. Do I deserve this happiness? What if they don't like me because of my past?" His lips were trembling as if he were to let out a sob- but he never did. His nose twitched as his mouth suddenly became agape, and he drew in a breath of air sharply, turning his neck towards the entrance. He started to pull on the sleeve of his left arm, trying to cover his metal hand. "I can't do this. I need to get out of here" He rushes out of the furniture section towards the store's entrance.

Wanda notices that Steve and Bucky were walking fast out of the store. Steve gives her a look and holds up a finger. She tried reading his mind to see what was going on, but all she caught was "give me a moment to calm him down, he had a panic attack" she had a concerned look on her face, but she knew Steve would be able to handle it.

You notice that Wanda had a concerned look on her face as she wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. "Wanda, are you okay?" a frown formed on your face as you were looking around the store looking for Bucky. He was gone. "Where is he?" you raise your voices a bit. "Wanda, where is he?" you were demanding her to give you an answer. She points towards the entrance. You gave her the clothes that you were holding. You sped walk towards the door.

Outside of the store, Bucky was sitting on the floor, knees by his chest, heavy breathing, hiding his face from the outside world. You could hear Steve trying to calm him down, telling him things that would usually calm him, but this time it was different. Steve notices that you were there and gets near you to hug you. He leans forward "are you sure about this? I tried everything I could. He hasn't been able to calm down," he whispers into your ear. Letting go of his hug, you have a brief smile and a nod. He walks back to the store to find Wanda and let her know what is happening.

You kneel, placing your hands on his knees. You were now able to hear how heavy he was breathing. “Bucky?” you slowly move your thumb against his knee, trying to calm him down “what’s wrong, my love? What’s going on?” he lifts his head and looks at you, his face red and his eyes puffy from the crying he had been doing for the past couple of minutes. Moving your hand from his knee, you place it on his cheek, wiping the tears from his face using your thumb. “hey, hey, Bucky, it’s okay” Your eyebrows knit together. You hated seeing him like this.

“I don’t deserve this happiness, not after everything I’ve done” his lips were quivering, his voice became small “they aren’t going to like me. I’m just a monster.” tears falling down his cheeks. He pulls you in, holding you, wrapping his arms around you. He was sobbing on your shoulder. Now the material of your shirt was soaking wet. “I’m sorry. I’m so-“

You interrupt him. “James, what you did. That wasn’t you, that was never you. One thing I’ll tell you is that you deserve every little inch of happiness; you deserve to be happy.” You take a pause holding him tighter and trying to stop your voice from being shaky. “I know this is scary. I’m scared as well. But one thing I know for sure is that even though we will try to be the perfect parents in the world, we aren’t going to be, and that’s okay. They are going to love us and our imperfections” you gently pull away, still holding him in your arms, you softly press your lips against his forehead to calm him down.

You held him for a couple of minutes. You wanted to make sure that he was okay. There was silence between the two of you, but you didn't mind. Within minutes, his heartbeat slowed, and he started to breathe normally. He turns his head, giving you a brief kiss on your cheek. “I appreciate you so much, doll” he takes a big gulp before continuing talking. “Should we ditch them and go somewhere else?” a soft giggle escapes his mouth. “I’m kidding. Let’s go and pick things for our little one.”

With your sleeve, you wipe the tears from his face. He grabs your wrist and stops you from continuing. He brings the palm of your hand and softly kisses it, then he lets go of it, so you can continue.

As he was getting up, he helped you get up as well. He was grabbing your hand and pulling you upward. Every little move that he has done with you, he has tried his best not to hurt you.

You both stood outside holding one other for a couple of minutes until you were able to notice that Bucky’s face didn’t look like he had been crying for the past couple of minutes.

Once you walked into the store, it was fast to locate Steve and Wanda, as Steve had a pile of clothes over his shoulder, a mixer of girl and boy clothes. And Wanda with a cart full of baby items. “Are you sure we are having a baby and not them?” you and Bucky were in synch “jinx, no, you jinx.” you both said that once again. This caused you and him to laugh out loud. Wanda turns around and rushes with the cart in your direction. She seemed like a little kid showing their parents the toy she had just found. Steve was getting the clothes that were on his shoulder, placing them all in his arms.

Once Wanda was near you, her face lit up as bright as a firework. “I and Steve both agreed that for this trip, we are buying all of this plus whatever you guys want.” Wanda was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath “consider this as an early baby shower gift” she starts pulling out items from the cart and showing you her favorite items. Once Steve got to where you all were, he dumps the pile of clothes in the cart. “Steve! I was still showing her thing” she rolled her eyes, and this made Bucky and Steve laugh.

Steve looks at Bucky. “I’m guessing you are feeling better, aren’t you” Bucky gives him a brief smile and nods.

You grab Bucky’s hand and start to walk towards the furniture section. You pointed at a white three-in-one convertible crib “Honey, We should get this one” your voice was small yet soft with sparkles in your eyes. A smile formed on his face, and he nodded in agreement. Anything that you liked, he would usually like it as well.

-----------------------------------------------

What a long day today was, you thought to yourself. You were now home resting. Wanda, Steve, and Bucky made sure to put everything away in the baby room. 

Every little chance that Bucky gets, he can't keep his hands off of your stomach. He wanted to be there for everything, the first kick, the first movement they ever make. He didn't want to miss anything.

You were sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, reading a pregnancy book that Bucky decided to buy for you. He bought it for himself since he wanted to be prepared for everything that might happen. But he is too stubborn to admit it, so he bought the book for you. 

Bucky was sitting right next to you, laying his head on your right shoulder, trying to read along to what you might be on. His right hand placed on your stomach, moving in a circular motion.  

Page 34

Around 18 weeks of pregnancy, your little one hears their very first sounds. By 24 weeks, those little ears are rapidly developing. Your baby's sensitivity to sound will improve even more as the weeks pass. 

"Did you know that he can hear you already?" you asked. You were looking down at him, and his ocean blue eyes were looking back at you. You pointed to the location where it stated that they were able to hear at certain weeks. 

With a small smile on his face and his left eyebrow risen "he? I think they are a girl" he giggles a little "but if my baby girl says we are having a boy, then I believe it's time for me and him to have a one-on-one talk" he leans in forward to kiss you on your cheek. 

He slow removes the blanket that was covering your stomach and kisses your stomach, placing his right hand on your lower stomach. “hey, I don’t think mommy can hear us,” he was whispering while looking up to you. You had a smile on your face while you shacked your head. “I can’t wait to have you in my arms, little Leo” he pauses for a moment and has the biggest smile on his face, “When you grow up, I’m going to tell you so many stories about my adventures with your uncle Steve and uncle Sam. I can’t forget about those stories with your beautiful, strong, amazing mommy” He looks up at you with a smirk on his face. You started running your fingers through his hair, feeling how soft it was. “Leo, could you believe it that right now, the world is a crazy place to be at? But at this moment, you are safe in there. Mommy and daddy will always keep you safe. No matter what happens, we will always protect you.”

He moves back to where he was resting his head on your shoulder, not moving his right arm from where it was located. “How was your talk with baby-“you pause for a moment, trying to process what just happened. “Leo?”

Bucky looks at you, slightly shaking his with left eyebrow rose. It looked like he had a soft disappointed face. “Doll, you weren’t supposed to listen to me and him having a boy talk” he stops shaking his head, and gradually a smile on his face started to form. “Yeah, Leo. I’ve always liked the name Leo” he paused, and a small frown started to show. “You don’t like it. If you don’t, we can-“

Pressing your lips against his forehead, you interrupt him. You knew what he was going to say “No, I love the name, Leo.” It seemed like he had read your mind. That was the name that you had a plan on naming your future baby boy. Removing your lips against his skin and a soft giggle escapes your lips “so are you planning on telling him about your little rolling over with Sam that one time?”

Bucky looks up to you, and he had an offended look on his face. “I’m certainly not telling him that,” he pauses to place his head back on your shoulder. “There are things he doesn’t need to know, and that is one of them.”

Out of a sudden, you can feel a sharp pain on your lower stomach where Bucky’s hand was placed. This caught him by surprise. “Did Leo just kick?” you can feel the excitement from his voice. You giggled a little in agreement “he kicks hard, aww, he is a strong boy. Just like his daddy” his voice went high pitched as he was talking towards your stomach.

Minutes pass by from the last time they kicked, and Bucky felt every little kick they did. It pained you but seeing him and the reaction he had on his face. The amusement written all over Bucky’s face was worth it, the pain they caused you. You have always thought of naming your baby girl Rebecca. You have liked that name for years. Also, you knew how close Bucky was to his sister, and you wanted her to be named by someone he holds dear to his heart.

You take a deep breath, unsure if you wanted to say anything. “Honey, if we have a baby girl. What are your thoughts on the name Rebecca?” you tense up a little, not knowing what other words to say. “I know how much your sister meant to you, and I just thought that-“

Bucky looks up at you and places his hand on the back of your head, pulling in you. Pressing his lips against yours, he gently and carefully kissed you. Pulling away from your lips, he had the biggest smile on his face. “Doll, I love that” He moves his hand from the back of your head to your lower stomach once again. “Rebecca isn’t allowed to date until she is 30,” he laughs, scrunching his nose. He loved that you considered naming her Rebecca. Bucky never thought about naming her that. He slowly moves his hand in circular motions. “Our little princess is going to be such a beautiful little girl, just like her mom.”

--------------------------------------

“Come on, cyborg, use your metal arm. You have it there for a reason.”

“Do you think that most of the time I remember that I have a metal arm? I’m fucking right-handed, Sam, not left-handed.”

“I swear to god if you guys wake her up. I am going to quit. Buck finish building the crib, and Sam paint the wall.”

Suppose the walls couldn’t be any thinner. You could hear Sam, Bucky, and Steve arguing in the room next door. You lay in bed for a couple of more minutes just listening to them. You were covering your mouth, trying your best not to burst into laughter. Before getting up, you took big breaths trying to control your laughter.

As you were opening the door, you notice Steve leaving the baby room. “See what you both idiots did? You woke her up” he sounded annoyed and irritated. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing his cup of coffee that he left on the counter. “Good morning, did you sleep well last night?” He takes a sip of coffee, placing his full attention on you.

You had the biggest grin on your face, and you tried to compose yourself, making sure you didn’t laugh. “I slept great. What are you guys doing at 9 am” you walk to the kitchen opening the fridge and gathering the ingredients to make a sandwich.

“What do you mean what we both did? It was all- oh” Bucky notices that you were awake preparing yourself food. He gets near you and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he can give you a brief kiss on your head. “Good morning, doll. I’m sorry if we woke you up” he takes the sandwich that you prepared and takes a bite out of it.

Watching him take a bite from the sandwich you had prepared yourself made you a bit upset. You crossed your arms and walked away with the sandwich he just bit. “First, he wakes me up, and then he takes a bite of my sandwich.” you thought to yourself. You had a frown on your face.

Steve looks in Bucky’s direction continuing drinking the last bit of his coffee with his eyebrows lifted. Then it clicked to Bucky that he had messed up, so he quickly turns around and prepares another sandwich. He opens the fridge and grabs your favorite chocolate, and speed walks in your direction. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken a bite” he hands you the sandwich he prepared and the chocolate “here you go, doll. I’m going to go finish up the crib.” He points to the direction of the bedroom.

Before he could walk away from you, you grab his wrist “can I come help with whatever you guys might be doing” you knit your eyebrows together and push your bottom lip forward, making a pouty face. “Please” you knew that he couldn’t say no to you when you did this facial expression.

He takes your hand and starts walking to the bedroom. You see Sam on a ladder with a paint roller in his hands “sorry, we woke you up” you go near him and hand him the sandwich that Bucky made for you “thank you, you didn’t have to make this for me.” he gave you a brief smile.

Bucky had a blank stare, and his facial expression read ‘really.’ You giggled a little “I didn’t make it. Bucky did,” you whisper and placed your hand on your cheek, trying to cover your lips and from what you were going to say next “so if it tastes bad, that’s why,” you whispered and scrunched your nose.

“I heard that” Bucky sounded annoyed and had a frown formed on his face.

This made you and Sam laugh for a couple of minutes.

You walk towards Bucky wrapping your arms around him and getting on your toes to kiss him on his chin. “You know I’m just messing with you.” Still pressing your lips against his skin, “You are an amazing cook, and your sandwiches are always going to be my favorite” a little smile formed on your face while your lips were still pressed on his skin.

You walk towards the dresser where a bag full of baby clothes was at and you start organizing them by pajamas, formal, underwear, casual category.

Sam and Steve both left to take a mini-break. But Bucky, he stayed with you, he wanted to make sure that you were safe, and if you needed anything, he would be there for you. Looking through the bag, you found the pair of suspender top and bottom set that came with a bowtie. You turn around to showed Bucky the little outfit. “Honey, look, Leo is going to look so adorable in this” you place the outfit against your stomach.

He had a smirk on his face and nodded. You couldn’t wait till the day comes where you can hold them in your arms.

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[dragon-kazansky]

Masquerade with Mads Mikkelsen

Gender neutral reader

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Word count: 2.1K

Notes: Nothing really to note other than Mads is a fool.

♡♡♡

Chapter Two - Welcome home dinner

The rest of the day had been spent up in your room reading and organizing your room a little. Since you were living here now, it was time to make this room your own. You had put the mask from the masquerade party on your bedside so you may admire it whenever you pleased. The mask was a reminder of a memorable night where Mads held you and danced with you, spending a few special moments with you.

You sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed and look at it. If you could trap any moment to play over again and again, it would be that dance. The way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you. The way he spoke to you. Closing your eyes, you wish you could feel that way again.

The knock on your door breaks your momentary daydream. You turn away from the mask and toward the door.

"Come in," you call.

The door opens wide and in steps Ben. You smile as he enters your room. He walks over to where you're sitting and settles beside you.

"Good day?" He asks.

You shrug lightly.

"Not the first day home as I expected, but I've made my room a little bit more of my own," you look around. Ben's gaze follows yours and he smiles. He likes the way you arranged the furniture and decorated the room with the few bits you have in your possession.

"You should take a trip into town and buy some stuff you like. You could really make this place home," Ben suggests.

"I'd love to. Would you take me?" You ask. Ben turns to you and smiles.

"I will if he won't."

"Did you to him?"

"I did."

"And?"

Ben sighs and places an around your shoulders. He pulls you into his side and you rest your head against his shoulder, settling like you did earlier that day.

"I didn't get much in the way of an answer. He was being very closed off with me. I tried to dig a bit, but he gave me a warning. He's a good man, but when he tells me no, I have to listen. He is my master, so to speak," Ben says, feeling bad he couldn't do better for you.

Mads wasn't Ben's master in the sense of turning him, as both of them a pure-blood vampires. Mads took Ben under his wing centuries ago. Ben became Mads right hand man, therefore he call Mads his master. He wouldn't want it any other way.

"I get it. Thank you for trying."

"Anytime," Ben gives you a bit of a squeeze. "Now, are you hungry?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Come on, dinner will be ready soon. The others will join us. You'll have a great first dinner as a proper resident here," Ben tells you, smiling sweetly at you.

You take Ben's hand and you both get up, leaving your room.

"Will Mads be there?"

Ben falls silent for a moment and glances your way. You can already tell what the answer is.

"I invited him, but we'll see. I'm not sure he's in the mood for fun. I don't know what his deal is, but he's being a fool for being the way he is at the moment."

You nod, dropping your gaze to the floor.

The doors to the dining room are open as you approach. You smile as you get nearer and see some other familiar faces already sitting. As you enter the room, they all look up and smile at you.

"So you're sticking around then?" Oscar asks.

"I am. Sorry, but you're just going to have to deal with it," you grin.

"However will I cope?" He laughs.

Ben guides you over to the seat opposite his. You sit down and watch him take his seat. He winks at you from across the table. You pretend the empty chair at the head of the table, between you both, isn't bothering you.

He isn't here. Though you suppose there is still time.

"Am I not good enough to sit next to now?" Anson asks, laughing.

"Sorry, I've been promoted. I sit higher up the table now," you chuckle.

"Uh oh, the power has gone to their head," Jodie teases.

"What can I say? Making this my home as made me see things in a new light."

They all laugh.

"See, you fit right in," Ben says, smiling at you. You return his smile.

"Yeah. Thank you for making this feel like home to me," you say.

"I shouldn't be the one you thank, but since he's not here, I'll take it. No matter what goes on with him, I promise I have your back from now on," Ben says.

"I really do appreciate it."

The food is brought out and served. Conversation is nice as you all tuck in. Ben keeps you smiling and laughing. Anson shares his ideas for the garden, having basically been given a new slate to work with. Oscar discusses some techniques with you, offering to still be your teacher now that you're staying here. You accept his offer and look forward to more classes with him. Jodie teases those at the table, making you laugh.

This feels like a family dinner.

Dinner is over. Plates empty and removed from the table. No one yet moves. You're all still laughing and chatting. No one at the dining tables realises how much time has passed. You're all enjoying each others company.

Standing on the staircase is Mads. He leans against his cane as he listens from just outside. The doors remain open, so your laughter is clear. He intentionally did not show up. He tells himself because he has a lot of work to do, but really, it's to keep his distance from you. Yet, the pain that shoots through his heart when he hears you laughing with the others is far worse than anything he has ever felt.

He is telling himself he cannot fall in love with you, but the reality is, he already has.

It's far too late now.

Yet, he must not act upon his feelings. You can do far better than him. Mads turns his head away from the direction of the door and makes his way down the rest of the stairs. When he reaches the bottom, his cane taps against the floor. For a moment, the laughter in the dining room stops.

They heard him.

Ignoring the open doors, he walks on, aware that he can be seen as he goes past.

You turn in your chair and peer over your shoulder. Ben looks up, as do the others. All eyes on the door. Mads can be seen walking past. He does not look inside.

It hurts that he won't even spare you a glance.

Once he's out of sight, you sigh and sit back in your chair. Ben turns his eyes to you and reaches for your hand across the table. You look at him.

"What did I do?" You ask him.

"Nothing. You did nothing. I'll figure out what's up with him. I'll demand answers if I have to. Please don't take this out on yourself."

You don't say anything else.

Ben rises from his chair and comes around your side. He kisses your forehead and leaves the room. You try not to look at the others, who must be looking your way. You quietly excuse yourself and leave the room, returning to your room for night.

Oscar, Anson, and Jodie all watch you go. None of them have any idea what's wrong with their master. He has never been this way before.

Ben, with far more determination than last time, trails after Mads. The sound of his cane hitting the floor is a good indication of where he is going. Ben catches him halfway to the drawing room, which Ben finds strange as Mads doesn't often spend time in there. Not since his mother died.

"Will you just talk to me?" Ben demands, raising his voice.

"I told you-"

"No! Don't. They really think they upset you and it's making them sad. Just talk to them, please?" Ben stares at him with sharp eyes.

"I'm trying to keep my distance. You are not helping," Mads glares at him.

"Why did you change all of a sudden? Tell me that."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"I'm making it so. Tell me. Where is the Mads that let them into his home? That brought them here to fight a war they had no idea was going on? That danced with them at the party and looked at them as if they were the only person in the room?" He grins. "Oh. I see it now. Is it so bad to be in love with someone?"

"It is when it's me," Mads warns.

"Are you worried they don't feel the same? I can assure you they do. I see the way they look at you. The way they smile at you. The way they speak to you... when you let them."

"That is exactly what I'm trying to avoid."

Ben furrows his brow. "You're trying to avoid that? I don't understand..."

"I don't want them to fall for someone who will only make the unhappy. My life is miserable, you know that, you live here too."

"You're lonely, I know that. Even with us here, you're lonely. Did you one day hope to have what your parents did? I know I did. I remember your parents. I don't think any two people loved each other more than they did. I used to look up to them for that," Ben smiles.

Mads says nothing.

He remembers vividly. Everywhere he looks in this old place, he sees them. Dancing in the ballroom. His father in his study. His parents walking through the garden. Sitting together at the dining table. Playing with him when he was a boy.

They were happy.

When they were taken from him, his happiness diminished.

"Leave me be," he says, walking away.

Ben lets him go.

Now he knows. He realises what's wrong, but he won't let Mads torture himself this way. Once Mads was out of sight, Ben turned on his heel and went in search for Caine. He needed to have a word with the butler.

You were sitting up in your bed when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," you call.

The door opens and Ben pokes his head in. You smile and wave him inside. Ben closes the door behind him and stands at the end of your bed.

"Turns out Mads is planning to have his breakfast in his office tomorrow. May I recommend not joining us in the dining hall and taking yours with him?" Ben smiles at you.

"What did he say?"

"Mads believes he is underserving of your affections. Prove him wrong. Spend time with him. I won't say anything to him, so just show up and tell him you're eating with him. He won't kick you out. He might make an excuse to leave, but I'm pretty sure he'll sit there with you."

"He thinks himself unworthy of affection? But he had his house full of friends not that long ago."

"Yeah, he thinks himself unworthy of you, despite inviting you to live here," Ben says.

"He's confusing."

"I know," Ben chuckles. "Now you have a new mission. Win him over. Win his heart."

"I wouldn't go that far, Ben," you laugh.

"Why not? You're already falling for him, aren't you?"

You fall silent as you look at him. Are you? Your heart rate increasing would tell you yes. The fact that you decided to stay here for him would also tell you yes. You smile softly.

"See. Spend time with him."

"Alright. I'll have my breakfast with him in his office," you say.

Ben smiles sweetly at you, "I'll have Caine organise the rest then. Sleep well."

"And you."

Ben leaves your room, and leaves you with your thoughts. You sit there, eyes ahead, mind racing with thoughts. Yes, it was quite easy for you to say while alone that you probably were falling in love with him. It's so easy to.

But if he didn't share those feelings, you wouldn't push it. If Mads really felt this was wrong, you would think up another plan. Perhaps Michael or Lauren will let you move in with them. Both of them had a spare room going now.

Sleep did not come easy to you that night.

♡♡♡

@niceshadeofblue @meganlpie @janine-007 @multiple-fandoms-girl @mischief-siriusly-managed @moonchild-cupcake @thecursivej @bdffkierenwalker

[mrs-hyperfixed-writes]

Are You Single - 2

Tag List: @becomeunsolved @ambiguous-g @favorite-slytherin-weirdo @a-weirdperson @artist-bby

The reader makes their way through Castle Dimitrescu, encountering the Lady and her daughters. Heisenberg might just have to re-evaluate his opinion of you when you're the unexpected victor of the battles with them.

You had ran through the glorified saw trap, avoiding Lycans and giants alike as you listened to Heisenberg’s taunting. Evidently he was an asshole, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the butterflies in your stomach going mad at the way he spoke to you. Fear had briefly crawled up your spine when he had dropped the spinning log of spikes, blocking your exit and apparently sealing your fate. Thankfully there had been a crevice in the wall, big enough to drop your backpack down by your side and protect yourself. The only thing that took damage was the handcuffs. It had briefly occurred to you that it seemed a very convenient hiding space in an otherwise foolproof killing room.

You ended up back at the gate that you had been captured at, looking over your shoulder this time as you pulled the lever up. Not that you could do anything if Heisenberg or his overgrown sister decided to double check. It seemed unlikely that either of them would treat you to a meal, but you could hope. If you were being honest with yourself though, Heisenberg hardly screamed refined dining.

No, he seemed more like a man who would order a McDonalds or a Burgerking after he’d been working tirelessly all day on a machine in a tank top. All sweaty. . . you smacked yourself in the face, snapping yourself out of your fantasy. You needed to get a grip. Preferably around his throat or his-

You slapped yourself again.

You left through the gate, coming out to an unpleasant looking vineyard. Of course, Dimitrescu was far too high and mighty to get her hands dirty doing manual labour, and any staff that she may of had to maintain the vineyard were probably dead. You shuddered at the thought of so many deaths. You didn’t know any of those people, didn’t know anyone in this godforsaken village that had been put in the middle of nowhere except for the few that had just survived long enough to be brutally killed in front of you. No one would remember any of the dead. It was as if they never existed. And if you died here - which you likely would - you would likely not be remembered. Not with fondness anyway.

You were brought out of your dark thoughts by the sound of a man groaning and wood creaking. You looked up, and to your surprise found an old-fashioned wagon settled in front of the entrance to Castle Dimitrescu. The doors swung open, and someone all but rolled out. The man was massive, both in height and weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend,” he said with the attitude of someone who was excited to get down to business.

You stopped a couple of metres away, taking it all in. How was this man even alive? Then again, Dimitrescu was nine feet tall and she seemed like she was functioning better than most people. Especially given that the tallest man in history was nearly nine foot and died super young. You could come to terms with this mans existence in no time.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” You let the uncertainty show in your voice.

“Me? I am but a humble merchant,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “And you’ve been the talk of the town recently! An unknown human outsider making their way through hordes of creatures with nothing but an axe and some second hand guns? Remarkable.”

You hated yourself for the light blush that crept up your neck at the compliment. You never blushed.

“What can I call you?”

“Ah, forgive my manners. You can call me the Duke. Your name please?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I already know it, but some people prefer to tell others their name rather than have the introduction stolen from them.”

You chuckled, deciding to bridge the few metres of distance. “(Y/n).”

“Pleasure. Now, would you like to purchase anything for the journey ahead? Medicine? Ammunition?”

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?”

“Ah, information. All I can tell you now is that Mother Miranda has seemingly abandoned the village she has spent a century ruling. Slaughtered the villagers.” He took a long drag of a cigar he had lit before releasing the smoke into the air. “It seems she’s done it for her daughter.”

“Her daughter? Dimitrescu? Or the woman in the veil?”

“Ah, Lady Donna. But no, neither of those are her real daughters. It’s doubtful she even considers them such. The same for her sons.”

Your thoughts drifted back to Heisenberg. Did he hate her for that? For not considering him her child? Questions for later.

“Then who?”

The Duke regarded you for a second. “Sell me those crystal skulls you’ve collected, make a purchase and find me in the castle, and perhaps I’ll know more.”

You blinked in surprise, briefly wondering how he knew that you had been collecting the crystallised remains of those Lycans. Truthfully you just thought they were pretty.

After selling the remains and buying yourself some extra ammo, as well as some of the strange medicine the Duke advertised that was supposed to encourage cell division, you nodded to him in thanks and turned to face the castle.

“Although I must say,” The Duke called out before you could make much progress, “why do you wish to go into that castle? You are a stranger. There is no stake in this for you.”

You took a deep breath. Why were you doing this? That beast under your skin wanted to answer. To find and tear them apart. For revenge for all the dead. To satisfy my own need for blood and pain.

Instead you said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You walked towards the doors.

***

The inside of the castle was. . . beautiful. Definitely a place a lady would live. Perhaps a place you would live in another life. It seemed as though everything was trimmed with gold, including the beautiful waist high vases decorated with beautiful women. The furniture was of the highest quality, the rugs and carpets plush enough to sleep comfortably on. They looked expensive enough to cost more money than you’d ever had in your entire life. You wiped your muddy boot on the rug you were standing on, leaving a dark smear.

The thing that drew your attention most of all was the portrait that dominated the opposite wall. Three women, admittedly indistinguishable from one another, sat in big dresses. The plaque identified them as the three daughters. Three daughters that loved entertaining foreigners.

A bad feeling overcame you, and you decided to tuck your handgun into your boot, regardless of the discomfort. You covered it with your jeans.

You pressed on until you came to a main chamber that had another set of double doors decorating the walls. A scream rang out, clear as day and stopping you in your tracks. The scream of a woman in terrible pain. Part of you thought that maybe you should try to find her, but something in you knew that it had been a death scream. The agonised scream of someone who wanted to live and was denied.

You swallowed, instead making your way to the double doors, wondering where they lead.

“Well, who’s this then?” an upbeat female voice asked.

You turned to look, and only found three swarms of flies buzzing closer. And right before your eyes, they materialised into three beautiful young women. The daughters. The first thought in your head was how the painting didn’t do any of them justice.

You didn’t even have time to take your gun out of your backpack before the woman on the left - a tall blonde with blood on her mouth - grabbed you by the throat and lifted you clean off the floor, slamming you against the door. She pressed her face closer to your shoulder and took a deep sniff. You shuddered against the feeling of her nose tickling your neck.

“Fresh blood,” she said, voice dripping with a desire that put you on edge.

“Mother says you have to share, sister,” said the redhead with a childish delight, the brunette nodding in agreement with a sadistic grin on her face.

That scream echoed through your head again. The blonde stared into your face, looking for the traces of fear that likely coated their usual victims. She was going to come up empty. You cleared your throat, looking down into beautiful but evil eyes that had probably been the last thing that so many had seen, and spit right in her face.

The grin on her face froze as the glob made contact with her cheek, and then dropped off altogether when her sisters roared in laughter, one of them doubling at the waist and clutching her stomach.

She threw you to the floor, tossing your backpack aside and growling at her sisters to silence them. You leaped towards it with the intention of pulling your shotgun out, deciding to keep the handgun a secret. But she grabbed a fistful of your hair, most of her materialising back into that swarm as she did so. She dragged you through the halls, her sisters flanking you. You clawed at her hand, but to no avail.

Another swarm got too close, a face materialising. The brunette. She ripped one of your arms off of where it was clawing at the hand that felt as if it was going to rip your scalp off. She held it up to her mouth and grinned. You didn’t even have the chance to scream as she sank her teeth into the side of your forearm, digging in deep. Then she pulled back, laughing. She hadn’t done it to feed, only to hurt you. The other sister came forward, her face materialising as well to lick up the blood that was leaking down your arm. She left little bites of her own up your arm. But these were more like love bites.

Suddenly they stopped, and the oldest released the grip on your hair, using her momentum to throw you into a wall.

“Mother,” she started, “I bring you fresh prey.”

Oh no.

You turned, out of breath from the hurt your body had suffered.

“You are so kind to me, daughters.” She took a deep drink of wine and rose from her chair. “Now, let's take a look at them.”

You didn’t get up from the floor, not having the energy or the stupidity to make a scene right now. Not as she fully turned and looked down at you.

“Well, well. A nobody with no name worth knowing or manners to speak of makes their way to my castle do they? Well, you escaped my little brother's idiot games did you? Let’s see how special you are.”

She beckoned to the blonde and the redhead. They each grabbed an arm, forcefully hoisting you to your feet. You squirmed a little, but their grip was like iron as they held up the arm with the bleeding bite mark. Lady Dimitrescu raised a brow and looked back at the remaining daughter.

“Cassandra? What did I say about waiting?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, almost seeming to be ashamed. “Apologies Mother.”

Dimitrescu gripped you by the wrist and lifted you off the ground. You gritted your teeth. She closed her mouth over the wound and sucked. If you were being honest with yourself most of your blood at this point had either transferred to your face or. . .

It wasn’t important. But apparently you needed therapy.

She dropped you suddenly, and you couldn’t help the shout that escaped your lips when your knees made impact with the floor.

“Just as I thought, nothing special.”

“May we devour their flesh now Mother-”

“But I am the one who captured them-”

“Now, now girls. First I must inform Mother Miranda of Heisenberg’s failure. But soon there will be enough for everyone.” She turned to the blonde daughter. “Bela, take them to the dungeons and shove them in a cell.”

Bela grinned at you, seizing your hair again as she dragged you along, leaving the laughter of her mother and her sisters behind.

***

Heisenberg was fuming. Not that you had escaped his trap. To be perfectly honest there were several design flaws that he wasn’t going to admit to and he really couldn’t have cared less if you had exploited them to get away. If you were running through the village, then something was bound to get you eventually. That was what he had figured anyway.

No, Heisenberg was angry because that overgrown, egocentric, glorified vampire bitch had ratted him out to Mother Miranda. He could just imagine the smug way she had said it over the phone. That grin she would have. He wished he could have buried his hammer into her face.

Miranda had expressed her disappointment in him, not that he gave a shit. But it would likely mean that she would watch him for a while, at least while she had time to spare. Preparing that stupid ceremony would take her a few days at the very least. And in that time she could do anything.

He slammed his fist down on the table. With you in Castle Dimitrescu he couldn’t even entertain himself watching you scramble around the village. Couldn’t taunt you. And he didn’t want to risk working on his army, just on the off chance that Miranda caught wind.

He hadn’t even seen you before that confrontation in front of the castle gate, and he just assumed it was blind luck you’d made it that far.

He’d probably never know how you got on in the Castle, because there was no way you were leaving that place alive.

He looked at the yellow jar on his desk, tempted to just throw it and it’s contents into a pit of molten metal. It would be kinder to the kid than whatever Miranda had planned.

***

You had been shoved in the most stereotypical dungeon in the world. It was something straight out of some Frankenstein-ish novel. Bela had left, promising that she would come back soon to retrieve you for dinner. You had given her your most hate filled look, your eyes promising nothing but violence.

That must have been ten minutes ago, and you were furiously searching the cell. You had found a gap in the wall, and in it a crumpled sheet of paper. You straightened it out, beginning to read.

To whomever is trying to escape this place,

I hope this note will be of some assistance. You don’t know me but you will have to trust me if you want to survive.

First, you need to get out of this cell. Look around for the way, get on your hands and knees if you must.

Then, search for the thing you’ll need to

escape. It will be hidden where they’ll

least suspect, soaked in blood.

The rest of the note was illegible, at some point being soaked with dry blood. You hoped that whoever had written it had gotten out.

You took the notes' advice, getting on your hands and knees. There! Under the wooden board attached to the wall there was a hole that you could crawl through. You got on your belly and went through, ending up in the next cell. You tried the door, and to your relief it opened.

You took your gun out of your boot, preparing to go into the dungeon deeper for your way out.

***

Monsters had patrolled the dungeon. Horrible emaciated monsters that held swords. The first one you had encountered held a sword, and you shot it with glee, picking the sword up. A perfect chance to conserve ammo. It was in good condition too. You sliced and hacked your way through, making it to the second part of the dungeon. You could see the stairwell at the end. Your heart soared. At least until you had to wave a fly out of your face.

“I can’t believe Cassandra caused all this mess.”

Bela. Part of you wanted to turn around and fight her, but you were sadistic not stupid. Bullets against a swarm would be pointless. Instead you ran for the stairs, shooting up them until you came to an entrance that was boarded up. Because of course it was. You attempted to hack at the boards with the sword, but it was already too late.

“Where are you going little one?”

“Oh for fucks-”

You turned to be confronted by Bela, her white teeth stark against the drying blood coating the lower half of her face. She picked you up by the neck again, throwing you through the wooden boards. You lost the sword to the far wall, instead bringing out your handgun as she mounted you, desperately trying to inflict some damage on her even when you knew the bullets would be useless. She just laughed at you.

“Bullets cannot harm-”

CRACK.

You both looked off to the side, just in time to see a window shatter and let in all the cold air. She jumped off and you skittered back, getting to your feet. She was. . . solidifying, only a few lone flies breaking away from her before the cold killed them.

And she was angry.

“You stupid-”

You shot her.

She reeled back in pain, screeching. You smiled, and shot her again.

She charged at you, raising her sickle over her head to slice at you. You ducked away from her and grabbed your sword, swinging it to block her next swing. You kicked her in the stomach, putting some distance between the two of you. Then you shot her again. And again. You could tell that she was almost done. One more bullet or swing of the sword and she’d probably shatter.

You put your gun down on a table, the sword following it.

She was doubled over in agony for the moment, but she still managed to look at you with eyes filled with hatred. The perfect mirror of the look you had given her when she had tossed you in a cell. You laughed at her again, the sound ringing right through the room. You didn’t care if it could even be heard throughout the castle. The daughters had a weakness, and if they wanted to fuck around and find out how you could exploit it then that was their problem.

“It’s funny how things just switch around isn’t it?” You asked her between manic bursts of laughter.

You charged at her suddenly, tackling her to the ground. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she had been. She clawed desperately at your thighs, screaming again as the force she was using caused them to begin to crumble. It was childish, but you got a grip on her hair and pulled as hard as you could, laughing at the screams she made as cracks spiderwebbed down from her hairline down to her eyes. Then you reeled your fist back, gave her one final smirk, and punched her in the face. Her head practically exploded into pieces. You felt yourself drop to the floor as most of her crumbled. Except for one thing. The upper half of her torso had crystallized into something beautiful. You picked it up, wondering if the Duke would buy it.

***

As it turned out, the Duke had his own special room in the castle, and he did buy the torso and the sword. You also managed to retrieve your backpack. It turned out that that medicine was bordering on magical, as the only thing left of the horrible bite Cassandra had left was a scar. Even Daniela’s hickeys were gone.

To your chagrin, if you wanted to open those double doors in the hall you were going to need four masks. The Duke provided the first one, The Mask of Sorrow. He had winked at you, telling you that this would avoid another encounter with the Lady. But when you had asked for his explanation about the events in the village, he simply told you he didn’t have it all yet, but he would at your next encounter. You thought that was bullshit. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And now here you were, reaching for the animal's skull off the wall, hoping that maybe it would have the solution to opening that grate without having to replace the mask.

“I was worried my sisters had gotten to you first.”

Fuck. You froze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was by the door. You looked around the room, desperate to find a solution. You had only narrowly escaped her getting into the room. Trying to get past her while stuck in here would be impossible. Then you felt it. A draft. There was a gap in the wall being concealed by a bookshelf. You moved it, looking around for Cassandra. She was still by the door, taking her sweet time getting to you. You examined the gap. There was no way this was going to be enough to petrify Cassandra. Then you remembered the weight in your pocket. You had picked it up in the dungeon. A pipe bomb.

You felt the air shift, and had just enough time to duck as Cassandra swung at you. Taking cover on the other side of the room, you threw the bomb and covered your ears. Cassandra screamed at the bite of the cold air, somehow being louder than the initial boom the bomb had made.

“You’ve ruined the hunt!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you said happily. “I’m having tons of fun.”

You pointed the shotgun at her as she charged, unloading it into her face. She stumbled back. And you did it again, not giving her time to recover. The shotgun was much more powerful than the pistol had been taking care of Bela, so it wasn’t long before Cassandra was at the same stage Bela had been before you had killed her.

“I take it back. That was kind of disappointing. I thought you’d have more in ya.”

And you don’t know if she just realised she was dying, or if she just wanted to kill you so bad that she threw common sense out of the window, but she charged at you with her weapon raised. You didn’t even move out of the way, just caught he raised wrist and squeezed. It crumbled beneath your hands. She tried to hit you with her other wrist only for you to do the same thing.

“Mother!” She cried out with all the emotion of a scared little girl. “Mother!”

You grabbed her by the front of her dress, letting her see into your eyes. Letting her see the toothy grin you were giving her that was more like a snarl. The irony of the situation struck you. Whereas it would have been her eyes brimming with cruelty and madness before, now it was yours. But you had never been afraid. Not for one second. But she was. And it made you grin even wider.

She called out for her mother again as you dragged her to the wall. You kissed her on the nose, giving her a smile that someone might give a lover, and used all your innate anger and cruelty to shove the bitch against the wall.

She shattered, leaving behind only that crystallised torso.

***

His sister had said she would call Miranda when the outsider had been killed. Well, her words were dealt with properly. Emphasis on the properly apparently. Miranda was supposed to let the rest of them know when the outsider had decided to stop being a nuisance and finally bit the dust.

But no call came. From either of them. Hell, Heisenberg hadn’t heard a goddamn thing from anyone. So. . . was the outsider still alive?

He had to admit, he didn’t expect that.

Maybe he needed to change up his expectations.

***

“So you finally came to see me?”

The final daughter. Daniela. You would have preferred not to deal with her right now, given that her mother had just surprised you and evading her through her music hall had been no small task. She had been angry and seething with bloodlust. You supposed she had learned about the deaths of her older daughters. The fact that she had sent Daniela up against you after you had proved that they were practically useless against you wasn’t scoring Dimitrescu any good mother points.

You shot at the window above. But it refused to break, and the swarms had blocked the doors. You looked around, noting that on the other side, on one of the pillars was a handle.

“Everyone always falls for me.”

You ran around her, gripping the handle and swinging it down with all your might. She screamed in agony, running to get out of the direct frozen wind. To your dismay the handle slowly turned up. Who designed this?

She was running through the bookshelves, trying to hide from you. So deranged, but slightly smarter than her sisters it seemed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I- Why are you doing this?!” you retorted.

You pumped the handle down again before chasing her, shooting her in the back. She darted around a bookcase, circling around you and trying to get the jump on you. But you were ready, giving her another one. You were beginning to get bored of these sisters.

“You three don’t really put up much of a fight do you?”

“I thought you loved me,” she snarled.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything I just said?”

You shot her again. Then once more for good measure. You got up close and used the butt of your shotgun wo hit her in the stomach, forcing her back.

“I don’t wanna die,” she cried out, almost begging you not to go any further with the tone she was using.

“Well you know, neither did anyone in this village or this castle but shit happens I guess.”

You threw the gun down and got a grip on her throat, dragging her to the handle where you pumped it down again. Her attempts to get away from you and out of the cold were desperate, but you maintained that grip on her neck. Slowly, your grip tightened, and you thought you could see the beginning of tears in her eyes as cracks started to multiply on her throat. You did it slowly, savouring the way her throat gave under your hand. The window was nearly shut now. You blew her a kiss, then you balled your fist, crushing her throat completely.

The window shut.

***

“The entire bloodline of House Dimitrescu is done in by the likes of you?”

You smiled at her, even as she stalked you with her claws out. She had caught you while you were figuring out which mask went where. Luckily, being so big meant she was slow.

“Damn right it is.”

“Have much blood and sweat do you think it took to raise those daughter?” She swiped. “You have incurred an impossible debt!”

The genuine sadness and pain in her voice was something that might have swayed someone else, but not you. Not after the Duke had explained what those monsters in the dungeon had really been. Not when you knew the secret ingredient of that wine. Not when that scream rattled around inside your skull.

“What? You want me to feel sorry for you? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness while you slice me apart? How many daughters have you murdered and turned to slaves?” You slotted the third mask in before darting just out of her reach. “You didn’t consider how many fathers and husbands you bled dry in your dungeons. Your daughters deserved to die! You deserve to die! None of you get a free pass just because I’d have sex with you!”

She made a noise of disgust and sliced downwards, narrowly missing you. You darted to the last statue, putting the mask in. The door opened and you bolted.

***

You pushed open the coffin, finding an old corpse clutching a beautiful knife. You picked it up, testing the weight. That is, before you were spun around and lifted by the neck again. Evidently this family had a choking kink.

“You ruined everything!” She screamed.

She got ready to plunge her claws deep into your stomach, but you were faster, instead driving the knife into her chest. She screamed, throwing you through the window behind you. You accidentally let go of the knife, and it tumbled off the side of the building.

You looked back at Dimitrescu. She was in pain, and obviously weakening. But large, fleshy wings sprouted out from her back, a tail soon following.

And then she was crashing through the wall, nothing but a female torso and head on the back of what looked like a dragon straight out of one of your nightmares.

“Flesh! Bones! I will devour all of you!”

“Bring it on, bitch!”

***

“Curse you.”

And those were her last words. It hadn’t been easy, but you had done it. And you smiled at her as you did so. Given that same demented smile you’d given her daughters. You still wore it.

You looked around, still half mad from the bloodlust. The only thing of note was a yellow flask, so you snatched it up, grinning even wider as the wall opened into the outside.

***

Dimitrescu was dead. Heisenberg grinned. Well, he certainly didn’t expect to watch you walk out of the castle through the camera he’d placed in the area. He hadn’t even expected you to have lasted five minutes, but evidently you were made of sterner stuff. He was impressed.

You were covered in the dust of her dead daughters, as well as Dimitrescu's own blood. It made your damaged clothes cling to your form, and as you got closer he could see the grin you were wearing, could see that deranged look in your eye. And then you looked up at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. As if you knew he was watching. Your grin turned into something else, and you brought your palm to your mouth, kissed it, and then blew the kiss at him.

He didn’t expect that to get his blood pumping. Didn’t expect watching you walk away coated in blood get it pumping even harder. What was this feeling? It wasn’t fear. It was almost like adrenaline. Almost like-

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

He needed to talk to you. He would talk to you.

Hopefully he could lick the blood off of you after.