#gonna email them i do not joke around about definitions m

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

[madswritingvoid]

Afternoon Delight

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ SEE YA MINORS, smut but like soft smut, oral sex (m), masturbation (f), unprotected p in v sex, cockwarming, blood, vampire stuff, Max Phillips is a warning lol

A/N: Yes I 100% think Max would want his name in your phone to be Vamp Daddy and no I will not be taking questions about it at this time. BUT here’s another smut piece about my vampire husband, because I love him.

(Tagging @jettia because apparently she likes pain and wanted to read this if I ended up posting it)

Max Phillips is annoying. Not a joke, or an exaggeration, just a fact. He’s smarmy, sleazy, sneaky, manipulative, seductive, exhausting, and all yours. As much as his “management style” (re: turning everyone into vampires), may seem unethical or out-of-the-box, he really knew how to turn a company around. Surprisingly, when he isn’t being a total frat boy asshole, he’s also a pretty awesome boyfriend. 

Yeah, sometimes you gotta remind him that no Max that isn’t funny or say that again and it’s a stake to the heart and the dick, but overall you know you love him and he loves you. He’d kill for you, literally. So when you hadn’t received your morning “show me your boobs, babe” wake-up text, you knew something was up.

With his cocky attitude and air of self-assurance, you’ve never seen anything really make Max sweat. Not until two nights ago when he said his bosses, the big bag vamps, were coming down for a branch visit today. You glance over at your phone to check the time and saw it was almost lunchtime for you both and decide to shoot him a quick text.

You: I know yours came in today but how’s my big bad vamp doing? xxx

Vamp Daddy🧛🏻‍♂️:   :(((((((((((((

You: Is someone in the need for......

Vamp Daddy🧛🏻‍♂️: yes

You: an afternoon delight?

You: You could have let me finish, but okay.

Grateful you were working from home today, you sent off a final email and decided to take a half day, knowing Max would really need some help to relax. 

You slinked off to your bedroom and changed out of your work-appropriate but very casual matching sweat set to slip into one of Max’s favourite sundresses you have- a deep cranberry with black lace around the bottom and on the chest highlighting your boobs, Max’s favourite, and the length hitting just above your knees made it “easy access” in his words. You keep your natural Zoom meeting makeup on and opt for a quick swipe of your favourite deep red lipstick to match the dress, ready to make Max’s afternoon.

Walking into the familiar office building you can immediately feel the energy is off. Not that it wasn’t always weird, since almost everyone in here was dead, but today it was even worse. Too quiet, too cold. You almost wanted to crack a “jeez, who died?” joke to lighten the mood, but you got the feeling today was not the day and walked right into Max’s office.

“Awww baby, what’s all this?” You coo as you glide over to him. What a sight he is. He’s sitting in his big office chair with his head right on the desk, long arms splayed out in front of him making his big hands hang over the desk’s edge. A total look of defeat. Hearing your voice Max’s head shoots up and immediately you’re hit with a classic Phillips pout, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “Baaaaabe,” he whines while making grabby hands at you until you’re finally within reach. 

Pulling you into his lap, he buries his face in your neck, rubbing his nose up and down the column of your throat as your hands make their way into his hair, massaging his scalp. “Maxie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You’re only met with a heavy sigh as he takes his head and burrows between your boobs, “Everything,” he mumbles against your chest. “They loved my presentation, but hated the office,” he grumbles.

“Well, that’s easy to fix, we can go out this weekend and get some new decor to liven up the place,” you grin and start really going to town on his scalp making Max almost purr and lean into your touch more. Before you could offer more support he started shaking his head, motorboating you but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“No babe,” he sulks, finally lifting his head up to meet your eyes again, “they hated everyone in the office. Said Andrew was weird and Dave had an ‘offputting’ quality. He’s dead! Almost all of us are dead! What do they expect? And that’s not even the worst part!!!” He moans, “he hated everyone, but liked Evan?” You actually gasp, no one likes Evan. He’s so mopey and annoying, especially after Max bounced back from Evan almost murdering him, showing up to work the following Monday as if nothing happened. “Oh baby, that doesn’t make any fucking sense, I’m so sorry,” you soothe him as your hands move from his hair and start to make their way down to his belt.

Realizing what you’re doing, Max’s whole mood changes. Smirking, he puts on a much more playful pout, “yeah baby,” he coos, “it’s been real hard. But now that you’re here something else has got real hard too, and I think I know how to fix that.” You slide off his lap and onto the floor quickly, Max lifting you up for a moment to slide his now folded suit jacket under your knees in a surprising moment of kindness. Pressing a kiss to his knee as a thank you, you make quick work of his belt and pants and pull out his hardening cock. As you begin to stroke him slowly you make eye contact and spit right on his dick, making him groan.

“Love you baby, let me make you feel good,” you say before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth, swirling you tongue around him and licking the salty precum that was already leaking from him. As you continue to work more of him into your mouth, you can feel Max absolutely melt into his leather chair and take whatever you give him. “That’s it baby, always so so good, always know what I need,” he praises and you moan around his length, the compliment going straight to your core.

Not being able to take it anymore, you snake the hand not pumping the part of him you can fit in your mouth, you slide your hands underneath your underwear and start circling your clit. You moan around his length again and Max slightly bucks his hips, sending him farther down your throat. “Fuuuuuck yes, sweet cheeks, that’s it,” he can’t stop it now as his hips start a shallow bit steady rhythm as he fucks into your mouth. Letting him take what you need you slide two fingers into your dripping pussy, using the heel of your hand to keep rubbing your clit while you pump your fingers.

The only sounds filling the office are Max’s groans and the wet noise of you fucking yourself on your hand. You can tell Max is close because his pace quickens and you can hear the chair arm rests groan under his tight grip until he gives one final thrust, shooting his load right down your throat. Making sure you don’t waste a drop, you continue softly sucking the tip of him as you start to chase your own high until Max uses his vampire speed and strength to take your hand out of your underwear and move you back into his lap. You whine at the loss of your orgasm and stare with lust filled eyes as Max takes the hand that was just inside you and cleans your fingers of the slick covering them.

“Now sweets, you’ve been so good to me, I figured letting you cum on my cock would be an appropriate thank you,” booping your nose he gives a little tug to rip your panties right off and sink you down on his still hard length. Your eyes roll back and you let out a high pitched moan at the stretch, you were already so wet from earlier he was able to push in with no resistance. “There it is champ,” he chuckles, “here’s your reward.” Putting his hands firmly on your hips he starts to move you up and down on his length, his hips meeting you with each thrust. All you can do is throw your arms around his neck to hold on, chanting his name as he hits that sweet spot over and over.

“Had s-such a bad day baby,” he growls, “but this- this pussy always does the trick,” you clench at the praise causing him to thrust a little harder. Knowing your so close to falling over the edge, you decide to give Max another treat, “B-baby,” you whimper, “f-feels so good. I’m so close, b-bite me,” his hips stutter before his pace resumes again. Grabbing your jaw he makes you meet his eyes and asks, “fuck, I love you, but are you sure? You don’t have to-” he groans as you clench around him again, your walls fluttering as the coil continues to tighten. “Yes! Fuck,” you babble, “I’m gonna come baby please,” you run your fingers through his hair and pull his face into your neck.

Feeling how much you’re gripping his length, Max licks across your pulse point and gives the area a little kiss before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Once you feel his fangs break through, the coil snaps, and you absolutely gush all over his cock. You continue to moan as Max works you through your high as he continues to drink from you. Tugging on his hair twice to tell him to stop, Max stops thrusting into you and licks over the bite marks, his spit healing them instantly. Kissing your neck again you hear a mumbled, “thank you baby,” as Max wraps his arms around you.

You sit there for what feels like forever, him still seated inside of you while you go back to massaging his scalp. Noticing the time you attempt to get up, “Max! Honey, your lunch break has definitely been over I should go home,” his grip tightens around you as you get hit with puppy dog eyes again. “You could go home,” he agrees, “or you could just stay right here with me inside of you while I finish this report. I’m the boss, I can always leave early for my baby,” he gives your ass a gentle slap causing you to clench around him again. Groaning, he leans down to press a kiss to your temple, “besides I’ll definitely want to have you at least one more time before we go. Why don’t you have a little nap on big ol’ me?” He jokes, but you can’t bring yourself to make a come back, already feeling your lids grow tired from what just happened.

Nuzzling into his neck, you give his skin little kisses, “sounds good baby,” you slur, “sounds real good.”

[eyessharpweaponshot]

hi there!! are there any fics you’re reading right now that you would recommend? i need something good after the season we’ve been given so far 😣

hello there!

I agree, this season has been disappointing - especially considering it’s the last one. but thankfully, our fandom is full of amazing writers that serve us goods regularly. I have so much to recommend, it’s a joke. so prepare for a long fic rec. In no particular order, let’s begin:

1. Chasin’ You - @burninghoneyatdusk

okay. you’re gonna see a bit of a theme with me in these fic recs because the authors I mention are some of my favourites in the world - sam being one of the TOP TIER ones. this fic is a modern au, written about clarke and bellamy as exes (a favourite trope of mine) that have went their separate ways. clarke has moved away and hasn’t kept tabs on bellamy but he's soared to the top as a country star, his hit single being about her and what they had. if there’s any fic from this list you need to start reading, it’s this one.

2. Voices in the Water - @burninghoneyatdusk

It’s the canon version we all wanted. set on earth, clarke’s aunt (nia) forces her into an arranged marriage with king bellamy to unite the clans. but under it all, nia has tasked her to kill him. obviously, as clarke falls in love with bellamy, it’s the one task wanheda probably can’t complete. I'm in love with the imagery and descriptions in this fic. there are honestly some lines that sam writes that I want to frame and put up in my house. absolute brilliance.

3. All Because of You - @burninghoneyatdusk

*sheepishly raises hand* - hi, it’s me again, fangirling over another one of sam’s fics. if you have followed me for a while, either here or on twitter, you’ll have seen me screaming about this fic. I've pulled over while driving to read an update that came through to my email. no lie. I don’t say this lightly but it is definitely in my top 3 favourite bellarke fics of all time. sam DELIVERS with this one. bellamy knocks up his sister’s best friend when they’re both young and they grow together in raising their daughter. this fic flashes between present and future in the most seamless way and we see how in love they were back then but too scared to admit it, combined with how in love they are now that they are mature and older - but yet can’t seem to take the leap. I can’t tell you enough how good this fic is. I'm in love and it’s one of those fics that I would happily have as a book on my bookshelf, the pages worn and falling out from the amount of times that I re-read it.

*I just want to note that sam is doing a fantastic job at running @bellarkefic-for-blm. This is an opportunity for the bellarke community to directly support the Black Lives Matter cause through reading and writing fanfiction. For every fanfiction prompt a participating writer receives, they ask that you donate to an organization that supports the BLM cause. This initiative includes non-bellarke the 100 ships and requests for other content (e.g. gif sets, icons, moodboards, fanart). please check them out and request a prompt (this also includes updates for the above mentioned fics)*

4. Count Your Teeth - @icantloseyou-too

let me tell you, you guys will be well fed after reading this fic. It’s one of the most original idea’s and we get so much bellarke and the blake siblings in this one. bellamy is a treasure hunter and married to clarke, after leaving his thieving days behind him. that is until his past comes knocking and drags him back into that world again - and clarke along with him. absolute chefs kiss!

5. Cups and Sorcerers - @icantloseyou-too

again, such a unique plot with just the right amount of fluff. clarke is a witch who owns a coffee shop and she ends up meeting someone just as unique as her. I’m invested in this to an embarrassing degree and it always puts me in a good mood when this fic is updated. such a light and heart filling read and ciara does a fantastic job of world building in this fic.

6. Paint me in Trust - @pawprinterfanfic

I'm sure this fic needs no introduction. everyone and their mother has heard of it and if you haven’t read it yet, believe me, you’re missing out. a harry potter au that runs alongside the last few movies without being involved with the main characters. essie manages to make an already existing world so different, thrilling and gripping. it emotionally upends you and takes you along for the ride without any intention of letting you off. I'm just in love with it and rightly so!

7. When the Wolves Come Home - @pawprinterfanfic

I don’t know how people aren’t RAVING about this fic more because I certainly am. it’s massive for me to even say this because I love all of essie’s work but it’s my favourite fic that she’s written. I can’t describe the feeling I get when I read how she’s written bellarke in this. it’s a percy jackson au but you don’t need to have knowledge of that world to enjoy this. I actually started reading the books because of this fic. essie writes it so well and incorporates a lot of fantastic elements from greek mythology while also keeping me on the edge of my seat with bellarke’s journey. HERE FOR IT ALL THE WAY.

8. I’ll Find You in the Morning Sun - @cominguproses13x

I’ve never seen a fic talked about as much as this one. with 60 chapters, it’s bound to satisfy any hunger you have for bellarke. it’s set in a post apocalyptic world and it is beyond a shadow of a doubt, my favourite setting to read bellarke in. I've actually stopped reading this fic on chapter 5 because im currently writing my own post apocalyptic au as it was a trope on my bingo card and I don’t want any subconscious spill over, but I fully intend on reading the rest of the fic in one go once my fic is published and done. it deserves all the praise and hype.

9. For Blue Skies - @kombellarke

kayla’s fics make me actually weep. her writing style is just unbelievable and she sucks me into stories so fast. this one is no different. I live and breathe for bellarke as exes and this fic is one of my favourites. it’s a modern au with clarke as a mother and she cascades back into bellamy’s life without warning. perfect angst and anticipation. in love.

10. Love Like Fools - @talistheintrovert

the way I love talis with my whole heart. I'm always obsessed with her fics and the way this one was written was just magnificent. enemies to friends to lovers, roommates, angst, emotional comforting? SIGN ME UP. the perfect mix of all of those and I felt so good after reading this. always a fan.

11. It Had To Be You - @useyourtelescope

I had the honour of pre-reading some of this fic before it was published and I felt so privileged. a regency au with a prank war sprinkled in? perfection. hana honestly writes this so beautifully and I can’t recommend this enough. it’s so unique and we are all so incredibly lucky that there’s something in the bellarke fic world for everyone.

12. Veni, Vidi, Vinci - @carrieeve

Again, proof of the pudding that there’s something in fic for everyone. I’ve never read one like this before and it THRILLED me. murphy and bellamy working together to steal a Vinci? it was the fic I never knew I needed. the bellarke interaction in this was beautifully written and I am just completely obsessed. we really struck gold with the bellarke big bang works this year.

13. A Twist of Fate - @queenemori

let’s be honest, soulmate au’s are always wanted and needed in this fandom and kara does an excellent job of serving us this one. we got some team cockroach in here along with some top tier quality bellarke. what more could you ask for? if you haven’t read this fic yet, you need to. so thankful for kara being the absolute gifted babe that she is.

14. Power Over Me - @sparklyfairymira

okay, if you recently watched the witcher on netflix like I did, believe me, you NEED to read this fic. if you haven’t watched the witcher, this fic will make you want to watch it. the smut in this, the plot, the WRITING. absolutely phenomenal. have I mentioned how lucky we are to have such fantastic writers in this fandom?

15. There’s a Serpent Lying Deep Down in These Still Waters - @shaeheda

post apocalyptic au? SIGN ME UP. bellarke thrown together in unkind circumstances? SIGN ME UP. this magnificent human writing a fic? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. I'm so in love with this fic already and I haven’t even finished it yet. as I've said, I've stopped reading fics in this genre until my own is completed but I’ve read enough to tell you that this needs to be on your next to read list. forever in awe of the talent here and this fic makes me feel so lucky to be part of something so great.

I hope this satisfies you for a while and that you enjoy all the bellarkey goodness that comes from these fics. I'm gonna drop some of mine below because why not? just in case you’re in need of something more.

1. I Found Peace in Your Violence

clarke griffin has it all. she’s popular, an artistic prodigy and has a wealthy family to boot. so when her perfect world comes crashing down around her, it’s time to sink or swim. she tests positive for the Homicidal Tendency Syndrome gene, also known as the kill gene. clarke is plucked from her comfortable life and placed into a school with people just like her - carriers, delinquents. when she meets bellamy blake there, he looks like everything they say HTS carriers are. a monster, a criminal. yet, he’s the one who protects her.

2. I Am Lost This Time

a void!bellamy fic that we all deserved to have happen in canon. an au where bellamy hears clarke’s radio calls from earth, sees her memories in m-cap and where she really is the key: the one that unlocks his memories and brings him back to her.

3. Purple, Blue, Orange, Red

bellarke are childhood friends and teenage lovers, reuniting in the midst of the same grief that tore them apart.

4. Devil Side

post apocalyptic setting and my favourite fic to have ever written. both of them coming together to survive and protect those in their family, including two small children. bellarke started out as strangers, who would have thought that they’d end up co-parenting in the middle of a world that is too dangerous to survive out in the open?

5. Waste It on Me

a soulmate/reincarnation au that I wrote based off my own breakup and feelings. probably my most popular fic and should keep you going in terms of bellarke feels.

[xbladekitkat85]

Why Clint is on Tony’s Sh*t List

Word count: A bit over 3k.

Chapter summary: Peter and Harley are brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Which is highly classified knowledge that nobody outside of the Avengers knows. Until Clint Barton accidentally spills the secret with a technology related mishap.

Warnings: A bit of language here and there. Tony threatening Clint’s life because he did an oopsie.

Peter's POV

In the school that is Midtown School of Science and Technology, everyone is basically a genius of some sort. You have biology geeks, math geeks, chemistry geeks, robotics geeks. You name a branch of STEM subjects, there are guaranteed to be at least 5 masters in every subject.

That being said, being a master in a subject doesn't mean that you would be instantly popular. Sure you might get hounded for homework help, but it doesn't mean you actually make friends as easily. It's more like people want to leech off of your knowledge and don't bother to get to know you.

There's a social pyramid in all schools and let's just say I'm towards the bottom of mine. I build Lego sets, I love Star Wars, I'm a whiz at chemistry and math. But people ignore the fact that I'm 'somewhat' intelligent and focus on the Lego and Star Wars part of my image. Which sucks big time. At least I'm graduating this year.

But at least I have my brother Harley to confide in. We argue over stupid stiff but we both enjoy poking fun at each other.

3rd person POV

Peter was sitting at his usual table with his small group of friends. Ned, MJ, and Betty made up this small group of people.

"So, what are you guys doing this weekend?" Ned asked the group.

"Uhhhh, I was planning on going to see that new movie coming out." Betty answered. "You know, the one with Emilia Clarke and what's his name."

"Oh yeah, I know which one you're talking about." Ned replied.

"You losers can go see a movie, I'm going to a protest outside of Oscorp." MJ replied, sipping her thermos of coffee.

"What did Oscorp do?" Peter asked curiously.

"They're trying to cover up an employee getting severely injured, the safety protocols are shitty, and HR is as usual, the worst part of it all in addition to the censorship of the incident online."

Peter nodded his head, eyes widened.

"Gotcha. I definitely understand why you're going."

MJ set her thermos down and opened her latest book, Speak.

Ned turned to look at Peter.

"Stark internship all weekend?" He inquired.

Peter shrugged and took a sip of water.

"I'm gonna hang out with Harley. Probably do some stuff in the lab. Usual stuff."

Betty shook her head in disbelief.

"I still can't believe you're friends with him." She said. "He's pretty high on the social ladder here. I mean I know you guys have the internship together but it's still kind of baffling that I never see you interacting in school."

Ohhhhh, if you only knew Betty. Peter laughed to himself on the inside.

Nobody at school knew that Peter and Harley were half brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Not even Ned or MJ knew although he suspected that MJ somehow knew or was close to figuring it out. She's scarily perceptive and freakishly good at knowing things about other people that she definitely shouldn't.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch.

The four friends parted ways and headed to their respective classes.

*After school*

Peter arrived at the tower straight from Delmar's after picking up snacks for the weekend. He had grabbed an assortment, ranging from potato chips to pretzel M&Ms.  He waved at Ms. Maldonado, the lady who commanded the reception area and dashed to the elevator, scanning his pass when prompted.

FRIDAY greeted him when the doors closed.

"How was your day Peter? Harley is already waiting for you. He told me to tell you, and I quote, "Peter, I hope you remembered my PRETZEL M&Ms not PEANUT M&M's like last time. If you forgot, I'm going to steal that new Lego set you were planning on building tomorrow. And I WILL hide it somewhere you'll never, ever, find it. Insert maniacal cackling, blah blah blah."

Peter stifled a laugh at Harley's message.

"Uh, well my day was the usual, you know. And tell Harley I got his stupid M&Ms. And I grabbed him something else too if he promises not to threaten the Legos again."

"Sure thing, Peter."

He exited the elevator to the floor which housed the labs he shared with Harley. There were multiple as the duo tended to accidentally blow things up and would need to have another place to work while repairs were being done. Needless to say, Tony was more than a little annoyed that his kids needed multiple labs because they kept blowing them up. But whatever, he loves them and will pay for it as long as he gets to blackmail them with all the ridiculous stories of what blew up and how it happened.

Harley looked up towards the door Peter walked through and lifted his welding mask off his face.

"Hand over the merchandise, blockhead." He said, his arm stretched towards the bag of goodies Peter was carrying.

"Only if you promise to leave the Legos alone, biotch." He replied.

Harley rolled his eyes and dramatically lifted his hand in the air as if he was testifying in court.

"I promise not to touch the Legos." He said in a half joking tone.

Peter handed him the pack of M&Ms as well as a container of Oreos.

"I still don't understand why you like pretzel M&Ms." Peter remarked. "There's too much pretzel and not enough chocolate."

Harley stared directly at him as he tore open the M&Ms and popped a few in his mouth.

"I don't understand why you don't like pineapple on pizza." Harley shot back as he swiveled around in his chair

Peter groaned.

"We are not having this discussion again."

"Peter you're an idiot if you don't like pineapple on your pizza."

"Harley, you're a disgrace to the entire state of New York if you do. Fruit is not supposed to go on a proper pizza."

Harley chucked a bolt at Peter's head.

"Hey!" He protested as he turned to look at Harley. And then he saw a glint in Harley's eyes.

"Pizza is a dish with everything from the food pyramid. You have grain, dairy, meat, vegetables, fats, and oh, wait, you don't like pineapple so you're missing out. You could be getting every nutrient from the food pyramid but you're an idiot so you miss your daily serving of delicious pineapple on your pizza."

"Oh my god, stop."

The boys busted out laughing for a full 3 minutes, eventually with Harley falling out of his chair. Tony walked in to find his kids cackling at who knows what, and one on the floor, almost incapacitated by his laughter. He sighed before clearing his throat to gain their attention.

The boys sobered up and finally stopped laughing but they had unshed tears left from the fun.

"What on earth were you two dying of laughter over? Should I call a therapist? Do I need to be concerned? Did you eat something that you shouldn't have?"

Harley sniggered as Peter was trying to keep a straight face.

"He was eating pretzel M&Ms!" Peter said, holding back his laughter. "The type that should be illegal!"

"Peter, you don't diss Pretzel M&Ms, they're an underappreciated member of the M&Ms family. If you think pretzel M&Ms should be illegal, you clearly haven't tried the raspberry ones." Harley replied while doing his best to keep his face straight. "If anything, you should call a therapist for Peter and help him overcome his aversion to pineapple on pizza."

Tony looked even more lost than he was before.

"Ok, I don't know what I'm supposed to make of this. FRIDAY, show me footage of what the hell happened while I wasn't here."

"Sure thing boss."

Friday pulled up security footage of Harley and Peter's conversation. Tony watched it as the two teens were snickering behind him. After he understood the situation he turned to his kids and let out a tired sigh.

"Ok, I don't understand your sense of humor, but I came to tell you that we're having Italian for dinner."

Peter pumped his fist and Harley just shrugged.

"Italian is fine by me I guess."

"All right kiddos, be in the dining room by 7ish or else I'll cut the power to these labs. We eat as a family."

*Time skip*

It was 2 am, Monday morning and everything was silent except for the faint noise of shuffling towards the ceiling.

Clint Barton was crawling around in the vents, obviously on his way to do something he probably shouldn't be.

He had lost a bet with Nat earlier and the punishment was that he had to steal something for blackmail off of FRIDAY's databases.

He quietly dropped out of a vent shaft into an important looking office. He didn't bother checking who it belonged to but he was already too far gone to ask.

"Ok Nat, what do you want me to look for?" He whispered into his earpiece.

"Check the computer on the desk. The password is written on a sticky note in your pocket."

He checked his pocket and there was indeed a post it with a password on it.

"Ok, what am I supposed to find?" He asked once he logged in.

"Look for footage from the labs." She said. "Check labs CTS2 and IAI1."

"CTS2 and IAI1, gotcha." He reaffirmed.

He browsed around until he found the cameras he needed.

"Ok, found em. What dates should I look at?"

"Look at this past Friday," She answered, "around 4:45 to 6:15 pm. Tony drank from a can of motor oil instead of his coffee cup. I would like this footage in my posession. For my entertainment, and possibly blackmail to pull on him."

"All righty, ok, uhhhh." He muttered as he searched through that window of time.

He watched snippets of the footage and fast forwarded a few times until he glimpsed footage of Harley swiveling around in his chair as Peter looked exasperated. He paused and rewound to see what the situation was.

As Clint watched the whole argument play out and the aftermath, a shit eating grin began to spread across his face. He emailed himself the whole interaction for his own entertainment (blackmail, cough cough) and went back to searching for what he originally came for. He eventually found it, sent it to Natasha, logged out of the computer, and climbed into the open vent.

"You get it?" Nat asked suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, I got it." He said, trying to hold back the mischievous laughter that was threatening to let loose. He checked his phone to see whether he got the email he sent to himself. But to his surprise and sudden panic, it was not there. His social media, however, was blowing up with comments about the two kids and who they were and theories people were spouting.

"Oh shit."

"What did you do, Clinton?" Nat asked in a threateningly monotone voice.

Clint banged his head on the vent, forgetting that he still had his comms on.

"I may or may not have accidentally exposed Peter and Harley as Tony's kids."

Nat was silent for a moment before she finally responded.

"Tony's probably going to kill you for this, so you should pack your bags right now. Make funeral arrangements as well and update your will."

"Ah shit."

*Monday morning, 6:45 am*

Peter woke up to his phone ringing. He groaned and turned on his side to ignore the call. The phone rang again and he sighed before reluctantly sitting up and grabbing his phone.

What the hell, who's calling this early?

He looked at his notifications and saw multiple missed calls and texts from Ned and MJ. Something must have happened because Ned had typed in all caps, 'PETER EVERYONE KNOWS! CALL ME NOW!' MJ's text just said, 'I knew already. Don't try to hide it from me whenever you come to school.'

Instantly, Peter was wide awake. Did the whole world know he was Spiderman? But how did this happen, who would leak that information and how did they get it?

He called Ned and before he could even say, "What's up?" Ned butted in with a sentence he was not expecting.

"Peter, when were you going to tell me your dad was Tony Stark?! This is even bigger than Spiderman! As your Guy in the Chair, I think this knowledge might have been missing in our conversations."

Peter was at a loss for words as he stood up.

"It's all over social media and people are going apeshit over this!"

"Ned, you shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet." Peter replied in a nervous tone as he began pacing back and forth in his room. "How do you know the source is credible? Remember what Ms. Hernandez said about credibility when giving information in an essays or whatever?"

"But Peter, Hawkeye was the one who posted it. You know, the Avenger who shoots arrows?"

Peter stopped pacing and froze midstep.

Uncle Clint was behind this? But why?

"You sure he wasn't hacked?" Peter asked as he feebly attempted to get out of this confrontation.

"No, it's security footage from a lab. Tony said in the video that you guys were a family."

Peter then realized that he couldn't worm his way out of this situation. The whole world knew he and Harley were brothers and the sons of Tony Stark. Of course this happened, why wouldn't it?

"I'm going to call you back, I need to talk to Clint." Peter said.

"Ok, just let me know if you and Harley are going to be ok or not." Ned replied.

"Bye Ned."

"Bye."

Peter hung up and took a deep breath before leaving his room to go find Clint.

He entered the kitchen and almost everyone was there except the one person he wanted to talk to.

"Hey, uh, where's uncle Clint?" Peter asked.

Uncle Steve looked up from his breakfast.

"He left last night. Family emergency."

"Uh huh, so correct me if I'm wrong but Clint left because dad was going to kill him, right?"

Suddenly everyone was avoiding eye contact with Peter. Yup, everyone knew what happened.

Just then, Tony walked in with a very irritated expression.

"I don't think you and Harley are going to be able to go to school today. Some kid from your school, Dash or something posted you go to school with him and know you both. So there are multiple news stations outside the tower and surrounding your school. Might be best to just stay home today."

"Is Uncle Clint still alive?" Harley asked as he walked in, yawning.

"He is alive," Tony responded "Not for much longer though."

"Dad, you can't just kill him." Peter protested. "It's not like he actually did anything that warrants his death."

"I don't think he meant to do it." Harley added. "He deleted it maybe 10 minutes after he posted it but other people recorded it on their own devices and re shared it. He probably realized what he had done and tried to delete it but of course, once it's out there, it's out there."

"Don't kill Uncle Clint, he's got a wife and kids. Besides, we need him on the team." Peter said.

"We don't need Clint," Tony said, waving his hand. "I already got a replacement set up."

Peter had not heard of this new team member that was apparently going to replace Clint.

"Who is it?" Harley asked curiously.

"Kate Bishop. She's already on her way here. Clint trained her to take over the mantle of Hawkeye anyway so it shouldn't be that big a deal." Tony shrugged. "She's a bit older than you two, 18 or 19, I can't remember at the moment."

"Ok, then, as long as she's trusted by you." Peter relented.

"Don't know what she might be like, but if Clint trained her, and they share similar personalities, whatever spirits above help us." Harley said solemnly.

Peter smacked Harley's arm.

"Hey!" He complained.

"She's not even here yet and you are badmouthing her already. Have some manners, dude."

"It doesn't matter at the moment right? You said it yourself, she's not here yet and I will 'have some manners' when she does."

All of a sudden, Peter heard a nearly imperceptible shuffling coming from above. He felt a shiver go down his spine and the instinct to get into a defensive position.

"He's right, you should have some manners young man." An unfamiliar voice boomed from above.

Harley looked around wildly in confusion.

"Who's there?! Are you a spirit from above???" He asked.

All of a sudden, a figure dropped out of the vent directly above Harley and tackled him to the ground.

"And that is Kate Bishop." Tony said, answering the question in everyone's mind.

Kate released Harley from her grip and she helped him up.

"Clint was right," She said, smiling. "Crawling through the vents to prank people is fun."

She looked up to the open vent and held out her arms, to everyone's confusion.

"Lucky, come on down!" She called.

To everyone's shock, a dog with one good eye poked his head out from the vent and jumped into Kate's arms.

"Oh crap, nobody has allergies to dog dander, right?" Kate asked, looking at everyone.

"Maybe? I'm not sure." Peter replied.

"Damn, I should have checked before bringing him, huh." Kate muttered.

Tony waved his hand at the dog.

"As long as he's potty trained, we should be fine." He said, trying to reassure her worries. "We're all fine with dogs."

Peter thought back to all the dogs he's pet on patrol. They always seemed happy to play with him and now there was a dog in the tower. Huzzah, he didn't get to only pet dogs on patrol now!

"Well, all's well that ends well, right?" Peter said.

"How about everyone gets acquainted with Kate?" Tony suggested. "It's not like you two are going to school today anyway."

Peter and Harley agreed and that day became a get to know the new team member day.

Peter texted Ned to let him know he was going to school the next day and invited him to the tower after school to meet someone. Oh the look on Ned's face when he found out would be priceless.

Taglist:

@frostedgiant

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[weakzen]

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

[prisonhannibal]

Do you have any cablepool fanfic recommendations bc I suffer daily trying to find good ones (especially comic based, but movie is fine too)

I think you might be a long distance telepath because I got an ask like this a while ago and didn’t answer it bc I needed time to think. and then I couldn’t find it in my inbox so I decided to just write a regular post, and while I was writing that post I got this ask!

ok these are in no particular order and I’m not using the actual plot summaries the authors used on ao3, just making stuff up or using quotes from the fic

one-shots

Landing on both broken hearted knees by rayguntomyhead (1.6k words, rated M)

Post Deadpool 2. Wade and Nate share a hotel room. I know what you’re thinking, it’s not that kind of fic. Nothing is going on with them yet.

Tropes by quakey (2.2k words, rated T)

Wade’s been reading TVtropes, and if Nate is fucking with him right now, Wade is gonna gut him like a fish and throw his bloody corpse in the sea for the sharks.

These days are great and so are you by bankrobbery (3k words, rated T)

Movie based. Wade gets kinkshamed by Weasel and hawaiian-shirt-shamed by Cable. They’re at the bar, basically

Motormouth by pavonine (13k words, rated T)

Wade can’t shut the fuck up, and this time it’s not even his fault! Wade’s been cursed to never be able to stop talking, which is really fucking inconvenient if you’ve got stuff you’re trying to not say.

also the norwegian prime minister is in it very briefly, and it was posted in 2013, when jens stoltenberg was the PM so I’m just gonna assume it’s him and bring your attention to this picture of him which I think is hilarious

Pressure points by denims (2k words, rated M)

Cable keeps casually touching him, which probably doesn’t mean anything (don’t listen to domino, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about), but it makes Wade feel weird. So, so weird.

Multi-chapter

Wade will f*** shit up for you by Quakey @withoutaconscienceorafilter (48k words, rated E, so minors stay away from this one, it’s the only thing on the list with actually NSFW scenes.)

The craigslist ad said “My name’s Wade and I fuck shit up professionally. So your ex getting married? I’ll crash that shit. Your job fire before their company picnick? I’ll show up with tequila and throw hands. Got some one one you hate an just wanna fuck their day up? I’m all over that shit. Serving all situations where we customize your service to your liking email me for pricing. Services guaranteed with video.” Maybe this is a horrible idea, and maybe he shouldn’t have, but Nate did answer it, so things are definitely about to get weird

I’m biased on this one because it was based on a post I made but it seriously is really good it’s super funny (almost choked to death trying not to laugh on the bus at one point) and in character and some of the scenes are so so so cute. Not sold yet? Hope is in it. AND Ellie. Hell yeah! This one is movie based, and I really like that it’s a regular non powered AU, but Nate’s arm+eye and Wade’s scars are still included. Like Nate has a prosthetic arm and Wade actually looks like Wade.

Fistful of shovels by surefall (28.6k words, rated T)

Now, you might be thinking, ms. Mutantapologist, this is tagged spideypool?? It is, but just trust me okay

Wade’s best friend, bromanciest of bros to ever bro, Nathan Summers is back in his life, and he’s really starting to get under Peter’s skin. They’re just too close, and Nathan is there all the damn time. List of things Wade’s weird time traveling BFF would look good in: 1. his own damn home. Nate and Peter get passive aggressive and competitive, Nate’s manipulative tendencies make an appearance, Peter is kind of a dick, and Wade’s honestly just happy to have his BFF back.

this is one of my favorite portrayals of their relationship dynamic tbh. just...their unbreakable bond...the way they keep coming back to each other through time and dimensions...that shit makes me cryyyy. and how well they know each other..the trust...the casual intimacy....how comfortable they’re with each other...also the dialogue in this is perfect, love their banter. This one is “screenshotting quotes and sending them to your friends” level funny. they also play mario kart and I think that’s nice.

Read Omake: Fistful of shovels for the Deleted Scenes Edition that has stuff that didn’t make it into the final fic or alternate versions of scenes. includes: Nate sending a shirtless selfie with ulterior motives, Nate being sort of a home wrecker (but at least he’s more honest about it!), aunt May, Nate being accused of being a bottom, etc.

Strangers by totallynotremus @totallynotremus (31k, rated T)

Nate plays games. Not weird manipulative mind games this time. Actual games. Online. With Wade and his friends. Wade feels targeted because come on, you behave mildly flirtatiously with the guy your friend group is gaming with online a lot acouple of times and suddenly your so called “friends” won’t stop harassing you about it. unbelievable. this one is also super funny

Motion Practice Universe: Cablepool Edition

I couldn’t put these in either category because they need to be in order and there’s one-shots AND a multi chapter fic so i’d have to separate them and that wouldn’t work. These are part of the (as of august 2020) 1,405,078 words long Motion Practice Universe, but you don’t need to read the rest of it to know what’s going on, I didn’t and it works 100% fine as a stand-alone storyline

Wade Wilson explains it all (or at least, how Clint’s keeping his job. Mostly keeping his job. It’s complicated.) by the_wordbutler (3.3k words, rated T)

Wade is trying to put together a fruit basket for Clint, because he’s a thoughtful friend (who does not get enough credit, hello?), unlike some other people. Example: his coworkers, who won’t let him focus on his super special important project (fruit basket!). And Nate, who’s eating an orange (from the fruit basket!😡) which has no business being that distracting.

it’s sort of an introduction to the next thing in the list, and I highly recommend reading it first. Definitely does a great job at showing what you’re gonna get from the full fic. Also, it’s cute and funny.

Admissions, Interrogatories, and other discoveries by the_wordbutler (150k words, rated M)

No, that wasn’t a typo, it really is 150k words. And I read it. Twice.

Basically, Wade is a criminal defense attorney, good job, you get to defend goat fuckers and other weirdos. Fun times. Nate’s a coworker, works in immigration and civil rights law, they do projects together. Just a bro he jokes around with, who sometimes brings Wade lunch, and whose arms Wade really likes to stare at, but that doesn’t mean anything, right?

this one is REAL slowburn (never in my LIFE have i experienced slow burn like this one holy FUCK), great relationship development and I just love their dynamic and banter in this one. Perfect dialogue and it’s really fucking funny, made me laugh out loud at several points! AND!! Hope is in it<3

What I learned on my summer vacation, an essay by Hope Summers by the_wordbutler (4.5k words, rated T)

Sequel to Admissions, interrogatories and other m discoveries. Wade, Nate, and ten year old Hope go to Disney World, and the beach. A lot of love and family<3 Wade took 3 sign language classes to talk to Hope (who’s deaf)

I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot of great ones but here’s what I could think of rn!!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I… work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[mustangshelby04]

No

Pairings: Chris Evans / Charlotte Mackenzie (O/C)

Summary: Saying no leads Charlotte to a friendship she has never imagined.

A/N: I’m trying to force myself to write. Maybe this will light a fire under my ass…. Or my muse’s. She’s a bit flakey.

Chapter 3

Charlie sat on one of her plush couches with her nose in a manuscript.  She had been living and working in Massachusetts for a solid year.  Her new job kept her plenty busy, but she had managed to find a friend in another book editor named Eddie.  He loved to joke that he was the worst gay BFF ever because he wasn’t a flamboyant person and he had no fashion sense to speak of.  Charlie had joked that he was the straightest gay man she had ever met.

She had made other friends, too.  Chris had introduced her to his sisters and she and Shanna had become fast friends.  She was most responsible for getting Charlie out of the house.  Lisa visited at least once a week and they would sit and talk about Charlie’s job and the books they were interested in while drinking tea.  

Chris had recently taken a couple of jobs that filmed in and around the Boston area, so he was home a lot nowadays.  They spent their time together seeing the sites, playing tourist, and hanging out at each others’ houses.  Chris loved to tell her stories about growing up in the area.  She particularly loved the story of him waking up the morning after prom on the neighbor’s front lawn.  

Their friendship was going strong.  They had had sex only a grand total of six times so far in the last year.  Chris had been off filming in various locations around the world the first part of the year she’d lived there, so making good on their plans had been pushed aside for a few months.  The first time they’d been intimate had been extremely awkward, neither of them quite sure of what the other was ok with.  Both of them were used to being the one to take charge in the bedroom.  Eventually, she had finally relented and let him take the lead.

“Ow!  You’re on my hair.” Charlie said.

“Oh, damn!  I’m sorry.” Chris apologized, shifting his weight.  She giggled and he rolled his eyes. “I swear, I’m much better at this usually.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have skipped the foreplay.”

“You were the one that jumped me!”

“Oh!  That is not how it AH!” He had shoved into her and the sudden invasion had startled her. “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Sure felt nice.” Charlie snorted.  Chris started pumping his hips and Charlie moved hers around, trying to find her own rhythm. “Mac, stop moving so much.  You’re throwing me off.”

“You’re throwing me off!”

“I’m on top, here.  You gonna let me do my thing?”

“Why are you on top, again?”

“Did you want to be on top?” She blushed and shook her head. “I’m literally buried balls deep in you and that made you blush?”

“Would you get on with it?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, you let me do my thing and if it needs some adjustments, tell me.  This will go a lot smoother.”

He had been right.  The next few times had been a little smoother.  She started to get more vocal about what she wanted and liked.  He was more than happy to oblige.  By the sixth time, just a week ago, she had gotten braver.  

Chris and Charlie sat on his couch watching a rerun of I Love Lucy.  Dodger, Chris’ dog, was dozing between the couch and the coffee table.  Charlie looked over at Chris and admired the way his biceps looked in the slightly-too-small T-shirt he wore.  He didn’t notice her stare, so she took more time to admire his smooth cheek.  The part in Boston had required him to be clean-shaven and she was admiring his strong jawline that had been hidden by his beard.

“Ok, creeper.” Chris said, turning his head to look at her. “What are you staring at?” Charlie didn’t answer.  She moved across the couch and straddled him. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi.” She leaned forward and began gently biting and sucking on his neck.  They had both agreed that kissing was too “relationship-y,” so they used their lips for other things. 

“I like the direction this is headed.” He quipped as she reached her hands under his shirt, sliding it up as her fingers raked through his chest hair.

She shook her head at the memories of last week.  Returning her attention back to her manuscript, it was only a few seconds later that her phone dinged.  She grabbed it off the end table and looked at the text from Chris.

The chat bubble from him read, “You home?”

She quickly typed out an answer. “Where else would I be?”

“Be over in a few.”

Fifteen minutes later, Chris walked in through the garage door.  She had given him a key to her house so he could water her plants when she’d had to fly back to Omaha to be there for Amanda when her first round of IVF had ended with a miscarriage. “Ho, ho, ho!”

“Who are you calling a ho?” Charlie called out from the library.

“You do know you have a bunch of other rooms in this house, right?” He joked, striding into the room.

“None of them are as exciting as this one.”

“That’s because it’s the second week of December and you don’t have a tree.”

“I told you.  I don’t have any decorations.”

“I thought you were going to buy some.”

“I haven’t yet.”

“All right,” He marched over and snatched the manuscript away.  Setting it on the desk, he blocked her from getting to it. “Get your coat, Mac.  We’re going shopping.” “Chris….”

“No friend of mine is going to be a Scrooge two years in a row.  I’m not having that.”

“I’m not a Scrooge.  I like Christmas.”

“Says the woman who doesn’t even have a tree.”

“I was going to get one.”

“When?  Christmas Eve next year?”

“No.  New Years Day three years from now.  I’m sure I’ll get a great deal.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Look, you can come willingly or I can fireman carry you out of here, but either way, we’re going Christmas shopping.” 

She leveled a glare at him, but he wasn’t budging.  Finally, she huffed and strode past him. “You’re driving.”

Chris watched Charlie balance on the chair to put the star on the top of the tree.  They had spent the last two hours putting up her fake tree, decorating it, and arguing about whether or not she needed her front yard decorated.  He had snuck some outdoor lights into the purchase with the intent of putting them up.

“Mandy would say you need them.” Chris threw out.

“And Mandy would pay someone to put them up.” Charlie shot back.

“I’ll call Scott to help us put them up.  You can pay us in beer.”

“Who’s us?  I’m not putting them up.  This is the extent of my decorating.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Fine, Scott and I will put them up.”

“Why are you so insistent on Christmas decorations?”

“Because I love Christmas!”

“Clearly.”

“Come on, Mac.  You used to tell me that Christmases with your aunt were special to you.”

“They were.  But she’s gone now and I live a couple thousand miles away from where I grew up.”

Chris sighed. “Why does that mean you can’t celebrate Christmas anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you do realize that you’re more than welcome to join the festivities with my family.  Ma has been threatening to replace me with you anyway.”

“She has not.”

“She definitely has.  We got into an argument last week and she threw that at me.”

Charlie laughed. “I highly doubt that I would live up to her eldest son.”

“Nope.  You’d surpass me.”

“Shut up.  I wouldn’t.”

He chuckled. “Seriously, Mac.  Come celebrate with me and mine.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I will bug the shit out of you until you say yes.  And I’ll have my sisters, mother, and brother cover the hours I can’t.”

“I swear to god, you’ve been talking with Mandy about how to force me into things.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Wait, you have?  For real?”

“Yeah!”

“How have you been talking to her?”

Chris shrugged. “Email.”

“Email?  And how did you get her email?”

“I stole it off your computer.”

“Chris!”

“What?”

“You can’t just go through my stuff like that!”

“I didn’t.  I swear!  You went to the bathroom and you left your email to her up.  I wrote it down.”

“Why?”  

“I needed some advice.”

“On what?”

“Nunya.”

“Chris!”

“Ok!  I needed advice on what to buy you for Christmas.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah.”

“This Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

“God!  Now I’m going to have to get you something.”

Chris placed his hand over his heart in mock shock. “You didn’t get me anything?”  

“What did you get me?”

“I’m not telling!”

“Does Mandy know?”

“Of course she does and no, she won’t tell you.  She swore.  Can we stop with the third degree now?”

“She can’t swear to you.  I’m her best friend.  Her loyalty is to me.”

“You spend too much time with your nose in fiction.”

“Says the guy who plays a hundred year old soldier hopped up on steroids.”

“Hey!”

Charlie laughed. “Don’t worry, Cap.  I’m not even a fan.”

Chris suddenly grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off the chair.  She let out a surprised yelp and he laughed as he dropped her down on the couch.  Before she could stand up, he jumped on top of her and straddled her hips. “That was mean.”

“Which part?” She teased. “When I called Cap an old druggie or when I said I’m not a fan?”

“Both.” “Gonna punish me for it?”

“Maybe.”

“Tis the season for forgiveness, though.”

“Is it?” He poked her in the side and she bucked under him.

“Chris!” He laughed and poked her on her other side.  She bucked again and growled about how much she hated being tickled.  He, of course, knew this and began poking and tickling wherever he got an opening.  She slapped at his hands and tried to push him off, but he was too strong. “Chris, stop!” To her surprise, he actually did.  

He was holding her wrists above her head with one of his hands, but he stopped tickling her with the other.  They both laid there, breathing heavily.  They were both very aware of each other’s bodies pressed together, their faces mere centimeters apart.  Suddenly he closed the gap between them and captured her lips with his.  The kiss was chaste.  No tongues were used, but it felt like an electrical current was running through them.  When he pulled back, she stared up at him in shock.  It lasted for all of a second before she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back down to her.

Chris moaned into her lips as his jean glad hips ground into her.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on.  He released her arms and she reached for the hem of his shirt and ripped it off quickly.  He moved his lips to her neck while his fingers traced up her ribs, pushing the shirt up above her breasts.  A small sigh escaped her lips as his hands each gripped the mounds of flesh, his thumbs lightly tracing her nipples.

Charlie raked her nails down his back, forcing a low growl from Chris.  His mouth began a torturously slow trek down her body while her hands gripped his hair.  Somewhere in the room, she could swear she heard her phone ring.  Chris didn’t seem to hear it, so she concentrated on his fingers undoing her jeans.  The ringing stopped as he finished opening the zipper and she raised her hips to help him remove her jeans.  He began tracing circular patterns on one of her inner thighs while his teeth nipped at her other thigh.  

The ringing started again, but they both ignored it as he dipped one finger under her panties to trace her folds.  She let out a groan, needing more contact from him.  He chuckled and lightly bit down on her thigh.  The ringing stopped and Chris’s finger pushed into her.  He quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out of her.  When he knew she was about to explode, Chris stopped his ministrations and pulled away.  He brought his fingers to his lips, but stopped when Charlie’s phone rang again.

She growled and sat up. “I don’t even know where it is.”

Chris wasn’t going to let her go, though.  She managed to stand up only to have him grab her by the waist and pull her back down.  He easily maneuvered her around to have her bent over the arm of the couch.  Quickly yanking down his pants and rolling on a condom, they ignored the ringing again as he shoved into her.  They both began grunting and growling obscenities as he fucked her over the arm of the couch.  Without any kind of hesitation, Chris slapped one globe of her ass to see what kind of reaction she had.  She gripped the arm of the couch tighter and let out a moan.  He did it again to her other cheek with an almost identical response.

“Fuck!” Chris groaned. “You feel so good.”

“Harder, Chris.” Charlie begged.

“Happy to oblige.” He began pistoning in and out of her, their flesh making wet slapping sounds.  Her phone began to ring again. “I’m so close.”

“Chris!” Charlie’s head whipped back, flipping her hair down her back.  He watched it spill around her shoulders as she rode out her orgasm.  Something about the way it moved made him lose control.  His thrusts stuttered as he came, pulling her against him and twitching his hips as he came down from his own high.

They collapsed down to the couch and Charlie wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Sorry.” Chris said suddenly.

“For what?” She asked, genuinely confused. “For kissing you.  I know we agreed to no kissing, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Charlie shrugged. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Are we sticking with that rule?”

“I mean…. Kissing is so intimate.”

“And fucking isn’t?”

“Not like kissing is.  Kissing is…. Romantic.  We’re not romantic.” Charlie’s phone started ringing again. “What?!” She got up and located her phone, answering it without even looking to see who was calling her. “This had better be…. Oh.  Hey!  Mandy, slow down.  What are you saying?” Charlie glanced at Chris watching her intently. “Oh no!  Oh, Mandy, I’m so sorry.  Of course I will!  I need to make some arrangements and I’ll call you back.  Ok.  I promise.  Love you, too.” She hung up and immediately started gathering her clothes.

“What’s wrong?”

“The last round of IVF finally worked and she was pregnant.  She went in for her second scan, but there was no heartbeat.”

“Oh fuck!”

“I need to pack and call my boss.”

“I’ll help.” Chris grabbed his pants and shirt, quickly tossing them on. “I’ll pack for you while you go call your boss.”

“Thank you!”

Chris stood off in a corner and waited for Charlie at baggage claim.  She had been back in Nebraska for the last week comforting Mandy.  He had talked to her once during that week and that conversation had been brief.  She had shot him a text yesterday asking if he would be able to pick her up from the airport.

Finally, he spotted her messy red hair up in a high ponytail.  She looked like she hadn’t slept all week.  Charlie finally saw him and she smiled a tired smile.  He opened his arms and she walked right into them.  They stood there for a long time, content to give and take comfort to each other.  Finally, Charlie released him and looked up.  She had tears starting to dry on her cheeks.

“That fun, huh?” Chris asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“We spent pretty much the entire time in her bed just crying.” Charlie said, grabbing the handle on her rolling carry-on. 

“How’s Roger?”

“He’s a mess, but he’s staying strong for her.  I found him crying in the laundry room once.”

“Man!  That’s rough.”

“I didn’t want to leave, but I had to get back to work.  Hey, thanks for coming to get me.” “No problem.  I do need to get back to set, though.”

“Right!  I completely forgot that you have a job.” She cracked a smile at him and he shook his head.

“Hey, wanna come see how a movie gets made?”

“You want to take me to a movie set?”

“Yeah!  You up for it?”

“Feed me on the way?”

“I’ll take you straight to craft services.  You’ll love it.”

A little while later, as they rode in silence away from the airport, Chris noticed that Charlie seemed like she was far away from the here and now.  He reached over and squeezed her hand, but she only gave him a tight smile and went back to staring out the window.  Finally, he couldn’t take the heaviness that had settled into the car.

“Hey.” He said gently. “You ok?”

“I, uh…. I don’t know.” Charlie glanced at him as she fiddled with her fingernails.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

“Ok.  You sure you wanna come to set with me?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I need a distraction.”

Two weeks went by before Chris couldn’t take the weirdness anymore.  Charlie had been even more in her head than she normally was.  She’d been working on reading a book for the whole two weeks when it usually took her no more than two days to read one.  Lisa had mentioned to Chris that Charlie had been quiet on their tea dates as well and she was worried about her.  He finally decided that enough was enough and he invited her and his mother over to his house for dinner one night.  He and Lisa had cooked a small meal for them and as they were sitting on the couch after dinner, he broached the subject with her.

“Mac, please talk to us.” Chris said. “You haven’t been yourself since you got back.”

Charlie took a long drink from her wine as she stared sightlessly at the TV. “I know.”

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Lisa asked.

“Nothing’s wrong besides my best friend in the entire world can’t have kids.” Charlie sighed. “The doctor told her she should stop wasting her money because she has a hostile womb, so it’s never going to happen for her.”

“Shit.” Chris said.

“The one thing she’s wanted since she was a child is to have a family and she can’t.”

“There’s always adoption or surrogacy….” 

Chris noticed Charlie flinch slightly at that last word. “What?”

Charlie closed her eyes and pulled her legs tighter under her. “Mandy asked me to be her surrogate.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?” Lisa asked.

“That I needed to think about it.”

“I can see why you’ve been so distracted the last couple of weeks.” “She said that she and Roger had talked about it before the last IVF round since the first two hadn’t worked and they both agreed that they would ask me if it came to it.  They even decided to make it easier for me.  They would move here to Concord.  Mandy said she would find another job out here and Roger said he could work remotely until he finds an office.  Apparently his firm wants to open an East Coast branch and Boston has been tossed around as a potential place for the new office.  If he volunteers to move, he’s pretty sure that he could convince them to choose Boston.” 

Chris blew out a breath and said, “What, uh…. What does that mean for you?  What would you have to do?”

“They showed me these pamphlets and some articles they found on the web.  They’re in my desk in the library.”

“Have you made a decision?” Lisa asked.

“No.” Charlie got up and began to pace. “When I think of saying no to her…. It terrifies me.  I worry that it would crush her for her best friend to say no to something this huge.  I don’t think she would stop being my friend, but it would definitely affect us in some negative way that I don’t even want to fathom.”

“How does it make you feel when you think of saying yes?”

“Terrified.  When I think of saying yes, it’s scary to know, but not know what I would be going through.  You know?  I know it’s selfish to think like that, but it’s a lot.  Like, a lot.”

“I don’t think Mandy would ask you to do something she doesn’t think you could handle.”

“What’s it like…. Being pregnant?”

“Well, every experience is different.  When I was pregnant with Carly, I was sick the first trimester and then everything after was a breeze until she was born.  With Chris, I was sick the whole nine months and uncomfortable and always hungry.” Lisa stood up and stopped Charlie from pacing. “Charlie, this isn’t a decision anyone can make for you.  I wish I could take the burden from you, but I can’t.  Only you know what’s best for you.”

“Did she give you a deadline?” Chris asked.

Charlie shook her head. “She said to take as much time as I needed.”

“Well, that’s good.  That eases the pressure some.” Lisa squeezed Charlie’s hands. “I’ve got to head home.  Charlie, please don’t hesitate to call me with any questions you have.  Or even if you just need to talk to someone.”

“I will.  Thank you so much, Lisa.” Charlie hugged the older woman tightly and walked her to the front door with Chris.  After the door closed, she turned to Chris. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course!” Chris said. “You want me to make up a guest room?”

Charlie shook her head. “No.  Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?”

“Sure.  I’ll grab you a shirt and I think you left some shorts here to change into.”

“Thanks.” Charlie sighed and walked into the living room while Chris ran down the hallway.  She wanted to take the night off from thinking about THE QUESTION and falling asleep watching a dumb movie with Chris like they usually did with their nights in sounded like the perfect solution.

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in this story. The more people that want to read it, the better. I want my muse to feel the pressure!

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[flamehairedwritings]

Lost In Hawkins

FOR HALLOWE’EN 2019

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 9,719, phew

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: This story is inspired by the wonderful ITV series ‘Lost In Austen’, an idea I’ve had for a while and my own fantasies, tbh. Crack? AU? Angst? All of them? What is genre?

Tags include: Swearing, lots of it, and mentions of a drink being drugged.

Summary: Your Hallowe’en night takes an unexpected turn.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

“Get the fuck away from me, you shitting shit-bag.”

“Jesus, Meg—”

“No, I am not having a heart-attack tonight.”

You purse your lips slightly in an effort to stop a smile as she all but bares her teeth at the poor teenager dressed as a clown, decidedly less scarier than when he’d jumped out at you both with his now stunned expression.

Nearly growling, she pushes through plastic sheets and you follow after her, secretly delighted when she finds the nearest exit and you step out into fresh, open air.

“God, don’t people know what personal space is anymore?”

Manoeuvring past a group of smokers, Meg blows out a long breath as you adjust your corset, stepping towards the only nearest free space on the worn grass.

You hum in agreement as you join her. “I think a space capacity code is being violated here.”

“You can say that again.”

The cool air of the night feels wonderful, the Fun House having been stifling with sweat, paint and something you don’t want to know having filled the air. Pulling the white blouse off your shoulders from where it has ridden up, you turn to her with a nostalgic sigh.

“Remember when we used to just throw sheets on, walk around the block to get free candy and then be in bed by 8?”

“Yeah. Those were the days,” Meg also sighs, folding her arms with a wistful smile. “But, hey, this is what happens when you get peer pressured by colleagues.”

“Well, I was ready and raring for this two hours ago and now I’m just... tired.”

“I think we’re old now, darling.”

“I’m ready to accept it.”

“Me, too.” Huffing out another breath, she casts her gaze around. “I only really wanted to come because Elvira’s here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “That’s not been confirmed.”

“It has.”

“By who?”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron Watkins? He once told me moose aren’t real.”

“He said that when we were sixteen.”

“Far too old an age to be saying things like that.”

“He was joking... I hope.”

“He certainly wasn’t joking.” Clearing your throat, you shiver lightly and rub your arms, the once welcomed cool air now just cold. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think the week’s caught up with me.”

“All right, how are you gonna get home?”

“Well, I can’t afford a taxi so I’ll get the bus.”

“Do you want to die?” Meg gapes at you incredulously.

“If I die on Hallowe’en, don’t I get to walk the Earth on this day every year? How fun.”

“I’d rather you walked it 365 days a year. I will give you money for a cab.”

“No, Meg, c’mon,” you protest, shaking your head as she reaches for her purse. “It’s going to cost too much, it’s too far. I’ll get the bus, there’ll be other people on it, it’s a busy night, and I’ll text you every five minutes, I promise.”

“Fine. but text me discreetly,” she orders as she pulls you in for a hug. “I don’t want people seeing you with your phone out and then wanting to steal it. And call me when you get off the bus and you’re walking home, I mean it.”

“I will, I will. Love you.” You beam at her as she finally releases you.

“Love you, too. Please don’t die.”

Thankfully, the bus stop was only a little further up the road from the entrance to the carnival grounds. Other people seemed to have had the same idea as you, too, the stop somewhat crowded with families, the kids already asleep, teenagers chattering excitedly about their next destination, and some exceedingly tired people your age, muffling yawns and chewing sweets. 

When your bus had arrived it was already half-full but you managed to find a seat on the ground level at the back, sitting beside a teenager who doesn’t look at you, their hood up, headphones on.

Perfect. No possible way of someone initiating a conversation here.

The bus had trundled along slowly, stopping at seemingly every stop known to man, and people had trickled off until now, when it’s just you, an older lady near the front on the ground floor and possibly people on the upper floor.

The bus slows to a halt on a well-lit road, and you know you’re only a few stops away from your own, relief filling you.

I’m going for you, pyjamas.

The older lady shuffles off the bus and you hear someone descending from the top of the stairs, instinctive curiosity making you lift your gaze to see who it is.

It’s Barb from Stranger Things.

Except it’s not because she doesn’t exist, but the teenager looks exactly like her, complete with the perfect hair-style, glasses and outfit. They catch your eye and you smile. They smile back but it seems more out of reflex than genuine want to.

Stop staring, you look like a weirdo.

Once they’re off the bus, the doors close and the bus moves on. As it pulls away from the curb, you just can’t stop yourself from looking at ‘Barb’. They stand on the pavement, facing the road, waiting for the bus to pass, their hands in their pockets.

Just amazing. Absolutely uncanny.

You feel slightly bad that you didn’t compliment the person on their work, they obviously worked hard, but then again, you’re at the back of the bus and they probably wouldn’t have appreciated you yelling out to them, even if it was out of the goodness of your heart. They looked a little... sad, though, so maybe it would have cheered them up.

Facing the front again, you glance down at your phone and press the button to unlock it, wanting to tell Meg.

The screen remains blank.

You frown and press it again.

Nothing.

You definitely know it was at 78% when you last—

The screen lights up, pure white for a moment, then your lock-screen appears, complete with picture, the correct time, and the notifications you’d been ignoring.

Huh. Weird.

You don’t think too much on it, your phone does tend to glitch occasionally.

The light above you flickers, then so do the others, and your gaze darts up to watch them. In a line, one after the other, they go out, then shine brightly once more after a second.

... Right.

The bus slows, the last one before your own and, again, relief washes over you.

Not long now, so close—

“Last stop, lady.”

Your eyes snap to the bus driver, who’s leaning out of his seat to look at you.

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the line.”

There’s an edge to your tone, one you wouldn’t usually have with a public services worker if it wasn’t pitch-black outside and some lights flickering hadn’t just freaked you out a bit more than you’d like to admit.

He shrugs. “Sorry, I’m gonna run out of fuel.”

Ah, so that might explain the lights, then. That’s how it works... maybe.

“Is there another bus coming to finish the route?”

“At this time of night? Hell no.”

Oh my God.

You stare at him. “... What am I supposed to do, then?”

He shrugs again. “It isn’t that far to the end of the line.”

You can hear how desperate you are. “Couldn’t you take me some of the way?”

“Nah, station’s the other direction, I’d break down.”

Right, so this is a me problem.

Huffing and knowing you’re not going to win at all, you grab your bag and march down to the front of the bus, wrestling with your conscience that you can’t yell at him because it’s not his fault and you hate when customers yell at you when something isn’t your fault but also this is kind of his fault maybe in some way but it also isn’t and—

“Fine. Fine,” you mutter as you step off the bus before quickly turning to him. “I’m not the kind of person to do this, but I’m going to send the company a rather shitty email in the morning.”

“All right, miss.” Not one ounce of sympathy or care on his expression.

Clenching your jaw, you step back as the doors close and he pulls away, making you realise you were the only person left on the bus.

Right. No one else to rant with or pair up with and be safe with.

Okay, you know where you are, it’s not that far to home, you have perfume in your bag you can use as a kind of pepper spray, and you can call Meg. Scanning the area and pulling your phone out, you unlock it and type out a message to Meg.

Just my luck, bus running out of gas so had to get off and now walking. *skull emoji*. Isn’t this how horror films start?

Sending it, you glance up again to check for anyone before quickly typing and sending:

Can I call you?

Lifting your head, you’re about to lock your phone when it vibrates. Looking down at the screen, you frown.

‘Message unable to send. Try again.’ it reads next to ‘Can I call you?’

You tap ‘Try again’.

The message reappears a moment later.

‘Message unable to send. Try again.’

What the—

You look at the signal bars and—

No signal.

What the hell?

The first message was able to send and you haven’t even moved so how the hell hasn’t the second? You’ve never not had signal in this area.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, the cold night air helps you decide you can ruminate on it later. Heading down the path next to the woods that leads home, you blow out another, quiet breath and shove your phone into your bag. 

Maybe in a few steps it’ll be okay.

You glance to the side, eyeing the woods.

Do not think about ghosts and ghouls, do not freak yourself out, do not be a bitch to yourself.

You quicken your pace, staring ahead.

It’s quiet. Quieter than usual. Usually there’s crickets chirping or an owl hooting or cars passing but... nothing.

The street lights are out, too, and you contemplate using your phone’s torch.

No. Don’t signal your whereabouts to... anyone.

like...

murderers...

... shit ...

... Just like the white winged dove, Sings a song, Sounds like she's singing, Who, who, who

Singing loudly in your head always helped to calm you. Keeping your gaze directly ahead, you continue, reminding yourself you’re only ten minutes from home.

Just like the white winged dove, Sings a song, Sounds like she's singing, Oh baby oh said oh ,

Ten minutes until you’re home. Then you can get out of this costume, have something to eat and go to sleep.

And the days go by Like a strand in the wind In the web that is my own

I begin again

Said to my friend, baby Nothin' else mattered

Maybe you’ll watch a few episodes of something you don’t have to think too hard about.

He was no more than a baby then Well he seemed broken hearted Something within him

Or maybe a bath, ooh, a bath sounds great, why did you wear these shoes, well, you didn’t think you’d be walking ages in them.

But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him—

The sound of a dull, muffled explosion echoes across the forest.

You cry out in fright as you freeze, your head whipping to the side instinctively to find the source.

Oh my God... what the fuck was that...

Your gaze darts about, and a breeze suddenly washes over you, as if pushed in your direction but that’s impossible because there’s been no wind all night and there’s none now, it’s just gone—

An orange light flickers amongst the trees, not too far away.

It’s just a flash light.

It’s just some kids playing around.

You stare at it.

It’s not moving.

It’s just kids playing about.

They’re probably setting off fireworks and one went wrong.

Then how come I can’t hear voices.

Shit, are they hurt?

Concern takes over from fear as you narrow your eyes, trying to look for any signs of movement at all. Nothing.

Check.

Go and look.

People could be hurt.

Reaching your hand into your bag, you pull your phone out and glance down.

One bar.

Fuck, yes.

Dialling the emergency services, you find that one tiny bar has given you confidence, and you stride towards the light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise it’s not a flash light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise your phone is still dialling and hasn’t connected, a crackling sound taking over.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise the light is drawing you in and you can’t look away from it, can’t stop walking.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise you can’t hear or see anything.

It’s not until you’re walking through the light that you realise you’re going to die.

The last thought you have is:

Oh my God, I’m going to fucking die in a shitty pirate costume.

You’re falling.

How is that possible?

Wait, you can’t see anything and your stomach isn’t dropping like it should do when you fall and— Holy fucking shit, yes it is, now it is, holy fuck, you’re going to be sick, what the fuck—

You land face down on something damp with a grunted ‘oof’’. Groaning, your head spinning, your hands move out slowly and you feel you’re on something solid. Squishy, but solid. Pushing yourself up, your arms shake slightly as you lift your head, blinking several times.

Glancing around, you find you’re still in the woods.

What the hell...

I must have tripped.

What the hell did I trip on?

Looking over your shoulder, you just see leaves on the ground.

Was there a rock hidden under all that? Yeah, that’s what it must have been.

Pushing yourself up with a groan, you brush the leaves and twigs from you, tutting at the streaks of mud across your costume.

I hope this bloody comes out or— Hang on a fucking second.

Turning quickly, you freeze.

Where the hell is that light?

You scan the area, still frozen.

... You must have imagined it. Or knocked it over. Or...

Just go home.

Turning, you start striding off.

Am I going in the right direction? I don’t care. Just get away from this area. No, get your phone out and Google Map it to see where—

There’s a road. Just up ahead. The trees thinning out.

Right. We’re back on track, this is where I was before, didn’t realise I was so close but hey, ho...

Striding towards it, you emerge out of the woods and stop abruptly.

Where’s the pavement?

You look one way, then the other.

... Is this a new road? Has it always been here?

It’s been a while since you walked through the woods but surely you’d have noticed if they’d been doing road works to create a new one... Unless...

Oh my God, am I concussed? This is the last thing I need.

You start walking before you realise it. Heading left down the road. You’re near to your neighbourhood. It has to be this way.

Google Maps.

Fumbling with your bag, you open it and pull your phone out, pressing the button to unlock the screen. Nothing.

Oh, not again, please...

You press it again, then again, then again, then again.

Still... nothing.

Right, don’t get upset, you’ll be fine, one way or another you’ll end up in your neighbourhood of the next one over, so at least you’ll know where you are.

You shove your phone back in to your bag and fold your arms tightly. It’s so damn cold. Why didn’t you just stay at home tonight.

You stare down the road. You don’t recognise a thing.

Everything looks different at night. You’ll be okay.

Bright headlights suddenly appear at your feet, growing larger as you hear a vehicle approach.

It slows as it nears.

Right, I’m either going to be murdered or get directions.

Steeling yourself, you also slow as it nears.

Here we go.

Turning, you’re blinded for a moment as the headlights hit your eyes. Squinting and shielding them, the vehicle, a car, pulls to a stop beside you.

Oh. Not just any car. A police car, apparently.

The window rolls down and a man pops his head out.

“You okay there, ma’am?”

“Yep. I’m fine, thank you.”

You’re not, but it’s an automatic response. He seems to know you’re not, casting a glance over you... and as he sizes you up, you size him up.

You recognise him.

You don’t know how, you’ve never had a conversation with a police officer before. Not knowingly, anyway. Maybe he’s a regular customer, or you’ve just seen him around.

“Where are you heading, ma’am?”

“Home.”

Why am I being questioned.

“And where’s home?”

“Hanover Street.”

He stares at you.

“Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

He’s still staring.

“Whereabouts is that, ma’am?”

God, you’re a rubbish cop.

“Just around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn.”

“Right.” He looks you over again, frowning. “Have you been out this evening, ma’am?”

You frown in return, unease starting to creep up. “Yes.”

“Right.” Meeting your gaze, he then opens the car door and steps out, and your stomach drops. “Ma’am, if you’d just like to get in the car...”

Oh my God, this is the last thing I need.

You open your mouth, then close it because you are not about to argue with a police officer right now. Stifling an irritated sigh, you climb into the car as he opens the door behind his.

On the bright side, I might get a ride home.

You do not get a ride home.

The officer is silent as he drives, occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror to look at you. You pretend not to notice, your own gaze darting down to your concealed phone every now and then. Still no signal.

I can’t wait until I find this hilarious.

The ride only takes a couple of minutes before you realise you’ve reached his destination. The police station.

You don’t recognise it, but then again you’ve never had a reason to go to the station.

You didn’t know the station was so close, though.

Once the officer parks up, he opens the door for you and waits for you to step out before gently instructing you to follow him. You obey.

The station is busy, phones ringing and people walking up and down.

Well, it is Hallowe’en.

Slightly overwhelmed and tired and maybe perhaps a little frightened, you do as you’re told, sitting at a desk the officer points at. You hold your bag on your lap, your shoulders slightly hunched.

You only have to wait a few moments before another officer takes a seat opposite you, not looking at you as he greets you with a weary ‘Good evening’.

Hang on. You recognise this officer, too. Maybe he’s also a customer. Not important right now.

“Right...” he slaps a notepad down in front of him and takes a pen from his shirt pocket before finally looking at you. “... What were you doing walking down a dark road on your own, miss?”

“Uh...” Just tell the truth, you haven’t done anything wrong. “I was walking home.”

“Nobody wanted to give you a ride?”

He’s making notes and you can’t help but stare at his pen moving.

“Uh, no, well, there was no one to give me a ride, I got the bus but then I had to get off ‘cause it was running out of fuel, but it’s not far to my home so it’s not too far a walk.”

“And home is Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

The fact he’s conversed with the other officer makes you nervous.

Please don’t obsess about what they might have said.

“Around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn?”

“Yeah.”

Too late, you’re obsessing.

“And what is that, miss?”

You can’t stop yourself from frowning.

“It’s the pub, it’s only probably about five minutes away from here.”

“Right.”

The way he says it makes you feel like you’re wrong, but you can’t be, you’ve been to that pub a thousand times before. You might not have recognised the road you were on, but as it was in your woods you know the pub is close by.

“And why were you by the woods, miss? Seems a bit dangerous for this time of night.”

“Oh, well...”

Do you tell the truth? Oh, yes, deflect from whatever it is you seem to have done wrong.

You sit up a little straighter, slightly more confident now because you have vital information. “... I heard an explosion in the woods.”

His pen pauses as his gaze snaps up to you. “An explosion?”

“Yeah. It sounded quite quiet.”

Gazing at you, his eyes then lift to something behind you. “Hey, Flo, we heard anything tonight about an explosion?”

A woman wearing large glasses passes by the desk. “No, honey, just drunks and people calling about the poor boy.”

“All right.” The officer raises his eyebrows slightly, then looks to you. Then he frowns. “Hey, you all right?”

You’re staring at the woman’s back, frozen.

Oh my God. Oh my God... Flo.

“Miss—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Your tone and suddenly sharp gaze takes him aback slightly, but he recovers swiftly.

“Excuse me?”

You stare at Flo again, then back to him.

“What is going on here?”

“Miss, how much have you had to drink tonight?”

You would have been offended by the question if your mind wasn’t racing. Your racing mind also doesn’t give you a chance to really think about what to say in return.

“Not a lot. Four cocktails.”

“Four?”

“2-4-1, all day, every day.” You’re practically trying to stare him down now, trying to make him crack. “What is going on?”

He changes tact, clasping his hands together on the desk. “You’re being questioned because you were found wandering alone on the side of the road, and you seem somewhat disorientated.”

Yes, I’m fucking disorientated.

You place your finger on the desk. “This is, this is Hawkins Police Station.”

He doesn’t react. “Yes.”

“From Stranger Things.”

Now he reacts, his eyebrows raising a fraction.

“... Miss, have you taken any narcotics this evening?”

“No.” You can’t stop yourself from lowering your voice. “Am I being pranked right now?”

His voice is suddenly gentler. “Do you have someone we could call?”

You just stare at him, trying to find an inkling of something on his features.

The joke should have ended by now, surely.

Your anger starts to turn to agitation. “May I go?”

He’s looking at you sympathetically which isn’t good at all. “Do you have someone we could call to come and pick you up?”

Your eyes dart about the station.

Everything is exactly like it is on the show. There’s no way this is a set up. How could it all have been set up? You fell in the forest and suddenly there was a road that had never been there before, an entire sound-stage and the exact actors?

Nausea washes over you as you swallow hard.

“Can I have some water, please?”

“Yeah, sure.” He rises, his gaze lingering on you, before he walks around you.

Exhaling a long breath, you stare down at your bag.

I think I just need to sober up. Probably more drunk than I realised I was. Or I’m concussed.

You close your eyes.

Shit, shit, shit, think. How can I think when I don’t know what the fuck is going on? How is this possible, what the fuck is going on, oh, God, don’t faint, don’t faint—

Your eyes open as you hear him return and a glass of water appears before you. You instantly grab it, taking a long sip. Your hand shakes slightly as you set it back down.

He sits down again, a troubled expression on his features as he watches you. “Sure you’re all right?”

Oh, no.

Don’t do it.

“Uhm...”

Don’t you do it.

“... I think...”

Don’t you dare.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh, shit—”

You make it just in time. Turning your head, your body lurches forward as you bend at the waist and throw up in to the waste bin by his desk. You close your eyes tightly as you vomit again, hearing people around you.

“Oh, Jesus, Flo, can we have some paper towels, please?”

“Someone’s havin’ a rough night, huh?”

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, no, this isn’t possible.

Lifting your head as you inhale a shaking breath, not thinking to wipe your mouth, you look up and meet the gaze of Chief Jim Hopper.

His frown is the last thing you see before you pass out.

Ah, unconsciousness.

Oh, no, not unconsciousness because you’re having a thought. A thought that unconsciousness is nice. Uncomplicated.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, a gentle weight. Slowly opening your eyes, you gaze up at the faces of three people.

Oh, fuck off.

Flo, the officer, Powell, you remember his name now, and... and Hopper.

David Harbour. Hopper.

I hope I pass out again.

You don’t, forcing you to realise you were only unconscious for probably a minute or so as you’re still on the floor.

Oh, God, it’s still happening.

“Hey, you okay?”

You look to David/Hopper.

I hate this.

I’ve masturbated thinking about you.

Oh my God, stop it.

“Yeah... yeah... Can you... Can you back off, please?”

“Uh, yeah.”

All three of them move away and stand as you push yourself up, wincing slightly. Nobody apparently caught you because there’s a dull ache at the back of your head.

Brilliant. Concussion on top of concussion, probably.

You know you won’t be sick again but you feel so overwhelmed, like you can’t breathe.

“I need some air.”

Powell, thankfully, speaks this time. “You wanna take a walk?”

“Yeah, on my own. I’ll be fine.” You’re already walking towards the exit.

Then, David/Hopper is at your side, pushing the door open for you. “Nah, can’t let you do that on you’re own.”

You take extra care to not be one inch closer to him than you need to be as you pass through the door. Stepping out, once again, into the welcome, cold night air, you inhale a deep breath. You can’t look at him.

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, we’re just concerned.”

The parking lot is quiet, half empty, small. You start to pace, still unable to look at him.

“I’m fine.”

“Is there anyone who could come and get you?”

I’d love it if everyone would stop asking me that.

“I—” Just play along, don’t look at him, don’t do it. “No.”

“Where do you live?”

“i, uhm, I don’t live here, I’m just visiting a friend.” Nice cover.

“Do you know the address?”

Oh, shit.

“No.”

“Do—”

 “Hop, come on, we gotta go, there’s a fight at McCorley’s.”

You lift your head to see Powell, calling out to Hopper/David, heading for a truck. 

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at Hopper.

God.

Season 1 Hopper.

You’ve missed the stubble.

Stop it.

“Shit. Hang on,” Hopper/David answers before turning back to you, a frown returning to his features. “Do you know the neighbourhood where your friend lives?”

“No.”

“Right.” ‘Real helpful’, you can practically hear him thinking. He raises his eyebrows and holds his hand out in a stay put gesture. “Stay here until we get back, all right?”

You nod, still unable to meet his gaze, swinging your arms slightly. “Yep, okay.”

He watches you for a moment, then nods, turning and striding away to his Blazer.

You stand still, watching as he gets in, starts the engine, then reverses and drives away. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re moving. Where, you have absolutely no idea.

This isn’t real. This cannot be real.

You can feel the ground beneath your feet as you head down the main road and a light breeze on your face but it can’t be real.

Unless...

That was it. 

Someone’s drugged my drink. I don’t know when or how, I bought all my own drinks and didn’t put them down once, but someone has, that’s the only explanation. I’m having a very, very, very vivid hallucination and I’m actually walking around my house right now.

You suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

What am I supposed to do, then.

Like anything, you suppose; sleep it off.

But where?

Are you even in your house? You could be in the forest, that’s when you’d seen that damn light and that’s probably when the drugs had hit. Rubbing at your forehead, you blow out a breath and close your eyes. You’re starting to get a headache and you have no idea what’s going on and you just—

Stop it, take a breath.

Inhaling and exhaling three long, slow breaths, you lift your head and open your eyes.

Yep. still here.

But, there, a short walk away, you see the centre of Hawkins, lights shining brightly in the darkness.

Sleep it off.

Sleep it off.

Motel. There has to be one.

Moving forward, you’re striding now.

Play along with the hallucination, just play it out. This could all just be in your head.

Oh, God, I hope this is all in my head.

What the hell am I doing.

Coming to a halt, you groan as you bend over, your hands on your knees, your eyes closed.

Please don’t be sick again.

Or do, it’ll give me something to do.

“Excuse me, dear?”

Oh, God, what now...

Straightening up, you lift your head and find Flo, the actual Flo, standing a few feet behind you, her hands clasped together. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh... I was just... going.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.” Why am I crumbling under her gaze.

“Chief let you go did he?”

“Yep.” Oh, God, this is a criminal offence. She definitely knows I’m lying.

“Where are you goin’ to? Remember where your friend lives?”

“Uh, no, I was just... I was going to find a motel.”

“Like hell you are in your state.” She drops her arms and gestures for you to return. “Come on. I got a spare room.”

“Uh...” You stare at her, not really knowing what to do. “... I could be a serial killer, you know.”

She eyes you. “Nah, you ain’t.”

Then, she turns and starts walking back to the station.

... Right. 

You follow after her. 

Because what the hell else is there to do.

Flo had said if you needed anything, to let her know.

Oh, Flo. Oh, Flo, even you can’t help with this.

Holding the blankets up against your chest, you stare up at the ceiling. 

This is mad. This is bizarre. But it’s real.

That much you’ve come to terms with.

You’ve seen enough TV shows and films to have some sort of an inkling of what’s going on.

You’ve gone through some sort of a dimension.

That, or you’re part of a prank show you’ve never heard of. 

The former seems more likely than the latter, though. Your friends would never put you up for a prank show because they know you’d hate it. and you’re not aware of having an arch-enemy. So, you’ve passed into another dimension. A dimension that houses the land of your favourite TV show.

Right. So. What’s the plan, then.

Sleep, get up in the morning, rifle through the bags of clothes Flo said you could, find something to wear, then go back to the woods and find the portal back.

A snort escapes you.

I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about portals and dimensions and how to get back to my own world. And now i’m laughing about it. I’m delirious. Maybe I will just wake up and this will all be something other than real. That would be amazing.

Closing your eyes, you pull the blankets up a little higher.

This is the weirdest night of my life. And possibly the comfiest bed I’ve ever slept in. Silver linings.

You’d followed after Flo, dutifully, like a good law-abiding citizen, even if you are in a different world, and gotten into her car.

She’d asked you a few basic questions as she drove; your name, if you were hungry, how you were feeling. You answered truthfully, still absolutely baffled by the bizarreness of the situation.

Once at her home, you’d not had much of a chance to look at where the actual Flo lives as she’d led you straight to the guest room, having told her you weren’t hungry but tired.

Add overwhelmed and incredibly confused to that.

That’s where you now find yourself.

Closing your eyes, you want to make a plan but you also don’t want to think too much about what is happening right now because you think your brain might actually explode.

Just sleep.

Just sleep, maybe this is all actually a dream.

That would be amazing.

You’re awoken what feels like only three seconds later by the bedroom door opening and knocking against the chest of drawers beside it.

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up.

Flo stands in the doorway, already dressed, smiling at you warmly.

“Good morning, sweetie. Up you get, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

Your head drops back down as she, leaving the door open, heads back to the kitchen, your arms covering your eyes.

Oh, God. This is still real.

Rolling out of bed, you shuffle over to the bin bags in the corner, untying and rifling through them for an outfit. A dress and leggings come out in your size so you quickly tug them on, pull your boots back on, and shove your costume and bag into a tote bag you came across.

Breakfast with Flo is... interesting. 

She asks essentially what you’d been asked the night before, why you are in town, who you’re staying with, what their number is, if you’d like to call any family or friends.

You manage to deflect each one, saying you’ll be fine, you can’t remember your friend’s number or where they live, your family don’t know your friends number so it wouldn’t help.

Taking your empty plate away once you’re done, Flo places them in the sink and claps her hands together. “Well, come on, then I’ll take you back to the station.”

You nearly choke on your mouthful of water. “What?”

She looks faintly surprised. “Maybe your friend’s come looking for you or made a call. Either way, I think it’s the best place for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry, bit of a restless night,” you answer quickly with a small smile.

She nods sympathetically before grabbing her car keys.

Shit. No, don’t worry. The station is close to where the portal is. Just give them the slip when you get there, run for it, get back home.

Perfect. An excellent plan.

                                                             You’re ready.

You’re so ready to do it.

You’ve psyched yourself up throughout the whole journey.

You can do this.

You’ll be home within the hour.

You’re full of hope, you’re stepping out of the car, you’re getting ready to run, you’re—

The Station door slams open.

“Flo, what the hell?”

Oh, no.

You and Flo turn, you swiftly, guiltily, Flo slowly, arching an eyebrow.

Hopper strides out of the Station, stopping only a couple of feet from you both, his hands on his hips.

“You can’t just take a person of interest out of the Station without tellin’ anyone!”

Hang on, ‘person of interest’?

Flo folds her arms. “Well, I wasn’t gonna let her sleep here, where would she? In a cell? She’s not under arrest, Hopper.”

Hopper sighs, rather exasperatedly. “Flo, you’re not responsible for her.”

She bristles at that, her back straightening. “Well, then who the damn hell else is?”

Bizarrely, her protective display warms you but you still keep your eyes on Flo, unable to look at him. She looks at you then, smiling.

“Come on, honey, let’s get some more coffee and see what we can—”

“Actually, Flo, I’d like to talk to her.”

You don’t catch yourself in time. You look at him. His mouth is set in a thin line. He’s so handsome. You hate everything that’s happening right now.

“’Her’? She has a name,” Flo huffs.

I feel like a kid with my divorced parents.

He gives another exasperated sigh. “Well, if I was given the chance to talk to her, then I would know that.”

“Powell already spoke to her, Hop, so—”

“She’s a potential suspect, Flo.”

“Excuse me?”

You both say it together, but Hopper looks at you instead of Flo, perhaps out of sheepishness at speaking about you rather than at you, or because it’s the first time you’ve spoken.

“You’re a potential suspect in a missing persons case, miss.”

Flo inhales sharply. “You can’t mean Will’s case. Hop, look at her, she couldn’t have—”

“Flo.” His voice is quiet but firm.

She presses her lips together, then looks to you.

You’re still staring at Hopper, your heart pounding.

Shit.

Oh my God.

I’m about to talk one-on-one, completely alone, with Chief Jim Hopper.

And I’m a suspect in the Will Byers case.

That can’t be right, though, because from your somewhat extensive knowledge of Stranger Things Will doesn’t go missing until the night of the 6th November...

Don’t ask, you’ll look crazy, just...

Your gaze darts about his desk as he closes the door to his office and you take a seat.

Desk calendar, yes.

It’s November 8th.

You’ve not only come through a portal to another world, you came to it on a completely different day.

The night after Will Byers went missing.

Oh, God, why is this happening?

“So...” He rounds the desk and sits behind it, taking a few pages from the stack beside him and glancing over it. “... I read Powell’s report. You were walkin’ alone by the woods.” He then looks to you. “Why?”

We’re getting straight to it, then.

Thankfully, strangely, your anxiety at the fact you’re being tied to a crime has taken the edge off the fact you’re talking to Jim Hopper.

You lick your lips. “As I said last night, I was walking home.”

“From where?”

A fair would be too risky to say, as you have no idea if there’s one in the area, so... “A friend’s house.”

“You there for a fancy dress party?” He gestures at you. “You were dressed as a pirate if I remember rightly.”

You smile faintly. “Yeah. We were celebrating a birthday.”

“Right.” He glances down at the notes before him, then sits back. “Why were you alone, though? Powell wrote you got the bus but then it was running out of gas so you were made to get off and walk.”

As silence continues after a moment, you raise your eyebrows slightly. “Yes, that’s correct.”

His features give nothing away. “There’s no bus that passes through that route at that time of night, though.”

You have to react quickly. “Well, I was on a bus, so.”

He’s silent again, and you’ve seen enough cop shows to guess this is a tactic. You remain silent, too.

Hopper inhales a breath, then folds his arms. “Powell also wrote that you said you had four cocktails last night. Would you consider yourself a ‘light-weight’?”

The question sends a flash of irritation through you. “No. I wasn’t drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. I’d had those cocktails a few hours before I got the bus.”

“You also said you heard an explosion in the woods.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where?”

“Close to where I was. I was going to investigate it but I was too afraid.” I wish I had been.

Hopper runs his hand down his mouth. “You don’t think it was just a firework?”

You press your lips together, trying to control your irritation. “I know what a firework looks like, nothing lit up the sky and it didn’t sound as loud as one. It just sounded like it was muffled. I did see a light shining in the trees so I thought there were people there, maybe kids playing.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No, I didn’t see anything but the light.”

“You didn’t see anyone at all, though? You didn’t pass anyone on the road, there was no one else on the bus?”

That’s when you realise.

Shit. I have no alibi. Just the truth, which will see me locked up for insanity in a different world.

Clearing your throat, you can’t help the edge of resignation that laces your tone. “No, I didn’t see anyone else. Two people got off the stop before where I had to get off at, though.”

Two people who don’t even exist in this world. Fake-Barb and an old lady.

Hopper is silent for a few moments, watching you. Then, he clasps his hands together on the desk. “Look, we don’t have any reports of an explosion, but we do have a missing kid to find so how about you—”

Raised voices break out outside the office.

Both your heads whip to the side out of reflex, but the blinds are down, blocking your view. Hopper stands and you turn in your seat as the voices near the door.

It bursts opens.

Flo is the first person your eyes land on, her eyebrows raised. 

“Chief, I’m sorry, I couldn’t—”

“Hop, I think I—”

Joyce Byer’s, her eyes wide, her hands in mid-air, freezes as she stares at you.

“You...”

Oh, no... 

You already hate what you don’t know is coming.

She exhales a heavy breath. “... I dreamt about you.”

“Joyce...” Hopper’s voice is so gentle behind you as he moves to her, but you can’t take your eyes off of her.

You’re torn between the fact this is Joyce Byers, and that you want to comfort her because she’s so distressed.

She doesn’t stop looking at you either. “I did, Hop, I did. You. you had a phone in your hand but it was so small, and you, you were—”

Hopper stops only a step or two away from her, his voice still gentle. “Joyce, do you know this woman?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’ve never met you, have I?”

The way she says it is so... aware, somehow.

You find your voice after a moment. “Ah, no.”

“Then how did I dream about you.” She says it so quietly, her eyes shining with tears.

You know it’s a show. You know it’s not real. They’re not real.

But now, with Joyce standing before you, heavy, dark circles under her eyes, her hands shaking, tears beginning to fall, it feels so real. You feel your throat closing slightly with emotion.

“I’m, I’m so sorry about your son.”

She just nods faintly, still staring at you.

From the corner of your eye, you see Flo nod in Hopper’s direction, and gently takes Joyce by the arms. “Come on, honey. I need a glass of water. Let’s get one for you, too.”

Joyce allows herself to be led away, finally tearing her gaze from you as her features crumble.

Swallowing hard, you have to prevent your own from doing the same.

As the door closes behind them, you sniff and turn back in your seat to face the desk. Hopper returns to his chair and you feel his eyes on you. You don’t meet his gaze until he’s seated.

Exhaling a long breath, he then looks down at his hands.

“You’re new in town, you were walkin’ alone on a road with no bus route the night after Will Byers goes missing, you don’t come up on any of our systems, you’re convinced you heard an explosion, Joyce Byers believes she saw you in her dreams...” He looks up at you. ”... How about you start tellin’ me somethin’ that makes sense.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Oh, fuck it.

What is there to lose. Well, you could still make a run for it. You’re not a fast runner but you could give it your damn best.

The door bursts open for the second time, making both of you jump, your head whipping round to find the source.

Officer Callahan, slightly out of breath, points at you both. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on a minute, Chief—”

“Callahan, where the hell have you been?!”

The officer waves his hand slightly, trying to draw breath. “Hang on, Chief, she... she’s tellin’ the truth...”

Both of you stare at him.

What now.

Inhaling a deep breath, Callahan continues. “I was drivin’ by the woods, patrollin’ for any signs of the kid, last night, and I saw this flash of light and this sound like somethin’ blew up, I thought it was some kids dickin’ about so I went to see but it wasn’t, there was this...”

“What, Callahan?” Hopper demands as Callahan pauses to take a breath.

“... it was this...”

You can’t stop yourself, half-hopeful, half-desperate.

“... Portal?” you murmur.

Callahan snaps his fingers and points at you. “Yes, yes, that’s it. A portal. All circular and wavy and weird.”

You realise you’re smiling, relief flooding over you.

I’ve got my fucking alibi.

Of sorts.

We must have just missed each other.

You realise, after a moment, that Hopper hasn’t said anything. Turning in your chair, you look at him. His eyebrows are raised, his mouth is open slightly and his jaw is tight.

“Well,” he suddenly says in a bright tone, as if you’re his two, overzealous children that he has to entertain. ”Let’s go see this portal, shall we?”

You’re surprisingly grateful that Callahan talks for the entirety of the ride.

He switches his gaze from the road to Hopper in the passenger seat, then to you in the rear-view mirror.

“... I ain’t ever seen anything like this in my life, Chief, I thought I was goin’ mad until Powell told me just now about this lady that had come in and she’d heard an explosion and she didn’t seem to be from around here and I knew we’d see the same thing...”

Hopper doesn’t say a word.

Each word Callahan says, though, gives you a new spark of hope.

I’m going to go home.

It’s not long before Callahan pulls up by the side of the road. It has to be the road you walked down, though it looks so different in the daylight. Stepping out of the car, shouldering your tote bag, you gaze across to the woods. It’s less frightening, even inviting—

Behind two trees, partially hidden, shines a light.

You feel the two men pause in the same moment you do.

“What the hell...” Hopper crosses the road first, his hand instinctively going to his gun.

You glance at Callahan who glances at you. You follow behind him.

Your heart is pounding. Well, you don’t think it’s been at its normal rate for 24 hours, but now it accelerates that bit more.

You’re not mad. This is real.

Don’t think about that too much or you might actually go mad.

As you approach, you hear a faint, low humming coming from the... You and Callahan had both settled on calling it a portal but now you actually get a look at it it seems more like a...

Wait, I didn’t actually see it when I came through.

You’d looked around, having thought you’d tripped on something but you’d seen... nothing.

Why the hell didn’t I?

It’s more like a mirror, shimmering and reflecting the forest.

Maybe because it was dark, that’s why I didn’t.

Hopper’s low scoff pulls you from your thoughts. He’s staring at it, his hand still on his gun. He takes a step towards it and—

You all make some sort of a sound as the portal shrinks. Hopper automatically takes a step back, and it widens to its normal size.

The silence between you all stretches on.

You’re about to announce that, well, this was great but you’re heading home, when Hopper turns sharply and locks his eyes on you.

“Tell me the truth, now.”

Slightly taken aback by A) the force of his gaze and B) trying to figure out exactly what to say, your mouth drops open slightly.

“Uhm...”

You glance at Callahan, maybe hoping he’ll just start talking and give you time, but Hopper seems to interpret the look differently.

Looking to his officer, he drops his hand from his gun and starts to stride back towards the road.

“Radio in to Powell to help you get this place cordoned off, don’t talk to anyone else, we don’t need a panic. You,” he directs at you, “Come with me.”

Before either of you can question him, he’s already at the road, crossing it to the car.

Clearing your throat, you give Callahan a light smile before you’re once again following after Hopper.

Callahan lifts his hands, then drops them.

“Right, I’ll just be... here.”

I’ve imagined this a thousand times.

But in definitely sexier circumstances.

You’re at Hopper’s trailer.

Hopper’s trailer.

You’re still hovering by the door so you let your gaze sweep the room. It’s as messy as it had been portrayed on the show. The coffee table is surprisingly clear, though, save for a local newsletter which you have to stop yourself from picking up and reading. A blanket lies draped across one of the couches.

That’s where he sleeps when he’s too drunk to get to bed.

It’s incredibly strange; knowing so much about someone you’re supposed to regard as a stranger. It feels... intrusive.

You’d both been silent for the ride here, but now you have a hundred questions. You decide to settle on the most sensible one, though

“Uh, why are we here and not at the station?”

Not that I’m complaining.

“I thought you maybe didn’t want to say what you’re gonna say in front of Callahan.”

He emerges from behind the refrigerator door, closing it with one hand, his other one holding a beer bottle. He doesn’t offer you one. Uncapping the top, he tosses it into the sink then moves across the room and sits in the nearest armchair. He gestures for you to sit, too.

You do as you’re bade, sitting on the couch next to you, the tote bag at your feet, your hands in your lap.

“Explain,” is all he says.

And, after a pause, you do.

You hardly pause to take a breath, not daring to in case he takes the chance to laugh or call you crazy. To his credit, though, he doesn’t react once throughout.

You start with what year you’re from, how you were out on Hallowe’en night and retell the story of the bus debacle more truthfully. You tell him about your phone losing its signal, how you heard what sounded like an explosion and went to investigate it, then how you felt like you couldn’t turn or look away from it, how it pulled you in. You continue on, recounting truthfully up until the moment you met him.

The only thing you leave out is that, to your world, his isn’t real. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right to tell him.

When you finish, he looks at you, silent. The beer bottle is balanced on his thigh, his hand tight around it, his features expressionless.

You shift slightly, playing with your hands.

“Well, I—”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

It’s your turn to look at him, your mouth open. He scoffs, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yep, it’s all true.”

For some reason you’re... annoyed.

He scoffs again. “You’re tellin’ me I’m supposed to believe you’ve, what, time-travelled here?”

“Yes, actually.” Your back’s straighter now, your lips pressed together.

“Is this a fuckin’ joke?”

“A joke? You saw it with your own damn eyes, Chief.”

If he’s surprised by the bite to your tone he doesn’t show it, and, thankfully, he doesn’t scoff again either.

“How, then? How did this all happen?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking scientist.”

“So, I’m just supposed to believe you, huh?”

“Yes.”

Your sure, rapid response makes his lips twitch slightly, and you can’t believe he might actually want to smile.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” you continue, your voice having risen slightly, “You saw it with your own eyes.”

“I don’t know what I saw,” he counters in a way that has you realising he’s wrestling with the facts and the impossibility of them.

Well, then.

If he doesn’t believe this, then how is he going to believe Joyce about anything.

You don’t know where that thought comes from.

"I’ll go back through, I’ll prove it to you,” you announce as you rise to your feet, lifting your bag.

“What?” He’s full-on smiling now in disbelief, staring at you.

“Take me back there, I’ll show you.”

He regards you, your arms folded, your eyebrow arched, your features determined. Sighing heavily, he sets the bottle down on a table beside him and pushes himself up.

“All right, but then afterwards we’re goin’ to the Station and we’re gonna find your friends.”

“... This is a fuckin’ waste of time...” Hopper grumbles behind you as you trudge through the dry, fallen leaves.

I’ll show you.

Callahan leaning against a nearby tree, raises his eyebrows at the sight of you both.

“Gee, that was quick.” He glances from Hopper to you. “He doesn’t believe whatever you told him, does he?”

“Nope.”

You stride past him, heading straight for the portal. Powell stands on the other side of it, finishing tying some tape to a tree to cordon the area off. You wish you had the time to get his opinion on it. You duck under the tape before you and turn to Hopper.

He stays behind the tape, his arms folded. Glancing at the portal then to you, he shakes his head wearily.

“Well, if this miraculously works and you don’t come back, it was nice knowin’ you, sweetheart.”

You hate the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

I’ll show you, you bastard. This isn’t even gonna be the weirdest thing you’ll see this month.

“Yeah, you, too.” 

You turn to the portal.

You turn back after a split second to add before you can think, “You’re such a pain the ass, even bigger than I would have thought.”

“What did you just say?”

 His words, however, are drowned out by the growing humming of the portal. You’ve turned back and your gaze is locked onto it now and you can feel the familiar pull and tug of it. 

You can’t look away. 

You can’t stop yourself from moving towards it.

You can’t hear Hopper as he tries to get closer to you, calling to you.

It’s night time.

You’re staring up at the stars in the sky.

There’s so many of them.

There’s something digging into my back.

Pushing yourself up with a groan, your hands pressing into mud and leaves, you get to your feet. Looking down, you find the source of your discomfort is your bag. Lifting it and brushing leaves off of it, you look around.

Trees. Lots and lots of trees, and...

No portal.

You can’t stop a wide smile from spreading across your lips.

There, see, you disbelieving dick, I was right, now I’m...

Home.

You’re home. You’re still grinning, looking beyond the trees. Yes, there’s the road you had walked on before this whole mess, now you can go home and...

Your smile starts to fall.

You’d been in Hawkins.

You’d spoken with Powell, Callahan, Flo, Joyce and... Hopper.

You’d actually been there, in their world.

There were so many missed opportunities. There was so much more you could have done, could have said, could have asked.

You could have...

Stop it, you’re home now, that’s what you wanted. That wasn’t real. That was... That was...

Your phone buzzes in your bag.

Looking down at it, you open it after a moment and pull it out.

You have a message.

From Meg.

UGH nightmare, that’s why I hate public transport. CALL ME!!

You release a sound, half of disbelief, half of relief.

No time has passed at all.

Your thumb moves quickly, and you lift your phone to your ear.

“I cannot believe this has happened, it is such an outrage, I am going to spam the bus company’s Twitter until you get some kind of compensation, how dare they, the absolute fucking bastards...”

As Meg rants on, a smile returns to your lips and you start to walk.

It only takes you five minutes to get home, and Meg talks the whole way, only drawing breath when you close your front door.

“... ugh, anyway, I’ll help you write up an email. Are you all right, anyway?”

You pause, placing your bag on your couch. You think back over the lost 24 hours, everything you hadn’t had time to feel. You can’t stop your eyes from filling.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Meg asks with a great deal of concern as you sniff, wiping at your eyes

“I just...” You exhale a long breath. “... It was a bit scary, that’s all.”

“O, babe, oh please don’t cry. You’re fine now, you’re back home. But the TV on and get into your pyjamas. How about I come over in the morning, we have pancakes and watch whatever’s on?”

You crack a smile even though she can’t see it. “That sounds amazing.”

“Duh, I’m going to be there, of course it will be.”

You laugh, grateful for the release it brings you.

Forget about everything. Write it off as a weird day. Never tell anyone. It wasn’t real.

Shoving everything, everything from your mind, you lose yourself in making plans with Meg, crossing the room and entering your bedroom as you laugh again.

Behind you, unseen, the lamps flicker. Slowly, then rapidly. The TV turns on, the screen flashes white. 

Then, they cease.

The lights shine warmly.

All is as it should be.

                                                     The End... ?

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[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through V

Chapter: 5/16

Rating: M (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Despite what John had suggested, Ringo didn't go back to The Helter Skelter the following week; he'd considered it when John sent him yet another late night text but ultimately decided it wasn't the best idea. Spike had been playing on his mind daily and Ringo wasn't sure he was prepared to face him again. Instead he focused on his drumming and searched for a few more students to teach, which were fairly easy to find. Usually Ringo enjoyed his time off, he understood he was lucky that he didn't have to work a 9-5 job just to get by, but recently he wanted his fill his time up as much as possible, to distract himself.

One of his new students seemed incredibly interested in him, they'd spent an hour just chatting in his living room before they'd even moved over to the drum kit. Ringo wasn't too fussed, he was getting paid by the hour so wasting time was beneficial to him but he didn't want to give the guy the wrong impression. He was a little bit older and attractive enough but Ringo simply wasn't interested.

"Why didn't you just go for it?" John had asked him when they next met up.

"I dunno..." Ringo mumbled, but a part of him knew very well.

He'd given the guy another lesson since then and it became clear that the guy's interest in him wasn't going away any time soon. Ringo felt bad about the whole thing, wasn't he just doing exactly what Spike was doing to him? He tried to act as professional as possible the second time around in attempt to get the guy to back off, considering he hadn't heard from him since he was hoping it had worked. What was wrong with him? Was he really going to make himself suffer like this all because of one guy? And not just any guy, a stripper who had shown absolutely no interest in him at all. It was ridiculous, he kept telling himself, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had to get over Spike, he would still think about him every day without fail. Trying to distract himself with clients had been working somewhat, but it had been difficult, especially when his best friend was John Lennon.

       youre gonna love me

The text came through when Ringo was sat in a café getting some lunch. He'd finished with one of his younger students, a sweet girl who's parents had tried to convince her to try a more 'ladylike' instrument but she had promised only to give up the drums if she was awful; much to her delight, and Ringo's for being able to prove the stereotypical parents wrong, she was pretty good. Seeing her always put Ringo in a good mood, the parents mostly stayed away partly due to the noise but mostly due to disappointment, which meant they could joke around together. Ringo could tell she admired him and he welcomed it gladly, one of the best things about teaching was inspiring others, at least for him it was.

        do i not already?

        well yes         but youre gonna love me EVEN more

        what have you done

        well i happened to stop by the club last night

        oh god what did you do

        wow is that how little you trust me

        can you blame me

        suppose not         ANYWAY i got talking to paulie

        surprise surprise

        do you want the good news or not???

        fine fine sorry

        AS I WAS SAYING i was talking to paulie         and he told me that your special little someone has an onlyfans account

        first of all fuck you for calling him that         second of all wtf is onlyfans

        oh sorry i didnt realise you werent living in the 21st century

        ......         care to grace me with your knowledge?

        basically its a website where you can post exclusive stuff for ONLY FANS to see         its not a porn site or anything but its basically where people sell their nudes         MEANING spike has an account so you can totally see loads of raunchy filthy perverted pics of him

        but i have to pay?

        well weve all gotta make a living

        i can basically see him naked for free

        but this way you wont get all freaked out and embarrassed         well you will but nobody will know at least         so do you want the link or not???

Ringo paused for a few moments, he was gripping his phone tightly in both of his hands as he unblinkingly looked at John's words. If his mind was going to decide to make him suffer by enabling his intense interest in Spike, he may as well get something out of it.

        fine

        where are your manners richard??

        can i please have the link to the strippers nude photos please john please

        alright calm down         let me know if its worth while i might have a look

        idk if im even gonna look at it         paying for porn is a little dated

        treat yourself ringo         id offer to pay but im broke

        if youre broke why were you at the strip club last night?

        well SOMEONE had to go

        they really didnt

        im supporting my local economy

        i dont think thats how that works

        sure it is         anyway here you go

Ringo stared at the link for a while, his eyes even began to blur, he didn't want to risk opening it in public even though he knew there was little chance of anyone seeing. He finished his lunch in a hurry and headed home quickly, only when he was in the privacy of his bedroom did he dare open it. First he had to make an account, when he saw the screen loading up asking for an email address and password he just turned his screen off and put the phone down. This was far too much effort for something he shouldn't really have been doing in the first place. But it only took a few minutes for him to pick the phone back up and begin signing up, he used an old email as it felt less seedy that way and he didn't want to risk his name cropping up anywhere for Spike to see. Now he could load up the link properly and take a proper look at Spike's profile.

Just looking at the small profile picture was enough to startle Ringo a little, the dark eyes looking into the camera with that unreadable glimmer behind them. He was shirtless in the picture, Ringo wondered why that didn't catch his attention first, with the frame cutting off just before it showed anything too explicit. The header was a photo taken from the club, showing him in tight, leather pants and tassels on his nipples which matched the whip he held in his hand. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He'd spent so much time and effort trying not to think about this man, attempting to keep him out of his mind as much as possible. Ringo knew that if he went through with this all that progress would be lost, he'd be giving in to whatever strange obsession he'd developed for Spike, one that no doubt wasn't going to lead to anything good.

Ringo kept staring at the screen as though it was going to tell him what he should do. Spike's profile had no description, which wasn't very surprising, and it dashed any hope Ringo had of discovering something new about him. Right before he was about to put his phone down again, it vibrated.

        howd the wank go??

        john i dont care how long weve been friends asking how my wank was will always be weird

        youre right sorry         so how did it go???

        if you must know         i havent had a wank         i havent even paid for entry

        now whos the one being inappropriate??

        ha ha

        why havent you???

        feels weird

        oh i see         youll consume a bunch of unethical porn for free but god forbid you actually give sex workers any actual money

        you are the last person who can lecture me about unethical porn

        hey now watch yourself         ringo if you dont get a subscription I WILL

        go ahead

        and ill tell you every day what sexy sexy pictures hes posting         ill tell you EVERY SINGLE TIME i have a wank over them

        every time? i dont think youve got enough data for that

        im not joking

        neither am i         you wank A LOT

        ringooooo just buy it i swear to god         if its not worth it or you regret it or whatever ill give you the money back

        on top of the money you already owe me?

        have you always been such a capitalist

        youre not doing a very good job of convincing me

        fine         spikes cock         now are you convinced???

        maybe

        naked pictures of spike whenever and wherever you want them all for the low low price of 10 quid a month         convinced??

        fine fine         if itll shut you up

        im starting to think thats code for 'i really wanna do this but im too embarrassed to admit it'

        i hate you

        now that DEFINITELY code for 'john youre right'         anyway theres no time to be telling me how right i am all the time youve got dick pics to look at         even i wont stand in the way of a good wank         so dont bother replying to me until youve paid for that subscription young man

        im older than you

        DONT BOTHER REPLYING

Ringo let out a sigh and rested his head against the bedroom wall from where he was laying on the bed. He opened up the link again and his thumb hovered over the subscription button, why couldn't he just do it? The money wasn't an issue, it could've cost half as much or be double the price and he'd still be debating it all the same. Somehow it felt like an invasion of privacy, after all Spike hadn't told Ringo about it himself, but then again that didn't necessarily mean he didn't want Ringo to see it. After all it was like John said: everyone has to make a living somehow. Sometimes Ringo wished he could turn off that part of his brain that was so empathetic, so concerned about how everyone felt and what they were thinking. He knew that he wanted this, so why wasn't he allowing himself to have it? Ringo could see that he was being ridiculous, as he was with almost anything involving Spike, and after lying there for a while pondering and debating he decided to flip a coin. Heads would mean he got the subscription, tails that he didn't. He watched the coin spinning through the air after he flicked it upwards, then snatched it and slammed it down onto his forearm before slowly moving his hand away: it was tails. What a relief. Ringo chuckled to himself for being so foolish, settling down into his bed; it was still only around midday but he didn't have anywhere he needed to be.

So why didn't he feel relieved in the slightest?

This whole thing was getting tiring, the constant debate between what he believed he should do and what he wanted to do, and it seemed like it wasn't going to be ending anytime soon. Apparently he was in this for the long run, whatever that meant, but if he was going to turn down relatively attractive guys practically throwing themselves at him, he may as well go all the way. While he was putting in his credit card information, he stopped to think around three of four times, but once he'd finished and the images became accessible to him, his brain was barely able to conjure up a coherent sentence.

"Jesus..." Ringo breathed out as his eyes flicked across the plethora of pictures loading up on his screen.

There was a lot of them, and a lot of Spike was on display. Most of them were pictures taken at the club, either from a professional photographer in the audience or photos he'd taken himself in the mirrors backstage - Ringo could even see glimpses of Paul in the background of some of them. The ones that caught Ringo's eyes the most were those that seemed to be taken in his house, these also happened to be the ones in which Spike tended to be fully naked. It was very different experience to see him like this: a static image that he'd intentionally taken of himself and posted for so many people to see, an image that couldn't look back at Ringo and make him feel that strange mixture of excitement and shame. He began scrolling down the feed which only revealed more and more enticing photos. Ringo began to feel himself hardening, he suspected it had been happening for a while now but he'd been far too distracted to notice. He felt like a teenager discovering porn for the first time, it was difficult to remind himself that this wasn't anything new. Seeing Spike naked shouldn't have excited him so much, and yet it did.

One picture in particular drew Ringo's attention: Spike was stood in front of a bathroom mirror with a loose black tie lying against his bare chest, one hand was holding a phone and the other gripping his cock. He had dark eye make up on and his hair was messy. Ringo wasn't sure exactly what it was about this photo that was so enticing but he couldn't take his eyes off it. The prominence of his collarbones, the faint curls of his dark hair, how his slim fingers wrapped around himself. Slowly Ringo slid his own hand under the waistband of his boxers as he stared at the picture. At first he hesitated, his fingers stopped right above the base. It's not like this would've been the first time he'd touched himself while thinking about Spike, it would've been far from the last he imagined, but this was different. It was more concrete, more of an admission. Nothing felt quite as real when it's only being imagined, the haziness of lust fuzzing up the mind as it so often did, but now with a very real photo of Spike in front of him - which he'd paid to see - the feeling was far more tangible, far harder to ignore.

He'd come this far, he told himself as his hand sunk lower until his fingers were running along the length of his semi-hard cock, he may as well go all the way. To begin with Ringo stayed looking at this single picture as he slowly pumped himself, but as his lust began to grow he perused through more and more pictures: Spike kneeling naked in front of a mirror with a loose cigarette hanging from his lips, lying in the bath with bubbles only just about covering his nakedness, spread out on the bed with a gag in his mouth, handcuffs forcing his slim arms behind his back with his cock throbbing. None of this was anything Ringo hadn't seen before, like most people in this day and age he'd searched through the darker corners of the internet - sometimes willingly, sometimes John was to blame - but to see Spike in such a way was like an entirely new rush. Each picture drove Ringo further and further on, at times he almost dropped his phone with how sloppy his movements were becoming. Who took these photos? Ringo figured it was best not to think about it, the possibility that Spike had a boyfriend who took all these pictures of him would've been the quickest way to kill his erection.

Ringo began moaning and cursing wantonly as he got closer and closer to his orgasm, he had to stop flicking through the pictures because he could hardly concentrate on what his other hand was doing, so he settled on a final one to help him finish; it wasn't particularly strategic but he was definitely grateful that he selected the one that he did. In it Spike was looking directly into the camera, allowing Ringo to gaze longingly into the rich brown of his eyes and how his dark lashes curled beautifully around them. He was shirtless with nothing but a necklace on, the same necklace that Ringo had seen him wearing in the record store and Ringo couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction that he'd seen it with his own eyes, as though it meant something. Deep down he knew that it didn't but his inebriated mind was latching onto it. The nudity in the photo was hardly interesting Ringo by this point, although it would be wrong to say that he completely ignored the flatness of his stomach or the faint shadows of his ribs beneath his pale skin, it was the personal aspect which truly affected him.

This wasn't just lust. Lust Ringo could understand, he could compartmentalise it and give into it without much shame or a second thought. If this was just lust, he would've bought the subscription without a care and touched himself looking at the nakedness of Spike's body as though it meant nothing more than a way to get off. Yet here he was on the brink of orgasm looking into another man's eyes, eyes that felt like they were looking straight back at him as though they were sharing this moment together. It wasn't hard to imagine Spike's hand in place of his own, those deep eyes watching Ringo come undone piece by piece. Ringo's hip began to stutter, his leg twitching a little as he had to drop the phone down onto his lap as his head fell back against his pillow as his orgasm approached. It wasn't the image of Spike's naked body that filled Ringo's mind as he came, it wasn't his arse or his cock or even his chest, it was his face, his voice, it was him.

Ringo lay breathless on his bed for a while, the clarity that arrived as his orgasm subsided wasn't welcome in the slightest and he was reluctant to pick his phone back up to see Spike's eyes looking at him once again. There was no use in feeling ashamed about it, no point in trying to deny it any longer: his feelings for Spike were more than a mere passing fancy, that was clear. Exactly what he was meant to do about these feelings was far from clear but that wasn't something Ringo could figure out right now with cum on his stomach and the daylight seeping through his bedroom curtains.

When he'd picked up his phone he'd closed all the apps immediately, doing his best not to catch a glimpse of what he'd been so eagerly looking at before. Just as he was about to step into the shower to clean himself off, his phone buzzed; he almost couldn't hear it over the music he was blasting out. It alerted him for a moment as though it was going to be a message from Spike stating he knew exactly what Ringo had just done - it wouldn't have really surprised him had that been the case, Spike's face almost always looked like he knew something that nobody else did - but fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it was John.

        sooo how did the wank go

         who knows          but on a totally unrelated note im about to get into the shower

         well before you do that i have even more good news 

         can it not wait?

         NO because you might cum just at the thought of it and then youd be wasting a good shower

         well arent you considerate          and unnecessarily graphic

         thats me          anyway im taking you to the club next tuesday whether you like it or not

         im still waiting for the good news

         well if youd let me FINISH          next week theyre doing a special event and we just have to go          youll never guess what it is

         what is it?

         guess

         you just said ill never guess

         youre no fun

         WHAT IS IT

         alright alright keep your hair on          its a crossdressing event          high heels make up probably a few wigs all that good stuff

         im still waiting for the good news

         OH COME ON youre telling me you dont want to see spike in heels and fishnets with some lovely lipstick on

Ringo gulped. It wasn't a difficult image to conjure up his mind, considering he'd been staring at photos of Spike for the past twenty minutes and it excited him to say the least. He did want to see that, very much indeed.

[ikn0wyouarebutwhatami]

Good ol’ Freaky Friday

So this is for you @cutelittleriot !! You didn’t specify if you wanted naughties or not some imma just have some hints of that in there. I hope you enjoy this!

———————————————————————

Though it would have been perfect if this had happened on a Friday, it didn’t, it was Tuesday. The day before, you were sitting in class, zoned out and looking through the window. You had been so out of it that you didn’t even realize that class had ended and Bakugou was stomping over to drag you to lunch. “Y/N!” He barked once he reached you. You jolted up from your seat and swung your head around to face him. “Oh, thank goodness class is over, I totally wasn’t paying attention.” You laughed. “Gee, I couldn’t tell.” He said with a smirk and an eye roll. You grabbed your bag and followed him to find a place to eat lunch.

You guys finished lunch, which usually consisted of shoving food in each other’s faces and cracking jokes. So when you guys had a little time left in lunch, you were both surprised you both hadn’t “wasted” it talking and laughing about shit that no one else would understand. That’s when Bakugou proposed a challenge, big suprise right? He said, “Y’know, you’re cute, too cute to win in a spar with someone like me.” He finished with a cocky smirk, hoping to gain some more precious time with you the only way he knew how. You looked over at him with an icy glare and said, “Do I still look cute to you now?” He wasn’t gonna lie, that gave him some goosebumps. But as expected, that just riled him up even more. “What changed?” He asked with a shit eating grin. “Fine! Tomorrow after school, loser. I’m gonna grind those teeth of yours into paste!” You boldly claimed, standing up and walking off to class. He gave a light snort watching you storm off like that, “I’d love to see you try.”

‘What an ass!’ You thought to yourself, stomping about your room. ‘I can deal with his normal asshole behavior but I never thought he’d disrespect me like that.’ You figured bakugou wasn’t the type of guy to whip out an antaginozation like that. It really wasn’t even that bad, but you figured it struck a cord just because it came from him. ‘I’d like to see him walk a day in a girl’s shoes.’ You huffed, whipping your hair up into a bun and settling into bed.

Bakugou didn’t know what the hell he did to get a reaction like that from you. He wasn’t really complaining though, it made him excited to see you with such an intense and fierce look in your eye. ‘That’s my girl’ he thought to himself after recalling the event. He was very much looking forward to tomorrow, and he knew very well that you could hand his ass to him on a silver platter but he just couldn’t help himself. He was determined to learn everything he could about you, and that emotion he evoked in you today was priceless. Though if you ever used a glare like that on anyone else, they’d be dead before you could blink those pretty little eyes of yours. One day he’d get the nerve to ask you out, but for now he would just look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

“Uuuuuugghhhh” you groaned at the unfamiliar and very annoying beeping sound, flapping your hand around to find your phone to see what it was. Again, you groaned because you could not find it without opening your eyes but when you did, you thought you might still have been asleep. “What the f-“ you began to say but instantly slapped a rough hand against your mouth after hearing a deep male voice protrude from it. And then slapped that hand away because you thought it was some random persons hand against you- and that voice sounded like.... “NONONONONONONONO” you muttered, yeeting yourself out of bed and running into an unfamiliar bathroom to the mirror and saw Bakugou staring right back at you. But where were you? You turned your head frantically and quickly noticed that his moves were mimicking yours in the mirror. “No. This is a dream. Let’s give ourself a slap and we’ll wake up and everything will be peachy again.” And so you did, and when it didn’t work, you did so again until it hurt and then slumped to the floor in disbelief, elbows on your knees with your head sunk down. And that’s when you realized-“No. I’m never going to the bathroom again, they’ll have to cut it out of me.” And that’s when you also realized that if you’re in his body then he must be... “Oh mY gOsH, I know I wished for him to walk a day in a girls shoes but not mine!!”

Meanwhile, over at your house Katsuki was sleeping like a log, reveling in your soft and plush bed. Then, he too was rudely awoken by an unfamiliar alarm, and went to grab his phone to turn it off. When he couldn’t find it where he usually does, he huffed and opened his eyes, outstretching his hand with painted fingernails slapping around to find it. Wait. Painted fingernails? Instantly he saw red, there could only be one culprit. “MO-m” he bagan to shout but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. That didn’t sound like his voice...painted nails, different voice - he looked around the room, not recognizing it, he walked over to the bathroom attached to it and looked in the mirror. “NONONONONONO, THIS CAN’T AND SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING!!” He gave himself a slap and was about to give another one when he realized he was actually slapping you, which was him and your skin was really soft and your hands were so much nicer than his and your hair was messy and cute and.... you were wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a revealing tank top. (It might not have been revealing the night before but he doesn’t understand the struggle of a girl sleeping in a tank top.) He INSTANTLY blushed and fumbled over himself and just as quickly realized and said to himself, “Nonononono, not going to the bathroom, not gonna look at anything, not gonna take a peek at that marvelous ass I know you under your skirt at school...” he trailed off and shook his head. ‘It’s time to get serious Katsuki. From here on out, it’s Mission Impossible, The Escape From (Y/N’s) house.’ First step, getting dressed while trying not to invade your privacy. He looked down at his (your) chest and looked away just as quickly, blushing profusely because he noticed you weren’t wearing a bra. ‘Too bad, you’re going commando there today Y/N.’ Thankfully for him, your uniform was already hanging up and he slipped it on, secretly enjoying the breeziness of a skirt-not that he’d admit it to anyone, not even himself. But when it came to socks, he knew he had no choice but to dig around. He went straight for your dresser and popped open the top drawer, bingo. He picked out a pair but something bright and colorful caught his eye and he turned towards the left. And there were all of your panties. He was unable to stop his horny boy mind the inevitable pictures floating in it of you wearing them. Those ones were really cute...surely you wouldn’t mind if he changed into those for you right? Before he realized what he was doing, he was already slipping on the new pair and instantly regretted it the second he felt them flush against your most private area. Okay, 1. What the fuck, I want my dick back. 2. Oh my gosh if she notices I changed them, she will most definitely kill me. And 3. How the fuck does she tolerate wearing shit like this? He slipped your feet into the socks and went back to the bathroom, finding your toothbrush and brushing your teeth, stopping to linger at your lips after he had finished rinsing your mouth out. You were so gorgeous. Honestly, any boy would die for an opportunity like this but he respected you too much to mess around with your body like that. He reached up to try and make your hair look a little less disheveled, for you not him because he thought it was cute, but backed away because he had no idea how scrunchies work so he left it, settling to tuck some pieces of hair behind your ears. Katsuki had never entertained the idea of being a girl or what it’s like to be one, but he definitely had a newly found respect for them, from the underwear alone. He took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitablity of having to go downstairs and possibly run by your folks. Thankfully, they had already headed off to work so he grabbed some fruit and grabbed your bag at the door, making sure to lock it behind him.

Things had pretty much gone much the same for you, got dressed, put on his deodorant, brushed his teeth, tried not to stare at or go to feel his abs, which was incredibly difficult to do. Also, you were terrified that if you got excited from it, you would have to deal with a whole entirely different kind of problem, in the downstairs department. But you didn’t think he would mind if you got to ruffle around in his hair so you did, enjoying the fluffiness of it. It was kind of hard for you to walk, not used to having such a straight body but it wasn’t enough to hinder you. You made it out the door with no complications and headed off to school.

The first thing both of you did when you reached school, not in time to catch each other walking in, was head straight to Recovery Girl’s office. You made it there first and she warmly greeted you. You explained the situation and she cackled, your sounds of embarrassment and fluster only fueling the fire. Once she had calmed down she explained to you that she received an email in the morning explaining that a villain popped up and has been doing this all over town. She said that you two could wait it out or...you two could kiss and change back. You turned red at the thought of doing so but there wasn’t really any downsides to it, unless he didn’t feel the same way about you. You both turned your heads to the sound of a knock at the door and Recovery Girl called for them to come in. Aaaand it was odd, to say the least. You didn’t exactly get to look at yourself from somebody else’s view very often. “Oh my gosh why the hell did you bring me to school with my hair like that?!” You yelled at him. “Shut up dumbass, don’t act like this ruins how fucking beautiful you are.” He retorted angrily at you, and you both turned red at the words that had slipped out of his mouth. “Well Bakugou, I just finished explaining to Y/N that this has been happening all over town. You two can either wait this out, or a simple kiss will turn you two back instantly.” She said, watching in amusement. “Whatever, lets just get this over with.” He said. “No, I’m not gonna kiss myself with yourself if you’re gonna be like that Bakugou.” You huffed. “Look Y/N, I really like you, and it’s been tough today keeping myself from invading your privacy because I want to learn about you from you, not from this situation. So get the fuck over here and kiss me.” He said, crossing his arms. You gave him a devious look. “Your wish is my command princess.” You said, and then leaned down, hugging around your waist and kissing yourself, no...you were kissing him, and it felt like bliss. Not only to be back in your own body, but that at long last, you got to kiss him and he felt the same way about you. You opened your eyes as you pulled away from each other. He gave you a squeeze on your love handles and said, “You’re gonna regret calling me a princess, princess. We’ve still got that spar to look forward to.” You snickered, thanking recovery girl and making your way to the door, on your way out to turned your head back and told him, “Bitch, I’m a queen.” And slipped behind the door with a smile.

‘That’s my girl’ he smirked. Then he turned around to thank Recovery Girl as well and realized, asking her, “Wait, what if there were family members who got changed and they didn’t have time to wait it out?” She served him a devilish smile and said, “Oh, they don’t have to kiss, as long as they make contact with the person they switched bodies with, they will return to normal. But it wouldn’t have been very fun if I had told you that now would it?”

———————————————————————

Well, I hope I satisfied your request! Sorry if it was too plain or not well written, but I’ve only ever used my writing skills for school so I hope you found it tolerable. If you had something else in mind when you were asking, please let me know so I can do better the next time around!

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One Where He Sleeps Over for the First Time

//

It’s been a few weeks now since you’ve run into Harry at the supermarket and you’ve been talking/texting non-stop. He’s aware that you’re taking summer classes, however, he’ll text you all throughout the day just to see what you’re doing and what you’re occupied with. You definitely have caught some feelings for him and you’re pretty sure that he’s caught on to your ways.

You’ve just never met someone like him before, he’s… different.

He pays attention to the small details that you mention, he takes the time out of his day to text you, even if it’s the smallest thing as good morning, he stays up with you all night even if his eyes are starting to get tired, just so he can watch you in your element of studying. The conversation of is he’s ever thought about going to school has come up quite a few times and he said if his career ever slowed down, he would love to go back and get a degree for himself. He’s often shares his life long goals and ambitions with you when he was tired because he often would just ramble on any information on the top of his head. There was really something beautiful about the way he talked about his goals, it made your heart swell and almost turned you on?

Even though there was some sort of attraction between the two of you, he’s a famous popstar and there’s no possible way that he would want to be with someone like you. You’re plain to him, merely just a college student that ran into him while you were buying ice-cream on a weekend night. Even though you’re very aware that there would never be anything sexual or intimate between the two of you, you would love to have him around as a friend. He makes you laugh when you want to cry, keeps you company while you clean around your apartment and often sends you food when he knows you haven’t gone food shopping, which has been a real big help.

Harry has become your best friend and even though you’ve known each other for a short few weeks, he’s become a lot closer of a friend then most people you’ve known your whole life. You often joke with him about his super start friends and how he should hook you up with them, but he often declines and states that you’re too good for them.

You haven’t really seen Harry much in person since the first time you ran into each other, he’s been busy in the studio or in meetings or even just sleeping. He would never tell you this, but, staying up all night isn’t his perfect cup of tea, however he does it so you’re not lonely or ever feel alone. He admires that you’re independent but he hates that you live alone, it often worries him that something will happen to you late at night, which has led the daily FaceTime calls that start from 9 P.M. and that last up until you finish studying or fall asleep, and then some.

If someone were to ask Harry, he wouldn’t even know what you two have become so he just states you as his friend. He has mentioned you to the few people that he surrounds himself with because they noticed a pattern of the same contact number texting him all day, and he would ignore all the others. He wouldn’t do it on purpose, he was focused on checking up on you or seeing how your day was that he forgot about the other twenty people that texted him around the same time.

-

It’s a Saturday night and you’ve just been cleaning around your apartment, laundry has piled up from the week before, dishes haven’t been done which led to paper plates that you had in a corner of your pantry to be used, and your floor needed to be mopped.

After a long 4 hours of procrastinating and sing-a-longs your last load of laundry is in the wash and you’re currently folding some towels that you washed. You notice your phone is going off like crazy and messages keep flooding in, instantly your phone starts buzzing again but this time with a call.

“ Hello Harry!” a giggle escapes your lips because you can only wonder what he has on his mind and what’s about to come out of his mouth.

“ Hey babe, what are you doing tonight?” your heart just melts when he calls you pet names but you would never express that to him, not because you’re shamed but because he’ll literally laugh his ass off and think it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“ M’nothing, jus’ been cleaning around here, it started to look like a barn and I wasn’t haven’it anymore. Don’t you have any celebrity plans tonight? Maybe a Met Gala or Music Award or Concert to perform at, Mister Styles?” You can just see the smirk on his face now, dimples showing and his eyes are barely visible because he’s squinting so hard.

“ That’s what I was calling for, was gonna see if I could come by and we could hang out. I have some free time, and thought you could use some company.” This is the first time that Harry’s actually asked you to hang out and you’re taken back, you’re at a loss for words. The phone goes silent for a few seconds but then you hear him calling your name, “ Uh, yeah… you can. I just have to finish cleaning but you can come over in the meantime. The line goes silent again but then your curly friend starts talking again, “ I was hoping you would say that because I’m downstairs, let me in, Bubs.” Panic instantly filled your body, he was coming over to your apartment and you looked like a literal mess, you have an oversized t-shirt on with some old shorts and no bra, the mop on-top of your head could only be characterized as a rats nest and on top of everything you’re a sweaty mess but you have no time because he’s literally waiting for you downstairs to open the door to your apartment building.

You put on a pair of flip flops, cross your arms over your chest and hope for the best. Harry has seen you in the late hours of 3 A.M. before and it’s never bothered you, but he’s never seen you like this. You run into the elderly couple two doors down from you, you exchange a friendly smile and continue your journey downstairs. You make it down to the lobby and there he is, signing himself in at the receptionist's desk. He has a black t-shirt on, with some lounge shorts and a pair of sneakers on, even when he doesn’t try he looks perfect. You notice a few grocery bags in his hands, and spot a tub of ice-cream in one of them.

He looks over to you after politely excusing himself from the receptionist, “M’ looks like some one’s cold, we better get upstairs.” You completely forgot you had no bra on, and in fact you were cold. You shoot him a glare and he throws you his keys because his hands are quite full. The whole 5 flights of stairs he kept making cheeky or puny remarks and you were just getting nervous by the second. He’s only seen your apartment through FaceTime and he’s never actually seen the whole thing, what if he thinks it’s ugly or cheap looking? His apartment is probably beautiful and lavished, and here you are living in a place that you can barely afford and it’s not even close to perfect but you’ve learned to call it home. Right as you get to your door, you turn around before you unlock it, and look at your friend in the eyes, “ Look, but no touching. I just cleaned up and I don’t need any more messes.” He pulls his pinky out from all the bags he has as best as he can and looks right back at you, “ I promise.”

As soon as you walk in, he instantly breaks his promise. He’s already placed the bags down onto your counter and loading items into your fridge, “ Bubs, you barely have anything in here. You must be starved!”

“Harry! I told you not to touch anything!” You instantly run over and shut the fridge behind you and start poking through the bags. He literally went grocery shopping for you, he bought all your favorite foods and snacks and plus more. “ Harry, thank you, but you really didn’t have to do any of this.” You look back at him and you can only wonder how much he spent. “ How much do I owe you?” a chuckle instantly comes out from his lips. He walks toward you and pulls the receipt out from his pocket and rips it apart. “ I guess we’ll never know, so I guess nothing.” As much as you loved when he jokes around with you, this wasn’t a joke. He did not have to do this at all, you’re more taken back because he actually listened on the phone when you were ranting that you ran out of food, but you never expected this.

“ How’bout you go take a shower and get cleaned up and I’ll order us a pizza? We’ll have a movie night.” Your friend wiggles his eyebrows up and down and pushes you down a hallway, even though he’s not sure if it’s the right way. After he’s gone back to your open floor plan apartment, you pick some clothes out and walk to your bathroom. While getting undressed, you can faintly hear him on the phone ordering pizza and making sure to specifically ask for extra cheese “ because that's how she likes it.”

-

After 20 minutes of waiting for you, Harry hears your footsteps coming from your short hallway as you make your way back into the space that he’s in. Before you walked in he was checking his phone for any emails that may have come in or any text messages that may have been important. However, his attention is quickly taken off his phone when you’re full emerged back into the room. Your long damp hair, messy and all, is laying down your back, your sporting a pair of cleaner shorts from the ones before, and a baggy long sleeve t-shirt on. The outfit was so plain but he thought you looked beautiful in it. The fresh scent of vanilla hits his nose, he assumes it’s the body wash you used.

“ I see you’re all clean now” a smirk is planted on your face face as she walks by you  and instantly rolls her eyes.  “ Ya know when the pizza’s gonna be here? I’m actually really hungry.”, He watches you as you rummage through your pantry and discover all your new found snacks, “ It should be here any minute, they said they weren't that busy when I called.”

-

Another ten minutes pass by and your food has finally arrived, he went ahead and ordered two extra-large extra cheesy buffalo chicken pizzas because he knows it your favorite, even though he’s not crazy about them. You guys are now sitting on your sofa, two pizza boxes sat on your coffee table and a two, 2 liter of sodas are popped open. You let Harry decide on what movie to watch because you weren’t really interested in anything that’s out right now, even though you would never tell him that because you enjoy his company and he made more effort than any other friends of yours have made recently.

“ ye’full yet, Bubs?” You pull your attention back to your friend and nod your head. You managed to eat 3 full slices of pizza, 4 garlic knots and a chicken wing and you couldn’t possibly manage another single bite of food. You noticed throughout the night Harry’s phone go off a few times, and even though you instructed him to take any calls or answer any emails he declines and states that when he’s out with friends he likes for them to have his full attention.

-

The movie just ended and you’re pretty sure that you wouldn’t be able to tell one major detail about the movie. You tried getting into it, but you just couldn’t. You had a lot on your mind: bills, school, Harry, your parents and it was all just too much. Any time Harry would nudge you, you acted as if you were paying attention and would make small commentary to reassure him that you were just as focused as he was. You noticed a few yawns have escaped your plump pink lips, but you tried to hide it because you didn’t want Harry to hear.

You grabbed the pizza boxes and any other empty box that was left on the table and made your way to the kitchen to discard of the trash, a loud bang was heard and it started to downpour. A small yelp, followed by a gulp escaped your scared frame and Harry instantly started to laugh. “ Ye’ get startled there? Just a little rain, the boogeyman ain’t gonna get ye.” He shuffles his way into your kitchen while you’re standing, and shakes you up a bit. “ I thought when ye’ told me you were scared of thunder you were joking.”  He playful nudge his shoulder and walk past him, making a smart remark as you walk to your sofa and plop yourself down and you can hear Harry following you, “ If you’re that scared, I can sleep over and make sure no one gets ye’.”  Without hesitation the statement “please” runs out of your mouth quicker than you could process it.

“ How bout we camp out here, we’ll make a fort and watch movies till we both fall asleep? I don’t want to leave ya alone since you’re oh so scared.” Again, another eye roll and glance is thrown his way but he follows you down the hall where you had just placed freshly washed blankets and pillows in your hallway closet.

-

The clock currently reads 2 A.M. and you’re passed out, leaning on the edge of the couch. Your body is curled up in a ball but goosebumps have risen all over your body. Harry takes notice, and without hesitation pulls your blanket back on your body as it made its way onto the floor and kisses your forehead. Sleep was starting to over take his too, and he laid on the floor next to the couch just in case you got scared.

Around 2:30 you started shifting in your sleep, and again without hesitation your friend sat up and started to draw circles on your back and played with your hair until you fell back asleep.

Throughout the night Harry would wake up just to make sure you were still in the same spot and not dangling off of your couch. He thought a few times now about moving you to your bed, but he never invited you in their and he didn’t think it was right to go in without asking.

Harry couldn’t sleep at all that night, he didn’t know what was going on but he knew that you were more than just a friend in his eyes and he cares about you. This was your first official sleepover with Harry and it for sure won’t be your last.

//

This idea came from an old request that I just discovered again today, “   How it feels to sleep side by side for the first time” but I made it my own, so I hope I didn’t disappoint!!! 

Thank you to everyone that has been reading my writing, and I hope you all enjoy. If you guys have any requests or suggestions my asks are always open! You guys can always stop by even just to say hi!! 

[maylovexhs]

everytime - BLOWING SMOKE(Chp 4)

Author’s Note: Hi Lovelies! It’s another chapter(based on the Met Gala). Another chapter is coming tomorrow too! xxx M

everytime masterlist(https://maylovexhs.tumblr.com/post/184349485299/everytime-masterlist-a-story-in-which)

May 5, 2019.

“I was just coastin', never really going anywhere. Caught up in a web I was getting kinda used to stayin' there and out of the blue. I fell for you” I sang.

“Now you're lifting me up, instead of holding me down” Ali joined in, singing along with me. “Stealing my heart instead of stealing my crown. Untangled all the strings round my wings that were tied”

I didn't know him and I didn't know me. Cloud nine was always out of reach.

I turned around to her while in my dress.

“Now I remember what it feels like to fly. You give me butterflies” We sang together.

“You literally look like the song” Ali commented on the dress I was wearing.

“Wait till the headpiece” I told her. “I’ll be flying”

Kiss full of color makes me wonder where you've always been. I was hiding in doubt till you brought me out of my chrysalis.

Ali rolled her eyes at me.

“I can’t believe you are actually going to wear that” Ali said. “I wouldn’t”

“Because you’re not a co-chair” I said. “I was meant to wear this”

Now you're lifting me up instead of holding me down. Stealing my heart instead of stealing my crown. Untangled all the strings round my wings that were tied.

I turned around to the mirror again. I looked at myself as I swayed in my dress. The butterflies bounced as I swayed.

“I didn't know him and I didn't know me” I sang along to the song. “Cloud nine was always out of reach. Now I remember what it feels like to fly”

I turned my head to my phone, hearing it buzzing. Ali got up from the chair.

“I’ll answer it” Ali said, walking over to it. “You don’t have the hands anyways”

I smirked to myself.

The dress had no holes for my arms. So, I literally had my hands inside my dress. I was going for style over comfort. That was one of the many rules of camp. I thought I was doing a pretty good darn job at it so far.

“It’s Harry” Ali said. “Answer or no”

I walked closer to her, standing feet away for the butterflies not to touch her.

“Answer” I told her.

She answered. Harry smirked at the sight of me.

“You have butterflies!” Harry said in a cheery voice.

“And I’m listening to butterflies!” I cheered back at him.

“I can hear” Harry said. “You’re not home?”

“Yeah” I said. “They brought over Ali’s and my dress for last minute fittings. Why you ask?”

“I just landed” Harry said. “Thought of seeing you first before heading to dinner”

I smiled at him.

“Are you sure?” I asked him. “Straight from the airport? Aren’t you jet lagged?”

Harry shook his head at me.

“Feeling good, actually” Harry said.

“Alright” I said to him. “Come then. See you soon”

“See ya” Harry said before hanging up on me.

Ali put my phone down on the table. Ali rolled her eyes at me.

“What?” I asked her.

“Nothing” Ali said, going back to sit down in her seat.

I crossed my arms inside my dress. At least my dress will hide my body language.

“Nothing?” I asked her. “If it’s nothing, you better not be rolling your eyes at him tonight and Monday. I thought you liked him”

“I do like him” Ali said. “I just don’t like to see you get disappointed”

“Disappointed?” I asked her. “From Harry?”

“He made you once. He can do it again” Ali commented on Harry’s and mine’s history.

“That was a different time” I told Ali. “And technically we weren’t together when he ran off with her. Plus, we both grew up and are past that”

“Yeah, you weren’t with him because he stopped talking to you and talked to her instead” Ali said, pointing it out.

I stayed quiet, deciding not to talk about it anymore with Ali. It was something that happened years ago. Harry and I changed from then. Ali didn’t understand that.

“Adrain!” I called his name from the dressing room.

Adrain walked into the room.

“Are you changing your mind on it?” Adrain asked me. “Please tell me that-“

“I want to try on the headpiece” I told him, cutting him off.

“Oh, thank god” Adrain said, sighing in relief.

He went out of the room. Ali looked to me.

“I’m just saying be careful” Ali said. “You cried over him when you found out about her. I don’t want you to cry again when you see them talking at the gala”

Adrain returned into the room with my headpiece.

“It’s heavy” Adrain said. “Just a warning”

“I know it’s heavy, Adrain” I told him. “It has metal rods sticking out of it, it’s going to be heavy”

Adrain places the headpiece onto the top of my hair. He was right. It was heavy.

Adrain stepped to the side, letting me see myself in the mirror.

“You sure you want to wear the headpiece?” Adrain asked me. “It looks good on you but if you feel-“

“I’m going to wear it” I said. “I’m stronger than you think, Adrain”

I looked over to Ali and smirked at her.

I’m also stronger now than the girl who cried over her ex-boyfriend.

“You look wonderful” Adam complimented me.

“So do you. And thanks!” I told him, blushing. “I hope I look as great for the actual ball”

“Oh, I bet you’ll look more than great for Monday” Adam said. “You’re the host for a reason”

“One of the hosts” I corrected him. “Compared to Gaga or Harry, who knows”

“Ah, you’re afraid they will steal your spotlight?” Adam asked me.

“Oh, I know they are going to steal my spotlight” I joked with him.

He laughed at my joke.

“Well, I’ll be rooting for you” Adam said. “You always had that charm about you”

I blushed. I had charm. He thought I was charming.

“Thanks” I told him. “But time will tell. My main worry is not disappointing Anna. Every email I get from her scares me a bit”

“It’s not only me?” Adam asked, finding relief. “I passed her on the steps last year and I felt like she wanted to choke me”

I laughed.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll be standing next to her most of the night” I told him. “Kinda regretting deciding to host this thing”

“Just because of Anna?” Adam asked me.

“No” I told him. “It’s a whole mix of-“

“Y/N” I heard Harry call my name.

I turned around from Adam to see Harry behind me.

He was in a red suit. I smiled at him.

“Hi honey” I said, joking with him.

“Hi darling” Harry said, smiling back at me.

I turned to Adam.

“Adam, this is Harry” I introduced him to Harry. “My co-host and the person who is probably going to steal the spotlight from me”

Adam chuckled, putting his hand out for Harry to shake. He did.

“Hi” Harry said to Adam. “Pleasure to meet you”

“Same goes to you” Adam said.

I drank some of the champagne in my glass as they shook hands.

“Well, I guess I should leave you two left to your hosting duties” Adam said to us. “Good luck”

“Thanks” I told him. “Definitely need it”

“Alright” Adam said to me. “I’ll see you around”

I waved Adam goodbye as he went to talk to other guests. Harry smirked at me.

“What?” I asked him.

“I’m going to steal your spotlight?” Harry asked me, referring to my words.

“It’s a joke” I told him. “We were joking about it before you joined”

“Oh,” Harry said, understanding.

I nodded my head at him.

“You’re late by the way” I pointed out to him. “You better not be late for Monday or Anna will kill your ass”

Harry smiled.

“Sorry about that” He said. “I slept a little after you called me. Did you fix your dress problem?”

Ah, my dress problem. I didn’t have a dress problem. I lied to Harry about it. And it’s not because I didn’t want to hang out with Harry. Ali was being on my dick about him so I decided to shut her up for a while by telling Harry not to come over. I’ll let her think that I took her advice for now.

“Yeah, I did” I told Harry. “My headpiece kept falling out. You want to get another drink with me?”

Harry smiled at me.

“Sure” Harry said. “But don’t feel like drinking tonight”

I raised my eyebrow at him.

“You don’t feel like drinking?” I asked him. “When have you ever not had a drink at a party?”

“I don’t know” Harry said. “I’m just trying to keep it cool tonight. I’m already a mess from nerves and we still have the press video to do, so . .”

I smiled at him.

“You’re nervous” I said. “That’s the first time I heard you say that”

“Is it?” Harry asked.

I nodded my head at him, smiling.

“Come on” I said, taking his hand in mine. “You need a drink more than anyone here. Also, did you pierce your ear?”

“Wooohoo!” I shouted and clapped as Aquaria performed on stage.

Ali whistled at her. I looked to Ali, noticing she was recording Aquaria.

“Be careful Anna doesn’t see you” I told Ali. “Rule number 1”

“What she gonna do?” Ali asked me. “Kick is out?”

I chuckled. I felt someone tap on me. I turned around to see Harry. For a second, I thought it was security.

“Oh, hey H” I said to him. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to say goodnight” Harry said.

“You’re leaving?” I asked him.

“Yeah” Harry said. “With Alessandro. Don’t think I should be out that late tonight”

I nodded at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” I said to him. “On the carpet”

“I’ll call you before” Harry told me.

I hugged him.

“Good luck tomorrow” I said to him in our hug. “You’re going to be the most prettiest person”

Harry chuckled.

“So will you be” Harry said.

We let go of each other.

“Bye honey” I said to him.

“Bye babe” Harry said, winking at me.

He turned around and walked away from me. I watched him meet with Alessandro.

“You still have feelings for him” I heard Ali say.

I turned to her.

“Ali, I said it once. I’m not going to say it again” I told her.

“Y/N, I know you.” Ali said. “We’re been friends for ten years. I know when you are lying to herself”

I crossed my arms at her.

“Harry and I are just blowing smoke” I said. “There’s nothing there. Just be friendly”

Ali smirked at me.

“Remember when you said to me about Christian about us having a spark?” Ali asked me.

“Yes, your ex-boyfriend Christian” I told her. “What’s your point?”

“When’s there is smoke, there is fire” Ali said. “There’s smoke between Harry and you”

[spn-ficfanatic]

F*ck Cancer- Ch 1: The Discovery

SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO

Summary: You’ve been hiding a crushing secret from your best friends (Well, one best friend and one sometimes-lover if you want to get technical about it). How will they react when they find out that the woman they grew up and hunted with for most of their lives, may only have a few months left to live?

Genre: Angst

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Platonic!Reader* *For my Dean ladies: it may not be romantic between him and the reader, but it’s a very close brotherly/sisterly relationship and I still think y’all will really enjoy it :)

Words: 3277

Warnings: Cancer/chemo talk, swearing

A/N: I’ve only written one series prior to this. It was also a Sam x Reader, was 8 parts long just like this, and just like this it marked a huge milestone on my blog. The first chapter of “The One Moment” marked the 100th post I’d made... this marks the 300th :)

Your phone rang as you stared lazily out of the window. You knew you were lucky, not many of the other patients had this view; it certainly made the whole process seem a little less intimidating. Your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw it was Sam who was calling, for good or bad you weren't sure. You and he had been together in the past, it was never anything serious because the life of a hunter would never allow that, but to say you didn’t have some semblance of feelings for him would be a big fat lie. You took a deep breath and accepted the call, holding your hand over the microphone in an attempt to shield the hospital sounds surrounding you.

“Hey Sam, been a while,” you told him, trying to sound casual. Thankfully you had only just started treatment 10 minutes prior so the vomiting hadn’t started yet, and your voice would definitely have betrayed you in that instance.

“Hey yourself Y/N, been good?” he replied; you could hear the smile in his voice which in turn had you grinning. You really had missed him.

“Can’t complain,” you lied. “How are you and bonehead going?”

“Hey, I resent that,” Dean’s voice protested in the background and you and Sam shared a laugh.

“He’s good, we both are.”

“So, what are you boys up to at the moment? Gimme all the goss,” you begged, reclining in your chair.

“Actually we’ve just finished a case and will be driving through Austin pretty soon to the next one, thought maybe we could stop by and say hi.”

You nearly dropped the phone as you bolted upright. Holding onto it tightly you quickly debated on the best way to handle this. No way were he and Dean going to find out about this, especially not in the middle of treatment.

“Y/N? You there?” he asked, concern filling his voice.

“Shit yer, sorry, I sat back and nearly dropped my phone. Um, now’s not really a good time,” you told him, scrambling to come up with a good excuse.

“Is everything ok? Are you in trouble?” he asked, jumping straight into protective mode. You forced out a laugh.

“It’s all good, I’m just not at home. Hitting a salt and burn a few states over unfortunately.”

“I thought you were having a break from hunting?” Dean asked you skeptically. Curse his big brother senses.

“Yer but this came up and, I dunno, I felt like scratching that itch or something,” you scrambled, picking at a loose thread on your jumper sleeve nervously. “Anyway I think I’ll be here another couple of days so we might have to try for next time. Sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine. Sorry to miss you, was looking forward to it,” Sam replied, sounding pretty beat up. God damn it Winchester!

A nurse started to approach and you realised you had to get off the call before they overheard her talking about your IV line.

“Anyway guys I better get going, it was really great talking to you. I’ll call you tomorrow perhaps?” you rushed.

“Oh, uh, yer sure. That’d be great. Talk soo-”

You had to cut him off, the nurse got too close and was about to open her mouth and blow your cover. You berated yourself for it, he probably thought you didn’t want to see them anymore, and you face palmed yourself and groaned in annoyance.

“Oh hun, is the nausea starting already?” the nurse asked you kindly.

“Yer, only it’s not the chemo this time.”

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

“Did she just hang up on you?” Dean asked incredulously. Sam was looking at his phone, the call disconnected before he’d even managed to get his sentence out.

“Uh, yer, it would appear so.”

“What the hell did you do to her man?”

Sam held his hands up defensively. “I didn’t do anything! At least I don’t think I did. Things were good last time, we email and message while we’re on the road. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

An awkward silence filled the cabin while the boys each contemplated the exchange.

“Did she sound a little flat to you?” Dean asked, starting to grow concerned.

“I dunno, a little I guess. Maybe this hunt’s taken a lot out of her, it’s been a while.”

“Do you… Nah.”

“What?”

“Well, do you think she was on a hunt? Really? Maybe she’s just avoiding us.”

Sam gave Dean a look, before leaning over and grabbing his laptop from the back seat. Dean kept his eyes on the road while Sam brought up the GPS tracker and put your number in.

“Dude, really? We’re stalking her now? She’s gonna kill you if she finds out you did this, you know that right?”

Sam didn’t answer as he watched the program track your phone, his heart dropping when it landed on the one place he never expected it would.

“Dean, how far away are we from Austin?” he asked as he stared at the screen, his voice sounding a little dangerous.

“Uhhh, a couple of hours. Give or take. Why, is she there?”

“Yer she’s, uh, she’s at Cornerstone Hospital.”

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

3 hours later and you were finally done with your chemotherapy treatment for the day. You’d had a bout of nausea a little while ago but generally were starting to come good again. Knowing what happened last time though, you had about 45 minutes to get home before you could barely stand through the pain.

Waiting for the nurse to see you, you drummed your hands on the armrest while you looked around the room. A few people had come and gone in the time you’d been there, some having just a half-hour treatment. You were the youngest there you noticed, and you always got the pity-stare from the older patients when they walked in and saw you. So you kept to yourself… making friends with people at this stage in your life seemed relatively moot.

You were too busy reading a new poster on the wall to hear the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. You may have recognised them if you have been paying attention, you’d heard them on enough hunts in the past. A deep voice broke through your thoughts and turned your blood cold; if you hadn't still been connected to all the wires you might have tried to make a run for it. Instead you took a deep breath and turned to face the brothers. Neither had noticed you yet, their backs to you as they spoke to the nurse at the desk opposite. They were in their FBI gear which surprised you.

“Hello, we're looking for Y/N Y/L/N?” Dean asked in his professional voice.

Sam started looking around the room and before the nurse could point them in your direction, his eyes landed on yours. His jaw dropped as he took your frail form in, and before Dean could even turn around he was headed to you.

“Y/N, what the hell?” he cried, trying not to be too loud but he was obviously upset. Dean too came toward you, you don’t think you’d ever seen him look so worried before.

“Is everything ok here?” the nurse asked as she approached your chair, eyeing the men cautiously.

“Yer it’s all fine Tess, thanks for checking. Could we have a sec before you unhook me?” you asked her quietly. “I need to talk with my friends.”

She nodded with a warm smile and patted your knee gently before walking off to help another patient. You watched her leave, and sighed as you turned back to face the guys. Both were staring at you with mouths agape, and you rolled your eyes and gave a little huff of amusement.

“You guys wanna close your mouths? There’s a few flies buzzing around in here.”

“Don't joke Y/N, this isn't funny,” Dean scolded.

You hung your head. “You're right, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to talk about this stuff.”

“How long has is been going on?” Sam asked, nearly in a whisper. The guy looked heartbroken, and you felt like dirt.

You rubbed your neck awkwardly, you knew they weren’t going to like the answer you had for them. “Umm, this is my second cycle of chemo.”

Sam tried to stay composed but your admission took him by surprise. “Wha- SECOND? You didn’t think to call me after the first? Why the hell haven't you said anything?” he whispered angrily, trying not to draw attention from the other patients. It was a futile effort though, there wasn’t much entertainment in the treatment room so all eyes were locked on the display.

“Sam please, not here,” you begged, tears starting to form in your eyes as you looked around.

“She's right Sammy,” Dean replied calmly, noticing the attention as well. “Let’s just get her home and we'll figure it all out then.” You let out a breath, thankful to Dean for taking control.

“Thank you. I have my car so I’ll just m-”

“Wait, you drove here?” Dean scolded loudly. Well, so much for having calm big brother on your side.

“Is there a problem with that?” you asked defensively.

“You barely look like you can walk Y/N, let alone drive. What are you thinking?” Dean chided, and your ears grew hot with anger.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous. He’d only heard you speak to one other person like that before and it was Crowley when he dared to called you “sweetcheeks”.

He sighed, realising he was out of line, and tried to back-pedal. “I just mean…”

“No, I know what you meant Dean. You know, just because I’m going through this doesn’t make me a damn invalid. And sure I’ve lost a little weight and my hair’s a bit thinner but hey, that’s what’s gonna happen when my body is being pumped with poisoned to kill the asshole tumour growing in my noggin. But none of that really matters because I’ll probably be dead in a few months time anyway.”

As the conversation had become more and more heated the nurse was quietly and graciously removing your IV, she could clearly see this conversation was uncomfortable for you and wanted you to have the option to remove yourself from it if need be. It was all you needed to get up off your chair and start walking out the door, leaving the brothers behind you.

“Go after her and I’ll call security,” you heard Tess warn, and if you hadn’t been pissed as fuck you would have smiled. You’d developed a good repore with her in the time you’d been in the hospital, and considered her your closest friend at this point in your life. No-one else knew about what you were going through, you had quit your job ages ago and were supporting yourself with your safely stored away inheritance. You were thankful to not hear heavy footsteps following after you, and headed quickly to your car to head home. You didn’t know if you’d have enough of a head start to beat them.

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

You were panting by the time you reached your front door. The headache had started on the way home and the stress of what had just transpired with the brothers was becoming too much in your state. You grabbed your keys out of your bag but your eyes became blurry, and you leaned your forehead against the door frame as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. Staying where you were you looked down as you found the key you needed, and gently leaned over to put it into the door. The roar of the Impala came around the corner and you groaned… why couldn’t they just give you a little time to process? Bloody men!

To your annoyance the key wasn’t fitting in the lock and you threw your hands up in the air in frustration, your head still resting on the door frame. You heard them pull up to your sidewalk and quickly tried to find the key you needed, only to drop them on the ground.

“What the fuckity fuck!” you cried out loud, stomping your foot in frustration like a 5 year old. You gave up and slumped on the sun chair by your front door, holding your head in your hands with your elbows on your knees. The car doors slammed and you could hear them walking up the path to your front porch.

“Y/N?” Sam called out when he saw you, and when you made no move to greet them he and Dean quickly raced to your side. “Hey, Y/N, you OK?” he asked, brushing the hair behind your ear.

“Stupid fucking key wouldn’t go in the stupid fucking lock,” you told him bitterly, and you heard Dean pick them up.

“I see the brain tumour hasn’t dampened your potty mouth,” Dean told you wryly, and you lifted your head gently to look at him.

“Did you just joke about my cancer?” you asked him with a smirk. He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the mention of the C word, but he pushed through it and gave a tight smile.

“Do you need Sam’s help to get inside?”

“Um, I don’t think so. I think I’ll be ok, thanks,” you responded, giving Sam a smile as you stood. You screamed at yourself internally when your left knee buckled, and quick as a flash Sam’s arms were around you.

“Y/N?” he asked, sounding more scared than you liked to hear from him. You closed your eyes and nodded, swallowing thickly.

“I’m ok, just tired. Maybe I could use the help after all,” you admitted, not daring to meet his gaze. You were grateful when he didn’t swoop you into his arms, instead wrapping your arm over his shoulder and supporting you as you walked into your living room together. Dean grabbed your bag and put it on the floor by the door as he closed it, following you both.

Once Sam had you seated on the couch he took the spot next to you, Dean opting to lean against the wall instead.

“Do you need anything?” Sam asked, watching you carefully.

You shook your head. “I’m ok. You guys help yourself though, there’s some beer in the fridge I think.” When Dean’s jaw clenched you gave a small smile. “I keep it there for you guys, I’m not drinking I swear.”

He relaxed and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest letting the room fall into an uncomfortable silence. You found yourself picking at your sweater sleeve as you considered your next move.

“Thank you,” you told them quietly. “For not making me feel completely useless right now. I’m sorry I blew up at the hospital, that wasn’t fair.”

“No, you’re under a lot of stress, we get it,” Sam told you kindly, and you shook your head.

“You didn’t deserve that. What you did deserve to know was that I’m sick, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t know how, I tried so many times but it just wouldn’t come out.”

“It’s a, uh, brain tumour?” Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yer, found out about a couple of months ago I think. I dunno, the days are starting to run together a little bit.”

“What do the doctors say?” Sam asked, and you could hear the reluctance as he did. He didn’t want to know this anymore than you didn’t want to tell him. You sighed, and looked up to meet their gaze.

“It’s aggressive, growing fast and they can’t operate right now. They’re trying to slow it down and hopefully shrink it with chemo before looking at surgery as an option, but because of where it’s located and the speed that it’s growing they think there’s only a 5% chance they’ll be able to remove it before it… before it, ah…” you stumbled, clearing your throat as your eyes started to fill with tears. Shaking your head slightly, you swallowed down the massive lump in your throat before continuing. “I probably won’t make it, is basically what I’m trying to say.”

Silence filled the room, and you let it this time. You were beyond exhausted, the treatment and this conversation were draining the very last of your energy. Despite your best efforts your eyelids began to droop, you barely noticed when you started to slide toward the cushions. Gentle murmurs barely broke through your haze, and you couldn’t find the energy even to acknowledge the one of them who lifted you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. The fluffy pillows and quilt enveloped you, and without ever opening your eyes you drifted off to sleep.

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

Sam stood at your bedside, watching you sleep. He'd never seen you looking so vulnerable, and it was scaring the crap out of him. This wasn't a monster he could fight for you, not a battle he could try and win on your behalf. This was the one thing no hunter ever expected to die from, knowing it would simply be too cruel an irony to befall them. And yet here you were: half the size you used to be, pale as a ghost and so frail you could barely stand. He stayed watching you for a while, making an easy decision in the process. Regardless of what Dean thought, he wouldn't be leaving this house without you again.

“Hey, did she stay asleep?” Dean asked as Sam came down the stairs and through to the kitchen. He had cracked a couple of beers and was currently whipping up some pancakes, their first home cooked meal since the last time they were in your house 3 months ago.

“Yer. Um, Dean, we need to talk-”

“So I was thinking that Y/N might be better off in the downstairs bedroom,” Dean started, cutting Sam off. “If she wants to that is. Just makes sense with the chemo kicking her in the ass so bad. You could take the study next to her so one of us is nearby, and I could take her room. Or vice versa, I don’t mind. Oh, and I had a quick look and there's a job going at a garage a few blocks from here, figured I could go out after we ate something and see if they'll take me on. Thought you’d rather be home for Y/N to take her to appointments and such, so no need to find you a job. We can figure out the rest when she wakes up. Now, do you want strawberries or blueberries with your pancakes?”

As Dean turned around holding two plates of stacks he found Sam staring at him like he was possessed. Dean rolled his eyes and took the plates to the dining table, heading back to the fridge for the toppings leaving Sam to catch up.

“So… you want to stay?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Dean asked defensively as he sat down, quickly shoving a large bite of pancake into his mouth.

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to go all apple pie life on me.”

“This is for Y/N. She's saved our lives more times than I can count, now it's our turn to save hers. She's family,” he said with finality, gently pushing Sam’s plate toward him and gesturing for him to sit down. Sam smiled broadly and did as requested, mentally planning out the new life they were making for themselves.

CONT.

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

SERIES MASTERLIST - CHAPTER TWO 

Tag Lists (Open)

Series Taglist: @deghostyboi , @dreaminemz

“Dean/Jensen” taglist:  @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk, @perpetualabsurdity, @mlovesstories

“Everything” taglist: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @im-dead-inside05, @julzdec, @adoptdontshoppets, @meghanbeinghappy, @sleepylunarwolf , @sammysgirl1997, @imaginationisgrowth, @screechingartisancashbailiff

People who requested tags, that I cannot tag (but will still mention because I feel bad :( ): @ronja-uebrick, @lilydarcy

[personagf-moved]

alphabet & soft questions ✨

I was tagged by my bb’s @prksjmiin (alphabet ask) and @joonieblossoms (soft ask) and i didn’t want to make two separate posts so im gonna apologize in advance bc i decided to stick both posts together :’) dkdkkdkd yall aint gotta read everything but if u do ily and im sorry i write novels on novels dlfksdkf

i’ll tag @koyasdad, @1ovegf, @joonlit, @sleepyyyoongs, @constellationstars and @capgi 💘

honestly feel free to do either one or both or none if u want dkkdkdkd i just wanted to tag u guys bc ily

Alphabet ask:

a // age: 21

b // birthplace: new jersey!

c // current time: 1:17 am

d // drink you had last: coffee

e // easiest person to talk to: my brother when he isnt being an absolute fool

f // favorite songs: 

aint it fun - paramore

trivia love 

honey - kehlani

abbey - mitski

moonlight - ariana grande

g // grossest memory: i was in the city one time and a bird shit on my forehead. i think about it at least twice a week 

h // horror yes or horror no:  H O R R O R   Y E S   B A B E E E Y Y Y Y Y Y Y im the absolute worst person i’ll dead ass watch a scary movie/video or read horror stories by myself just bc. 

i // in love: with my whole ass soulmate namjoon. i luv u string bean man

j // jealous of people: im not even gonna try to lie i am a very jealous person and i am so sorry about it but i really cant help it lmfao. blame my scorpio venus i guess

k // kids of your own someday: when i say i have been thinking about this everyday.........! i wanna have it all i want the kids the white picket fence the dream house everything. i cant wait to be a mommy one day and love n support my bb’s :’)

l // love at first sight or should i walk by again: we a whole ass fool on main and believe in love at first sight!!!! i really do believe soulmates are a true thing and if a love is destined to be across an infinite span of lifetimes and universes then it will always find its way back. when you know, you know, and i genuinely believe that. 

m // middle name: padilla

n // number of siblings: 1 older brother, 1 half brother (older), and 1 half sister (older)

o // one wish: to find true love

p // person you last called: my manager bc i had a work question lol

q // question you’re always asked: “why are you like this” (usually friends @ me when i wild out...which is like everyday), “are you mad?”, “how old are you REALLY?”, “how’s your brother?” (bc he ghosts all family n i have to speak on his behalf like always fsdfjksdf)

r // random fact about you: i once used a horrible bootleg copy of the force awakens to make a star wars crack video dubbing the part in shrek when he first meets donkey over the scene when rey first met bb-8 and it went viral and has like 200,000 notes and even had articles written about it. also i had a weird fascination with jar jar binks and danny devito when i was in high school and i had a habit of making either one of them my icon on school accounts so i could make people laugh when they emailed me or saw me in a word document skfkkkfkf

s // song you last sang: “abbey” by mitski :’(

t // time you woke up: exactly 10 this morning and it was weird bc i picked up my phone and it had JUST turned 10 when i looked i was so shook lol 

u // underwear colour: she be black 

v // vacation destination: paris bc im a basic bitch :’) also japan/all asian countries. i wanna connect with my roots more :/

w // worst habit: yeeting the fuck outta people’s lives when i think they’re getting too close/when i get overwhelmed. im sorry im a flighty bitch @ anyone i’ve ever ghosted :( i love anyone who’s ever tried to talk to me and its never ur fault, i just get the urge to escape sometimes and i’m trying to fix it 

x // x-rays: omg @ tori dead ass me too tho, i had x-rays when i broke my arm when i was around 6 :o

y // your favorite food: my mom’s spaghetti! and sushi. also i love any and all filipino food but specifically i like nilaga and kare-kare oooo baby

z // zodiac sign: we’re a proud libra sun 

Soft ask:

What’s the smell of your shampoo?

we got them fruity scents up in here we keep that shit smellin like a goddamn strawberry field take a fuckin whiff babes

What’s your aesthetic?

the moon and stars, soft pink and purple sunsets with a burning red on the horizon, sunrises as well, paintings and generally all art revolving around flowers and the celestial, pretty pastel pink and yellow, the sound and smell of rain falling against the window while being curled up in bed uwu 

What’s your favorite time of the day and why?

lately it’s been night time. i generally get more creative and feel more at home during the night. i miss being a morning person tho. 

What do you most like about the beach?

not a lot fklsjdjfkslkdflksdlkf i usually only go to get a tan and walk the boardwalk with my friends, but if i had it my way i would never step foot in the ocean for the rest of my life sdjdjdjdjsj we dont trust her!!!!!!!!!

What do you worry about constantly?

when i’m gonna figure out what i wanna do with my life lol. i took a year off to think about it but all i ended up doing was working myself to exhaustion and getting comfy in a work only mindset and now i’m only even more confused about what i want to pursue. i’m just glad im going to chicago next week because i feel like a change of setting for even just a week could give me a much needed reset on my mindset going into the next year. i worry about the future but the problem is i worry about the present too lol. oh well, we’ll figure it out!

What is a song you’ve cried to before?

oh boy...

trivia love

moonchild

first love

she used to be mine - waitress soundtrack

20 something - sza

26 - paramore

the letter - kehlani

landslide - fleetwood mac

when you see my friends - mayday parade

and many........many many more...... skskskks music is my main emotional outlet so naturally im gonna cry over anything that reflects my heart

What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

as The World’s Number One Most Stressed Out Human Being™️ i am definitely in no way fit to give advice on how to relax LMFAO 

but i guess something that always works for me is putting on music i KNOW will make me sing a long or make me happy to distract me from the nerves i’m feeling. also putting on my favorite comfort movies to make me feel better (they’re big fish, scott pilgrim vs the world, and spirited away btw lol)

 What are some things that make you tear up?

the ending of coco, seeing my mom cry, or anyone i love cry tbh, when children are neglected/abused, thinking about the world i’ll have to bring my future children into and how i’m going to be able to teach them to stay strong and bright in the face of it, lyrics that hit too close to home, absolutely anything tbh i cry easy

What is your favorite from each sense?

sight - the view of my cherry blossom tree against a pink sunset in the spring of my childhood home, a person’s eyes and how they light up when they smile, especially when they crinkle as they laugh

smell - the earth after rain, a forest in autumn

taste - my mom’s cooking, good coffee on an early morning

sound - beautiful melodies and harmonies to accompany them, a baby cooing, birds chirping at sunrise

touch - my pillow when its nice and cool, a cat’s tummy, a baby’s cheeks, fingers running through my hair

What is an alternative reality you’d like to live in?

one where im married to namjoon n we have a lot of smart musical prodigy babies who have his dopey smile and i live comfortably in our big ass home in korea where i raise our babies n get that good pipe down every night like i should

jk i wanna live in a reality where magic is real and i can cast spells and live my best life as the true witch that i am

What are some troubles you face on a daily basis?

for starters im ugly as shit so theres one

if we mean practically then i have really bad knees and i recently busted them again so its been really hard getting up and down stairs lately and bending over 

but idk theres not really much. emotionally i just tend to get withdrawn and timid in public so it can be hard for me to speak up when i go out

What is one scene from a book that makes you really sad?

unfortunately i haven’t read as many books lately as i did when i was younger...so a lot of my memories are from books that i read like as a kid lol......THAT BEING SAID i think rue and finnick’s death in the hunger games was truly heartbreaking to read, the spine of my copies of both books have cracks on those pages bc i had to read it several times just to really believe it. also i thought it was written so heart wrenchingly well that i had to go back.  also in looking for alaska when pudge, a man who loved to know people’s last words, realized that he would never know alaska’s last words. im also really thankful for that book bc it introduced me to wh auden’s poetry and to this day he’s still one of my favorite poets of all time.  

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thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU for following me and for some reason deciding to stay after how many times i act up on the daily. all jokes aside i really appreciate every single one of you no matter the number and i sincerely hope that you always have love and joy in your heart and that 2019 treats you well. i HONESTLY mean it when i say that i am always here if you guys want to talk or send me things or roast me or talk shit seriously i wanna hear it all and talk about it all i think all of you are so interesting and so beautiful and i’d love to get to know more about you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS! yeet!

[cosmosogler]

ohh mannn...

i woke up at 8 this morning and just. couldn’t. i emailed my professor and went back to sleep until 9:10 or so.

still didn’t feel rested or in any sort of good mood but i’d arranged to meet with the e&m tutor at 10:40 so i really, really struggled to get ready on time. i forewent packing a lunch, figuring it was spaghetti day anyway, and that i’d just pick up a smoothie for dinner if i needed it. i was still like 10 minutes late to the meeting. i let her know ahead of time...

actually i’ve met this woman before. she’s very kind. she took a look through my notes. “is this your cat?” she asked when she came across one of the two doodles in there. “i like it.”

“thanks,” i said, kinda miserable. i hate people finding my drawings... especially in class note books when they can see i wasn’t paying much attention to the lecture. next to a jumbi, the only other drawing in there that took more than five seconds, i wrote “stop drawing in class” like that makes it any better for an outside observer.

she gave me a basic physics textbooks to work through examples before class so i can follow the lecture easier using my preferred style of taking in information. learning specific cases to see how the process works and what you use it for, and then generalizing. the professor, aside from being intimidating and thoroughly unpleasant to listen to at this point, likes to work in ONLY general cases and doesn’t always state the purpose of the exercise before jumping right in.

that happened for 45 minutes. it felt good to have a direction to move forward in, but also, terrible? because i felt terrible and interacting with a professor and learning something neat didn’t help.

i went down to the office and tried to talk my classmates into getting krishna lunch but none of them were having it. they had their e&m midterm today... jennica wanted to go, and keegan wanted to go, but then keegan’s practice problem was taking too long so jennica changed her mind. and keegan didn’t want to go with only one person i guess. he said never mind. 

it actually really... felt bad? like my throat hurt from trying not to try the whole way out the building and out to the road. like this one of very few things that i actually find relaxing and enjoyable got taken away. i know they were worried about their test but shouldn’t they know cramming doesn’t really do anything but make you anxious at this point? i dunno. i was super bummed. i had to really pump myself up to even bother with lunch at all.

i didn’t want to go to a very social gathering place to get lunch by myself so i forgot the spaghet this week and instead got a peanut butter smoothie because i like them and they make me feel better. part of my bad mood was due to hunger it seems like. i got a large because i knew that mediums weren’t always quite enough. but i took one sip of the large and immediately was no longer hungry so that was great. i carried it across campus with me to the pharmacy anyway and tried to get something into my stomach, at least, while listening to the beautiful sounds of elo. 

i picked up my meds and that was a bit of money... but they let me get all three of them at once which was actually good. now i don’t have to drop by again next week, which takes like 40 minutes every time i go.

then i ambled over to the group therapy place and i could tell i was gonna be real sick later. but my body had to ache for 80 minutes first. that’s how it goes.

therapy was kinda rough. i felt ill and tired and unfocused. for the first 50 minutes i barely said anything at all. i hopped in eventually saying i couldn’t get anyone to take me seriously. it’s always “you’re so cute” or “so smol” or “precious” or “honey senpai” or “you’re sweet” or “you’re such a straightedge.” 

i mean... these are from people i like. sometimes from people i don’t, but... the majority. i’m older than most people in my peer group and i’m still the “smol” one. 

i really liked peridot in steven universe. but she’s been turned into the butt of the “smol” joke too and that’s upsetting. 

too much to say about that. gotta move on.

we talked about how we all go so fast that we can’t actually process any of our emotions or reactions as we talk about our lives. i proposed that next week we spend the first 45 minutes doing nothing but crying on the floor and then the last 45 minutes actually talking. that got a good laugh out of everyone.

i mentioned it was hard for me to share reactions because i just feel nothing all the time. like my grandma died in january and it didn’t occur to me to cry about it until, like, this saturday. even then it wasn’t sobbing or anything. it was just, “oh. i’m sad now. about that.”

so i said i’d get back to the group leader with my reactions to the group next year.

it’s been... good. to talk to people my own age. who are at the same point, almost, emotionally. people who are grown ass adults and have been grown ass adults for 7+ years and who, despite having serious or absolutely devastating problems, are still doing things about it. because having depression doesn’t mean i am not doing anything about my depression. 

there were weird guys in uniform on campus today. i can’t tell if they are with our Very Special Guest who is speaking tomorrow, or if they are undercover cops. i’m guessing they were not white supremacists because there was more than one not white person with them and they looked like they were not trying to be particularly intimidating. 

gotta keep in mind that this university is spending over half a million dollars on security for this event. like eight of my students have contacted me about being unable to attend class tomorrow because the road they live on got shut down and they can’t leave.

also gotta keep in mind that they denied him entry at first (due to reasonable safety concerns) but then he sued and the state was all, “free speech is Very Important” and made them let him come and also they had to pay for everything except his rental of the building. 

ok yes free speech is very important. but also, not putting your students in danger is very important and they are legally allowed to deny speakers that they think will directly lead to violence happening.

i guess our very special guest could spend all that money he’s not using on security on lawyers instead.

anyway. i walked back to the physics department and i told myself, “i am the- i am great. i’m great at math.” and i kinda laughed at how funny the joke was.

i dunno there’s something a little dissonant about wearing a shirt that says “COOL DUDE” on it and having a low self esteem. 

it’s this one. this is the one. the shirt. this is the shirt. it says cool dude.

look ok i aspire to have half the aggressive self confidence that paps has. that is a trait i admire.

look at those dumb basketball shoulder pads. where did he get those? i love them. look how much fun he’s having.

ok anyway fashion aside. i still felt... weak and drained, when i got back to the department. i had indeed been sick after group adjourned. i had about 5 minutes before class. so i went and grabbed my notebook and sat down for class and said “i’m gonna do great” instead of telling the professor i was too sick for class. 

i tried something new. i tried listening very carefully to the lecture and only taking notes when i wanted to keep track of a definition or a term he was using. since he was mostly talking theory at this point (for once in his life) it was actually easier to follow than normal. I tried to think about what the variables meant. 

i dunno if that’ll help or not.

haha i sent an email in between writing part of this post and i was accidentally capitalizing words there for a few sentences! i had to go back and fix it to look like i’m talking quietly instead of at a normal person volume.

then i festered in the office for a little while before my classmates got out of their exam. suzanne didn’t look so good... even ioannis didn’t finish the last third of the test. basically everyone went home straight away.

EXCEPT. harrison asked why i didn’t go to krishna with him and keegan. i said “what.” 

he said he couldn’t find me so he and keegan went to krishna alone. i told him i’d been looking around for people to go for like 30 minutes before i left and that i otherwise wasn’t around much today. i asked when they went. it was shortly after i left.

so he lied to me. he didn’t even bring it up when he’d been in the office for five minutes after the test. like, “oh, hey, i changed my mind, sorry we didn’t catch you on the way out.” 

they went and did this thing i love to do with my friends without me specifically after telling me they weren’t going to do it.

i’m not mad at harrison. i didn’t even see him or know he was around, his office door had been closed. it’s never closed when he’s in. 

but like... i did tell him i was actually mad for real. i didn’t really have any way to express that though so i just said that was upsetting and then he went home. 

i don’t know what to do about that. i don’t want to be passive aggressive but if i bring it up tomorrow it’s just gonna be like, it’s not a big deal. 

it shouldn’t matter. i am capable of having a good time by myself. it’s just, it’s not what i was expecting.

aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA my face was healing so good and i accidentally scratched it and now it’s bleeding a little. i don’t know how. the scab wasn’t even there any more. ugh.

i bummed around in the office for just a little while longer, trying to set up a work dropbox so my classmates and i can quickly share notes from class. i fiddled with it until i got frustrated and tired. taylor was around so i was talking to him about how i didn’t really appreciate harrison saying stuff like “ok from now on i’m only going to believe half the things you say.” and then i got onto my health, i think, which prompted me to start talking about my heart. and then that got me onto my christian school experience so i complained about being bullied by my classmates, my classmates’ parents, and my teachers for a little bit. 

rebika came in and after a minute she said something like “i don’t like to believe what you say either, i don’t know how to react.”

and i said “yeah, bad things don’t actually happen, since you don’t want them to. it’s ok.”

she said “it’s just awkward.”

i said “that’s fair, if someone started saying the stuff i say to me i wouldn’t know how to react either.”

i biked home and i had so much trouble picking up any speed at all (even downhill, somehow) that it was kind of miserable even though the weather was nice. i could not get my legs to move any faster.

i thought about what i said. people don’t want to believe that bad things happen for real. i find myself thinking that way sometimes too. about other people. about myself. but bad things are real. they happen to real people. they could happen to me. they could happen to you. there’s horrible things happening right now to real people. statistically one unbelievably bad thing will probably happen to everyone.

i’ve just had a lot of them. so it’s hard for young people to get that i guess.

i made chili dogs for dinner because one of the internet people i talk to yesterday was talking about it and i got hungry for them. it was so good. i was up to my wrists in chili. i looked like a toddler who didn’t want to eat their baby food. i had to really struggle to, like, pick up my cup of water to take a drink with my chili hands. i don’t like touching things with gunk on my hands. or having gunk on my hands really. 

i washed everything afterward and actually put my god dang dishes in the dishwasher for the first time in like four days. and i RAN A CYCLE!!! HOLY COW!!!!!!!!!! CLEANING MONSTER

i thought about making muffins for my classmates tomorrow but, upon considering that i am very depressed right now, and also that half my classmates aren’t going to want/be able to come to campus, i have decided it might be better to save them for monday instead. thursday night i’ll be too busy studying for quantum, hopefully.

i gave jennica my toolbox since her bike fell apart and i fiddled with the dropbox for a long time. but i didn’t do any studying or grading because i’m too cool for important things like preparing for a very difficult exam i have to take in two days that i don’t like and don’t want to think about.

i uploaded all my notes so far to the database but i was too tired to label all of them so i did nothing instead.

you know. i guess there’s kind of a utility in doing nothing. i don’t know if that’s a good thing or an excuse or what. but. sometimes i feel like any activity at all can lead very quickly and very unexpectedly into “self harm” or worse territory. so i elect instead to do absolutely nothing for long periods of time. i did force myself to at least train one of my pokemon while i, i don’t know, i was barely watching the youtube videos at all. i just wanted to feel like i was accomplishing something by taking a bunch of stuff off my bookmarks because i’d technically looked at it like i wanted when i’d bookmarked it.

i know it’s not really accomplishing anything. but at least there’s less bs cluttering up my bookmarks bar so now it’s easier to see the stuff i actually did want to look at later. like kinesthetic learning strategies. 

at least my chili was really good... 

oh i figured out a way to get snoopy to stop yowling all night. besides when she hurts herself i guess. i find knots of tangled fur ripped out on the couch and the ottoman and stuff sometimes. and i find her claws on the ground in the morning sometimes. i think she splits them on accident. not sure what’s making them so brittle though.

but anyway just saying “hey snoopy” seems to calm her down a little bit. this morning while i was sleeping in i did get her to actually lay on my bed with me for a while and she seemed to like that until i shifted my weight and bumped her with my foot. but she wasn’t “MAHHHH”ing for that period of time so it’s a success!!!!

i think she’s got mats on her stomach but she won’t let me touch any of that so i can’t really try to brush anything and she just accidentally tears it out sometimes while grooming i guess. she’s only barely started letting me brush around her hips. i’m thinking about taking her somewhere to get her claws and fur trimmed and maybe her teeth cleaned and stuff but i don’t know how much it’ll cost and i don’t know who’s got people who can do cats around here. petco didn’t when we first went...

tomorrow i’m gonna go to a “wellness coaching” event that the counseling center is hosting. even if i don’t learn anything new i need to hear this stuff over and over again or i’m gonna forget it. and maybe getting some professionally-sanctioned attention will help me feel a little better by itself.

i’m kinda bummed because i had time to play with snoopy today, since i got home right before 6, but i just didn’t have any energy i guess. 

energy doesn’t seem like the right word to be using. because physically i could technically do it. there’s no sleepiness or anything keeping me from doing it. but if it occurs to me that i could be doing it my brain gives a hard “no.” kinda like with my homework situation!!!!!!!!!!!!

emotional energy? willpower? does it take willpower to NOT do things, like i kinda talked about earlier? what am i spending all my energy on?

most days i think i would explain my energy as being allocated “80% toward not killing myself, 10% toward maintaining myself/my environment, and 10% toward school because that’s all i have left.” but not killing myself isn’t necessarily an active thing i have to do at all times so maybe it’s not taking up all that mental space. i just don’t know. i mean, of course, sometimes it is, but, not always.

it’s 11:20 which is 35 minutes after my “STOP WRITING AND GO TO BED, ASSHOLE” time so i’m going to try to rest i guess. i don’t know if i can teach for four hours straight tomorrow. it’ll be a reduced class size but i still put all my attention on my students for that period of time. maybe i can kinda get them to finish early so i can go to the bathroom before the second two hours at least. guess i’ll just live with it.