#gonna screen print this one sunday

[cranity]

LEATHER BOUND: PLAYING MAY 7TH

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[lil-quinnie]

Part I Part II part IV

EXPOSED

modern!gamer!Eddie x f!reader

Warnings +18 : Sub!eddie cursing, dirty talk, grinding, soft!dom eddie at the end, daddy kink, slightly non con, rimjob, unprotected sex, cum eating, exhibitionism, little bit of degration,anal play, let me know if i forgot something.

Word count: 2065

You wake with your phone buzzing frenetically, it's almost 8 am on a sunday, who in the hell was bothering you so early? You opened your eyes slowly to adjust with the light from your cell phone screen. A thousand messages from your best friend, she sends you print screens and a part of a video. You recognize the man's arm holding still a girl, actually, holding a girl's ass up to the camera while he worked on her puckered hole. you've recognized the tattoos on Eddie's arm, the bats and the spider on his chest, you recognized the sound of your sweet moans and the dirty mouth of your boyfriend telling you obscenities while fingerfucking your asshole with mastery.

You sat at your bed, watching in replay the video over and over again, rage filling your veins, not because other people had seen your naked body, they didn't know who you are, nor how your face was. But you felt humiliated!

How could you not? A few ugly nerds watched you being a whining mess to him, like Eddie was a sex god. Of course he is, but he is not always like that dominant, a few nights he is the one crying under you, You wanna get revenge! you want everyone to know how much of a cry baby Eddie was if you pushed the right buttons, and here you are again. Teasing and being a brat while your wish-to-be-a-porn-star boyfriend was playing and streaming to his nerdy friends.

The first time you walked behind his chair, his chat exploded with lots of messages, the majority of them about how hot you are and how he got so lucky, some of them saying how amazing your ass is and they couldn't wait to see your tits too.

He didn't know that you were on that chat, and logged on to your best friend's boyfriend account. The nasty comments making your skin burn, now more than ever you want to eat Eddie alive.

Everytime you approached the computer he turned the screen off, scared about your reaction if you discovered his dirty little secret.

you stopped behind him, your hands working on the tense spot at his shoulder. You fingertips tracing lightly up on his neck, giving his hair a little tug until his face was turned to yours, his lower lips was pressed between his teeths, pleading eyes pierced on yours, you bumped his nose with yours, brushing your lips over his letting love bites on his lip.

"Morning baby boy, missed you at bed" you give him a peck on his lips before heading to the kitchen, filling two mugs with coffee.

"wow! someone woke up in a good mood today, did you enjoy yourself yesterday princess?" he smirked to the webcam, still with the tape on the red light, knowing that his chat probably blows now with the interaction.

"mhm, yeah, you was so good for me baby" you gave him his mug and put yours at his computer table "Actually, you were so good to me that i want to repay to you"

You kneeled in front him, your hands running up and down through his naked thighs until hit the hem of his boxers "wanna make you feel good, baby boy"

Your hands on his waistband pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, resting on his abdomen almost near his belly button making your mouth water. Of course you want revenge but you could do it while having a little fun.

Your fingers circling his cock at the base, giving him the pleading eyes and pouty mouth that you knew he never resisted. 

"sw-sweetheart you don't need t... oh!fuck." but you cut him putting only his pinkish tip unto your mouth, sucking and nibbling while you hands worked up and down at his heavy lenght. 

"You're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use this pretty cock?" your free hands running up his torso, pinching and twisting his nipples lightly, "gonna let mommy play?" 

you deepened your mouth, you didn't reach even the middle of it and he is already losing his shit. 

Eddie's knows his was fucked, if he doesn't let you play with him, you are gonna be sad and he hates make you sad. But if he does let you play with him, everyone is gonna know he is a simp for you.

Eddie doesn't had the chance of thinking, you are bobbing your head up and down, almost sucking every part of his fat cock, your tongue playing with his tip twirling and giving him cat licks, until the sound of pop of you letting his dick exit your mouth causing Eddie's moans.

"Use your words baby, good boys use they words and get rewarded for this" you gave his tip a kiss and your fingertips started to draw patterns on his balls "And bad boys who don't use his words, get punished baby, these are the rules" 

with your hands on his knees, you push him at the same place he put the chair on your time at the video, letting the webcam film all the mess he already is, and you didn't even touch him properly. 

You standed up, giving your audience a full view of your yet covered ass, your eyes never leave Eddie's while you've had your hair in a high bun, you undo the knot of your robe letting the thin fabric slide through your body till it hits the floor. Eddie saw your naked body, nothing covering your soft curves, your soft breast and already erect nipples, he left a little cry escapes at the sigh of your bare cunt, the sound of your voice snapping him from his trance

"I'm gonna ask you one more time, baby" your voice was soft but firm, making him shiver "You gonna let mommy play with this pretty cock of yours?"

"Yes'' He said, you could feel the brattness on his voice, you brought your hand to his neck, heavy pressing his throat making hard to him breath "Yes what?" nothing sweet about your voice now, just angry and demanding.

"Yes mo-mommy, please play with my cock" you can feel the shame on Eddie's face, he was feeling like you felt early morning, he was feeling used and horny, he needed you and needed now.

You kneeled in front of him and, putting all of him on your mouth, your nose bumping into his happy trail, he bucking his hips making you gag on his cock, you pulled over to gain some air and a string of saliva kept you both connected.

He looked at your teary eyes tracing your lips with his tip, you open your mouth giving him space to invade with his big cock, every inch he put on your mouth he whimpers and thank you

"thank you mommy, thank you so much, i'm gonna be a good boy, please, suck my cock, stop tease, please mommy"

"Spread your legs, be a good boy for me shall you?" he was gone long ago, his legs wide, hips leverage shown to the camera not just his cock, but his balls and asshole too. 

You licked a wide stripe from his asshole till the tip of his licking cock, his moans were music from your ears, striking you directly to your wet core.

"Ple-please mommy, more" he cries loud, squirming at the feeling of your tongue circling his hole "let me touch my cock, please mommy, please" you put your tongue at his hole, fucking him in and out until his crying. 

You bring your wet mouth through his mouth, kissing him,he can taste himself in your tongue, making his dick twitch. It was dirty and he loved it about you.

You kissed his neck, sucking the sensitive skin making him gasp every time your lips collided with his hot skin, your hands running at his torso, giving him light scratches, his hips rubbing at your thigh, you feeling his hard cock stain your skin with his arousal.

"Do you wanna ride mommy’s thighs?" he nodded and whined "but mommy have other plans for us baby" was voice was nothing more than soft velvet, your hands on his thigh to his knees, opening his legs one more time 

"you taste so sweet baby, can mommy eat your ass out, you can touch yourself while i do it" you licked his hole making him moan and broughting his hand to his dick, stroking it hard "yes mommy, yes, please please" 

The groans Eddie was making every time your sweet tongue hits his hole at the same time he tugs his dick sloppy, almost hitting his climax. Your tongue inside him, your hand massaging his balls and the sound of your moans drove Eddie to his orgasm, spelling his seed all over his belly and hand with a loud moan whose sound sounded more like a crying in your ears.

"What a mess you made, should mommy licked it clean?What do you think, my good boy deserved it?" you grabbed his hand near to your mouth.

"Y-yes, lick it mommy, i've been a good boy", you put one finger into your mouth, twisting your tongue licking all of his cum, you did it until eddie was clean, he was a mess under you by the time you finished, and you liked the view of him all vulnerable for you.

You stand up from your knees, sitting on his lap, head by his shoulder, face hidden on his neck, giving all the watchers a privileged view, your bare sweat breast, hard nipples because of the cold.

Eddie's hands eagerly trying to cover your naked torso, your mouth runs from his neck to his ear, you contourn it with the tip of your tongue before softly whisper

"I know you filmed me at your live yesterday, baby" , giving him a kiss on the soft spot between his ear and neck, causing goosebumps on his skin.

You took your robe from the floor and put it back, taking the coffee's mugs to the kitchen, Eddie was still gain his air back, from his orgasm, from what you just told him, pulling his boxers back, his thoughts racing at his head, made him feel anxious, he stands to walk to you but he notice the smile on your face, the way you are humming to the shitty music the neighbors was listening, the fresh hot coffee on both mugs, you were happy.

You completely forgot about the camera by the time you approach him again, handing him his fresh coffee and giving him a sweet kiss on the lips "Sorry if I was too rough with you bub, i love you". 

Eddie kisses your temple and hugged you tight, kissing all your face while your chuckled, one of his hands on your waist, his strong grip keeping you at place while he've hold his mug with his free hand, something about his manly features, his thick neck made you clench your thighs seeking for release.

"Daddy?" your sugar sweet voice, bringing a smirk too the boy's face, pulling you closer to his body, your chest pressed on his side, he could feel your nipples at his naked torso

"I've been a naughty girl daddy, i think i need to be punished" 

His hands drops to the fat of your ass, squeezing it and slapping until you was only whimpers under his hand, with a final slap he kiss your cheek

"Go to the room baby, i'm coming right after you" you rush to the bedroom screaming all the way "DON'T BE LONG DADDY, I NEED YOU TO PUNISH ME"

Eddie chuckled by himself, sitting back at his chair, he rolled the bar on the comments session, some guys saying how jealous they are, some others questioning Eddie about his fetiche. He was about to turn the live down when you came from the bedroom to the front of his webcam

"Hey, excuse me guys, now i need my boyfriend to fuck my brain out without you stalkers watching, bye" and just like that you pull the plug of the computer.

"You are a fucking brat, do you know that?" he grabbed you by the throat, nipping your neck and groping your chest "now let daddy punish his bad girl"

[talaok]

Heyy so if you're still taking requests what do you think of reader doing this tiktok trend with spencer. Lots of love<333

Disclaimer: I wrote the first part slightly drunk bc it was easter and there's only one way italians celebrate (and also only one way I was gonna survive that lunch) but I still tried my very best and loved loved loved your idea

You could feel your eyelids slowly start to give in as his fingers passed gently through your hair.

You were laid on the couch, your head in his lap as you scrolled through Tiktok while he read a book.

It had become a post-Sunday-lunch tradition at this point, you made way too much food and you both ended up comatose on the sofa.

You scrolled down, promising yourself that this was gonna be the last video before you called it quits and just took a nap, when what appeared on the screen grabbed your attention.

Suddenly, you were wide awake.

"babe," you said with a tone Spencer recognized, the one that told him you had something in mind he probably wasn't gonna want to do but would end up doing nonetheless.

"yes?"

You bit down a smirk, as you sat up "look at this" you urged, extending him your phone.

"what is it?"

"Just watch" you insisted, and he did.

"so?" you asked, once you heard the song start again.

"so... what?" Spencer asked confused

"so, we should do it" you explained plainly

"why?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes playfully "Because it's cute" you grinned, "and because I get to kiss you all over" you whispered maliciously

And just like that, his attitude changed in a split second.

You cocked an eyebrow "So what do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea" he beamed, making you laugh softly

"I'll get the lipstick"

__ __ __

"Stop moving!" you giggled, as he made you smudge for the thousand time

You were straddling his lap, trying to finish filling his face and neck with lipstick prints, but he kept smiling and laughing and the prints were becoming messier and messier.

"I'm not" he protested, laughing again, and you shook your head, following his lead.

"stay still," you said as you leaned closer to kiss his flustered cheek.

As you gave him a quick peck, you felt him returning the favor, his lips meeting your skin ever so gently.

"Spencer..." you scolded him once he did it again, this time slower, as the hands that he had on your waist started traveling downwards, caressing your thighs.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be kissing you" you reminded him.

"well I don't think that's fair" he smirked, kissing you again, this time just below your ear.

You chuckled softly, your task momentarily forgotten as he kissed you again and again

"stop" you smiled "We have a video to shoot"

"mm" he mumbled against your skin, "we can do that later"

"no, we can't," you said, leaning away and earning a low whine from him.

"just let me finish this and then you can kiss me however you want" You smiled, kissing his mouth.

"deal?"

"deal"

[thefloatingstone]

My gaming laptop (which was a gift from a dear friend) has had its screen die on me because I had the audacity of hitting "print screen" to take a picture of Gale.

The entire screen got a purple filter to it making it painful to look at. And as I was googling ways to try and fix it, the firefox window started burning into the monitor within like 5 minutes.

I plugged in my display tablet and it displays perfectly with no problems, so it's not the graphics card but the physical screen itself. Or at least some connection between the physical screen and graphics card.

Considering this laptop's keyboard doesn't work, trackpad doesn't work, wifi doesn't work and one vent doesn't work, I think this might have to be it for the poor thing. It was a gift from my friend overseas which is what makes me the saddest. But it got me through the entire Mass Effect trilogy as well as 150+ hours of Baldur's Gate 3. and made me very happy for how long I had it.

I am going to go to a computer place on Monday and see between it an another old laptop I have if we can cannabalise it and get a new 2nd hand machine up and running for me. So that in death it may serve me one last time.

But this means this weekend which I was planning to play a shit ton of BG3, that is now not going to happen as my work laptop doesn't have the specs for it.

It just means I'm gonna have a very boring Sunday, yearning for squid.

(as if I don't have books or movies or other things to do).

[khaleesa]

141. “Tell me what you want.”

You have no idea how tempted I was to write a 90s AU for this one with Chrissy listening to the Spice Girls. I hope this is a better alternative! Unbetaed, so as to surprise you. 💗

~*~

What a Girl Wants

"Okay, Cunningham," Eddie called from the hallway, "how do you wanna--?" 

The question died as he halted in his tracks just inside the open bedroom door. One hand fumbled for the door frame because he suddenly felt weak in the knees, like the muscles and tendons and bones and shit had turned to goo, unable to support his weight. He couldn't breathe, his heart slamming around too fast in his chest for his lungs to work. His face felt really hot, too. Jesus Christ, was he about to fucking swoon? 

Well I do declare, could somebody please pass the smelling salts? Because Chrissy Cunningham was in his bedroom, perched at the end of his bed, wearing a nightgown.

Nightshirt? It was more like a really huge blue t-shirt that fell to her knees. Each of the elbow length sleeves was encircled with broad white stripes--like a football jersey. (Unfortunately, Eddie knew more than he wanted to about football; Wayne didn't allow the TV to be set to anything else on Sunday afternoons, even though he mostly napped through games.) A big, white number 7 was screen printed across the front of Chrissy's nightshirt, between the two perky humps of her boobs. 

She, uh, wasn't wearing a bra. Eddie didn't need a high school diploma to know that. Those nips didn't lie. 

His face was so. hot. It was all he could do not to fan himself with his free hand. But that would freak her out, right? He dropped his gaze to her feet. The thick, slouchy tube socks made her strong, slender legs look even shaplier. Shit, this was not helping. 

"Eddie?" 

His eyes snapped back up to Chrissy's face. Her skin was pink and glowing from her shower, makeup scrubbed off, and her hair, still a little damp, fell over her shoulders in waves that glowed sunset gold in the lamplight. Holy hell, she was gorgeous. And alive. And staying with him. Because, apparently, she felt safer and happier in a dumpy Forest Hills trailer than in her parents' big swanky house in Loch Nora. 

Apparently, she liked him. 

Eddie swallowed and croaked, like he'd slipped back in time to puberty, "Uh, yeah, Chrissy?"

"What were you saying?"

What was he saying? Hell if he knew. He'd be lucky to remember his own goddamn name with those big blue-gray eyes of her gazing up at him from his bed. 

(Eddie. His name was Eddie. Short for Edward James Munson.)

And he also remembered what he'd come in here to say. 

"Oh. Yeah." He slapped the door frame and stepped fully into the bedroom. "I was just gonna ask about, you know, uh…" His hand went up to scrunch his hair in back. "...sleeping arrangements." 

Chrissy's eyes got even bigger. "Sleeping arrangements?" she squeaked. 

"Yeah, like…" Eddie jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I can take the couch." 

"I can take the couch!" Chrissy hopped to her feet, more eagerly than Eddie would've hoped for--but this was, after all, why he'd brought it up. 

Trying not to sound as crestfallen as he felt, he asked, "Uh, what kind of shitty host do you think I am, making a guest sleep on the couch?" 

Not that he hadn't made guests sleep on the couch--on the rare occasion he had them. But usually that was just the guys crashing after too many beers and too much weed. No one who required red carpet treatment.

"And what kind of crappy guest do you think I am, making the host give up his bed?" Chrissy retorted. "You're taller than me, Eddie, you'll get a sore neck if you sleep on the couch."

"The lady is as benevolent as she is beautiful, but I won't allow it." He went on, over Chrissy's protest, "Uncle Wayne gets home, at like, three a.m. You'd only get a couple hours' sleep." 

"Oh." Chrissy's brow furrowed, and her full lips pursed. Just when Eddie thought she was going to concede, she said, "But that means you won't get enough sleep, either."

"Well." He wracked his brain for an argument, but he had nothing. "That's true." 

For a moment they stared at each other, Chrissy's eyes wide and imploring, lips parted as if words were about to leap off her tongue, then she huffed out a sigh and glanced toward the closet door. 

"Do you have any extra blankets?" she asked. "I can make a little pallet on the floor here, and you can sleep on the bed."

"Or I can sleep on the floor, while you take the bed. 

Eddie pictured himself curled up against the end of the mattress--a loyal pooch at his mistress' feet. Or a guard dog. Yeah, that seemed about right. But Chrissy's face looked like she disagreed.

Now it was Eddie who sighed, holding out his hands, palms up.  "Please, Princess, I'm trying to be a gentleman here. Can you just let--Wait." He shook his head as his brain stumbled backward to the last thing she'd said, then blinked at her, comprehension dawning. "You mean you're cool with me sleeping in the same room as you?"

Was that a blush creeping across her cheeks as she nodded, not quite meeting his eye and catching her bottom lip between her teeth? (He wished those were his teeth sinking into that sweet, supple flesh.)

"I didn't think you wanted to sleep in the same room as me," Chrissy said, in the surprised hush that had gotten under his skin that day in the woods where all this began. "You were so insistent about the couch." 

Well who'd a thunk chivalry would bite Eddie in the ass? "I only meant I would if you wanted me to."

"I don't want you to."

"And you don't want to sleep on the couch." 

Chrissy looked down. Eddie could see the curl of her long golden lashes against the delicate, faintly purplish skin below her eyes. "Not really. No." 

"Do you want to sleep on the floor?" 

Chrissy's fingers picked at the fabric of her nightshirt. "Well…no."

"That's two votes in favor of Chrissy not sleeping on this cesspit of a floor." 

Her gaze darted up to his, before immediately dropping back to her hands. "I don't want you to either."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and Eddie once again felt hot and mushy, like he was boiling from the inside and would just melt at Chrissy's feet. But while he thought he might have an idea of what she was trying to say, it was just too absofuckinglutely bananas to believe. It was probably just what he hoped she was trying to say. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions and make this more awkward than it already was. 

Still, they were getting nowhere by beating around the bush. (He should not think about bushes.)

Eddie blurted out, "Well, where do you want me to sleep?"

Now there was no denying that Chrissy was blushing as she stared steadfastly down at her feet, which were curling into the carpet. 

"Chrissy. Tell me what you want." 

This time, when she raised her eyes to meet his, her gaze held. She rolled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and said in the steady tone that had won her the position of Head Cheerleader--and that had told Vecna to go to hell, "I want you to sleep in the bed. With me. But…" Here, she faltered a little. "But only if…you want to sleep in the bed. With me." 

Eddie basically did swoon then, flopping backward onto the bed. Over Chrissy's laughter, he said, "Sweetheart! That's what I've wanted this whole freaking time! But I didn't, uh, want to make assumptions. I make a big enough ass of myself without their help." 

He reached out, and Chrissy placed her hand in his as she knelt beside him on the mattress. "I didn't want you to think I'm…I don't know…fast?" 

"Hmm…" Eddie rolled onto his side and drew her hand to his lips, pressing a smacking kiss to the back of it. "We've been hanging out for less than a week, and here you are asking me to sleep with you. There are those who might call that fast." 

Although Chrissy's cheeks flushed again, her grip tightened on his hand as she lowered herself onto her side facing him.

"Last week felt awfully long to me," she said.

Eddie scuffed his thumb across the ridges of her knuckles. "Yeah. It sure as fuck did." 

Yet it had brought them to now. He wasn't sure how much time passed with them lying hand-in-hand, face-to-face in his bed, but it was long enough that Chrissy started to yawn. Eddie leaned in to kiss her drooping eyelids. 

"I swear, I'll be a gentleman," he murmured, still conscious that there were still aspects of their sleeping arrangement that they hadn't worked out. Such as, what did she want him to wear to bed? And was she okay with cuddling? Big spoon or little spoon? "I don't expect you to…You know." 

It was Eddie who bit down on his lower lip. Chrissy tilted her head and pressed her lips to it. 

"What if I expect you to…You know?" she asked.

Eddie's heart was beating so hard he was pretty sure it had collapsed a lung. His head swam. This was like being high. Better. "You wouldn't happen to have any smelling salts on you, would you, Miss?" 

Chrissy giggled. 'What?"

"It's a good thing I'm already lying down, is all I'm saying." Eddie shifted on his pillow to meet her eye. "Just tell me what you want, Chrissy, and I'll do it. Anything."

"Right now," Chrissy said, pressing herself against his chest and tucking her head under his chin, "I want you to put your arms around me." 

So Eddie did. 

150 Random Writing Prompts

[morgbin]

Monday 10/7 (Inspection Day)

On Sunday night around 8pm, we got an email from Mom explaining how the logistics on inspection day were going to work. Everything was as I expected but it was good to get it explicitly written out. The busses were gonna leave from Gerlach and the Ranch at the usual time, roll call at 8:30, and the inspection starts at 9. We should pack a lunch, but the "Purple People Feeder" would be out with a "special surprise." There were 10 Team Captains that Mom selected who would be leading each inspection team. And we could hope to be done by about 1pm.

On Monday morning, King Louie lamented that "everything had been packed up already" which meant there was no printer to print out the role call sheet, and we did it with the stacks of time cards instead. He got to the end without having called my name (plus several others) and I shout-whispered "Say Diesel!!!" which he did, and I shouted "DEEZ NUTS" - which put the kibosh on that one and he told the rest of the folks whose names hadn't been called to come over to Mom and have her write our names down. It turned out to be mostly the people who were out there as volunteers. I was surprised at the number of other people who had been out there the whole season as volunteers as well.

DA had some people hold up the map like usual and he plus some others gave us a pep talk.

When you walk the circle, you're going to find stuff. That doesn't mean you didn't do your job. Your job was to get 75% of the stuff, and the big stuff that would fail us.

the closure order ended a week ago. People have been camping out here. If you find some big stuff - like we found a BBQ grill this morning in an area y'all definitely walked through earlier - just call DA on the radio. We won't be judged on that sort of thing.

We're only judged on the surface area of the moop we find. If we find something deeply buried, take a picture of it before pulling it out of the ground. if we find a wadded up ball of paper, don't un-wad it.

Rocks don't count, *unless* they're bigger than 2" across

Don't stress too much about extra playa left on stuff. The BLM will run everything though a strainer later and then take pictures against a green screen and use pixel analysis to determine the actual percentage of moop left behind.

In addition to the 120 random points that we're judged on, there are 6 "points of interest" which are measured and tracked every year, for...vague statistical purposes. Those points are: The Temple, The Man, HEAT, The DPW Depot, USS, and Shoreline (also referred to as the JOC)

Today, we are all representatives of burning man. This might be the only contact that any of these BLM agents/volunteers ever have with Burning Man. Do a good job representing the org. If the BLM person you're with is a geology nerd, let them tell you all about the Black Rock Desert. If they're a No Nonsense Guy, then meet their business attitude and Get It Done. If they're curious about the event, share your best stories.

One verbal quirk I haven't observed before: When someone started saying something slightly inaccurate, DA butted in by saying "Exit. Can I double hands that?"

Then, the 10 previously selected Team Captains lined up, and there was a scramble for the rest of us to join a crew. Our crew ended up with one too many people and an awkward moment soliciting a volunteer to join a different group. But once all the teams had the right number of people (7, including the team captain), we all got into DPW fleet vehicles and headed out to do our inspections. Our crew of 8 immediately hopped in the nicest truck and some of us got into the bed of the truck, the rest of the crews did the same. Then our group was told no, we needed to switch vehicles so we ended up in one without a bed and I climbed in and out of the hatchback all day and sat in the trunk.

We received a map with all 120 points labeled, plus a list of 13 points that we were to survey There are 4 zones: Open Playa, City Grid, Walk-In Camping, and Other, labeled with initials and numbers like: OP-01, CG-001, WIC-01, O-01. We were assigned an area near 8:00&K, with some Other points and some City Grid points.

This is the map from 2023, this year's was similar.

We arrived at the first point and met up with our BLM representative, driving her own vehicle. She appeared to be a woman in her mid 20s, with a not-exactly-a-pixie-cut and wearing work pants. She introduced herself as Brandy. She said she was a "Hydro Intern" this summer and was only told she'd need to do this task sometime last week. We stood around in awkward silence as she fumbled to get the stake hammered into the ground, then she pulled the rope taut and walked in a brisk circle. There were a couple pieces of moop on the ground that we put into the ziplock bag, handed to Brandy, and then Brandy and Muppet had a conversation to decide which point to go to next. We got in the car and followed Brandy as she drove past the point they had decided to a different point that we were also assigned. As everyone in the car was saying "what is she doing?" "where's she going" etc, I thought it might be a good idea to ask pronouns during the next inspection point. We stopped the car, got out, and met Brandy at the point. She produced the ziplock bag labeled with the point that we had meant to go to, realized her mistake, and went back to the car to get the correct bag. Once we were set up along the taut string, someone suggested that we go a bit slower this time. Brandy agreed but gave the string to one of us and said she would just watch and have one of us set the pace. As far as I understand it, the BLM representative is meant to hold the string to set the pace as a way for the BLM to ensure the inspection is done thoroughly. it felt a little transgressive and exciting that she had abdicated this responsibility, but I think the inspection was done *more* thoroughly because of it - the rest of us had all participated in the test team inspections throughout Resto, and walked much more slowly than Brandy did on her first go-round.

during this test point, I tried to engage Brandy in some conversation. I asked her about her internship (walking through muddy streams and cataloging species of grasses) and her plans after the internship (dunno, will go wherever the wind blows). After we finished the circle and most of the group had walked away I asked "what are your pronouns, by the way," and the response was seeming puzzlement and "she, her, whatever." so, my previous read was just wishful thinking, alas.

At one of the points we did, we found a tent stake stuck so deep that we needed to call DA to come get it out with tools, but other than that they were all *really* clean. We asked Brandy to tell us water facts, and Shouting regailed us with whale facts, and for our final test point we decided we should subject Brandy to some meltdown music. So everyone queued up The Spark (that Irish kids song that went viral on tiktok this summer) and pressed play on our phones at the same time. We all had different crossfade settings on Spotify though, so by the third repeat we were wildly out of sync.

We had to hand off three of our points to another team that was chugging along a lot faster than we were, but then after we were done, we all headed to center camp for lunch.

The purple people feeder was indeed out there for lunch, but instead of tacos like usual, it was chili dogs (chili dog song). We all joked about how messy of a food it was to serve on inspection day, and sang along to the chili dog song and compared notes. It seemed like every team had a similar experience to us - no obviously failing spots, *maybe* one borderline spot. The mood was high. We did timesheets. One guy started a bizarre ritual he called "sink the Barbie" which was kinda like bobbing for apples but with Barbie dolls, chanting, and cult vibes.

The team leads had a huddle with DA where I presume they compared notes on the test points. although the official word won't come for months, it was clear by this point that we had passed without question.

after an hour or so of cheerful chatting, eating, and silliness, we got on our buses and headed back to town.

I packed up my stuff into the two 27 gallon totes I had, and loaded up my car. it was about 1:00 p.m., and I was hoping to leave gurlock before sunset. I sat outside the saloon and waited for Riley and Willoh. they had been talking about getting a tattoo from me - they wanted now written on their wrist where their watch would go. While I was setting up, a couple more people said they wanted a tattoo which I was super down for. I was running really low on alcohol swabs at this point though so I told Be Nasty that if she found me a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I would do hers, and thankfully she did!

After I did a few pokes on Riley, they seemed up for doing the rest themselves, and Willoh was already keen on doing theirs theirself. So I was able to do two more, including my favorite stick n poke job I've done so far on Be Nasty.

Since I was still around when the dining hall opened, I had one last meal there, then did my last stick n poke on Deadliest Threesome before heading out.

I made it to the Motel 6 in Klamath Falls and stayed the night, then got up in the morning and did the rest of the drive home listening to my Meltdown song playlist and trying to memorize Weird Al's "Albuquerque."

[anitosoul]

tripreport.012: Receptors

drench me in serotonin!! 🎊

Key Inspirations:

@afffirmations (Instagram Account)

Massage Chairs (Activity)

House music (Genre)

Jayda G – “Both of Us” (Song)

How To with John Wilson (TV Show)

Boiler Room – Streaming From Isolation (Music)

Watching DJ sets on YouTube (Activity)

Getting vaccinated (Activity)

Working outside (Activity)

Bringing someone flowers (Activity)

House parties with your closest friends (Activity)

Mix-Tape Exhibit at Factory Obscura OKC (Activity)

Hyperpop (Music Genre)

Receptors Tracklist A-Side

Jamie xx, Young Thug, Popcaan – I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times)

Rihanna – Kiss It Better (KAYTRANADA Remix)

SG Lewis, Robyn, Channel Tres – Impact

Deaton Chris Anthony, Clairo, Coco & Clair Clair – RACECAR

Calvin Harris, Frank Ocean, Migos – Slide

SZA, Calvin Harris – The Weekend (Funk Wav Bounce Remix)

Jessie Ware – Soul Control

Roisin Murphy – Murphy’s Law

Peggy Gou – Starry Night

Yaeji – Raingurl

Jayda G – Both of Us

Park Hye Jin – Beautiful

Receptors Tracklist B-Side

Kanye West – Fade

Love Regenerator, Steve Lacy – Live Without Your Love

Tame Impala – Glitter

Caribou – Never Come Back

Drake – Nice For What

Shygirl – TASTY

Dua Lipa – Don’t Start Now

Ty Dolla $ign, FKA twigs, Skrillex, Kanye West – Ego Death

Danny L Harle – 1UL

food house, Gupi, Fraxiom – Thos Moser

Charli XCX – Focus

DJ Koze – Pick Up

In early 2021, one of my new lockdown hobbies was watching DJ sets on YouTube as a way of recreating the energy of the club. When I first moved to NYC, my tastes opened up to dance music as I gained exposure to rave culture. I remember the first time I went to a Mister Sunday party at Nowadays in October of 2019 when my friend Holden invited me to check it out–it was a grey, dreary day, and I’ll never forget walking through Green-Wood Cemetery to get there. I was already in a weird headspace dealing with some mistakes I made earlier that weekend, but I figured at the very least I’d go to hang out and vibe to music. That Mister Sunday was the first time I realized the magic of the club as a healing space. On the dance floor, my only focus was on moving my body and experiencing the music. I was able to process my thoughts and feelings in a way that was indescribable. I recently read an article about this concept, which is called Dance Movement Therapy, which I recommend if you’re interested to learn more.

One of the major aspects of life that I missed from during lockdown was seeing live music, especially in a club setting. I would watch Kaytranada and Yaeji Boiler Room sets and fantasize about seeing them in a dark, sweaty club somewhere in Bushwick. Being in that atmosphere and dancing with friends was one of the few things I was genuinely looking forward to, and when the vaccines became available, that possibility became real again.

After a year of socializing almost exclusively through a screen, the prospect of being able to hang out in-person was unbearably exciting. When my friends and I were all vaccinated, a few of us decided to get together and have our first proper party in a year: we hung out all night at a friend’s house, listening to music and dancing. It was the most fun we’d had in so long, so we decided to make it a full-fledged party and ran it back later that month. We invited more friends and had each person send three songs for a mega playlist so everyone would hear songs they love. We themed the party after the @afffirmations instagram page, posting print-outs of the images all over the house. We even had a massage chair and everything. It was all about good vibes: it was simultaneously a commemoration of the year we all went through and a celebration of the possibilities of the future. It was an acknowledgement that this new beginning could only come after the difficulties of the past year. For me, it was also a goodbye to the period of my life I spent building the cabin and living in Tulsa again. If this month was a tarot card, it would be the Tower: an ultimate release of all of the pent-up energy from a year of minimal socialization through reconnection with my best friends. 

Each song on this mix simply makes me feel good. I’d listen to these tracks when I needed energy on a run or just as a mood booster. Looking back at this month, it’s cool to see that this foreshadowed my eventual foray into DJing. I had no idea at the time, but this was the beginning of my progression from making playlists for a house party with my closest friends to eventually crafting DJ sets for events that I co-programmed with friends in NYC. I guess those affirmations actually worked!

[mieohmy]

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au,  this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end. 

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out. 

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm. 

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and- 

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already. 

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible. 

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today? 

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it. 

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat. 

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.” 

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone. 

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm. 

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day. 

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?” 

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen. 

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously. 

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information  -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.” 

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him. 

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again. 

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding. 

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.” 

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?” 

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“ 

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled. 

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter. 

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky. 

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off.  Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.” 

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”  

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him. 

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. 

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.” 

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go. 

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body. 

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully. 

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.” 

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you. 

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.” 

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too. 

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.” 

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face. 

You raise an eyebrow, confused. 

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor. 

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”  

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend. 

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around. 

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Three (Harry Styles)

a/n: part 3 wohoo! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, it keeps me going and writing more and more! originally i thought it would turn out to be about three parts, but it has outgrown that limit so i added two more parts to the masterpost, that’s for sure is gonna happen but i might even add more?! not sure, im still in the writing process so i can’t tell how long it’s going to turn out to be, but this just means even more content for you guys!

as always, feedback is very much appreciated, please make sure to share your thoughts and comments on the part, it’s such a huge boost for writers to read what you thought!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

When you were working at the daycare you couldn’t focus on photography as much as you would have liked to. You often had to stay in for extra hours, wait until the last kid was picked up and then do paperwork, or change the decoration in your room or whatever Clair asked you to do that day. By the time you got home you just wanted to take a bath and fall into bed. You also had to travel 40 minutes to work which took away a lot of time from your day.

Working for Harry helped you immensely with focusing more on your passion. Even on his worse days he got home by six and since your workplace is your home, you don’t even have to drive forty minutes to enjoy the comfort of your home, you just walk up the stairs to your room and that’s it.

In addition, taking care of Izzy, you still have the chance to work on some editing or snap new pictures. You have time off when she has her classes and when you put her down for her nap. The best thing is that Izzy is quite interested in photography, she gets very interested whenever she sees you bring out one of your cameras and she always lets you take pictures of her, posing and goofing around. The folder on your computer that has her name is growing each day with more and more sweet photos of the little girl that has completely stolen your heart. You’ve been regularly getting your favorites shots of her printed and you always leave them on Harry’s desk so when he gets home he sees them and they make him forget about whatever happened at work that day.

You are getting more and more emails about possible sessions and slowly but surely, your weekends start to fill up with weddings, birthday parties and engagement photoshoots. It seems like you have definitely made the right choice when you took this job. No doubts.

“Can I ask a question, daddy?” Izzy is poking the peas around on her plate as the four of you sit at the dining table at dinner. Ruth has joined you today, because Harry had to make a quick trip to his office in the afternoon and you were out shopping with Trevor today.

“Sure, baby,” Harry hums nodding.

“Why don’t you eat meat?” she asks seriously, eyeing her own plate that has some chicken on it, while Harry’s is only stacked with veggies and potatoes.

“Because I decided that I won’t want to.”

“Can I decide that too?”

“You’re a little too young for that, baby. You need the meat to grow big. When you’re older you can think about what kind of things you want to and don’t want to eat.”

“Okay,” she nods without throwing a tantrum about her dad telling her no. You know quite a few kids who would have flipped over it, but not Izzy. Harry might not even realize how good of a job he is doing raising her and teaching her how to be a good human.

“I have another question,” she announces, glancing up at Harry.

“Go ahead.”

“If you don’t eat meat, does that make you an herbivore?”

You can’t push down a chuckle, you were not expecting this. Your eyes meet Ruth’s over the table, she is enjoying this conversation just as much as you do. It’s cute how Izzy put two and two together and made a seemingly logical conclusion.

“We learned about herbivore dinosaurs this week,” you inform Harry, who is a little lost about why his daughter just called him an herbivore. Also, you’re quite impressed that she remembered the word, though she struggled with it at first, but it seems like it finally stuck.

Harry shakes his head chuckling as he sets his fork down, looking over at Izzy.

“In a way I should be called an herbivore, but that’s not what you call people who don’t eat meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh, okay,” she nods, wrapping up the information in her head as she keeps eating.

You and Ruth clean up after dinner while Harry gives Izzy a bath, a little earlier than usually, because she spilled apple juice on herself, so he decided to just go straight for the bath instead of changing once more before bedtime.

“Will you be fine with putting these away, Darling?” Ruth asks as you’re drying the last few dishes.

“Sure! I’ll take care of it,” you smile back at her as she nods and heads into the living room.

Harry emerges from upstairs with a freshly cleaned Izzy on his arms. As soon as her little feet touch the floor she bolts over to join Ruth in front of the TV while Harry walks into the kitchen just as you put the last dish away.

“Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts and suddenly, you feel your stomach drop, especially because his face seems very serious.

“Oh God, what did I do?” you ask, feeling yourself panicking already.

“Nothing! It’s not like that!” he chuckles softly, realizing you kind of misunderstood the situation.

“Okay, good. Sorry, you just looked so serious.”

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. So two friends of mine that I work together with also are getting married soon. They had a photographer booked already, but the guy cancelled on them and, um, I hope you don’t mind, but I recommended you to them.”

“Really?” you ask in complete surprise.

“Yeah. Actually, they saw a picture of Izzy that you took in my office and we started talking about how you do photoshoots in your free time and then I told them to ask if you’d be up to do their wedding as well.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you, Harry. Thank you!”

“I gave them your number, they’ll probably call you sometime next week or so.”

“Great!” you beam, excited about the new event you can work at. “I hope they’ll want to work with me.”

“I kind of hyped you up for them and they seemed very pleased with the pictures I showed them, so I’m sure they will want to,” Harry chuckles softly, even blushing a little. It always amazes you how a tall, muscular guy with so many tattoos can be such a soft, caring and loving person. It always reminds you not to judge the book by its cover.

“Thank you, Harry. This means a lot to me.” Reaching over you place your hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze before moving past him to join Ruth and Izzy in the living room.

Harry was right about Sarah and Mitch being all excited to get in contact with you, because they don’t even wait for the next week to reach out. Sunday afternoon you are working on some more editing at the dining table while Harry and Izzy are painting on the other end of the table, busy with their masterpieces when your phone starts ringing, an unknown number shown on the screen.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answer it, leaning back in your seat.

“Y/N, hi! My name is Sarah Jones, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, Harry gave me your number this week.”

“Oh! Sarah, yeah! So nice to talk to you!” you beam and Harry’s eyes snap up to you at the mentioning of the familiar name. “Harry mentioned you’d reach out and don’t worry, I’m happy to chat.”

“That’s great. I wanted to wait until Monday, but truth is that we are kind of in a short of time and I was afraid you’d be already busy for our date, so I wanted to call you as soon as possible.”

“No worries.”

“So first and foremost, I’m gonna ask if you have anything planned on the last weekend of May. I know it’s just in a few weeks, but I really hope we can work it out.”

“Let me pull up my calendar,” you tell her as you open up the app on your computer that you use to keep track with your sessions and events. Finding the weekend in question in it, you smile at the empty space. “Good news, seems like I’m free that weekend.”

“Oh thank God!” she breathes out in relief and you let out a chuckle. “That’s so amazing. So then would it be possible to meet up sometime next week? You could show some more works of yours and we can discuss more details, how does that sound?”

“This week? Well I have to work—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.

“Come into the office tomorrow morning.” “What?”

“Put her on speaker,” he smiles nodding towards your phone and you do as he asked, setting it to the table with Sarah on speaker. “Hey Sarah!”

“Harry, hi!”

“Aunt Sarah?” Izzy’s ears perk up, some pink paint on her cheeks that you have no idea how it got there, because her painting doesn’t even have any pink in it.

“Hi Izzy! So good to hear your voice!” she chuckles through the phone.

“Sarah, you’re gonna be at the studio Monday morning, right?” Harry asks and you can’t not notice how his voice changed the slightest bit as soon as he started talking about business.

“Yeah and Mitch is coming too,” she confirms.

“Okay then how about you come in tomorrow morning, Y/N?”

“But what about Izzy?”

“She can come too. I’ll look after her while you discuss the details, it’s no big deal. It’s been a while since the last time she came to work with me,” he smirks over at the little girl, who is already excited to spend some more time with her daddy at his workplace.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling.

“Thank you, well then I’m okay with tomorrow if it’s fine for you as well, Sarah.”

“That would be perfect! Thank you guys both, Mitch and I really appreciate it.”

“No worries,” Harry nods, going back to his painting. You take Sarah off the phone as you say your goodbye before ending the call.

You start Monday off with some extra excitement. Not just because you are about to get booked for another event, but also because it’s going to be the first time you see Harry at his workplace. He has been quite good at keeping his business separated from his private life, it never really happens that you catch him dwell about anything work related whenever he is home and around Izzy. The phone call with Sarah was like a tiny glimpse of what he might be like when he is in work mode and you’re kind of curious to see more of this side of him.

Just as usual, Harry takes care of Izzy in the morning while you get ready on your own. You want to look good, not only are you going to meet more of his friends, but people he works with. Or should you say, people who work for him.

You choose a light pink dress, throwing a white knitted sweater over your shoulders with a pair of ballerinas. After putting on some light makeup and grabbing your purse and laptop you head downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. Izzy is already sitting at the table, still in her pajamas since her and food are a dangerous combination and Harry always makes sure to get her dressed once she is away from all of that.

“You look so pretty, Y/N!” she beams, her legs dangling from the chair as she digs into her oatmeal. Harry appears from the kitchen and he has the same look on his face like when he saw you leave for that wedding a while ago. A blush paints his cheeks as he slows his steps down, his eyes running down on the length of your body before they return to your face.

“Izzy is right, you look… really pretty, Y/N,” he compliments into your face, unlike last time when you only heard him call you pretty when he thought you were long gone.

“Thank you,” you breathe out with a soft chuckle.

The morning carries on as usual, Harry dresses Izzy for the day and then you all head out, however you stop short upon seeing the various cars parked on the driveway and the double garage.

“Maybe take the Rover, it’s got the child seat in it and I’ll take the Jaguar today,” Harry suggests as he hands you over the keys to the Rover and then nears the car he is taking for the day.

“Oh yeah, you just take the Jaguar, boss,” you chuckle under your breath, finding it a little funny that deciding on which car you’re taking for the day is even a question in someone else’s life.

Izzy sings along the radio as you follow Harry’s car into the label’s building. Of course, it’s not just some simple office building, it’s situated in the riches area of the city and the building is massive with loads of floors and a huge HES Records sign above the entrance where you meet Harry after parking down.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles! Hello, Izzy!” the woman behind the front desk smiles widely immediately, standing up from her chair to hand Harry a stack of envelopes. “Your post, sir.”

“Thank you, Veronica. Have a nice day,” Harry nods in her way as the three of you move through the hall to the elevators. Waiting for it to arrive, you glance at the board on the wall that lists everything you can find in the building and the level you should look for it at. There are endless amount of studios, at least three on each levels, offices, creative rooms and conference rooms. It’s pretty clear that HES Records manages a lot of talents and that requires a lot of space.

Arriving to the twentieth floor, which is of course the top of the building, you are in awe as you realize that the whole floor is basically Harry’s office. There’s a kind of hall area for his two assistants, he has his own conference room, his kitchen and dining area and of course, his office space. The whole place screams power and influence. The modern design of the interior makes it such a fancy work space not just for him, but for everyone else in the building. It’s truly impressive.

“Wow, Harry. This place is… amazing,” you breathe out as he walks the two of you into the conference room where Izzy immediately climbs up to one of the chairs, standing up so she can lean onto the table. Harry walks behind her and adjusts her so she just sits before she could fall off.

“Thank you. I really like this place too. I always thought it’s important to have a great place to work at,” he smiles, clearly proud of how far his business has come. “There’s a mini fridge over there, feel free to take anything you’d like. Sarah texted me on the way here that they’ll be here shortly.”

“Great, thank you,” you nod, taking a seat next to Izzy as you set your laptop up. The glass door of the room opens and one of the assistants peeks inside.

“Mr. Styles, Mrs. Wonstein is on the phone asking for you.”

“Oh, alright, give me a minute and I’ll take it.” The assistant nods and walks out. “Izzy, come with daddy a little, alright? Let Y/N do her thing.” “She can stay, if you want. I can look after her,” you tell him, but he shakes his head as Izzy climbs off the chair and running over to him, she takes his hand.

“No, just focus on this one. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Harry,” you smile with gratitude as the two of them walk out, leaving you alone. You start scrolling through your folders, wondering which photos you should show Sarah and Mitch, picking out some of your favorites while you wait for them, though they don’t take too long to arrive. Soon enough the glass door opens and the lovely couple walks in.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Sarah greets you, wrapping you in a warm hug before stepping aside.

“Hi, I’m Mitch, nice to meet you,” the groom-to-be smiles shyly as he pulls you in for a short hug as well.

“Good to meet you guys too,” you smile back at them as you all sit to the table.

“Thank you so much for meeting us in such a short notice. Our photographer bailed out on us and I was starting to really worry when Harry mentioned that you are doing this kind of stuff in your free time,” Sarah explains.

“No worries. Would you like to go over some of my previous works?” you offer and they both nod in excitement before you start clicking through some old projects.

They share their vision for the whole wedding and the kind of pictures they would like and you like their approach and feel like it’s right up your alley. They both seem to like what you show them and Sarah compliments on how well you are able to catch small, but important moments.

“The wedding won’t be too big, just friends and family, but we do want a lot of memories, it means a lot to us,” Sarah explains and you nod, noting everything she says.

“Harry said you like this oldschool kind of vibe in your pictures,” Mitch chimes in.

“Oh, yeah. I like to make them look like they weren’t taken on a digital sometimes.”

“Do you think you can make some of those for us as well? Not all of them, just a couple,” Sarah asks.

“Sure! It’s more about the editing process, but it’s totally doable.”

You go over a few more things, making sure you’re on the same page, but you feel like things are working out perfectly. Though you guessed they would be great people, it’s still nice to work with such a nice and professional couple. You’ve had some crazy ones before, they definitely don’t make the job easy on you, but it’s not the case right now.

“Okay, so are you sure the date is okay for you? We wouldn’t want you to cancel on anything you had before just because we are Harry’s friends,” Mitch assures you, but you give them a warm smile.

“I’m totally free, don’t worry. Harry doesn’t have that kind of advantage here,” you chuckle softly.

“Thank you so much in this case. You’re truly a lifesaver,” Sarah breathes out in relief.

“Thank you for the trust. I’m really looking forward to working with you guys!”

Finishing up the meeting you pack up, chatting a little out of the business talk with Sarah and Mitch as you head over to Harry’s office.

“Hey! How did it go?” Harry asks as soon as the three of you walk in. Izzy is sitting at his desk, like a little boss, coloring something as he is sitting on the corner of the desk.

“Amazing, we owe you one for suggesting her,” Sarah sighs and you can’t help but just chuckle at how thankful she really is that you could help them out.

“You owe me no more than just one dance at the wedding,” Harry smiles at her.

“Can I dance too?” Izzy’s head perks up.

“Oh baby, you’re not coming to the wedding. You’ll be staying with Grandma, I already told you.” Izzy pouts at her dad, but she doesn’t seem to mind it that much, she quickly goes back to coloring.

“We’ll dance some other time, okay?” Sarah offers her and she nods happily.

“Can I dance with Uncle Mitch too?” she questions and Mitch just smiles down at her.

“Of course,” he hums, curling an arm around Sarah’s waist. “I have a meeting in ten so I’ll head out, I’m gonna pick James up in the afternoon, alright?” He kisses Sarah’s temple before pulling Harry into a brotherly hug. “Y/N, it was so nice to meet you and thank you for everything again,” he smiles at you, enveloping you in a quick hug as well.

“See you soon,” you smile back before he waves his last goodbye and leaves. “Who’s James?” you ask curiously.

“James is our son. He is turning three this year,” Sarah beams proudly.

“Oh! You two already have a son, that’s great! I’ll make sure to snap a bunch of photos of him too,” you chuckle.

“Please, our house is already packed with pictures, but there’s just never enough,” Sarah laughs.

The three of you chat a little longer while Izzy is busy with her coloring, talking about the wedding and whatnot, Harry invites her and Mitch over for dinner sometime and she happily says yes before business is calling her so she heads out as well.

“Okay, come one, little Sunshine. Let’s get home, Rosaline will be over soon for your piano lesson,” you smile down at Izzy who throws all her coloring stuff into one of Harry’s drawers before hopping off the leather seat.

“I’ll see you in the afternoon, okay?” Harry leans down and kisses the top of her head before pressing his lips to her cheek as well.

“Bye daddy, have a good day!” she calls out, grabbing your hand as you head to the door, Harry following behind.

“Mr. Styles, you have a meeting in five with—“ one of the assistants speaks up, but Harry stops her.

“I know, tell him I’ll be down in a minute. And please call Isaac to remind him about his deadline tomorrow,” he asks in that voice again you heard yesterday when Sarah called. There’s just something so intimidating yet exciting in the way he bosses around, but not like an asshole. He is a man in power, but he surely knows how to use it for the good.

“I forgot to talk to you about the time Izzy is spending at my mum’s, please remind me to go over it with you tonight, alright?” Harry asks and you nod as the elevator’s door opens and the two of you walk in.

“Bye daddy!” Izzy waves at him.

“Bye baby, be good! Bye Y/N!” he smiles as the door starts to close.

“See you later,” you smile back before he disappears from your sight.

The meeting with Sarah and Mitch got you buzzing, because it’s gonna be such an intimate yet beautiful wedding and those are your favorite. You can’t wait to start snapping the pictures and make their memories last forever of their big day.

You want to say thank you to Harry for suggesting you to them, so while Izzy is with Rosaline, you make a quick round to the grocery store and get everything you need to make some cupcakes, knowing well Harry loves those. He once told you that he could easily eat a dozen of those if he had the chance, so you think it’s gonna be the perfect way to thank him.

You keep the usual schedule, but after your little learning session in the afternoon, instead of heading out to the backyard to play, you suggest you bake the cupcakes together and Izzy is more than happy to help you.

It doesn’t take long for the kitchen to turn into a warzone, ingredients spilled to the counter all over the place, some music is playing in the background and you’ve been struggling to figure out how to use the different machines around the super modern kitchen.

You go all out with the decorations, you even bought some food coloring so you can make the cupcakes different colors and mess around with the icing and cream as well. You get so busy with the task on hand that time flies by faster than you expected. The two of you are still working on the decorating when the front door opens and Harry walks into the mess you’ve created in the past hours.

“What is doing on here?” he chuckles, seeing Izzy’s hair covered in flour, whipped cream on her nose and cheeks as she is throwing some sprinkles on one of the cupcakes, sitting on the kitchen island counter while you are finishing up another one.

“Oh! I wanted it to be a surprise!” you pout. “Izzy and I are making you cupcakes!”

“Why do I deserve a surprise?” he asks smirking, walking farther into the kitchen as he looks around, finding the mess quite amusing, rather than annoying. Harry knows well enough that it’s not easy to keep the place around you clean when there are kids involved in any process.

“I wanted to thank you for suggesting me to Sarah and Mitch. It was really nice of you.”

“Already told you it was nothing. Of course I suggest them a good photographer if I know one.”

You just smile at him shrugging, because no matter how hard he is trying to play it down, it meant a lot to you.

“Look daddy!” Izzy holds up her cupcake, half of it is covered with sprinkles, the other half is decorated with chocolate chips and she is clearly proud of it.

“That looks great, baby!” he smiles proudly, kissing the top of her head. “You have so much stuff on you, you could easily turn into a cupcake too,” he jokes, making her laugh.

“Be a cupcake with me, daddy!” Izzy beams and before Harry could stop her, she wipes some whipped cream to his face, getting him dirty as well. You gasp before letting out a laugh, Izzy shrieks happily seeing her dad all dressed up fancily and licking the cream off his face.

“Isabelle Styles, you have no idea what you just brought on yourself,” he warns in a low tone, already making Izzy scoot backwards as she is trying to escape, but she doesn’t have anywhere to go, the kitchen island’s edge is right behind her butt. However, she doesn’t realize it and tries to push herself back some more, deeming herself to fall right off, but before anything could happen Harry scoops her into his arms, pressing his creamy face to her cheek, making an even bigger mess that’s already there. Izzy is moving around, laughing and screaming as Harry gets some more cream to his hands, wiping it onto her anywhere he can.

“Oh my God, you are wasting all the cream!” you call him out, but it’s such a sweet moment to witness, you would never blame him for wasting it.

Harry stops attacking Izzy and turns to you with a dark look in his eyes.

“Izzy, I think Y/N looks too clean, doesn’t she?” he cocks his head to the side, exchanging a look with the girl in his arms.

“She does!” Izzy agrees as you start backing away from them. Harry sets Izzy down to her feet, grabbing the bowl with the remaining of the cream. He gets a handful for himself and lets Izzy fill her palms as well.

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” you warn them, holding up your pointing finger at them, trying to escape, but you are kind of cornered against the counter.

“It’s my house, I do whatever I want to,” he smirks, so full of himself and in a blink of the eye, they both launch themselves at you and Hell breaks loose.

They start whipping cream on you anywhere they can and when it’s gone, Harry just decides to go for anything else he can reach. Izzy is throwing sprinkles around while thanks to Harry, flour is flying everywhere, completely destroying the kitchen.

“Stop! No! I surrender!” you scream, fighting back, but it’s two against one.

“No mercy!” Harry shouts, so excited, as if he just transformed into a little boy, throwing mud around.

You grab his wrists when he tries to pour sugar on top of your head straight from the contained, holding him back, but he is so much stronger than you, it’s kind of a lost fight already. You don’t even realize how close he is, your chests are almost touching as he has you pinned against the counter, faces only about two inches away from each other. His wrist slides out of your hold, but he drops the sugar to the counter next to you. You try to snatch it to use his own weapon against him, but he is quick to stop you, forcing your hand down next to your side, but in the process he managed to bring you even closer, flushed against his hard chest and your lips part at the sudden mood change that he must be feeling as well, because the playfulness disappears from his eyes pretty fast and it’s replaced by something entirely different, something you can’t even read, because you haven’t seen it in his eyes before. And then…

Then you see his eyes flicker down to your lips, just a moment before yours move down to his. It’s that moment. It’s that exact moment when you just know you both are thinking about kissing, but you don’t know if it’s going to happen or now. You’re not even sure you want it to happen.

You fucking moron, of course you want to kiss him! That tiny voice in the back of your mind screams at you. In a heartbeat, it seems like he is about to move closer, but then the moment is interrupted and completely destroyed when a woman walks into the house, scaring you to death.

“Wow, it seems like Izzy took over control completely,” she comments, walking further into the house as you jump away from Harry, suddenly very aware of the mess you’ve made.

“Gemma, what—“ Harry starts, but he is quickly cut off.

“Don’t ask what I’m doing here, I literally texted you today that I would come by and you said it’s okay.” She gives him a look before her eyes move over to you as you’re trying to somehow clean everything up, but it’ll take a little longer probably. “You must be Y/N, hi! I’m Gemma, Harry’s sister.”

She steps over to you holding out a hand and you reach for it, but then stop, seeing that your palms are all floury. You both let out a chuckle, deciding to just move over the handshake.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, though it would have been better if we met when I didn’t have whipped cream in my eyes,” you joke.

“Auntie Gemma, we made cupcakes, do you want one?” Izzy runs up to her, holding up a cupcake that was finished, unlike the majority that are going to have poor decorations, since Harry and Izzy decided to use everything in the fight. Now it’s the floor that’s covered with icing, cream and sprinkles.

“Maybe later, sweetie, but they look awesome!”

As you wipe your face with a kitchen towel, you can feel Harry’s gaze on you, your heart beating so fast in your chest, it’s pushing all the blood up into your head that’s already feeling dizzy. What would have happened if Gemma didn’t walk in? Would has he kissed you? Or did you misread the situation and it was nothing just part of the game?

You busy yourself with cleaning up as Harry cleans himself a little with a paper towel before stepping closer to his sister.

“I totally forgot you texted, I replied in the middle of a meeting, I think I didn’t process the message.”

“It’s fine,” Gemma sighs. “I’m already used to my little brother forgetting about me,” she teases him, but he just rolls his eyes at her.

“Let me just help Y/N clean up the kitchen and I’ll be right with you. Would you mind cleaning Izzy off?” Harry asks her, but you stop him short.

“Oh, I’ll take care of this, don’t worry,” you assure him, but as his eyes snap over at you, you lose your voice. He clearly felt the moment as well earlier and now it’s kind of getting awkward, you don’t really want to be left alone with him right now. Not until you figure out what this whole thing was.

“Are you sure? I mean I was the one who started it and—“

“It’s fine,” you try your best to smile at him without overheating. He is standing several feet away from you, but you can still feel what it felt like to be pushed up against him.

Harry hesitates, his eyes following your every move while you are trying to busy yourself and act normal, while you are literally crumbling inside. You almost kissed your boss in the middle of his kitchen, you need a moment to process that.

“Alright, let me know if you need help,” he murmurs before picking Izzy up and heading upstairs to clean them both, Gemma following them right behind. When they are out of your sight, you lean against the counter, breathing out heavily.

Meanwhile upstairs, Harry hands Izzy his phone to play some games while he cleans her and himself off in the bathroom. Gemma sits on the edge of the tub, eyeing her brother curiously, which Harry notices.

“What?” he asks, stripping Izzy out of her dirty clothes.

“What was all that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you, Harry. You were like, ready to snog Y/N right then and there when I walked in. Did I miss something?”

“No idea what you’re talking about and I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up when it’s not just the two of us,” he replies firmly, looking down at the girl who is obliviously tapping on the screen. Gemma just rolls her eyes before leaving the two of them alone.

Wandering down she finds you scrubbing the counters from the mess you’ve made, deep in your thoughts. Seeing her walk in, you shoot her a smile, not sure what to say or if you even should say anything, but when she grabs a towel for herself and starts helping, you speak up.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m happy to help,” she smiles, as she starts cleaning the kitchen island up. “So how do you like working for my brother, so far? He mentioned what happened with the daycare. Honestly, those mothers are entitled spoiled brats,” she scoffs making you smile.

“They weren’t too delightful even before the whole fiasco,” you chuckle softly. “But I really like it here. There are a lot more perks and it’s so much easier to focus on one kid than to have fifteen at a time,” you point out making her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m good with my two, don’t think I could handle more.”

“Oh, you have kids?”

“Yes, two sons. Beau is turning ten this year and Jasper turned six in January.” Gemma pulls out her phone from her back pocket and unlocking it she shows you the homescreen that has a picture of two adorable boys sitting on a bench next to each other, munching on a big bowl of strawberries. The younger one, Jasper has a red sunhat on his head while Beau is rocking some cool sunglasses.

“Oh my God, they look so much like you!”

“I get that a lot and honestly, they really should!” Gemma scoffs. “It took twenty fucking hours for Jasper’s big head to come out!”

“Wow that sounds way too much,” you laugh and Gemma nods with a tired, but clearly proud smile.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. Anyway, after my two boys, Izzy is the little princess of the family.”

“The boys get along well with her?” you ask as you both keep cleaning.

“They act like her big brothers, they get so protective over her!”

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah, they really are. My mom has this summer barbeque every year, if Harry doesn’t invite you with him then I’m doing it now, because you need to see how crazy out family gets,” she smirks at you. “All of our cousins and the kids are there, it’s a whole parade.”

“I’m sure it’s a lot of fun,” you smile at her. “One of my friends in high school had a really big family and they always invited me to birthdays at their place, I loved how lively and buzzing it was always.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to get together from time to time,” she nods smiling. “So do you have a boyfriend or something?” she asks then, implying that she is not even sure if you are playing on the team she is assuming.

“Oh, um, no. It’s just me for now. So no boyfriend for me.” Your answer, making sure it gives her the information she was trying to get as well.

“Are you done interrogating her, Gem?” Harry appears from upstairs, Izzy running ahead of him before smashing herself against Gemma’s legs.

“We’re just having a chat, is that a crime now?” she rolls her eyes. “Swear to God, he is such a control freak sometimes,” she then adds turning to you.

“Would you stop offending me in my own house?” Harry gives him a look. Gemma leans down and picks Izzy up into her arms.

“Izzy, you really should tell your dad to pull the stick out of his as—“

“You are not finishing that!” Harry cuts her off and you can’t push your laughter back. Harry’s eyes meet yours over Gemma’s shoulders and he realizes that you are still all dirty and messed up. “Y/N, go and take a shower if you want. We’ll take this over, alright?”

It wasn’t an order, but you feel like it was a very firm suggestion. He is clearly uncomfortable with you talking to Gemma and though you’re not sure why, you don’t want to upset him, so just nodding you drop the kitchen towel and head upstairs to clean yourself up.

“I hope you didn’t say anything to upset her,” Harry comments as he takes over the cleaning. Gemma grimaces.

“What could have I possibly said? I was just trying to get to know her!”

“You are always a little too up in my business, Gems,” he sighs.

“Daddy, can I watch some TV, please?” Izzy asks, tugging on his pants.

“Sure. Do you need me to switch it on?”

“No, I’m a big girl, I can do it,” Izzy nods before running off, leaving the siblings alone.

“Didn’t know Y/N was your business,” Gemma tilts her head to the side. Harry opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out. He was caught with this one. “Oh my God. I knew I walked in on something, you have a thing for her!” Gemma gasps with wide eyes.

“Stop with this! You and Niall are like some middle schoolers, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“So Niall sees it too, huh?”

“Niall is an idiot,” he points out. “He is… obsessed with this idea that I should start dating again and he thinks I should make a move on Y/N.”

“Well, he is an idiot, but he has a point.”

“No he doesn’t!” Harry argues, but Gemma just rolls her eyes.

“So you want to die alone? Is that your plan?”

Harry has always hated his sister’s bluntness. She never held herself back when it came to giving her opinion, whether it was wanted or not. But what Harry hates even more is that most of the time… Gemma is right.

He doesn’t want to die alone, no one wants that, but being with someone is a hard topic for Harry after losing the person he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. Even just the thought makes him feel like he is doing something bad, like he shouldn’t even be thinking about anyone but his wife, even years after the tragedy.

“Harry, look…” Gemma breathes out leaning against the counter next to her brother. “I know it’s a fucked up situation and I know things are still not in the right place in your head. But eventually you’ll have to move on. We all want to see you happy and I think that… I think Maggie would want that for you as well.”

Harry tries not to physically cringe at the name, the familiar pain is already clutching his heart, like it has been since the day of the accident. Some days are easier, some days are harder, but Gemma is right. Things are still not in the right place in his head and he knows that, he is just not sure how to fix it at this point.

“I’m not saying you should date Y/N, I’m not Niall to force anyone on you. I’m just telling you to try to get out a little more, just to test the waters. But you obviously like her so if it happens to be her, it wouldn’t be a big deal, if you ask me.”

Gemma shrugs and goes back to the cleaning while Harry keeps his swirling thoughts to himself. Two of the most important people have told him the same thing recently and though part of him wants to stubbornly go against it, his rational side knows that they might be right.

But not much can be done when a man is still blaming himself for the death of his own wife. Because that’s exactly the case when it comes to Harry and no one really knows that the thought has been haunting him for years now…

After taking a quick shower, washing your hair and changing into clothes that are not covered in flour, you join Harry and Gemma downstairs and insist on finishing the rest of the cleaning while they move out to the terrace to talk. The evening goes by peacefully, Harry decides to order dinner and Gemma joins the three of you at the dining table.

You love watching the dynamic between them and they truly seem to be very close. Gemma likes to embarrass Harry with stories from their childhood and you are enjoying them all a little too much maybe, but it’s nice to think that he wasn’t always this confident businessman.

“It was so good to meet you, Y/N!” Gemma hugs you goodbye after dinner.

“You too!”

“Bye Izzy, come and give a smooch for your favorite auntie!” Squatting down she lets Izzy wrap her arms around her neck as she kisses her cheek sloppily.

“Bye Gemma,” she singsongs. Harry pulls his sister into a hug as well before walking her out.

You start washing the dishes, Izzy talking to you about whatever show she was watching earlier on TV. When Harry returns he tells you to just leave the rest of the cleaning up for him while he bathes Izzy, but you don’t listen to him and finish up while they are upstairs.

Bringing your laptop down you settle on the couch and just start scrolling through social media, reading articles and whatnot, the TV quietly playing in the background. You send out an email regarding the wedding you are attending this weekend, making sure everything is in place.

When Harry emerges again he joins you on the couch with a tired sigh.

“Thanks for washing the dishes but you really should just leave it to me when I ask you to,” he smiles at you softly.

“It’s not a big deal, I like to be useful,” you chuckle shutting your laptop down.

“As if you’re not useful enough already,” he huffs smiling to himself. “Oh, before I forget, I wanted to talk to you about Izzy going to my mum’s.”

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned it earlier.”

“Yeah. So she is going to spend a week at my mother’s and I timed it to line up with Sarah and Mitch’s wedding. So I’ll leave her at my mum’s Sunday evening and pick her up the next Sunday which lines up perfectly with the wedding on Saturday. That week is obviously free for you as well, like a paid vacation,” he chuckles.

“Sounds good. How far does your mother lives from here?”

“Just a few hours, not that horrible of a drive. If you’re up for it, we can carpool to the wedding and then pick her up together right from there and head home.”

“Yeah, that works for me, thanks,” you nod.

Harry stays and turns his attention on the TV, seemingly pretty unbothered while you still haven’t stopped thinking about what happened in the kitchen earlier. Glancing over at Harry it appears that it’s not that big of a deal for him, so it makes you settle with the thought that it’s not one for you either.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him grabbing your laptop and phone as you rise from your seat.

“Nigh, Y/N,” he smiles as you round the couch and head upstairs, but you stop at the bottom of the stairs, lancing back at the mop of locks that’s visible from him from behind. You watch him run his fingers through his hair and you let out a shaky breath, knowing well you did not convince yourself that it was nothing. Not for you, at least.

Because you wanted him to kiss you.

The wedding you’re attending is held on a farm owned by the parents of the bride. The whole barn was transformed into this very country like fairytale location, lots of fairy lights and candles along with some nice, pastel colored flowers with a hint of purple between them.

Everything goes planned. Arriving you meet first with the groom and then with the bride in their separated rooms of the house, going over everything they want just one last time before you get down to work, snapping loads of pictures from them getting ready for the big day.

Emily, the bride is a chatty girl and all her bridesmaids are her sisters, coming from a big family with five daughters, she is the second oldest. The groom, Jesse is a few years older than Emily, but they are such a cute couple and they are clearly so madly in love, it’s always nice to see people be so happy with the right person.

You keep going back and forth between the groom and the bride and later you do the first look thing as well, when Jesse stands outside in the field and Emily walks up behind him, letting him see her for the first time. It really is always such a special moment and you tear up as well, watching Jesse fall speechless upon seeing his beautiful fiancé.

As the ceremony is about to start and the guests slowly take their seats on the two sides of the aisle, you make a quick trip down there to make sure you are using the right lenses, not wanting to change a lot when the ceremony has started. You stop in the corner, just trying out if you can shoot some pictures of the guests as well with the lens you are planning to use, you take a look around using the camera and that’s when you almost faint.

You would pick out that face from any, it has grown to you way too much, but you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. Lowering the camera you stare at the tall figure with parted lips, blinking a few times just to make sure it’s who you think it is.

But it is in fact your ex-fiancé, Keith, and to make it even worse, the woman standing next to him with his arm around her waist is the one he cheated on you with. They are still together and now you are staring right at them.

Tears sting your eyes as you try to look for a way to escape before he spots you, though you know he’ll see you sooner or later, but right now they are standing right at the entrance of the barn and you can’t avoid walking past them.

Keeping your head down you try to stay unnoticed as you march towards the exit, but you apparently, you are out of luck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Keith calls after you just when you thought you were successful in sneaking out. Stopping in your tracks you seriously think about just running off, pretending like you didn’t even hear him, but it’s kind of too late and it would be ridiculous. So turning around on your heels, you plaster the fakest smile on your lips as you look at him.

“Keith, hi!” you breathe out, taking just a few steps closer to him, still keeping some distance between the two of you. Stella, the lucky woman on his arm blinks at you and at first you’re not even sure she realizes who you are or if she even knows you. The longer she looks at you the more certain you become that she indeed does not know that you’re the woman Keith cheated on with her. Nice.

Keith realizes that the two of you have been staring at each other awkwardly, so clearing his throat he quickly introduces the two of you to each other.

“Um, Y/N, this is Stella. Stella, this is… Y/N.”

You can tell he was thinking about using titles, but he decided to leave it at that, though it would have been a lot more interesting if he just titled the two of you.

Y/N, this is the woman I cheated on you with, who is my girlfriend now. Stella, this is Y/N, to whom I was engaged when I was fucking you!

You flash her a quick, not too honest smile and it seems like she is catching onto that something is not right, but she can’t tell for sure.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks, a little harsher than you would have liked him to talk to you, but it’s kind of understandable. Seeing each other after what happened is not a pleasant experience for either of you, you assume. You hold up the camera as the answer for the stupid question and Keith furrows his eyebrows at you. “Oh, you still to the photography thingy?”

“Thingy?” you ask, quite offended. Keith always belittled your love for photography. He thought it was just a hobby, something that should stay just a hobby and not get turned into anything more. He once told you during a fight that it takes your time away from more important things, like doing chores. That was one of the most sexist things he has ever said to you and you should have packed your stuff right then and there. But you didn’t, stuck around for three more months before you found out about the cheating.

“Well, this thingy is kind of a side job for me,” you inform him.

“Oh. That sounds… fun,” he nods, but it’s clearer than daylight that he thinks it’s just a waste of time. Good thing he has no business in anything about you anymore.

“Um, I’m gonna go now, but I guess see you two around.” You shoot them another fake smile before turning around and walking away from this conversation straight from Hell.

Marching away from the barn you rush into the nearest bathroom you can find. You need a minute. Or maybe two… five. This did not just happen. You didn’t just face your cheating ex-fiancé with the woman he cheated on you, what kind of sick movie plot is this you found yourself in?

Placing your camera to the counter near the sink you wash your hands and sprinkle some water to your face as well before you lean to the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost and quite frankly, you would have been happier with the ghost than with Keith and Stella.

You’ve been doing alright since the breakup, but it’s obvious that only because you didn’t have to see Keith. Following the blowup when you found the explicit texts in his phone, you only had to face him twice and never since then. It’s easier to be okay when you don’t have to look at the person who hurt you most all the time, but coming face to face with him now really threw you off, especially with Stella on his arm. The fucker did not only cheat on you with her, but he went straight into a relationship with her and she probably doesn’t even know that she was just the sidechick in the beginning. If you were really evil, you’d go up to her and enlighten her about who you really are, but you are not one to cause a scene. Keith kept the two of you apart consciously, he never let you go into his office because he wanted Stella to think that he is a single man while he was engaged. Sickening to think how slyly he played the both of you and even after his little plan failed, he kept lying to the poor girl and lured her into a relationship. You wonder if he is already fucking another girl behind her back.

Your fingers start to turn white, gripping the edge of the sink tightly so you loosen up a bit, shaking your arms and shoulders off to pull yourself together. You fix your makeup and run your fingers through your hair quickly to give it some volume before grabbing the camera from the counter and heading out. However shocking it is to be at the same place as Keith again, you have a job to do right now and the bride and groom are expecting some amazing photos and that’s exactly what you’re gonna deliver.

You manage to busy yourself to the point where you are able to forget about Keith’s existence for most of the time. Following the happy couple around you don’t get too much free time, the camera is glued in front of your face basically and it brings you some peace. For a while.

Emily and Jesse disappear for an outfit change and it gives you a short break since they didn’t want that to be photographed, only when they return. So you get yourself a virgin cocktail from the bar and head outside to get some fresh air. You text back Heather and Trevor and then just scroll through Instagram, enjoying some alone time from the buzzing you’ve been around all day.

“Y/N!”

Turning to your right you spot Keith walking towards you, this time alone, but it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes.

“What do you want?” you mumble under your breath.

“Just… though we could chat for a little. It’s been a long time.”

“Not enough,” you retort. “And I would like to skip the chatting.”

“Come on, you can’t be still that mad at me,” he chuckles and you almost punch him in the face right then and there.

“Well I am. So go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone.”

“I know things didn’t end too well, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil towards each other.” You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your throat. He can’t be serious, trying to act like the bigger person now after everything he has done to you. This has got to be a joke.

“This is me being civil, because I’m not throwing anything at you. So leave me the fuck alone, let me do my job and then we hopefully don’t see each other again.”

“Come on. You don’t miss me, baby?” he smirks at you, completely ignoring what you just told him. You physically cringe at the pet name he just called you and you take a step away from him, needing the distance more than ever.

“I don’t. Now leave.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Too fucking bad. Now leave!” you raise your voice, but it does nothing. He is still standing there, looking at you like he didn’t completely destroy you just about a year ago.

“Heard that you haven’t dated anyone since we broke up.”

“Are you asking around after me?” you scowl.

“We have a few mutual friends,” he shrugs. “Is it because you still want me?”

“My dating life is none of your business, Keith. And I don’t want you. Quite frankly, I don’t even know how I could ever want you, so now please let me enjoy my break and leave me alone.”

“Y/N, I just—“ Keith reaches for your hand, but you pull back before he could touch you, holding up a finger at him you start talking slowly and very clearly so the message goes through.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me or talk to me. I want nothing to do with you, you’re a manipulating, cheating, egoistic asshole who ruins the life of others. I’m telling you this for the last time, Keith: leave me the fuck alone.”

He looks a bit stunned at your harsh response, but you couldn’t care less if you’ve hurt him. He did way worse things to you than snapping at you. As you walk past him to head back into the barn, he doesn’t let the chance to punch you in the stomach with his words one last time.

“I wish I could say you were a good fuck, but that wouldn’t be true. Good luck finding some lowlife loser who would even think about marrying you!”

Every fiber in your body is screaming to launch yourself at him and punch him until he is unconscious, because that’s exactly what he deserves. The tears are already stinging your eyes, but you don’t give him the satisfaction to see you react to his words. So swallowing hard you just keep on walking until you are out of his sight, bottling up the sobs and tears for the time when you’re home and on your own.

It’s past two am when you arrive home, drained and exhausted, both emotionally and exhausted. Following the conversation you had wit Keith he didn’t try to talk to you anymore, but you could always feel his eyes on you, wherever you were, as if he wanted to see if you are watching him too, but you weren’t. Looking at him would have been too painful so you tried your best to keep your eyes away from him through the night.

You know damn well that what he told you when you were leaving was just to get a reaction out of you, to get you upset enough to start a fight with him, it’s just who he is, he enjoys having the last word and the higher ground in every situation, but you didn’t want to be his partner in his stupid games this time. However it still hurt, what he said.

Walking into the dead silent house you kick your shoes off, drop your keys into the little bowl next to the door and head to the kitchen to get yourself some water. Pouring yourself a glass you lean against the counter and as you stare ahead of you, nothing can stop the tears from falling.

Everything you kept bottled up during the afternoon and evening just hits you all at once, making you break down heavier than any time in the past months. You sob and cry, letting it all out until your head feels like exploding, but you still can’t stop. You were not ready to face the man that broke your heart like no one before.

In the middle of your breakdown you don’t even realize the footsteps coming from the stairs.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice calls out, snapping you out of your pity party. He immediately sees that you’ve been crying like a baby, no doubt, but you still try to wipe your cheeks and eyes, pretending like everything is totally fine.

“Harry! What are you doing up so late?” you breathe out hoarsely.

“Just wanted to get some water, but have you been crying? What happened, are you alright?” he starts bombarding you with questions, clearly worried about you, seeing you in this state.

“Everything is fine, I just… had a rough night,” you chuckle through your tears that are still rolling down your cheeks, those bastards!

“A rough night doesn’t make you sob like this. What happened?” Rounding the kitchen island he stops in front of you, not sure how to approach the situation, but it’s kind of sweet how he wants to help, but doesn’t know how.

“I, uhh—I met my… ex-fiancé tonight. He was at the wedding I worked at,” you mumble shutting your eyes closed.

“Did he hurt you? Y/N, if he laid a hand on you, I swear—“ “No, he didn’t hurt me,” you shake your head before adding: “Well, not physically.”

“Come on, let’s sit down for a bit.” He gently takes your hand and pulls you to the couch in the living room, making you sit before he plops down next to you. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s really stupid, I shouldn’t be this upset about it, but I just… It hurt and I can’t change it,” you whine, wiping some more tears away.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid. Tell me what happened!”

“He was there with the woman he cheated on me with. They are basically a couple now, but she doesn’t even know that Keith was engaged to me when they started dating, so it’s really fucked up. And it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, because, you know, fuck him, he can do whatever he wants, it’s not my business anymore, but then he came up to me and tried to chitchat with me, which I didn’t really want, of course.”

Harry listens carefully, giving you his undivided attention while you fumble with the hem of your shirt, kind of avoiding to look him in the eyes. Part of you is afraid you’d see judgment in them and you don’t think you would be able to handle that.

“I asked him to leave me alone, but he just kept talking and then I snapped at him a little harsher and when I was walking away he…”

You scowl again, hearing his words play in your head so clearly, as if he was standing behind you, repeating them to you. Harry reaches out and he gently covers your hand with his warm palm, giving it a gentle squeeze, letting you know that he is patiently waiting, not rushing you to talk. Taking a deep breath you blink your tears away before continuing.

“He basically said that I wasn’t even a good fuck and no man will want to marry me.”

“Jesus fuck, what kind of asshole did you date, Y/N?” Harry snaps in horror and it’s kinda funny, makes you laugh through your tears.

“Seems like the worst kind,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. “I know I shouldn’t have let his words get to my head, but… it’s easier said than done. I feel like such a loser,” you breathe out, your lips trembling as the tears are threatening to flow again.

“Don’t blame yourself for having feelings, it’s completely normal. Of course his words hurt, he once meant a lot to you and he probably knows that too, that’s why he tried to use it against you. What he said held no truth.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper as you finally look at him. His green irises appear so warm as he smiles at you, squeezing your hand again. He scoots a little closer, his knee bumping against the side of your thigh.

“Y/N, I know so,” he chuckles. “That guy was a proper idiot for what he did to you. You didn’t deserve any of that and any many would be lucky to have you as their wife.”

“Really?” you pout, feeling so touched and loved from his words. It’s exactly the reassurance you needed.

“Absolutely,” he nods smiling sweetly.

Everything that happened today messed with your head big time. And now sitting with Harry on the couch, listening to him telling you how worthy you are of love and happiness, it completely throws you off. Ever since that moment in the kitchen before Gemma walked in, you’ve been nonstop thinking about what would have happened and it made you notice even the tiniest things about him.

Harry Styles is a man who is clearly a sight for the eyes, with his chiseled jawline, pink lips and gorgeous green eyes, the duality of his powerful and business appropriate attires he wears during the day and the tattoos hidden under his dress shirts, you’d have to be blind to say that he is not an attractive man. But on top of everything on the outside, he is a wonderful person on the inside and it twists your head more than you’d like it.

Your brain switches off for a moment, or just the rational side, but you completely stop thinking as you stare at each other. The intimacy and emotionality of the moment pushes all your common sense to the side as your gaze wanders down his lips.

The thought of kissing him comes fast and before you could even stop yourself, you move forward and press your lips to his. The touch of his lips against yours is sweet and warm and kind of intoxicating, but in just a blink of the eye your rationality gets a grip of you and your eyes pop open in realization of what you just did. Pulling back you gasp and cover your mouth in shock, feeling your whole inside trembling at the thought of getting yourself fired by this move.

Harry seems frozen and quite shocked as well, his lips are parted as he stays still in his spot.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what’s gotten into me! Harry, I’m sorry, I promise—“

You start rambling in panic, but you don’t get to finish. Harry moves forward, his hand coming to the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss, this time making it a lot more passionate and even your tongues get involved. He is kissing you hard and you almost moan into his mouth when you feel his other hand come to your thigh, squeezing it just enough to send a shockwave up your spine. Your hands come up to the back of his hair and you hold onto him for dear life, carrying the kiss on like you’re two teenagers in your parents’ basement, doomed to get caught any moment. Harry goes in again and again, tugging on your bottom lip, licking into your mouth and making your insides twist just from having his lips on yours.

And then you both let go of each other, needing some time to breathe and you slowly realize what just happened. You both stare at each other in disbelief, completely shocked at your own actions, but neither of you have any idea what should happen next.

You let go of each other, sitting back to your normal positions, awkwardly breathing heavily and you realize you cannot deal with this right now. You are way too drained and tired to make it make sense so you decide to just… call it a night.

“I’ll head to bed,” you quietly inform him as you stand up from the couch, walking like a zombie, the shock still clouding your judgment.

“Good night,” Harry mumbles, just as confused as you are.

“Good night,” you nod and basically sprint up the stairs and don’t stop until you shut your door behind you.

Leaning your back against it, you slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare into the darkness for long minutes. Quite some time passes by before you hear Harry walk upstairs, his door opens and then closes before silence falls on the house again. With a blank mind, you push yourself up, take a quick shower and just go to bed, ignoring everything that has happened today. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

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Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

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They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

.

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

.

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

.

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

.

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

.

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[wormstacheangel]

reminder I am watching The Nanny and I can't help but write scenes as destiel. So here is my second one. I think this one is a bit more sitcom, especially towards the end :) This is for episode 1x11.

wc: 1.7k

The kids have been having a hard time with the one night they don’t have Dean to tuck them in. Whatever Cas did, the kids would correct him and tell him Dean did it this way or did it that way. He simply couldn’t get it right. Even Claire was missing Dean, showing her fear of losing the one person who finally got her to be less angry at the world.

After finally getting the kids to bed, Cas walks into the kitchen to find Balthazar lounging around in his robe with a drink in one hand and scrolling through movie reviews with the other. Cas stands over his shoulder, trying to read it, but his eyes gaze over, not caring enough but still, he sighs.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” Balthazar sounded exasperated with him already, even if he has only been in the room for less than a minute.

“Please.” Cas fetches a cup and holds it out for Balthazar to pour some whiskey into it. He has been feeling restless all night but can’t pinpoint the reason why. “You know, Mr. Winchester would have loved talking about horrible movies with you.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I wonder how he is.”

“I’m sure he is enjoying his date, sir.” Balthazar takes a sip of his drink as he keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him.

Cas walks over to stand by the kitchen island. He already undid his tie, undid his top four buttons, and he can’t imagine how his hair looked after pacing the living room for a good 20 minutes.

He swirled his drink before downing the whole thing in one gulp.

“Or he can be having a miserable time, sir. The man was a mortician, after all. I don’t think that would fit Mr. Winchester’s happy-go-lucky attitude very well.”

Cas perks up at that, feeling his chest warm-up — probably because of the drink actually— as he stands up straighter with a hopeful grin. “You think so?”

“Have I ever wronged you, sir?”

“You’re right, Balthazar! He would never like that-that depressing man.” Cas smile grows. “Cause you know, the kids, they would miss him very much if he left.”

Balthazar shuts his laptop as he rolls his eyes, “For god’s sake, sir! It’s only the first-!” He looks at Cas’s stunned expression before slowly falling back in his chair, a cheeky smile on his face. “I mean, with all due respect, sir.”

“Yes.” Cas sighs, ignoring the outburst. “I think you’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a tad bit, sir.”

A chuckle came out of his mouth as Cas opens the trash can and plucks out the bag to throw it outside. He walks towards the back door as he says, “I didn’t see anything between them anyways. I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Cas pulls the back door open only to find Dean and his date making out. Leaving Cas standing there stunned and fumbling, not knowing if he should break them apart or close the door.

“I don’t see anything between them either, sir.” Balthazar joked as they both watched Dean press closer to his date. Unaware of their audience. Balthazar was the one to finally close the door, taking the bag of trash away from Cas, as he leads him towards the stairs. “I believe it’s time for you to go to bed, Mr. Novak.”

“Yes. Yes. You’re probably right.” Cas shook his head, hoping to erase that image away like an etch a sketch, but he still saw Dean’s mouth being sucked on. “Goodnight.”

“Night, sir.”

(More Under The Cut)

In the morning, Cas somehow convinced himself—Balthazar was only half-listening to his words anyways— to talk to Dean about the rules of the house. It had to be done. He didn’t want Dean to bring home strange people to his home, where his children lived. He didn’t want to see—or better yet— he didn’t want his kids to see Dean bring people into his room.

What kind of example will that present to them? Not a very good one.

He knocks at the door and quickly gets an answer to come in; Dean never hesitates to have any of the kids in his room. Cas would usually find them all curled up in Dean’s bed watching cartoons on a Sunday morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Cas poked his head into the room first, and that enough stopped him short. Dean looked like he was getting ready to go out.

Dean is dressed in a comfortable-looking robe, no shirt, and he’s assuming no pants by the fact that he can see a peek of his thighs from the slit in the front.

“Morning, Mr. Novak. What can I do for you?” Dean turned back to the mirror, a small smile stretched across his lips as he continued to fix his hair.

“I just wanted to talk about your um—You know we have rules in this house, and I just wanted to make sure you know them.”

“Oh, I think you have me confused with Claire. She’s two doors down.” Dean teased.

“No. No, this is about your date. About you having dates. And-And having…dates.” Cas sighed the last word, unable to get the word he wants out without his whole body warming up. “Anyways,” He cleared his throat. “The rules of the house with me-”

“Oh, with you? Gosh, maybe I should have read the fine print better.” Dean teased, winking at him through his reflection as he ran his hands through his growing hair.

“No. Not like that!”

“Let me get this straight.” Dean turns to face Cas before practically strutting over to Cas, half-dressed in a semi-open robe. Cas eyes struggle not to travel on the man before him. “We are talking about having sex in my room.”

“Well, not-not us. Not we.” Cas nervous gestures between them, noticing his hand hit Dean’s bare chest in the process because they were standing so damn close.

“We already covered that.” Dean winks at him again, making Cas’s heart race. “Don’t worry, Mr. Novak, I won’t do anything to show a bad example for the children.”

“Good.” Cas stuffs his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his heels. “Yes. Good. Okay!”

“Okay.” Dean turns back to the mirror.

“Where are you going anyways?” That sounded way too demanding. “If I may ask?”

“Well, if you must know. I got another date. We’re meeting for lunch.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta eat.”

“Of course. Well, have fun, Mr. Winchester.”

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Nice chat.”

Cas makes his way out of the room, bumping on furniture as he went.

Cas walks into the kitchen that same afternoon to find Dean sitting on the kitchen counter, shoveling ice cream into his mouth. Cas quickly rushes over to take the spoon away from him.

“Mr. Winchester! You are lactose intolerant!”

“Well, I deserve a little bit of ice cream after the crap day I had, and the coconut milk one you got me is still frozen solid!”

“Oh,” Cas puts the ice cream away before walking back to him. “Date didn’t go so well this time? Was it the whole creepy mortician life?”

“No,” Dean sighs, watching as Cas runs the Dean-friendly fudge brownie ice cream under some hot water. “Weirdly enough, I was getting used to the idea.”

“Then, what was wrong with him?” Cas hands Dean a spoon, and they both dig into the still hard ice cream, but they can still scape a few bits off. Cas tried not to follow the way Dean’s tongue pokes out and licks at the spoon.

“He was a clown.” Dean sighs, spinning the spoon in his hand before aggressively digging at the pint of ice cream.

“In what way?”

“In a clown way.”

“What-?”

“Red nose! Big shoes! You want me to google it for you?” Cas looks stunned by the outburst. But it clicks; he means an actual fucken clown. He tried not to laugh as Dean let out a defeated sigh. “Sorry. I just thought…I just thought I finally found someone. You know? I’m 30. I should have found someone already.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. But I’m sure you will. You’ll find someone special who won’t honk their nose at you.” Cas bops Dean’s nose, it’s awkward, but Dean still chuckles when he pushes Cas’s hand away.

The atmosphere around them was warm and comforting, something he wishes to drown in. But in a respectable boss-and-employee-who-lives-with-him kind of way. The smile they share fades a little as they look away, and then Dean jumps off the counter with a yawn.

“I’m gonna head to bed now. Goodnight, Mr. Novak.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Winchester.”

And just like that, they are back to professionals.

The following day, Dean is in the room talking to Sam about his dating life.

“You just think the perfect person is gonna knock at your door yelling out ��there you are! I found you!’”

“Oh, there you are.” Cas walks in, neither Sam nor Dean notices the coincidence, holding out two different ties. “What tie should I wear? Blue or yellow?”

“Blue. Goes great with your eyes.” Dean turns around to tie the tie nicely around Cas’s neck. Sam gave them no attention as it was an action that happens regularly.

When he was done, he fixes Cas’s collar and pats his shoulder before telling him he looks good.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester.”

Cas walks out of the room while Dean continues to get ready as he talks. “I just want a person who actually respects and values my opinions, not just my pretty face.”

“Ah, sorry to bother you again, Mr. Winchester,” Cas walks back in. “but I do value your opinion. Should I wear the gold cufflinks or the silver?”

“Gold is a classic. But make sure it’s those nice ones Claire picked out for you. She’ll love to see them.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you! That would be great.” Cas walks out of the room with a grateful smile.

Sam is still flipping through Dean’s magazine collection as he sighs, “Yeah, Dean, that’s never going to happen. You should have just dated the damn clown,”

“And what? Never see you again cause you’ll be scared my boyfriend is in full makeup? No, thank you. Now let’s go before we’re late to the damn game.”

[starlost-andfound]

at the divide // d.s (seasons change au)

Warning: The events in this au are an addition to the timeline of Seasons Change by @chilling-seavey (also pic credits to her <3). To avoid spoilers, please go read that amazing masterpiece first (and check out her other writing)

Inspired by If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves

Summary: Daniel searches for Marigold’s presence in a time he misses her the most.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and grief, alcohol consumption, kind of unedited

Word Count: Approximately 3K

A/N: If you want to really feel this one, listen to If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves and Marigold and Daniel’s song Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

I'll meet you at the divide

To break the spell

It was too good to be true, like a fantasy with a tragic twist, a hope for a sunny day clouded by storms. Daniel carried a heavy heart yet he felt empty. His heart beat in his chest, pumping life into his veins but he loomed around in silence. He was a ghost haunted by the walls of his own home. The house was draped in an eerie quiet, so quiet Daniel could hear the clock ticking in his bedroom from downstairs. He set aside his freshly washed plate in the drying rack and dumped his emptied beer bottle in the bin. When Lennox went to school, lunches were painfully quiet. Daniel often found himself in front of the TV, eating his lunch with the background noise of any program playing on the screen.

With a sigh he rested his hands against the counter, leaning forward. His eyes drifted to the living room, where a line of photo frames stood on the mantle above the fireplace. She was everywhere. Daniel didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse. The clock ticked rhythmically, Daniel couldn't count the hours. His fingers traced the frames on the mantle. She was always smiling, even when it hurt the most. He never understood how. How could she hold all the rays of the sun while her star collapsed? He was the moon without a sun sharing its light, a dark unlit sky with lonely stars.

Stars. Lennox. Daniel smiled shakily, his vision blurring as he stood in front of the last photo on the fireplace. Even as the faces and colours blended together with his tears, he could still remember the image clearly. Lennox’s first hockey match. Lennox was squashed between Daniel and Marigold, wearing his hockey gear. They all held matching smiles on their faces. She was everywhere and maybe that’s what made it so hard to let go, suffocating when her presence was embedded in the air around him.

Daniel grabbed himself a beer and sat down on the couch, picking up a familiar belonging: a scrapbook Marigold had crafted for them, celebrating their early dating anniversaries. The book’s cover was brightly decorated with stars and stickers. He sat down, tracing his fingers over the scribbled text in her handwriting. He flipped through the pages, taking his time to trace the stuck-on tickets and read the small love letters Marigold had delicately weaved in her writing.

A point where two worlds collide

Yeah, we'll rebel

His mind felt dizzy with the slight tinge of alcohol. All the memories printed into the scrapbook seemed like distant conversations and hazy images. He turned the page over, his eyes falling to a scribbled date in the middle and countless doodles and stickers in the background. His heart dropped as his mind took him back to one of the most special nights in his life.His mind and heart pulled him down like an anchor into the sea, dragging him deeper until there wasn’t enough light left to see.  

Daniel wiped the stream of tears off his face, closing the book. He sunk down farther into the couch, holding his head as he cried. He exhaled shakily, feeling a light feather touch trailed up his shoulder. Daniel tensed as he heard a whisper. The voice was smooth like a calming wind, familiar like the arms of a lover.

“Why so many tears, my sweet?”

He opened his eyes and from the blurry mist in his eyes he saw the form of the woman who carried his heart.

“Sunshine,” he breathed. Daniel threw his arms around her in an instant. He cried, clinging on to her tighter as sobs shook his body.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Marigold held him close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. She kissed his head as he cried. She tried to pull back slightly but Daniel only held her closer.

“How- you-you’re here-I don’t know what to do, Marigold,” he whimpered. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Why would you say that, hmm?” she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, my sweet. I am so proud of you.”

Daniel shook his head from side to side. He gripped her shirt and rested his head against her chest. His lips trembled, “I just want you back.”

Marigold sighed quietly, “You know that’s not possible.”

“Please don’t go. ”

And we run

And we run

And we run

Until we break through

“I won’t leave just yet,” she stroked his hair gently.

Daniel sniffled, and looked up. He reached his hand up, brushing his hand along her jaw and then cupping her cheek, “You are very real.”

Marigold laughed softly, “Yes, I am here.”

“Do you-” Daniel held her hand. “Does it hurt anymore?”

Marigold smiled, “Not anymore, no.”

Daniel smiled shakily, feeling the tears build up again at the answer he wished he had heard many months ago. He sat up and his hands reached up to caress her cheek. She had this golden glow that reminded Daniel of when she was carrying Lennox. “You’re so beautiful.”

Marigold smiled.

Daniel pressed his forehead against hers, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, my sweet.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips on hers. Her soft lips and skin disappeared under his touch, fading into the air. Daniel fell forward on the couch, his hands gripping the fabric. He snapped his head around in search of her, letting out a strangled cry as he was met with the walls of his living room.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

Daniel was falling into a routine and he was growing to hate it. With no energy by noon, he often landed on a couch, a drink in his hand and the multiple CD’s of home videos by his side. He never drank too much before Lennox came home. Lennox was the only light which filled the gaping hole in his chest but the sharp taste of the beer numbed his mind. It calmed the storm of emotions he carried inside, just for a few moments and for him that was enough. Daniel entered the living room with a beer in his hand, heading to the CD’s by the television. The text on the CD covers were fading where he held them, some more than others, exposing the amount of times he watched them.

I feel my loss every night

Not long to wait

He slumped back down on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand as the video loaded. A crackle echoed over the speaker before a soft voice spoke.

And if I do this thing right

I dream of our escape

“Lennox, say hi,” Marigold whispered behind the camera.

She zoomed in on a baby Lennox, waddling around the flowers in the garden in his small yellow boots. He wore one of Marigold’s old sweaters, far too small for her but slightly too large for the little boy. The sleeves and hem of the sweater were rolled up, hugging his body. Spud turned to the camera and grinned, his two little teeth sticking out. He waved his arm at the camera and turned back to the flowers decorating their garden.

He pointed at the bunch of hydrangeas and tugged at his sweater, “Blue. Like mine.”

Marigold gasped, “Yes, well done my shining star!”

Spud giggled and the camera turned just as Daniel’s car rolled into the driveway.

“Daddy’s here!‘ Marigold captured Daniel stepping out of the truck with a smile. Lennox squealed, running to Daniel with his hands up. “Dada!”

Daniel scooped him up into his arms, bouncing him gently, “Hi Spud, I missed you!”

Marigold shuffled closer to Daniel, the camera lens covered as they shared a quick kiss, “Hi my sweet.”

“Hey sunshine.”

The camera flipped, fitting all three of them into the frame. Lennox grabbed the camera in his hands and pressed the lens close to his face.

“Oh, careful Spud.”

The curious child attempted to hold the camera out like his mother, pointing at the flowers, “Blue!” The garden twisted into a spiral as the camera tumbled out of his hands and the video cut off.

Daniel sniffled quietly and took a gulp of his beer. The next video began to roll. He heard the familiar sound of her footsteps down the stairs. The camera trailed the floor until it lifted up outside the house, pointing at Daniel.

“Look how handsome my baby daddy is.”

Daniel glanced up at the camera with a bashful smile. Marigold pulled him up by his arm so he could be seen better and she set her hand against his chest, giving him a pat.

“I’m going to have to keep close eyes on you at Sunday brunch. All the ladies are gonna want a piece of this.”

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel chuckled shyly.

“And my other handsome man!” Marigold added, shuffling around the open door to get a good shot of the baby in the car seat. “Gonna be fighting the ladies off you too, my beautiful boy.”

Lennox blinked up at her but her same smile could be seen forming behind his pacifier that bumped excitedly against his little nose. Marigold turned the camera around as she leaned in with Daniel, capturing both of them together and Daniel just smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She looked up at him lovingly, “Happy first Father’s Day, my sweet.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “And thank you for making me a father.”

They shared a few more kisses and ‘I love you’s until Lennox let out a small cry.

“Oh my.” Marigold said, addressing the camera again as Daniel left the frame to care for Lennox, “Well, when Lennox says it’s time to go, it’s time to go! We have church to get to and a bunch to show off at.”

When she was a few steps away, the camera caught her admiring her husband over her shoulder as he finished buckling in the baby.

She looked back to the camera and spoke gently with her wide grin spread all over her soft face, “Lennox Blake, if you’re watching this some time in the future when you’re grown up and annoyed by your parents – just know that you have the best daddy in the whole stinking world. I picked him out myself for you so that’s how you know he’s good.”

The camera clicked softly and a another video played.

The screen zoomed in on Daniel and Lennox across the grass. Lennox was tucked up on his shoulder and Daniel was pointing out little flowers and the buds on the trees as they walked. He finally looked over and caught Marigold filming, a shy smile taking over his face and he rested his head against his son’s tiny body.

And we run

And we run

Daniel was a mess, his stray tears turning into quiet sobs. He turned off the TV, the bright screen of colours and memories turning into a reflection of his pain. He chugged down the rest of his second beer and dragged himself off the couch. The air felt stuffy, like he couldn’t breathe properly. He swayed as he stumbled to the garden door, nearly falling down the steps. A choked sob left his lips and he covered his mouth. He stormed past the bushes of overgrown, wilting flowers.

And we run

Until we break through

Daniel stumbled to the back of the garden, grabbing the support of the garden swing. The tears fell down his face , smudging the darkening colours of the flowers around him. He slid down to the grass, leaning his head back. Daniel dug his fists into the ground, tugging out strands of grass with a yell. The pain in his chest burned into tears and he closed his eyes, drowning himself in his loss. His head felt heavy with what remained of the alcohol in the system and his tears. A soft breeze rustled gently.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

A soft hand brushed his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“My sweet.”

Daniel shook his head, “No, go away.”

“Daniel, my sweet. It’s okay, I’m here.”

He wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath as he saw her again. “Mari.”

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Marigold reached out her hands to pull him up to his feet. She dusted off his shoulders and smiled. “There. Much better. Come on.”

Daniel sniffled, his eyes focused on Marigold in some state of confusion and surprise. Her arm was wrapped around Daniel’s as she guided him inside the house. He lifted his finger to touch her cheek. Marigold giggled softly, “What are you doing?”

“Where are we going?” his voice cracked.

“I haven’t seen Apollo and Venus in so long,” Marigold smiled, looking up at Daniel. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Daniel moved at a slow pace, trotting beside Marigold on her horse. Marigold looked around at the green fields ahead of them, a glow in her eyes. He watched how her hair moved in the wind, her blonde curls flowing. The sun reflected on her face, and Daniel smiled. Her face was full of colour, no longer pale, no longer lifeless. For once she seemed at ease and Daniel had forgotten what that felt like.

Marigold slowed down to a stop and for the first time Daniel turned his head away from her. He gasped softly, instantly recognizing their surroundings, their spot. He followed her movements as she climbed off her horse and sat down at the spot where he would normally park the truck. Marigold shifted closer to Daniel, if it was even possible, and placed her head on his shoulder.

Daniel held her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Marigold sighed, “No matter how many times we come here, the view still takes my breath away. It’s beautiful.”

Daniel hummed in agreement but his focus seemed to lie on staying as close to her as possible.

“You haven’t been singing much lately, my sweet,” she remarked.

“I know,” Daniel mumbled. His voice trembled and he took a moment to breathe. “It’s hard.”

Marigold smiled softly and caressed his cheek. “Could you sing something for me?”

Daniel nodded. His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. “A h-heart on the run.” He gulped. His eyes connected with hers and he sighed shakily. “Keeps a hand on the gun. You can’t trust anyone. I was so su-s”

Daniel’s head bowed down and he wiped his eyes, “I-I’m so-sorry-”

Marigold shook her head, cupping his cheeks. She wiped his tears away and smiled softly. “I was so sure. What I needed was more, tried to shoot out the sun,” she sang.

Daniel lifted his eyes to hers, his frown breaking into a shaky smile. “The days when we raged, we flew off the page. Such damage was done,” he joined in unison.

Marigold stood up on her feet, reaching out her hand. Daniel stood up, his hand in hers as she pulled him closer. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and Daniel held her waist, sucking in his breath. “But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew I was meant for someone.”

They swayed gently from side to side. Daniel cried quietly, pulling her closer until there was barely space between them, his forehead against hers. They shared the kisses that had been stolen from them, singing the unfinished lyrics of their song with their lips just a touch apart. A setting sun cast a dreamy light over the couple. Daniel’s singing was consumed by his tears and he buried his head in between her neck and shoulder. He held her tighter, his tears staining her beautiful dress.  

“So cover me up and know you're enough.” Marigold rubbed her hands soothingly over his back and kissed his shoulder. “To use me for good.”

Marigold moved her hands to his chest. Daniel didn’t move, wanting to be in her arms. “My sweet, it’s getting dark. We should get home.”

Daniel pulled away reluctantly, holding her hand as they walked back to Apollo and Venus. Marigold waited by his side as he climbed his horse. She placed her hand on his knee and they leaned closer, their lips meeting each other halfway. Daniel nearly wished he couldn’t breathe when he pulled away for a breath. Marigold pecked his lips again before climbing her horse.

She travelled forward, Daniel following behind. Marigold sped up, urging her horse to gallop faster. Daniel frowned and tried to catch up with her.

“Sunshine,” he was an arm’s reach away.

“My sweet,” Marigold turned back to him with a smile, but it wasn’t the same. There was some underlying loss in her smile and it made Daniel’s heart drop to his stomach. “It’s time to go.”

“Sunshin-” he hurried Venus to run faster. “Sunshine! Marigold, wait!”

And we run

And we run

And we run

Daniel struggled, panting. The wind blew harshly in his face as Marigold moved faster, turning into a blur. Marigold faded farther and farther away until she disappeared. He cried out for her, his voice dying out into violent sobs. “Mari-stop!”.

Venus turned to mist from beneath him and Daniel fell to his knees. He pulled himself up, ignoring the ache in his legs and he broke into a sprint.

He felt himself fade the faster he ran, hearing a voice call out for him, but it wasn’t hers. The distance he covered never seemed enough as the fields ran endlessly in front of him. His legs gave out under him and he fell, head first into the grass.

Until we break through

Daniel’s eyes opened and he turned over with a groan, feeling someone shake his shoulder. “Dad, dad!”

He sat up in a sudden movement, startling Lennox. Daniel pulled himself to his feet, marching past Lennox to the stables.

“Dad, what happened? Where are you going?” Lennox followed him, his school bag bouncing on his bag as he kept up with his father. Daniel entered the stables, his shoulders falling as he found the horses well kept in their pens.  

“Dad?”  Lennox walked up to his side and held his arm, looking up at a distraught Daniel. He looked down at Lennox and brushed his hand over his head. Daniel pulled Lennox close, hugging him tight. Lennox welcomed the hug, unknowing of the inner turmoil in Daniel’s heart. He could still feel her in their own shining star, little remnants of sunshine and beautiful blooming flowers.

“Let’s go inside, Spud,” he whispered.

Lennox pulled away with a smile and jogged back into the house. Daniel watched him go before he turned back to the stable. He looked past the open entryway where the green fields stretched out to the horizon, meeting the sky.

And we run

And we run

And we run

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

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee​ @bessonbae @hiya-its-amber​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[whump-town]

In The Blood

I was going to post it all in one go and then I thought about it and I was like... you know, if @masterwords did it in two parts maybe I should too. Because I really got to thinking and hey, waiting for that part two HURT. So, I gonna do it too.

Based off an anon’s ask, Unsub kidnaps Hotch to get back at Rossi.

Warning: torture, blood, and angst

Part One

For as long as David Rossi has known Aaron Hotchner, he’s always been a little perplexed about tackling the problem of his handwriting. The kind is as sharp as a tack, that’s undeniable. His profiling skills were unmatched in the academy and what he lacked in extroversion, he made up with in charisma. From the very moment, he met the kid Dave has had nothing but aspirations for the great things he could do. For the things, he would do.

Now, some two decades after he’d rubbed the back of his sick future prodigy, shaking his head in sympathy, he’s sitting at his own desk. A senior agent that shares a wall with that old prodigy, now a unit chief whose puking at crime scenes days have long since passed. But something much worse lurks in his future and his present.

“Hey,” JJ knocks on Dave’s doorframe, smiling. She steps in without him having to say a thing, in her hand is mail. “Downstairs called me,” she tells him, handing him the envelope. “You got some mail and I guess they weren’t sure if they should send it up.” They both know exactly why downstairs called. The sexist bastard treats her like Hotch and Dave’s receptionist. Despite both men having stern, if not borderline unkind, words with them on the matter.

He frowns but takes it from her. “You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he mumbles, glancing at his name on the envelope and reaching for his letter opener with a sigh. “I’ll say something to them,” he promises, sliding the metal through the paper and ripping it open in one clean slice.

“You really don’t have to.”

As he pulls the letter out he stops. His eyes scan over the paper, frowning as he takes in exactly what it is that he’s seeing. “JJ,” he says, removing his left hand from the paper but keeping his thumb and pointer finger on it. “I need you to get someone up here,” he says calmly. There’s a fine layer of grim on the paper. Dirt and, the worst part, blood. Thick droplets that have nearly eaten through the paper. More identifiable than all of that? Hotch’s thin, chicken scratch handwriting.

“Why?” she asks, stepping around his desk to look. She takes the letter in slowly, breath hissing in a shocked inhale. “That’s--”

Jason and Dave could never read his damn handwriting. It’s illegible and made significantly worse by the fact that his palm smears the writing. When Derek and Hotch had confronted Jason about hiring some diversity (the bullpen had way too much testosterone and they really needed a woman on the team), they hadn’t had a type in mind. Hell, hiring Garcia had been an “on a whim” sort of thing (Jason’s exact had been “whatever you think is best”). JJ’s best feature? She’d glanced at the note Hotch had left for Gideon and read it without a problem. Like it was easy.

Now, standing over Dave’s shoulder, stomach twisting sickly, she scans over his shaky lettering. Breath catching as she reads things she… It’s horrific to watch pictures line themselves up on the screen, Garcia turning her head from them as she explains what they can all see but to read it. To have to stand here and read horrific things someone has done to someone you love. To a friend, in their own writing, it’s…

“What do we do?” she asks softly.

Dave wishes he couldn’t make out a single line of writing. As selfish as the notion is, he needs ignorance.

The line that he can’t get out of his head? “I am so sorry, Dave.”

Morgan waste no haste in making himself the leading agent. Which is no real problem because Dave has no interest in taking charge of this situation. He just wants to hold onto his letter, the only connection he has to Hotch right now.

How had they not noticed he was gone?

“I should have known something was wrong.” The admission takes them all by surprise, mostly because it leaves Emily’s mouth with such conviction that no one’s really sure what to say. They aren’t given the chance as she tucks her arms around her chest and shakes her head at herself. “I knew something was wrong when Foyet attacked him,” she observes. “I should have known this time.”

But… how could she? This time was different.

Jack is away with Jessica. Spending time with his cousin because Hotch secretly fears that the boy spending too much time with him will spell nothing but misfortune for his future. Which is simply not true. Hotch has taught that child grace that none of them have ever seen in a child. He’s too much like Hotch but not in bad ways. In his ghost-like gait. Never making a sound as he moves. While it surely isn’t genetic, he’d acquired his father’s silent intuition and those softly pained brown eyes.

But, perhaps, that is what Hotch fears.

That fear has cost them days. Now, they can not measure how long Hotch has been held captive wherever he is. Has he been gone since last Thursday? Taken from the office or from his home? Jack had already taken off with Jessica, gone to spend time with his cousins. Had it been Saturday morning while he was out for his morning jog? After coffee Sunday when he was getting lost in the bookstore in town?

No one knows.

How could they?

“His pills,” Dave mumbles. He stands from his chair, frowning as his brain races. “On his counter,” the information is coming too quickly. “For his birthday five years ago Emily got him a pill sorter.” Hotch hadn’t found it very funny (he’d pretended not to) but Emily had beamed at him. Very proud of herself and her old man gifts. “One of the ones that label Sunday to Saturday-- each day.”

It had been both a gag gift and one of purpose. Foyet’s attack had left its damage, physical and mental. He’d had a bag full of medications to take home from the hospital. Some angiotensin prescription for his kidneys, an anticlotting/blood-thinning agent for the ruined veins in his chest, and a few more Dave can’t even remember. Never mind the fist full of medications he’d been on since about twenty for mental disorders that had never officially been written down as diagnoses to allow him to keep his job.

The point is-- if Hotch was on top of himself about his medication, they can get a rough estimate of how long he’s been gone.

It’s a great idea…

“What if he…” Emily goes with Dave to check Hotch’s house. They both have keys and it’s unspoken that if Hotch were here he’d certainly prefer it be the two of them rooting around his things. Besides, they know how he is and they know what to expect the second they walk in.

They also know that as good as Dave’s idea is, there’s a silent fear shared between them that he hasn’t been on top of his health. It happens occasionally but mostly around the dates of Foyet’s attack. Still, not taking those medications and being gone for over four days is going to be some really unfortunate things for Hotch. Withdrawals, mostly, but scarier than that? Without the blood thinners, there’s a possibility of a stroke.

“He’ll be fine,” Dave mumbles, slipping his key into the lock of the door. Pushing the door open, Dave steps into the house. Hotch’s car wasn’t in the driveway which tells them a minimal amount of information but will give Garcia’s something to run with. Right now they need to focus on their task.

The house is cool and dark, the curtains in the living room drawn completely shut. If Jack isn’t home Hotch prefers the darkness, despite the strain it puts on his eyes. Stepping in, neither bother to turn on the lights. The sun peaks just barely through the thin curtains and, if they’re being honest, they don’t want to break the illusion both have created in their minds.

That Hotch is merely sleeping.

His phone is on silent.

He’s sleeping.

The notion is strong enough to make Emily hesitates as she stands outside his bedroom door.

She’s only been in his room twice. The first time to soothe his broken screams, waking him from yet another nightmare that threatened to consume him. He’d clung to her, sobbing into the old fabric of the shirt he’d given her to sleep in. She’d slept right there with him.

The second time came only a month after Haley’s funeral. He’d smelled like he’d consumed a small brewery but she’d still tucked his comforter around him. Placing Advil and a glass of water on his nightstand for when he woke up. Even getting the trashcan out to place by the side of his bed.

He trusts her.

Closing her eyes, she opens the door, and her illusion is broken. He’s not in bed.

His bed isn’t made, which makes her smile sadly. For such a literal suit and tie man, he’s got some strange habits. One of which is that he doesn’t make his bed. It’s cute, adds character. She doesn’t get the chance to dwell on that for too long. There are more pressing matters to deal with.

Stepping in she rolls her eyes at the pair of boxers he’s got thrown up onto his dresser, his nightstand drawer open where he must have rummaged for something-- she’s guessing the Advil bottle laying on its side. There’s a book on the other half of his bed, open and print down, his reading glasses on the cover. The sight, of which, would have Reid gasping in horror.

She heads in, deeper, headed towards the bathroom attached to his room. There she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. His pills are nowhere in sight but it’s worth her little trip down here.

“Find them,” she asks, coming back to the kitchen.

Dave nods and slides the box to her, allowing her to make her own observations as he continues to talk on the phone.

Wednesday is the last tab open. He hasn’t had any medicine since Thursday. He was at work Thursday when JJ left, the second to last out. She’d stopped in to talk to him about a formality from their last case. Essentially, things are not looking good.

“We’ll find him,” Emily mumbles. She flicks mindlessly at the tab of the organizer and looks up at Dave. “We will, right?”

Dave shrugs. He doesn’t know.

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

Head hanging between his knees, Hotch leans his temple against his bare knee. Sweat mixes with the dirty water dripping from the roof of the old cellar, it’s hard to tell which is running down his face. He’s stripped to his boxers, left to shiver and suffer through the elements. The cement floor and rock walls sapping what little heat his body can properly offer him.

By now, his letter should have arrived to Dave. That is if he can trust a word the Unsub has said to him thus far. That this whole mess-- mess as if disconnecting them both from his actions-- has nothing to do with Hotch. The Unsub had lifted Hotch’s head, forcing Hotch to look at him, with the edge of a knife.

“This,” he’d sneered, “is about what David Rossi took from me. He took my son and now--” He’d dragged that knife against Hotch’s cheek, almost stroking. “Now, I’m going to take his away from him.”

Nothing personal, the Unsub had promised.

It had felt personal.

A baseball bat coming down over his body, ignoring his pained cried. Not relenting when his arm had broken with a snap, Hotch’s cry rasping as he’d writhed and tried to twist and pull the limb away from the attention of that bat. Only to expose his sides and have the air forced from his body. He hadn’t stopped when Hotch no longer cried out. Going on long after Hotch lay still, breathing a wet rasping, and head rolled to the side to show the whites of his eyes.

Hotch had awoken to a harsh push. Pulled upright by two arms scooping up under his arms and forcing him upright. He couldn’t help the rasped, confused cry he’d let out as his broken arm was pulled up, the pen placed into his palm. “Write.”

He’d blinked blood from his eyes as he slurred out a question. He can’t even remember what it’d been.

“You’re telling David Rossi that it’s going to be his fault when your body shows up on his doorstep.” The Unsub had smiled, running a finger along Hotch’s jaw. “Tell him what I did to you. That you hate him.”

Hotch’s breathing had hitched in his chest. He looked back down at the paper. “I don’t,” he’d slurred and hadn’t even had time to think before his head was roughly pushed into the hard rock wall beside him. Hotch’s eyes had rolled into his head, boding seizing up, and a weak pained sob tearing from his mouth before his eyes had rolled into his back, and he’d gone limp.

Three.

He took three beatings before he caved. Pen to the paper he’d bleed and cried the whole way. Shaking and only half cognizant of himself and his actions. Hopeful his awful handwriting and probable brain damage made his words eligible. That way Dave and no doubt the others might be spared his rampant thoughts.

They hadn’t.

With a crack, the wooden door of the cellar opens and Hotch flinches raising his left hand to protect his eyes from the light that comes in.

“Aaron?”

Hotch pushes himself away from the Unsub. Moving until his back hits the opposite wall. “Please,” he whimpers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the Unsub promises. He crouches down, squatting. “It’s over,” he whispers. “Just come with me now, son. This last part is going to be fast but it won’t hurt.”

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

Hotch had gone missing Friday.

Garcia found his car and the tickets it had wracked up in his absence. Right outside the little book shop, he frequents on days off or in-between breaks. Quant and warm. Garcia had watched him take a seat by a window, tears streaming down her face as he opened his book and sipped his coffee. Would this be the last time she ever saw him?

Dave had found a similar solace in the recording. Some street camera that caught the moment.

They’d all stood and watched, transfixed as Hotch finally left that coffee shop. They knew what was going to happen next but they still weren’t ready. A figure came out of nowhere, aiming something low to Hotch’s abdomen whatever was said between the two of them stopped Hotch from moving. He nodded, once and followed the other man.

Then he was gone.

All they have is the letter.

JJ shakes as she reads the words on the page. It’s hard to tell which parts are worse. Hotch’s nonsense rambles, his fragmented thoughts that hardly sound like him at all. The descriptions that he does his best to throw in. Wet, damp, and cold. He doesn’t know where he is just that he’s in pain. His hand trembles too much during certain parts and she can’t even make out the letters. Tears rip and obscure other words. It breaks her heart to think of what he must be going through.

“He’s standing over my shoulder as I write this. Watching me. Three times I have failed to put this off. Three times he has beaten me for my refusal. As he hits me he tells me this is your fault. That it’s as simple as an eye for an eye. You killed his son and he’s getting even. I’m afraid that I’m starting to believe him.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Derek assures Dave. But Dave isn’t even paying mind to that particular comment. Hotch can hate Dave until one of them dies for all Dave cares but Dave’s going to bring him home. No matter what. What’s bothering him is the statement about Dave killing someone’s son. He’s had to kill many Unsubs over the years.

JJ can’t force herself to continue to voice his words, her scanning the paper as tears make their slow descend across her cheeks. He writes something of Jack, the pen drags and she can’t make out the words just “sorry”, “better father”, and “love”.

When she gives it to Reid, allowing him to make his own inferences (and search for a message in Hotch’s madness that isn’t there) she has to leave the room. Head bowed and heart thundering, she allows her legs to move on command, and before she knows it--

The room smells like Hotch. Rough undertones of mildew, the room’s old and the carpet even older, but Hotch. Moving with a slowness she can’t explain, she pulls in every piece of him she can find in here. Closing her eyes so she can imagine he’s sitting behind that old desk, scribbling away at files. Until she’s standing at the couch. Without a second thought, she climbs onto the stiff thing. Pressing her face into the cushions and pulling the spare blanket he keeps across the back over herself.

What would he say if he saw her now?

He’s unpredictably predictable. Empathy or strength? He’d always had this innate ability to fathom both at any moment. She’d loved that about him. Love, reminds herself. She loves that about him. He’s not gone yet.

“Are you okay?” Reid’s hesitantly standing in the doorway.

From the couch, she can see the twinkle of tears in his eyes. With a smile, she opens the blanket and invites him in. “Come on,” she offers, scooting over just a little bit more. “It’s not like Hotch is here to fuss at us for a little nap.”

Reid looks over his shoulder and comes into the room, pausing as he looks over at Hotch’s desk. “I miss him,” he confesses softly, sitting down on the edge of the couch. He doesn’t say anything JJ scoots up, placing her head on his lap. He pulls some of the blanket to his own lap.

“Me too,” JJ mumbles.

It’s only been a few days. He’s been gone weeks on leave. After Foyet, he was gone an entire month. Then, at least, they could swing by his apartment with pizza or Chinese food and he’d let them in with a tired smile. Softly admonishing them for being there when they should be at home getting some rest. But he’d been there. Readily available for a quick hug or to let them take his couch hostage to spend time with him.

“We’re going to…” Reid’s voice dies out as he second-guesses his question. “He’s going to come back, right?”

JJ closes her eyes.

Her reply never comes.

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

“Hello?” Dave is heading out to get some fresh air, very aware of the tail he’s accumulated along the way. Emily won’t let him out of her sight but this time it’s Derek’s doing that has her coming along. He doesn’t mind. When he gets the call he doesn’t even break stride.

“David Rossi.”

His pace comes to a dead stop.

Emily, a few feet behind sees.

“You son of a bitch--”

“Now, now,” the Unsub mumbles tsking. “Don’t be like that David. Don’t act like I’m the only bad guy here. Besides, we don’t need poor Aaron hearing language like that.”

Dave glances over his shoulder, spotting Emily and her timid, if not fearful, walk up to him. “What do you want?” Dave asks.

The Unsub chuckles, “you already know, David. Eye for an eye. You took what was mine and now--”

Dave closes his eyes at the sound of a whimper, Aaron.

“Now, I’m going to take what is yours.”

With a shake of his head, Dave says, “he’s not mine! He’s just a colleague. A friend!”

The Unsub hums sadly. “David,” he chides, “don’t lie to me. I watched you. His son comes to your house nearly every weekend. You love him. Tell him.” Hotch cries out in pain, the phone held now to his face as the Unsub grips his hair to keep his head tilted up. “Tell him, David. Tell him that he’s nothing more than a colleague.”

Dave shuts his eyes flinching as his words are repeated to Hotch. Shaking with fury when he can hear those words being used against them both. Drawing whimpers and a single breathless plea from Hotch for the Unsub to stop. “Please stop. Please, just stop.”

“Tell him, David!”

Dave turns his head, finding Emily and her wide sad eyes.

“Aaron?”

“Dave?”

“Hey, son.”

“Dave… he--he’s going to kill me.”

A tear falls down Dave’s cheek. Looking at Emily, he can tell she can hear them. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

A sharp cry breaks through the other line. Pained. Strained. Hotch’s plea-- “no! Please!”-- cut off by a sharp crack. Then nothing.

“Please,” Dave grips the phone tight. “He’s got a little boy,” Dave knows he’s playing with nothing here but he has to do something. “His name is Jack, he’s only eight. Aaron, he-- Aaron has to take medicine, already! Please! He’s on blood thinners! You’ll kill him--”

The Unsubs comes back, breathless, and scoffs. “That’s the point David. I’ll talk to you soon.” The line goes dead.

Dave throws his phone to the ground with a shout. “Fuck!” He falls to his knees, head in his hands.

Aaron Hotchner is going to die and it’s going to be his fault.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.4 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch is settling into small town life.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Four on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The rest of Stretch’s week went about the same way as the first few days. Work in the morning, movie in the afternoon, dinner with Red at night. After what Red told him, he’d been prepared to Groundhog’s Day his way through his next visit with Doris if needs be, braced for a few reminders until he made a good enough impression.

For their second meeting, he got another popcorn just for her, tucking it into the cupholder on the opposite side of her seat. She was barely formed before she was leaning down to breathe in the buttery smell of it and from that angle, he didn’t have to witness any of her less appetizing manifestations. He also brought strawberry-flavored twizzlers, bought from the store and smuggled in under his shirt since the only candy at the concession stand was raisinets and those tasted like chocolate-covered dirt, no thanks.

He wasn’t too worried about going over his entertainment budget. Red paid him yesterday and they hadn’t discussed an hourly rate, but a hundred bucks under the table wasn’t bad for a few hours work a day, especially since Red had recently taken more of an interest in feeding him. Seemed he’d taken his brother’s order to look after Stretch pretty seriously and he started leaving packets of donuts on the counter in the morning or little boxes of sugary dry cereal to munch between customers. In the evening, Red dragged him back to his apartment at night for more Wheel of Fortune and food, either deliciously left by his unseen brother or frozen dinners.

It made Stretch feel even more like a scrawny lost puppy found in a parking lot, but he couldn’t say Red’s sudden adoption was unwelcome, especially since it meant less of his dwindling funds were wasted at ‘Mama’s’ getting takeout. Not that he couldn’t access his bank account, even Backwater had an ATM at the gas station, but the second he popped that plastic into the slot, he’d be advertising where he was. Better to save that as his last measly dollar, ‘hail Mary’ pass.

After indulging in her popcorn vice, Doris sat back up to her normal prim posture and there was a certain restrained excitement in her voice as she said, “You came back.”

“’course i did,” Stretch said from around his current twizzler even as he nursed a secret delight at being remembered. “i said i would, didn’t i?” He wondered what other friends she’d made and possibly forgotten, aside from Red. Maybe she thought she’d been alone all this time when she actually had others who came to see her on the weekends?

Whatever the truth was, there wasn’t much point in asking. Not like she’d know the truth, anyway, and Stretch wasn’t planning on ghosting her. Her smile was Mona Lisa subtle and probably held as many unspoken secrets, and that was fine. Stretch wasn’t a guy to pry. They sat together through ‘The Road to Morocco’ and he didn’t even mind when Doris hummed softly through all the songs.

On the third day since their haunting introduction, she appeared before the movie started while he was playing ‘Candy Crush’ on his phone and pointedly ignoring the messages piling up. She looked fascinated, watching the flickering lights from the game. “What is that contraption, Stretch?”

Hey, points for being remembered again, but then, he’d been here every day so far. He wondered idly how it would go if he took a day or two off.

Stretch held his phone out to let her get a better look. “you ever have a telephone in your house?”

“Of course,” she said, but her eyes, both pale blue and ghostly pale at the same time, were on the android, “My parents were on the exchange. Mama used to call Central all the time so she could chat with the ladies’ in her church group.”

Stretch wasn’t quite sure what that all meant, but the movie was starting soon so there wasn’t time to ask. “well, this little gadget is a kind of a phone and a camera, plus a few other things on top.”

Probably better not to bring up the deal with the internet just yet.

Her eyes went wide and round, without an ounce of disbelief. “You can take photographs with that?”

“yeah, sure. here.” He turned it on selfie mode and tipped his head her way, waiting until he was sure to catch her good side before pushing the button. One click later and there was his grin and her translucent open-mouthed astonishment, frozen in time. He held out the phone so she could get a good look. “see? i can get it printed later, but for now, we can see how it looks.”

“That’s wonderous,” she whispered in hushed awe. “You don’t even have to wait to develop it!”

“yeah, it is pretty cool.” It was, honestly. He didn’t really think about it too often but carrying around a little supercomputer that also took pictures was actually pretty wonderous. He remembered getting his first phone when they came to the surface, a huge upgrade from the taped-up flip phone he’d scavenged from the dump. Playing with all the apps, taking tons of pictures of him and Blue. He’d forgotten that wonder when it all became commonplace and it was nice to have a reminder.

Doris reached out as if to touch, but her finger passing through the screen. Her hand fell away and she didn’t look happy anymore, more pensive, her delight fading as some other thought filtered in and force it to sink.

He wondered if the culture shock was kicking in. He asked, low, “you okay?”

“Yes, of course.” She pulled out a hankie and dabbed at her eyes. “I simply haven’t seen myself in, oh, a very long time, I think.”

Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. She probably hadn’t made too many trips to the ladies’ room in the past few decades and now he was double-glad he hadn’t accidently caught one of her bloody ‘flickers’, she didn’t need to see that. “i’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry,” she assured him, “I’m happy to have seen it.” She smiled then, pretty as a picture, “you’re a good friend.”

“trying to be.” For as long as he could, anyway. The lights started to dim and Stretch tucked his phone away. They both settled into their seats to watch ‘Casablanca’, him munching on his popcorn, her giving hers the occasional sniff, and both of them ended up sniffling as Sam played ‘As Time Goes By’, Stretch into his sleeve and Doris into her lace-edged hankie.

He didn’t know what past lover Doris was thinking about, but he hoped it was a nice memory and not one that helped her on her brutal path over to the other side. His own memories were more bitter than sweet, and he replaced both with more butter-soaked popcorn. At least that was a taste he could stand.

~~*~~

The store opened late on Sundays and closed early, only staying open long enough for anyone who needed a quick pick up or a treat for their kiddos after church. Stretch didn’t have the slightest interest in religion, not even his own, but he listened for the deep clang of the church bells gonging through the town announcing the mass exodus, and rang up all the Humans that came in dressed in their Sunday best.

At least none of them seemed to hold his lacking against him. Their smiles as they paid for the ice cream treats that their kids were already devouring were the same as they’d been all week and the only raised voice in the shop was a mother admonishing her son to ‘Be careful of that nice shirt, Billy, don’t you be getting chocolate down your front!’

By the time he hung up the closed sign at three on the dot, there hadn’t been a customer in nearly an hour anyway. Probably everyone was holing up at home for an early supper out of the scorching heat. He swept the floor, locked the door, and that was done. He wandered back to Red’s apartment in hopes of a little early supper of his own, knocking briefly before stepping inside, “red?”

“out here,” floated back to him. The door that led to the backyard was open, only the screen keeping the humming insects at bay. Stretch went out on the porch where Red was sitting in one of the rickety rocking chairs he kept back there. His leg was propped up on a scruffy cushion atop a low stool, the pantleg oddly deflated and his shoe lying beneath the rocker. Next to him was a small cooler with beers floating in a shallow pool of water and the remnants of ice cubes. Dangling from his loose fingertips was a smoldering joint, faint wisps of pale smoke trailing from his darkened eye sockets.

Stretch went out, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. There was a sofa on the back porch even more ancient than the one in the living room and it puffed up a cloud of dust when Stretch flopped down on it. “you’re letting out all the cold air,” Stretch said.

Red snorted loudly, “you ain’t paying for it.”

“that is true,” he agreed. “i don’t pay for a lot around here, ‘cause you are a generous soul. speaking of,” he waved a vague hand at the joint that was nearly falling out of Red’s fingers, “gonna share that, too?”

Red didn’t even look in his direction, only blindly handed over the roll. The first hit was skunky-sharp, the smoke burning in his ribcage in a way that plain tobacco just didn’t, and Stretch was careful only to take a small toke to start. Red was the kind of asshole who either got cheap shit to match his cheap beer or he’d get the sort of weed that would have Stretch afraid to get up from the sofa because he might fall off the world. Better to start slow and figure it out from there.

Turned out to be somewhere in the middle and left him in a perfectly mellow buzz, all his stressors suddenly distant and unimportant. Stretch lived up to his name by sprawling out as far as he could on the moldering sofa, his sneakers dangling off the arm as he and Red passed the joint back and forth.

“ain’t bad, yeah?” Red said lazily. He took another toke, breathing out words and smoke, “ain’t legal here, yet, but the sheriff is one of my poker buddies.”

Stretch twisted to look at him, “seriously?”

“nope, but his kid is the one selling, so i figure he don’t mind.”

Stretch wasn’t sure if any part of that sentence was true and couldn’t be bothered to care. Blurry reality was so much better than having it sharp and in focus. The haze dug in deep beneath the surface, settling right and making itself at home. That was probably the only reason Stretch asked, bravely thoughtless, “so, why did your brother want me to leave town?”

“ehhhhhh," Red drew the sound out like it was a word of its own, his chair creaking on the dry wood of the porch as he rocked back, "he's jus' paranoid. folks that ain't used to backwater can get into trouble here sometimes."

“yeah, i can see how a town with only one bar can be loaded with problems,” Stretch snorted, “the locals aren’t as generous with their beer as you?”

“you’d be surprised at the kinda trouble you can find in a small town.” That sounded a little more bitter than expected and Stretch glanced at Red to see what kind of lemon he was biting down on. But Red wasn’t chewing on anything; instead, he was tugging at his pant leg, clumsily rolling the denim up. Stretch started to look away, didn’t want to make his landlord and new weed dealer uncomfortable but Red only let out that rough, scoffing laugh of his. “may as well look if you’re gonna be askin’ about the real shit.”

So he did, taking in the rounded nub of bone leftover from an obviously surgical amputation, the leg missing from right below the knee joint. Red only slumped back in the chair as Stretch studied it, giving every appearance of not caring. Unless, you know, a person wasn’t a complete moron and Stretch was at least one rung up. He could see the overbrightness in Red’s eye lights, the tight grit of his teeth, his jaw working even when Stretch fell back on the sofa.

Stretch asked with carefully affected boredom, “you’re telling me i’m gonna lose a limb if i keep hanging around? ‘cause when you offered to let me stay, i didn’t know the rent might be a literal arm and leg.”

A beat of silence, then Red chuckled roughly. The ice in the cooler rattled as Red reached in and grabbed a beer, loudly popping the tab and raising the can in a mocking toast, “heh, you got inches to spare, anyway.”

“only below the belt,” Stretch said, agreeably. “so what did he mean, then, that leaving isn’t an option?”

“eh, he didn’t really mean that.”

“he said it. leaving won’t be an option, that was what he said.” Stretch was a hundred percent on that, it was the sort of thing a person remembered very clearly, no matter how stoned.

Red only shrugged, rolling his shoulders with lazy ease, "toldja, he’s paranoid, is all. small town life ain’t bad, once you get used to it. folks settle in and don't want to leave. s'nice here, people are nice.” His sharp-toothed grin widened. “'m here, ain't i?"

“can’t argue with that." Stretch reached out and managed to catch hold of the cooler with the tips of his fingers. He tugged it close enough to fish out one of the beers. "does your brother live in town?"

"i ain't telling you where he lives,” Red said decisively, “ain't risking my meal ticket for your illusions of possible booty call."

Stretch choked on a mouthful of beer, thin streams running out of the sides of his mouth as he coughed, “i wasn't…" He broke off, stoned-stupid and too aghast to come up with a decent protest past the obvious. "that's your brother!"

"yep,” Red agreed, “all that means ‘s i am immune to his charms. don't mean i can't see 'em and you was staring at his ass like you wanted to take it for a lil’ test drive. telling ya right now, that ain’t a good idea.”

Stretch slumped down further on the sofa, sulkily muttering out, “the quality of your brother’s ass notwithstanding, i promise you, i am not on the lookout for any kind of call, booty or otherwise.”

“good,” Red grunted, “while we’re having this little soul to soul, you wanna tell me exactly what you’re running away from that got you all the way out to this neck of the proverbial woods? i can guess at the basics, but the finer details elude me.”

"digging out the best vocab for me, i’m honored.” Stretch rested his half-full can on his chest, played with the tab until it broke off then toying with the bit of aluminum. “not really. i broke up with someone and it sucked. i don't want to talk about it." He slanted his boss/landlord a look, "that a problem?"

"nope," Red took another swig from his beer, wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "man's business is his own, even when he ain't a man. already toldja, stay as long as you like." His easy voice went serious, weirdly intent, "one thing, though, them woods out there, you see ‘em?"

Stretch managed to lean up on an elbow, squinting out at the trees that were far enough away that the house regrettably didn’t fall under any cooling shadows. "yeah, it's kinda peaceful, i guess. if you like that kinda thing." Stretch didn’t, not really, the only greenery he was interested in was rolled up in Red’s joint.

"peaceful. sure. that's all fine and dandy, but don't you go walking out there at night, you hear me?"

It wasn’t easy, but Stretch managed to sit up, working at his wobbly balance to give Red the full weight of his disbelief, “uh. why the fuck would i?”

“didn't say you would,” Red said, a touch defensively, “just sayin’ don’t.

“no, seriously, why would i? do i look like the token monster extra in a horror movie?” Stretch let out an exaggerated shudder, “no thanks, no, no, no. no splitting up, no checking the funny sound in the basement, none of that shit. why, what happens if you go into the woods at night? ‘cause i’m cool with the town ghosts but i’d need a better door lock and a pay raise if you guys got vampires hanging around.”

Red gave him a strange look, his sockets narrowing around his bleary eye lights, "what the…no, you honey roasted nutbar! woods are bigger’n they look, i don't wanna have to dig up a search party to find your scrawny ass if ya get lost, is all!”

"seriously, me wandering in the woods at any time of day is the last thing you need to worry about.” Stretch wondered absently if that was actually a problem around here, people hying off into the woods at midnight, yeesh, might as well wear a ‘free snack’ sign while they were at it and speed up the process.

"great, i'll add it to the bottom of the list. vampires,” Red muttered in disgust, “fuck me.” Then louder, “mind me on this one, you hear? i ain’t your daddy, but i’m taking a liking to you, kid, want ya to hang around a in the land of the livin’ a while.”

That struck Stretch as absurdly funny. He started giggling and couldn’t stop, curling up on the sofa as he cooed, “aww, c’mon, daddy, you don’t wanna roleplay? if i do go in the woods, do i get a spanking?”

He ducked from the can Red threw at him halfheartedly, beer spraying out and splattering the porch, drying almost instantly on the parched wood. Stretch rescued it before it could soak the sofa, tipping the can back and drinking down the last warm mouthful.

“shut the fuck up and hand me that roach,” Red grumbled. He did, and they sat that way for the rest of the afternoon.

The sun was going down by the time they went inside, casting a bloodred glow over the horizon that extended across the not-so-distant trees. Stretch gave them a last look as he waited for Red to strap his prosthetic back on and head inside, maybe for canned ravioli, maybe for one of his brother’s much tastier meals. The leaves were visibly rustling despite the still air, heavy branches waving and creaking. Whatever breath of cool air that ran through the woods didn’t make its way into town.

Stretch shrugged mentally and followed Red as he limped his way through the back door. Air conditioning was better than breeze any day of the week, including Sunday.

~~*~~

tbc

[mosylufanfic]

Holding Out for a Hero

I’m so proud of myself, I finished a 12 Days of Killervibe prompt at the last minute!

Holding Out for a Hero

Caitlin pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing out against the burn in her eyes. No matter how she juggled the numbers, they always came out red in the end.

"Dammit, Daddy," she muttered.

The bell over the door jingled, and she jerked her head up, pasting a bright retail smile on her face. "Welcome to Jack Frost Toys!" she called out, quickly minimizing the accounting software. "Are you looking for anything specific?"

Usually they weren't. Usually, they came in, wandered around a little bit, and left. If she was lucky, they bought something before they left.

But the man standing just inside the door, snow dusting his hat and shoulders, said, "Yeah, please, I'm begging you. You're my only hope."

She cocked her head and guessed, "A . . . Star Wars toy?" There wasn't any particularly hot Star Wars toy this year that she was aware of, and she followed every toy blog and website she could find. 

He laughed, tugging his gloves off and shoving them in his pocket. "No, just a desperate nerd looking for a Puffy Penguin. My niece is three and she watches the show on repeat. I know Leo Lion is like the hot toy this year, but Maya knows what she wants. For her it's Puffy or nothin', and I couldn't tell if you had any from your website so I came down here just in case and please?" He widened his eyes at her. "Please."

Her heart melted. One of the best things about this store was seeing children find their new best friend. Second on that list was adults who cared enough about the children in their life that they moved heaven and earth to find, not just the latest hottest toy, but the toy that was just right.

She slid off her stool. "I've got some ZooFriends toys right over here. We're sold out of Leo, of course -" Everywhere was sold out of Leo. "But I've got Puffy in a variety of styles."

"Oh my god," he breathed, snatching a Puffy Penguin stuffie off the shelf and holding it as if it were the Holy Grail. "You've got them all. Elly and Slowpoke and Skyhigh - " He stared at the elephant, sloth, and giraffe toys lined up next to the penguins.

She smiled brightly. "Now this one says phrases from the show, but this one is a lot huggier if you ask me -"

"I'll take them both," he said, grabbing the talking Puffy. "Holy shit. Nowhere has ZooFriends anymore. How do you?"

She bit her lip. "Lucky, I guess." She stepped away and grabbed one of the plastic hand baskets printed with the store logo. "Would you like a basket?"

He took it. "Really? Because it's three in the afternoon on the first Saturday of December. A toy store should be wall-to-wall. Where is everybody?"

She turned away. "Amazon," she said. "Walmart. Websites, chain stores -" She shrugged and tried to laugh. "The plight of the modern small business owner. Is there anything else I can help you find?"

"I'll keep looking around," he said, studying the shelf. "So you're the owner?"

She nodded. "This store has been in my family for five generations."

He almost dropped the basket. "Five - Did they even have toys that long ago?"

"Oh, toys have been around as long as humans have had childhood! Did you know they've found marbles in Egyptian tombs? And dolls in archaeological digs. Toys are how children learn about the world, and how they start to decide their identities and practice interactions with others! They . . ." She trailed off, blushing. "Sorry, my major was psychology and I did my senior thesis on the role of play in early childhood development."

He held up a hand. "Hey, I'm the last person to shame anybody for nerding out. That's pretty awesome. You're in the right business."

"For right now, anyway," she murmured. 

"What?"

She smiled brightly. "I don't suppose you have any more nieces or nephews that need Christmas presents?"

He studied her for a moment. "Do you have any action figures?"

"Collectible or to play with?"

"Collectible?" he said hopefully.

She led him down the aisle and to the back wall. His eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you've got Max Mercury, black series." He grabbed it off the wall. "And Brainiac? This is a great section!"

She smiled. "My dad invested in these because he was hoping to bring in the collectors."

"Well, he made good choices." He picked the Braniac from its spot and turned it over in his hands, studying it closely. 

She left him to it and went back to the counter. She didn't feel like agonizing over the accounts when he was still here, so she cleaned the counter, dusted the book corner, and rearranged the ZooFriends shelf to fill in the empty spots he'd left when he took the two Puffy toys.

After half an hour, he came up to the counter with an overflowing basket, most of it action figures. With her heart singing the song of small business owners, she scanned them briskly.  His purchases came out to well over two hundred dollars. It was a drop in the bucket of her costs, of course, but it was a bigger drop than most. 

He handed her his credit card without a wince. When she ran it, his name popped up on her screen. She handed it back with the receipt. "Here you go, Mr. Ramon."

"Cisco," he said. "Please. Mr. Ramon is my pop."

"Cisco," she said. "I can wrap these if you want."

"Just the Puffys," he said. "The action figures are for me."

She grinned at him and selected a print of happy reindeer to wrap the stuffed animals. "Naturally."

He laughed self-consciously. "I'm not sure whether to be insulted or not. I promise I'm a grown-up man."

"Of course you are," she said, hands busily folding and taping. A really nicely grown-up man, too. She battled back her blush and hoped he hadn't noticed. "But I'll never look down on any adult who still likes toys."

"Well, sure, that's a good hundred and fifty dollars of my total."

"There's that," she acknowledged, setting aside the first perfectly wrapped box and picking up the second.  "But toys are important to children's imaginations. And children grow into adults, who still need their imaginations." She nodded at the Max Mercury he held. "I don't think any of us ever really outgrow the desire to be someone's hero."

"Well," he said, "you're my hero today."

She met his eyes and felt the blush rise again. "Thank you."

He grinned and accepted the bag with the two wrapped presents inside. "And come Christmas morning, I'll be Maya's hero."

She smiled. "She's lucky to have an uncle doing his best to find her the perfect present. I'm glad you came by today."

"Yeah, well, it was coming out here or spending a hundred and seventy-five dollars on eBay and hoping like hell it made it here in time." He fiddled with his wallet. "I really don't mean to be that guy, but your website is . . ."

Her face went hot and she made a business of putting away the scissors and the tape and rolling up the rest of the wrapping paper. "Archaic?"

"I was going to say behind the times," he said tactfully. "If you had web ordering, you'd be sold out of ZooFriends and a whole bunch of other stuff."

"I know," she said. "But I really haven't had the time to get a good system set up since I took over the store. I need inventory software that integrates with ecommerce and for that I need technical skills, money, and time, and I don't have any of those."

He leaned on the counter. "You don't have to tell me, but how did it get this bad? You clearly love this place and I really don't feel like you would have let it fall behind like this if you had a choice."

She chewed her lip. "My dad died in September."

Sympathy spread over his features. Not the plastic, practiced sympathy she'd seen so often, but real compassion. "I'm sorry. Was he sick?"

"He had MS," she said. "He'd had it since I was ten, and he'd always kept on top of his medication and his therapy and everything. So - " She looked down at the perfectly clean counter and wiped it off again. "So when I was away at school and he told me he was doing fine, I believed him."

"He wasn't doing fine," Cisco guessed.

She shook her head. Tears burned in her eyes again. "It probably started small. Just little things falling through the cracks. Then the cracks got bigger, more things fell through. . . ."

He nodded. "They tend to do that."

"Mhm. Then last spring, he had an assistant manager who embezzled a lot of money - "

"What!"

"They caught him!" Caitlin assured him. "But most of the money was gone, and the stress of that just sent my dad's health into a tailspin. I'd just graduated so I moved back home to take care of him."

"And I'm gonna guess you were so wrapped up in that, you didn't even realize what was going on with the store until you took over."

She sighed. "Got it in one." She mustered up a smile. "I didn’t mean to dump that on you. It's bad now, but things will come around. They always do. The holidays are the best time of year to be a toy seller."

"Yeah," he said. "They sure are." He smiled back and gathered his purchases. "I'll tell people about this place."

"Great," she said. "Here's my card, by the way."

"Caitlin Snow," he read off the little rectangle of cardstock. 

"That's me. Let me know if you have any particular collectibles you'd like me to obtain."

"Hmm?" He was looking at his phone. "Uh, yeah, if I think of any, I'll give you a shout. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she echoed, watching him leave. The jingle of the bell over the door echoed in the toy store's emptiness.

**

Walking back around the building to his car, Cisco snapped a pic of the business card Caitlin Snow had given him. Then he dialed a number on his phone and wedged it between his shoulder and his ear as he pulled on his gloves. "Hey, Iris? Got a moment?"

"Hi, Cisco. Half a moment. My editor's breathing down my neck again about finding some heartwarming story to fill up Sunday space."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that. What would you say to a struggling fifth-generation local toy store owner who just took over the business after her dad's death, carries everything from ZooFriends stuffies to high-end collectibles, and knows toys backwards and forwards?"

Iris paused and he could practically hear the gears clicking. "Tell me more."

**

A week before Christmas, Cisco finally found a good excuse to drop by Jack Frost Toys again. With the name of a rare collectible action figure in his pocket, he turned into the parking lot and found it jam packed. He finally managed to wedge his little car into a space half on the gravel and climb out.

This was a good sign, right?

When he walked in the front door, the girl behind the counter wasn't Caitlin. "Welcome to Jack Frost Toys!" she called out before returning her attention to the grandma-looking lady at her counter. "We absolutely do gift certificates. How much would you like that for?"

The place was transformed. There was no other word for it.

When he'd come in the last time, it had been neat and bright and colorful, but empty and somehow sad. Now there were people in every aisle, voices ringing off the rafters. He cut down the doll aisle and almost stepped on a kid sprawled out on his belly, leafing through a colorful picture book. A little girl was staring at the Barbies as if she were deciding the fate of nations. A couple of moms were talking to each other over the Lego sets.

"It's just such a cute little place! It was getting so run-down there for awhile, but this new owner’s really spruced it up."

"I used to come here when I was Mandy's age and it always seemed like the most magical place to me. I'd forgotten all about it, honestly, but we're coming back."

Cisco smiled to himself and edged around them to the collectibles wall. 

The door to the stock room opened and Caitlin came out, arms loaded down with what seemed to be flat-folded gift boxes. She stopped short when she saw Cisco. "Hi!"

"Hey," he said, smiling at her. She was wearing reindeer antlers and her hair was up in a bouncy ponytail. "You're busy."

"We are! I'm sorry, I've got to -"

"Yeah, go ahead."

She went to the front counter and stashed the gift boxes underneath. "Allegra," she said to the girl who'd greeted Cisco as he came in. "I just got off the phone with our supplier and they'll have more wrap here tomorrow. Can we hold out?"

"It'll be tight, but we should be okay."

"Great. I'll be back to cover your break in a few minutes, okay?"

"Take your time, I'm good."

Caitlin edged back around the counter and paused to check in with the moms. She considered their questions, looked around, and plucked a few sturdy wooden toys from a lower shelf. "I really like this designer for the textures they incorporate," she explained. "Babies enjoy being able to experience different kinds of material as they explore the toy, and it stimulates their brain development. Have a look at these. I'll be right here if you have any questions."

"Thanks so much."

She beamed and moved on. 

Cisco watched her consult with the little Barbie lover and pick out a second book for the reader, as well as four or five other small interactions. It was like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel or Einstein doing calculations on a chalkboard. She was in her element.

She came around the end of the aisle and spotted him again. Her face lit up. "I'm so glad you came by again." She threw her arms around him.

"Uh," he said. "Hi again to you too." He gave her a quick hug back.

She pulled away, blushing. "Sorry. I - I just wanted to thank you. I know the article in the paper was your doing." 

"Oh," he said. "No, that was nothing. I just called up a friend. She's the one who did the interview and that great photo - "

 Iris had been savvy enough to pose Caitlin by her display of the coveted ZooFriends toys. Cisco had noticed how bare the shelf looked now. 

" - and you were the one who made this shop so amazing that once people knew it was still here, they came."

"But none of it would have happened if you hadn't put it in motion. You said I was your hero that day for having the Puffys, but you’re my hero now.

“Pshaw,” he said. “Like you said, nobody grows out of that.”

“But not everybody does something. So. Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome." He looked around. "So you're doing pretty good, it looks like."

She nodded, beaming. "People started coming in after that article, and PalmerTech asked me to purchase toys in bulk for the families at their company holiday party. All my part-time workers are doing as many hours as they can, and I'll be able to pay the rent for January and February, and if it keeps going like this, I can hire somebody to revamp the inventory system for ecommerce." 

She ran out of breath and panted for a moment, her eyes bright.

Cisco had to smile back at her. "That's amazing."

She nodded. "I mean, we're still competing with Walmart and Amazon, and we still took a real hit from what Jay did. So we're not out of the woods, but this - " She looked around, eyes still bright. "This is going to give us some breathing room.   

"I'm really glad."

She turned her smile back on him and stole his breath. "Sorry, I'm just chattering away, and - did you come by looking for something else? Another collectible?"

"Ah - well, I was planning to ask about the limited edition Star Wars figures they're talking about for next year."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to order any of those until March, but I can definitely get your contact information."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But actually it was an excuse."

Her brows crinkled. "An excuse?"

"I really wanted to come by and see if you wanted to go get coffee or something. Sometime." He looked around. "I mean, maybe not right now because it's still December and you're slammed, which is great, but - "

"I'd like that."

His stomach filled up with warmth, like drinking an entire mug of hot chocolate. "You would?"

"Very much." 

They smiled shyly at each other until Allegra called out, "Caitlin? A little help?" She had a line that stretched halfway down the doll aisle.

"Oh!" Caitlin said. "Uh, I should - "

"Yeah! Go. I'll hang around until you're free, and then I'll get your phone number."

"Okay." She gave him one last smile before rushing up to the counter and opening up a register. "I can help who's next over here! Oh, sweetheart, that's a great choice. Your best friend is going to love it."

Cisco watched her for a moment, smiling to himself, and then turned to browse the collectibles. She'd been right, he mused. The holidays really were the best time of year to be a toy seller.

FINIS