#it makes sense to get caught up in nostalgia for things that were safe and positive

[kiragecko]

A subtle characteristic of Tim that I've only started to recognize recently is that he gets fixated on idealized versions of the past.

I think that what Tim wants in his first arc is even more nuanced than 'get Batman a Robin'. It's 'get back the dynamic that I've enjoyed watching so much'.

He talks about 'how things used to be' and 'how they should be'. He cares about Robin - both Dick and Jason - and about Batman, but it's very much as a fan. He wants to watch them together, again.

During Prodigal (Dick's time as Batman, after Jean-Paul has been removed from the role), Tim's once again talking about 'how things used to be'. Everything is better, because Dick is able to fulfill his part in keeping the dynamic alive.

And he's trying for it AGAIN after Bruce's death. The reason Damian becoming Robin hits so hard is because Tim was going to get to be Batman and Robin with Dick again! Bruce was being unstable before his death, and Tim's been on his own a lot, but it's going to be like it used to be, again!

Instead, someone gets put in the role of Robin who ABSOLUTELY will not be keeping things like they used to be. Tim can't even watch from the sidelines now! Batman and Robin are fundamentally different.

-

Like, he's also a really selfless character! He does SO MUCH for the people he cares about.

But, he's also a little stuck in the past.

the misinterpretation of a lonely place of dying by later retellings drives me nuts because ‘tim finds out who batman is’ is nearly not as much of a big deal as ‘tim doesnt want to be robin’ in the actual origin and it pretty much sums up whats wrong with modern tim drake. ALPOD is a tragic story of a twelve year old boy who had everything and willingly gave it up for a greater good. he is not like dick and jason who became robin to escape tragedy nor bruce who had everything and then lost it. robin was nothing but a curse he accepted to bear and he did so because of his selflessness. that selflessness is his driving rod, his smarts and physical talent are only the tools he uses to achieve his goals. he is not ‘the smart one’, he is a sacrificial lamb for a cause he became an unwilling spectator of. a twelve year old boy thought ‘people need saving, its that simple’ and put on the clothes a dying kid not much older than him wore because of nothing more than his selflessness and everyone he loved paid the price for it. he paid an even greater price for it.

[imloyaltoscoups]

first and last | kim mingyu

As you sit on the soft grass, the gentle breeze playing with your hair, you glance over at Mingyu, a warm smile on your lips. "Mingoo, remember our first meeting?" you ask, your voice filled with nostalgia. "It feels like we were in a K-drama," you continue, your eyes sparkling with fond memories. "I still get butterflies remembering that," you add, your heart fluttering at the thought of that magical moment when your paths first crossed.

You're standing in line for the Full Throttle at Six Flags, surrounded by the excited chatter of fellow thrill-seekers. Ahead of you, a group of guys catches your attention as they cheer on a towering figure, Mingyu, who stands at a formidable 6 feet tall. You overhear one of them, Minghao, encouraging Mingyu to conquer his fears.

"Come on, Mingyu, you've got this! Conquer those fears! You're a big man!" Minghao exclaims, his voice filled with determination.

But Mingyu's response surprises you, as he defiantly declares, "Fck the fears, I'm gonna die riding that," He points towards the looming roller coaster with a mixture of fear and determination.

A smile tugs at your lips as you observe Mingyu's resolve, wondering why someone of his stature would be afraid of heights. The banter continues among the group, with another guy chiming in, offering Mingyu $500 just to take on the roller coaster challenge.

"Hey, Gyu, I'll give you $500 if you ride it!" the guy exclaims, his offer adding a new layer of excitement to the atmosphere. Jeonghan, another member of the group, joins in with a playful grin, egging Mingyu on.

As you watch the scene unfold, you can't help but be amused by the mix of comradeship and friendly dares among the group. It's moments like these that make waiting in line at an amusement park just as memorable as the rides themselves.

You began ponder the tempting offer of $500 for conquering a fear, you can't help but imagine yourself in Mingyu's shoes. The allure of the cash prize seems almost irresistible, and you find yourself mentally calculating all the things you could do with the extra money.

Just as Mingyu hesitates, contemplating the proposition, another voice cuts in. It's Soonyoung, one of the guys in the group, offering up an alternative deal that raises the stakes even higher.

"I'll do all your chores for a whole year, and Seungkwan can be your personal slave for five months," Soonyoung declares confidently, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Seungkwan, caught off guard by the unexpected proposal, quickly interjects with a hint of displeasure, "What do you mean I'll be a slave?! Why am I even inserted to this conversation??!!"

The sudden turn in the conversation adds a new layer of amusement to the group's banter, as Seungkwan protests while Soonyoung looks on, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. Meanwhile, Mingyu is left contemplating his options, torn between the promise of financial reward and the entertaining offers being thrown his way.

With a resigned sigh and a hint of determination, Mingyu nods in agreement to Soonyoung's offer. However, before sealing the deal, he decides to play it safe and ensure there's solid proof of the promises made.

Pulling out his phone, he turns to his friends, a serious expression on his face. "Alright, guys, I need you to repeat all the words you just promised," he says, his tone firm yet fair.

One by one, Mingyu's friends oblige, reciting their pledges with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Soonyoung reaffirms his commitment to take on all of Mingyu's chores for a year, while Seungkwan reluctantly acknowledges his role as a "personal slave" for five months, though not without some grumbling. Jeonghan then showed his $500 stating he will give it to him after the ride.

Each promise is recorded on Mingyu's phone, a sense of accountability settles over the group, turning their lighthearted banter into a more official agreement. With the evidence safely captured, Mingyu nods in satisfaction, ready to face the challenge ahead with the added assurance that his friends will uphold their end of the bargain.

As the first batch of riders exits, the crew signals for the next group of eighteen to step forward. You eagerly join the line, deciding to sit at the front of the ride, convinced that the experience will be more thrilling there. As you take your seat, you notice Mingyu trembling in the front row, clearly anxious. Settling in beside him, you can hear him muttering under his breath, rethinking his life choices with every passing second.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Mingyu murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of dread and resolve. “Why did I let them talk me into this? $500 isn’t worth my life…I’m going to die," Mingyu whispers, his voice shaky.

You feel torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation and feeling pity for him. Despite Mingyu being a stranger, you instinctively reach out your hand to offer some comfort. He looks at your hand, hesitant and unsure.

When the crew member approaches to check your safety belt, Mingyu finally decides to take your hand. His grip is cold as ice, and you can see his face growing paler by the moment, knowing the ride will start any second now.

"It’s going to be okay," you say softly, trying to reassure him, even though you’re not sure if your words will help.

Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter, his eyes shut tightly as the ride's mechanisms begin to clank and whir, signaling the imminent start. You both take a deep breath as the coaster jolts forward, ready to face the thrill together.

As the roller coaster starts its ascent, the excitement of Mingyu's friends in the other rows fills the air. You hear Dokyeom's panicked cries to be let out, his voice rising above the din of the crowd.

"Let me out! Let me out!" Dokyeom shouts desperately, his fear palpable.

Jeonghan tries to offer some reassurance, albeit in a slightly unconventional way. "Just close your eyes and pretend you're a pigeon," he suggests, though it doesn't seem to do much to calm Dokyeom, who's now screaming at the top of his lungs.

Glancing over at Mingyu, you see him holding onto your hand tightly, his knuckles turning white as he grips the lap bar with his other hand. Despite his own fear, he seems determined to weather the ride, finding comfort in your presence.

You give Mingyu's hand a reassuring squeeze, offering silent support as the coaster climbs higher and higher. As the roller coaster reaches its peak, the breathtaking view spreads out before you, captivating your senses with its beauty. You turn to Mingyu, a smile on your face as you encourage him to open his eyes and take in the magnificent panorama.

"Wow, look at that view," you exclaim, nudging Mingyu gently, hoping to share the moment of awe with him.

But as Mingyu reluctantly opens his eyes, the ride suddenly lurches forward, the ground dropping away beneath you with heart-stopping speed. A string of colorful curses spills from Mingyu's lips, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

"Son of a—! Oh, sh Why now?! Fu—ck!" Mingyu's voice cuts through the rush of wind as the coaster hurtles downward with grand acceleration.

You both cling to the safety bars, the wind whipping past you as gravity pulls you faster and faster towards the ground below. Mingyu's curses mix with the exhilarated screams of your fellow riders, creating a chaotic symphony of sound that fills the air.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration as the coaster races along its twisting track, each twist and turn adding to the thrill of the ride.

As the roller coaster screeches to a halt, bringing the adrenaline-fueled ride to an end, you can't help but let out a laugh, the exhilaration still coursing through your veins.

"Well, that was fun!" you exclaim, turning to your seatmate with a grin. "Again!"

But as you glance at Mingyu, you notice that he seems to have melded with the seat, his body limp and drained from the intense experience. Concern washes over you, and you gently remove your hand from his and reach out to touch his cheek and forehead.

"Hey, you good?" you ask softly, your voice filled with genuine worry.

Mingyu lets out a tired murmur, his words barely audible amidst the post-ride chaos. "That… that'll be the first and last," he mumbles, his tone a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

You nod understandingly, realizing that the roller coaster may have been a bit too much for him. With a comforting pat on his shoulder, you reassure him that it's alright, grateful that you were able to experience the thrill together, even if it was just for this one time.

As the crew begins to unbuckle the seat restraints, you notice Mingyu struggling to stand, his legs feeling like jelly after the adrenaline rush. Nearby, Dokyeom looks equally wobbly, his friend Joshua supporting him on his shoulder.

"Whoa, easy there," Joshua says, steadying Dokyeom as he tries to regain his balance.

Seeing Mingyu in a similar state, some of his friends rush over to offer their support and encouragement.

"You did great, Mingyu! That was wild!" one of them exclaims, patting him on the back.

"Yeah, you conquered your fear like a champ!" another adds, offering a helping hand to help him stand.

With Mingyu surrounded by his friends, you realize that your role in comforting him is over. Excusing yourself politely, you decide to seek out your own friends.

As you make your way through the crowd, thoughts of the thrilling rides ahead fill you with excitement. It's time to involve your friends once again in your own extreme rides adventures.

__

Exhaustion begins to settle in, and some of your friends are busy dealing with the aftermath of the extreme rides—whether it's puking or cursing you—you can't help but feel your stomach rumble with hunger.

"Man, I'm getting hungry," you remark to your friends, the weariness evident in your voice.

Inspired by a sudden burst of generosity (or perhaps guilt for dragging them into this mess), you decide to treat your friends to a meal. After all, nothing soothes the soul like some good food, right?

After successfully treating your friends, you find yourself in line for food alongside Mingyu, who seems to share your craving.

"Hey there," you greet him with a friendly smile. "Hungry after all that excitement?"

Mingyu returns the smile, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah! All that adrenaline has left me starving."

As you wait in line together, a thought crosses your mind, and you decide to strike up a conversation.

"So, did you ever get that reward for your bravery?" you ask, curious about the outcome of Mingyu's daredevil feat.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he proudly displays the crisp bills in his hand, a wide grin spreading across his face. "$500, baby!" he exclaims, his excitement palpable.

You nod approvingly, impressed by his reward. "Congratulations, well deserve!" you congratulate him sincerely.

As you both reach the front of the line and collect your food, you excuse yourself politely. Mingyu nods in understanding, but before you can walk away, he speaks up.

"Hey, wait!" he calls out, causing you to pause and turn back to him.

"Yeah?" you respond, curious about what he wants to say.

Mingyu's expression is earnest as he asks, "What's your name?"

You chuckle at his sudden inquiry. "It's Y/N," you reply, raising your voice slightly so he can hear over the bustling crowd.

"Got it! Thanks, Y/N!" he calls back with a smile, waving as you continue on your way back to your friends.

As the day at the theme park unfolds, you and Mingyu continue to cross paths, it seems like fate keeps bringing you together, each encounter more unexpected than the last. Eventually, the groups decided to merge into one, seamlessly blending into a single entourage of lowkey party animals.

Suddenly, one of your friends spots a photobooth and suggests giving it a try. Excited by the idea, they start pairing up for photos. Just as you're about to join in, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see Mingyu standing there, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Uhm, Y/N, do you want to take a picture with me?" he asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

A smile spreads across your face at the unexpected invitation. "Sure, I'd love to!" you reply enthusiastically, touched by Mingyu's gesture.

As you both step into the photobooth together, the anticipation builds. The photobooth flashes and captures each moment, you and Mingyu let loose, allowing your personalities to shine through in each snapshot. The photos turn out to be a delightful mix of candid and playful moments, portraying a sense of genuine connection and warmth between you.

In one picture, you both share a laugh, caught in a moment of pure joy as you exchange playful banter. In another, Mingyu wraps his arms around your shoulder (hugging you from behind), pulling you close as you flash matching grins at the camera. Each image exudes an undeniable sense of closeness and affection, making it seem as though you're more than just friends enjoying a day out at the theme park.

As you both step out of the photobooth, you can't help but admire the adorable pictures that now serve as a tangible reminder of the bond you share with him. With a smile, you tuck the photo strip into your pocket, knowing that these snapshots will be treasured for years to come, capturing a moment that felt like love in its purest form.

As the day draws to a close at the amusement park, Mingyu musters up the courage to ask for your number, his expression hopeful yet tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Hey, Y/N, can I have your number?" he asks, his voice soft but determined.

A warm feeling washes over you as you realize that this might be the beginning of something special. "Of course," you reply with a smile, eagerly sharing your contact information with him.

As you exchange numbers, a sense of excitement bubbles within you, and you can't help but wonder if this could be love at first sight for both of you.

__

Fast forward to the present, you find yourself holding the photobooth picture you took with Mingyu all those years ago. The memories come flooding back, and a pang of longing grips your heart as you realize just how much you miss him.

"I really miss you, my Mingoo," you murmur softly, your voice trembling with emotion. Tears gather in your eyes as you gaze at the picture, wishing desperately that he could still be with you.

Turning towards Mingyu's tombstone, you reach out a trembling hand to touch it, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I wish you were still here," you whisper, your words filled with sorrow and longing.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

[s-awturn]

Underworld Sun || LH44

summary: It only took an unpretentious visit to a local florist for all of Lewis's convictions to come crashing down, and finally the lord of the Underworld found what was missing in his lonely existence.

cw: dark content, slightly stalkerish behavior, nostalgia, pure smut, Lewis!dom x reader!sub, revelation, mention of magic, violence, outbursts of rage, (fake) naivety, devotion, deep love, soulmates, family interference, mention of kidnapping.

a/n: I confess that the final part of the first chapter shouldn't have happened, but when I saw it, the two were already getting to know each other. But nothing I can't get around, just a shortcut in the story's timeline. By the way, I need to thank you for the 100 followers, this story wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be, so thank you, thank you very much 🫶🏼

p.s.: do you want a taglist?

prologue |

The static made the hairs on both of their arms stand on end, he had never felt that before and for a moment Zeus's words came back to his mind. But it didn't make sense because the woman in front of him didn't have any trace of sacred energy, she was just an ordinary human, no divine traces. The itch in his chest increased when he saw her cheeks flush, so he hadn't been the only one to feel that way.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lewis... How can I help you? You don't seem like a flower person."

"I really don't like flowers, but I think my house needs a little... life." He wanted to laugh at the irony, but kept his face impassive.

"Luckily for you, I have the perfect flowers right here," she said, her voice high with excitement. Y/N walked through the maze of pots, packages of soil and other objects. "I have a beautiful pot of strelitzia, it's a big plant but it adds incredible charm to any environment..."

Lewis nodded, following her at a safe distance, watching her point to some flowers and plants, for such a small space, there was a giant variety of species. Perhaps the flower shop was bigger on the inside than on the outside, he observed dryly.

"I have black desert roses, I think violet tulips..." She was faster than Lewis could follow, Y/N picked up a beige ceramic vase, and was placing flowers in it randomly. "I need orchids, hold them here for me, please" she handed the vase to him and disappeared inside the flower shop, returning with two flowers hanging in her hands.

He didn't understand how that mess of flowers and some dried plants could be. Y/N gave him a grateful smile as she took the vase from his hands and added the flowers she had picked. Within a few minutes, The florist organized the arrangement, and what was a mess turned into something beautiful. Even if he tried, he couldn't do something like that.

Something beautiful, vivid and graceful.

No, he only knew death, fear and dread.

"For someone who doesn't like flowers, I imagine vibrant colors are a problem... You are very lucky indeed, these black flowers arrived today and people love them, because of how rare they are."

Lewis gave a curt nod, watching her fetch a bag to put the vase in so that it wouldn't ruin the flowers when they were carried.

Y/N taught him about some preservation methods for the flowers in the vase, but he didn't listen to anything, caught up in the way she spoke, how she gestured, It was obvious how much she loved what she did, how she loved finding the right flowers for each customer. It had been a long time, longer than he could count, since he had seen someone work with so much love, so much dedication.

He had always known that humans were petty, arrogant, and cruel, humans would do atrocities for the things they wanted. History had more examples than he could count. Clytemnestra killing her husband after the Trojan War, Lycaon serving human flesh to the gods... And the passing of time confirmed what he already knew, humanity was rotten beyond salvation.

But the woman in front of him challenged his convictions. No matter how deeply Lewis searched her soul, he could find nothing that made her equal to the others.

Y/N was different.

Still lost in his thoughts, Lewis paid for the arrangement, saying she should keep the change.

"I didn't expect to find anything here in this little town, and here I am, going home with a bouquet," he said, making her put away the remaining money.

She smiled widely, the itch on Lewis's chest growing more irritated. "Oh, it was no big deal, Lewis. I'm happy to make sure you take something from us on your trip."

He looked away from her, grabbing the bag from the counter. She followed him out, still chattering excitedly. "Thank you for your attention, Y/N, and for the bouquet, of course. Goodbye."

"Adieu, Lewis." She waved at him as he walked down the small village's only avenue, and he could catch the waves of surprise coming from her as she realized what kind of car he drove. What could he do? Powerful cars were his deadly addiction.

He placed the bag of flowers on the passenger seat and started the car, feeling the sweet scent of the bouquet mix with the smell of expensive leather, creating a unique aroma that Lewis didn't notice he liked it until the air conditioning dispersed the smell.

He arrived in London that same day, he liked how the climate of the English capital lived up to his own temperament, London was cold, gloomy and rainy, thick clouds covered the city for most of the year. Therefore, he thought it only fair that the center of his domains should be located there.

He had barely crossed the building's reception when he was greeted by Megara, the erinyes wore an elegant black suit and no one would ever suspect that this woman was chasing and inflicting madness on men.

"Welcome back, sir," she greeted, turning on her tablet screen as she walked beside him to the private elevator. Many creatures had found other purposes in life in the contemporary era, nymphs had become models and actresses, satyrs had spread throughout the world in various sectors, But the Erinyes met in the corporate world, for the three sisters it was much more fun to see men going crazy over bankruptcy than over madness itself. "Nemesis has returned from the US, the purchase of the Wall Street investment bank has been successfully completed, and Fernando has also returned from Asia."

"I need you to do me a personal favor, Megara," he said as the elevator doors closed. "It's urgent."

"Of course sir, how can I help you?" She quickly turned off the tablet and turned fully to Hades, he handed her the bag of flowers, which she looked at with a raised eyebrow.

"Find out everything about the owner of this flower shop, from her name to how many vaccines she's had, absolutely everything," he was emphatic, seeing the furiæ nod in confusion.

"I'll make sure you have the information today, sir."

"Excellent," he replied and stepped out of the elevator, meeting Hypnos and Thanatos in the waiting room of his office. "I hope you have good news."

"You're not going to tell us how the visit to your family went?" Hypnos commented mockingly, receiving only an eye roll in response.

"Come in... And Megara, change the water in the flowers and place them in my room," he instructed before entering his room, followed by the twin gods. "I still don't understand why they took on different bodies."

"After years of having the same face as my brother, it's fun to be different from him," Tanatos said, his Spanish accent showing.

"Whatever..." He waved his hand in the air, going straight to the small bar to pour himself some whiskey. "I hope things in Suzuka went well, it's not a good time for a war with Susanoo."

"He's reluctant about the terms, we're talking about millions of souls that could favor their own pantheon..." Thanatos said, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. "I was lucky to talk to him, Tsukiyomi doesn't seem so happy to see us in their backyard."

"They can either deal with us in a peace offering or go to war with the Hindu clans, I wouldn't sleep easy knowing I might wake up with Shiva stabbing my neck" Hypnos said.

"Exactly, if they want us to keep their territory safe, the soul deal is a very small payment," Lewis said. "They'll accept it, it's a small pantheon and they did not know how to maintain their powers in the transition of the ages. Where have you been all this time?"

"The Fates called me to the hut"

The mention of the spinners of fate puzzled Lewis. What could they possibly want? If there was a new prophecy coming, he would know about it.

"What did they want?"

"The walls of Tartarus are crumbling," Sebastian said simply and Lewis snorted, it wasn't enough that Persephone was alive again, he still had to deal with the possibility of a new Titanomachy.

From zero to ten, how fucked was he?

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[timeagainreviews]

From Page to Screen: The Star Beast

Growing up can feel like a lifelong process. I’m an adult, but I’m obsessed with a time-travelling alien show. Part of you will always feel like a kid, but another part knows the past is the past. While I may fantasise about revisiting my past like the Doctor, I admit it wouldn’t feel the same. I’ve changed. The ‘80s could never feel like the present. Every hairdo dated. Every new record in the shop window is a relic. Childhood always stays with you, but as an ever further memory. Understand then the implication that when my household of 30-40-somethings finished watching “The Star Beast,” we were like children.

In my “The Eve of the 60th,” article, I talked about how I don’t have a childhood nostalgia for Doctor Who. But sometimes, the things we love inspire a childlike enthusiasm within us. Somehow, Russell T Davies managed to retcon my past. In this timestream, Natalie has childhood nostalgia for Doctor Who. Using the TARDIS, RTD has managed to time travel back to our hearts. There’s something warm and fuzzy (and I don’t just mean the Meep) in my chest and I’d like to talk about it.

There are some Doctor Who reviewers who seem to think it’s impossible to talk about the Doctor Who episodes they enjoyed. But if we learned anything from the Jedi, it’s that walking the path of the light side is harder. Snarky shittiness is fun to partake in because it’s easy and immediately gratifying. But I’m not here for shittiness. I’m here for the love. It feels so good to say “I loved The Star Beast,” but it doesn’t mean I don’t have notes. I started out writing about the Chibnall era from a place of enthusiasm. I can’t help what happened after the fact.

My enthusiasm at the beginning of the Chibnall era isn’t a bad place to start this review. Because after “The Woman Who Fell to Earth,” I still possessed said enthusiasm. Seeing Jodie Whittaker as the first woman Doctor was a joyous experience. And seeing David Tennant in the TARDIS again was just as joyful. It’s a fabulous feeling, but I was burned the last time I felt this way. I further temper my expectations because, as I said, I do have notes.

When you spend a large portion of your time either watching, listening, reading, writing, or thinking about Doctor Who, you forget that to some, it’s just a TV show. It’s one of the many they try and watch but miss the odd episode. So while I may roll my eyes at the goofy PowerPoint presentation at the beginning of Saturday’s episode, I have to remind myself that not everyone has been obsessed with Donna Noble for years. Some people might need a little reminder. Fine. While the casuals and newbies are getting caught up on the Nobles, I’ll be over in the corner frothing.

Previously I mentioned that I was withholding judgement for Murry Gold’s new intro music until I heard the full mix. Now that I’ve heard it I can say I liked it much better. It’s far more bombastic with proper engineering. The intro sequence itself was colourful but safe. I enjoyed watching the TARDIS skim the perimeters of the time vortex like a surfer catching a wave. It’s ironic that Dan Slott admitted to writing The Silver Surfer to be like Doctor Who, as it was the Silver Surfer I thought of during this sequence. People have been musing that the Disney influence may have Doctor Who going down the path of the MCU, but this one is pure coincidence. The intro is stunning and fits this exciting new era perfectly.

It’s not as though “The Star Beast,” were an adaptation of a Marvel comic published in 1980. Oh it was? Oh right. Well they got us on this one! Surely they wouldn’t copy the MCU further by hiring the directors of Loki. Oh they have? Oh right. Well at least they didn’t do a Marvel Studios type of production logo that shows different characters across the franchise to play before every new show. Oh they did? Well damn, I guess they are going Marvel. It makes sense when you consider that many people said Loki was doing Doctor Who better than Doctor Who was doing Doctor Who. And on top of that, “The Star Beast,” is a fantastic comic in its own right. I would say Russell T Davies is a mad genius for mining gems from the extended Whoniverse, but he’s done it before with “Human Nature.” My only regret is that this somewhat undoes the continuity of the comics. The nerd in me can’t help but acknowledge the fact that the same comic recently canonically destroyed the Thirteenth Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, and put the Fourteenth Doctor on course to Skaro where we saw him briefly in the Children in Need special. Timestreams.

“The Time Beast,” has now gone the way of “Shada.” Both stories take place across multiple Doctors and multiple forms of media. Not only is there an audio adaptation of Shada featuring Paul McGann, there’s also an audio adaptation of The Star Beast starring Tom Baker. Add the upcoming Target novelisation and you’ll soon have both stories in book form. It’s the fandom’s new “The Doctor’s Daughter was played by the Doctor’s daughter who then went on to marry the Doctor who played her father in the episode ‘The Doctor’s Daughter.’” Get ready to hear that ad nausea. All of this is to say I love when Doctor Who acknowledges its other media and this one was well played.

This adaptation of the Pat Mills and Dave Gibbons comic is a loose one. While the Meep and Wrarth Warriors look fantastic, some minor liberties have been taken with the story. Yet it’s hard not to admire how Russell T Davies has woven the Noble family and a narrative about gender identity in such a way that it feels seamless. Themes of duality and stereotyping are heavy throughout this episode. Speaking of gender identity, I totally called it with Rose’s choice of name. I said I hoped they would use the trans experience of choosing ones own name to tell a wibbly wobbly timey wimey story, and they did. But this also brings me to my biggest sticking point in the entire episode. I’ve seen a lot of people online using the word “clunky,” and that’s exactly what I would call it. Having Rose choose her name from a latent human/Time Lord meta-crisis going on inside her was great. However, having it be a factor in her gender identity left me a bit cold. It may have worked better if it had been implied that Rose was non-binary at some point before.

Ultimately, it feels like a cis male trying to write an empowering trans narrative and missing the mark a bit. It’s like your uncle using the wrong language to awkwardly say “I support you.” It’s in no way problematic, but it could have done with being passed through a few different trans people’s hands before going into production. Donna’s line "Anyone has a go, I will be there and I will descend,” is the Doctor Who equivalent of David Lynch telling transphobes to “fix their hearts of die,” and I want it on a pin. As a trans woman, I do appreciate the trans representation, but it didn’t quite stick the landing. Moving forward, my personal preference would be to just let trans characters exist. We don’t need you to constantly point out our differences. On the other hand, we did get what seems like very positive disability representation. My disabled Whovian friends all seem to agree that having Shirley Anne Bingham with her rocket chair and a wheelchair-accessible TARDIS made them feel seen. One out of two ain’t so bad, Russell. 

It’s funny to me that it took the Doctor becoming a man again to even start asking questions about gender. Chris Chibnall felt as though he was afraid of bringing up the Doctor’s new gender. It felt very “I don’t see colour, I just see people,” like mentioning the Doctor’s gender would have been the real sexism. I can think of three moments where the Doctor’s gender comes up in the Chibnall era- when the Doctor called herself daddy, when Captain Jack thought Graham was the Doctor, and when the Sontarans thought the Doctor was a companion. It wasn’t until Juno Dawson, a trans woman, wrote “The Good Doctor,” did we get a great conversation about the Doctor’s non-binary nature. I guess “The Star Beast,” was right, trans people are fucking magic.

Seeing David Tennant in his new threads with a sonic screwdriver that draws shields in the air was very cool. He and Catherine Tate haven’t missed a step, and of course, they haven’t, they’ve been playing the same characters on Big Finish for years. But people still felt the need to point it out, so here’s me doing it too. That’s quality. Their meeting again played out almost exactly as I predicted it would in my article “The Future of Doctor Who.” The Doctor is going to see Donna behind some packages, freak out when he realises it’s her, but come running like a puppy dog at the name “Rose.” Only in this instance, the Doctor is torn away from this intriguing discovery by what appears to be an alien craft crashlanding in London. Donna, of course, remained oblivious, as per the terms and conditions of the the Doctor’s neural block he placed on her 14 years ago.

This “new” Doctor prefers to play things close to his chest at first. He avoids Donna and UNIT alike. He still doesn’t know why he has this face again, or why out of all the people in time and space, the TARDIS decided to put that face in front of Donna Noble. If there is a reason, he’s not going to assume what it is, or who might be responsible. I loved watching the Doctor question Shaun about Donna. The fact that the Doctor still remembers the name Nerys after hundreds of years made me laugh out loud. It’s nice to see the Doctor being Doctory. He’s skulking around. He’s getting clues. He’s not making assumptions. Already he’s learned that the rocket hadn’t crashed. Something is not as it seems, and the Doctor intends to find out what.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town we meet Fudge who tells Rose about the alien space pod that landed near their houses. Fudge is one of the few characters who kept his name from the comic. They don’t even call the Meep "Beep" anymore (sort of.) As in the comics, Fudge is an excitable boy interested in science and space. He also plays a major part in helping the episode feel like classic Davies era stuff. One thing we often missed from both the Moffat and Chibnall era was the human cost of alien invasion. Watching Fudge’s reaction to the streets of London turning molten was a nice reminder that the danger was real. Seeing the BBC news correspondant being thrown into the back of a UNIT van made me happier than you might expect. I was reminded of Trinity Wells giving us news briefs. I missed the clever ways in which Davies made the world feel involved in his stories while also getting a bit of exposition out of it. It was at that moment that I realised RTD and Doctor Who were officially back. 

While going back to the house to grab her phone, Rose meets the Meep hiding amongst her bins. Right away she feels kinship to the Meep who she sees as a misanthrope hiding from oppressors. Of course, she gives the Meep sanctuary. Even though the E.T. moment of Donna discovering the Meep among Rose’s “gonks,” had been played over and over throughout the trailer, it still made me laugh. Catherine Tate has great comedic timing, and watching Rose attempt to draw her attention away was charming. Everyone but Shaun seems hellbent on hiding aliens from Donna, especially Sylvia. I found Sylvia’s transition into a sort of June Whitfield à la Ab Fab entertaining. She’s just let herself in making enormous sausage rolls and tuna curry.

The Doctor says things like “I absolutely love her,” now. Even Sylvia feels warmer toward Donna. Her insistence that the Meep doesn’t exist, even as its holding onto Donna’s leg doesn’t come from her old streak of meanness, but rather from a place of protection. She’s horrified by the prospect of Donna seeing an alien and it burning up her mind. She’s carried the facade this long. This falls into line with the character growth she began experiencing toward the end of the original RTD run and I am happy she didn’t regress.

Most of the Donna Noble story remains in tact and accounted for. Shaun? Still her husband. The lottery winnings? Gave it away. Nerys? Still a snake in the grass, despite the accident. The only one missing is Wilf who the Doctor fears is dead. Honestly, who can blame him though? The only times people say “He’s no longer with us,” are usually when someone has either left their job or died. I guess it’s a nice fakeout for people who didn’t see behind-the-scenes photos from some guy on Twitter. We are given hints that we’ll see him at some point, probably in “The Giggle.” I liked the implication that UNIT has put him up in some comfortable digs. It’s nice to imagine that Wilf and Benton are probably playing chess in a posh retirement home somewhere.

UNIT is back in a major way, and it appears to have some new players. I feel like we’ll see more of Major Singh and Colonel Chan. It would be nice to get some recurring UNIT soldiers again. I feel like they missed a chance with Ross Jenkins in “The Poison Sky.” Kate Stewart is set to return, but replacing Osgood is Shirley Anne Bingham. I loved Osgood, but after seeing Shirley take those soldiers out with darts hidden in her chair I thought “Oh no, I think I fancy her.” She’s got a mischievous air about her that makes her feel a bit cheeky. It will be a lot of fun to see what Ruth Madeley brings to the table. I hope they don’t shunt her off as quickly as the rest of them. 

After a daring escape through the lofts of several people’s homes, the Doctor and the Noble-Temples escort the Meep to safety. But after witnessing the Wrarth Warriors’ tendency toward non-lethal force, the Doctor begins to piece together who might have taken over the minds of Colonel Chan and his men. The Doctor decides it’s time for the Meep to plead its case in the court of a parking garage. After gathering two Wrarth Warriors as witnesses, the Doctor dons a barrister’s wig and invokes Shadow Proclamation Protocols 15, P and 6. And dammit wasn’t it good to hear David Tennant invoke the Shadow Proclamation again? Blissful, even.

One thing I particularly liked about the barrister’s wig is that it calls back to the Fourth Doctor in one of my favourite stories- “The Stones of Blood.” Not only was it good to see the Fourth Doctor referenced in what was originally a Fourth Doctor story, but it also mirrors the circumstances of the original trial quite well. In both cases, an evil villain is posing as a harmless innocent and it’s on the Doctor to prove it. Like the black sun of the comics, a Psychedelic sun turned Meepkind into hideously evil monsters. Their once gentle natures now give way to sadism and conquest. The last remaining Meep, the worst of them all, stands before us today. If you had read the comic book like I did, you would have known this to be true, but up until the reveal, my wife would have died for the Meep. She was mostly alone in this as everyone else saw the Meep’s “I will either die or turn evil,” t-shirt quite early on. Interestingly, some people were actually drawn in by the Meep’s lies.

Casting off its ruse, the Meep’s face contorts as it produces a laser gun from its marsupial pouch. I absolutely love the transition from Puss In Boots to Dr Evil’s cat. The marriage of CGI and practical effects had me wondering how they managed the change. I imagine they had two separate sculpts for the head. One cutesy floof and one twisted grin. I know it’s difficult work, but I love an old fashioned person in a costume. It was cool to get a glimpse into the performance with the Cicely Fay interview on Doctor Who Unleashed. As a person interested in practical effects, this was right up my alley. It’s nice to see that no matter how big Doctor Who gets, they’ll still use a performer in a suit.

The Meep takes the Doctor and company back to its ship to keep them as an in-flight meal. But before the Meep can get them all on the ship, UNIT intercepts leaving only the Doctor and Donna onboard. It’s up to them to stop the Meep before the ship’s dagger drive takes out 9 million Londoners upon lift-off. Evoking the MCU once again, the Doctor deprograms Donna like she’s the Winter Soldier or Black Widow calming the Hulk. The code awakens the Doctor Donna which causes her to exhaust artron energy. We get another classic David Tennant yells at God moment as yet another member of the Noble family is separated by glass. But just as things begin to feel hopeless we learn that not only is Donna not dead, but Rose is also part human and part Time Lord. Using her brief taste of Time Lord consciousness, Rose fully disables the Meep’s ship and the molten cracks from the dagger drive powering up disappear. This was so cheesy and I adored it. Classic RTD right there.

A recurring argument I see in favour of Chris Chibnall is to point out how people often complain about things the Thirteenth Doctor does that other Doctors also did. According to this theory, every Doctor has their own “giving a brown man up to the Nazis,” moment. You know, kind of like when the Eleventh Doctor murdered Solomon by teleporting a bomb onto his ship as he was escaping. He could have teleported the bomb anywhere but chose murder. Who was it that wrote “Dinosaurs on a Spaceship,” again? Chris Chibnall? Oh. We do get a bit of that here with the Fourteenth Doctor ejecting the Meep from its ship. But the Meep was refusing to know when it was beaten. It’s the Sycorax all over again- no second chances. It’s dumb to call the Doctor a pacifist, but is it better that the Twelfth Doctor pushed the Half-Faced Man in “Deep Breath,” or that he talked him into jumping? These are some pretty heavy concepts, but no, the Nazi thing was still worse.

I was glad to see the human/Time Lord meta-crisis taken care of in this first story. It’s nice that Donna is out of the woods and able to have some final adventures with the Doctor before she bows out again. It would have been kind of distracting for them to have to keep worrying about her mind burning every time someone said the word Doctor. It also allows us to fully enjoy the TARDIS reveal. Watching David Tennant run through the slick new interior like a little boy was euphoric. It was cute to get confirmation that even the Doctor has a moment of discovery whenever there is a new console. You always assume the Doctor just knows how to pilot any configuration of TARDIS controls, but even he sometimes has to ask “What’s that?” The TARDIS redesign was well worth the wait. Such a gorgeous set. It’s easily my second favourite TARDIS interior after the Eighth Doctor���s. The changing colour of the round things will offer so many different moods. White for normal function, red for the cloister bell, and purple for the disco party. The Doctor should get some roller skates now. Maybe if they visit the ‘70s at some point. I pray there’s a mirror ball.

Along with a possible mirror ball, the new TARDIS console comes decked with a coffee machine. If you’ll recall “The Doctor’s Wife,” the TARDIS doesn’t always take the Doctor where he wants to go, but always takes him where he needs to be. This means that the TARDIS dropped the Doctor off next to Donna, redecorated knowing about Donna’s tendency toward spilling coffee on computers, and offers her a cup of coffee. That’s some 3-D chess there, old girl. But wherever it is she was so keen to take them in “The Wild Blue Yonder,” she seems as equally keen to escape. From some of the stills I've seen, I wonder if it isn't some sort of evil TARDIS they've found themselves inside.

Judging by Davies' past penchant for planting the seeds of future stories across multiple seasons, it may be a while before we meet the Meep's cryptic boss. Will this boss have anything to do with the woman in Dubai who is gaga over Rose's gonks? Was that just a red herring? Perhaps this boss is actually the Toymaker and I'm overthinking it. But why would he be interested in two-hearted creatures? Is he searching for two-hearted species to track down the Doctor for some revenge? I have so many questions! As wonderful as it is to be curious about Doctor Who again, we'll still have to wait until next week. But the longer wait is over. Doctor Who is back, and isn’t that exciting?

[skylarmoon71]

Lance Sweets (Bones) - Crossover AU - Chapter 15

Lois helped you get cleaned up, and you’re all once again in the living room. Lois is smiling at the way you look at Clark. 

Almost like he’s family. She understands.

“Well, since you’re already here, why not stay for dinner. Then maybe Smallville can share all his kryptonian knowledge.”

Her invitation brings a smile on Clark’s face.

He expects nothing less from Lois.

“Make yourself at home, we’ll get started on dinner.” Clark informs.

“Yeah, how about lasagna Clark.” Lois calls. Clark leaves a kiss on her cheek as he heads for the kitchen.

When he’s gone, Lois nudges your arm. Maybe she sees how eager you are to talk with him, be around him.

“Why don’t you offer him some help. I suck at cooking, he’ll appreciate it.”

Your eyes light up and you nod.

“Y-Yes I will.”

You head for the kitchen and Sweets smiles.

“They’re so cute.” Lois gushes.

He chuckles, shaking his head.

~~

The dinner that followed was fairly quiet. You’re a bit lost in your thoughts, and so is Clark. Maybe that’s why you both ended up in his barn after the meal. He was telling you about his childhood.

How he grew up. All of his experiences.

“I really never thought I’d meet anyone else.”

Clark turns, taking in the hopeless look you wear as you stare at the expanse of grass on his farm.

Sweets is below bailing hay. He sort of insisted that it was a task he always wanted to try.

“There were a lot of kryptonians in Smallville. Not all good. After what happened in the phantom zone I got a bit paranoid.”

“Is the phantom zone real?”

Your astonishment draws his attention.

“It is. You’ve heard of it before?”

“My dad used to tell me stories. It’s a prison for really bad people. To us they were sort of like bedtime stories. Mostly to keep my brother out of trouble. But I can’t believe it was true. Are you saying that you’ve been there and you escaped? Only members in the House of El had keys to access that or leave. Are you saying that you’re..”

Clark looks down.

“My biological father was Jor-El.”

At this point you shouldn’t even be surprised. Still, the more you learn, the crazier it all seems.

“I can’t believe it. Jor El, to us he was like an ultimate warrior. He protected us, kept the planet safe. You’re the son of one of the strongest and most honorable kryptonians to have lived. That’s incredible.”

“It sounds like you’re giving him a little too much credit. Sometimes the trials he put me through were selfish. I went through a lot because of him.”

You can’t hope to know what that was like.

“Regardless, he usually came through in the end. He played a part in turning me into the person I am today."

Despite all of that, there’s respect in his tone. One that’s similar to what your father always used when he talked about Jor-El, or when your brother would gush about his missions.

There’s a strange sense of nostalgia when you’re with Clark.

Like you’re home.

“This is tougher than it looks.”

Sweets call pulls both your attention. Apparently he’d removed his shirt at some point. When he turns to you, his exposed chest makes you take a much needed breath. He turns back to his task, and you’re fortunate. Your heart is slightly racing again, and the familiar burn in your eyes is all the indication you need. You close your eyes, not before Clark caught the red rings of your irises of course.

It takes a moment, but you feel the heat dissipate, and you open your eyes, massaging the bridge of your nose.

“Sorry..” You mumble.

You aren't sure why that happened. A lot of strange things have been occurring with your powers lately.

“I guess you’re going through it later than I did. You skipped the awkward high school phase.”

“What are you talking about?”

He suddenly looks uncomfortable.

“You just..How did you..when...”

He’s pointing between you and Sweets, struggling to put the words together and making hand gestures.

“How did you use it the first time?” He finally says.

“I was angry. It only ever came out when I was agitated. That was weird.”

He’s not sure if he’s the one that should inform you of the reason. But it’s not like there are many options. There’s a chance you might do it again, so it would be wrong of him not to say anything.

“It’s hormonal.” He blurts out.

You look over at him.

“Hormonal?”

He nods, still refusing to make eye contact.

“When we get..excited, our body reacts to it.”

There’s a pause, because you still look a bit puzzled. But it slowly clicks, he can see it on your face. Your cheeks burn red and Clark clears his throat.

“Anyway, just be careful in the future.”

“Y-Yeah.”

There’s no way to make the conversation any less uncomfortable. 

[wolfjackle-creates]

Been a hot minute since I've added anything to this post! Got caught up in some IRL things and other projects (as I'm sure you've noticed). But I wrote a bit more this morning, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 812

-----

Jazz groaned and fell forward so her head was resting on her arms next to her open books. Her professors were all ganging up on them by giving projects and exams before Thanksgiving.

She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. She'd be in Amity again in just two short weeks and then she could relax.

For now, she'd take ten minutes. Just ten minutes to fall apart before pulling herself back together. Ancients knew she had plenty of experience with that.

Her next breath was a little shaky, but she kept going. She could do this. She had to.

Only a few breaths later, she felt a wave of <concern> wash over her, and she could finally relax more completely.

She wasn't alone in the strange city so far from everything familiar. She sent back <stressed, homesick>, but didn't move.

Even with her head still hidden in her arms, she could feel him come closer until a large, warm hand settled on her back and Jason sat in the chair next to her. He sent out <safe, strong>.

Only then did she move enough to bury her face in his chest instead. He wrapped his warm arms around her and she relaxed even more and grasped his shirt. <gratitude> she sent back. She breathed in deep, surrounding her senses with Jason.

"You should ask for an extension on at least one project," said Jason as he pressed a kiss into her hair. 

Jazz smiled at the sensation. It was a new development, but one she loved desperately. <affection, gratitude> "I'm just homesick. I think if I hadn't met you, I would've had to drop out."

Jason hugged her a little tighter and sent back his own <affection>. "As selfish as it might be, I'm glad you stayed." His <gratitude> surrounded her fully.

Jazz pulled away slightly so she could look Jason in the eyes. Though her hands remained pressed against his chest and his circled her back loosely. "You should come home with me for Thanksgiving. I think being around other liminals and plenty of ectoplasm will be good for you. Plus Danny's been asking about you. My last few boyfriends were… not great. So now he feels like he needs to vet anyone I date."

Jason gave a wry grin. "You know, you're not doing a good job of selling it."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Come, please? You'll love our Thanksgiving traditions. The Turkey Battle is always so much fun. Especially if mom cooks the casserole and potatoes right and they get involved." She couldn't have held back the <excitement, nostalgia, fun> if she'd wanted to.

"I— what? Turkey Battle?" Jason's <confusion> mingled with Jazz's <excitement>. "And how would the potatoes and casserole get involved?"

"If you come, you'll see!" Jazz grinned at him and pulled away further so she could grasp his hands. "Please? I spoke to mom last night and she insisted I bring you. Then Dad and Danny each gave their own invites."

Jason squeezed her hands and bit his lip. "I'll try. There's quite a few things I'd have to take care of before I can go. When would we be leaving? And how will we get there?"

"We'd leave Wednesday before Thanksgiving in the morning. The bus leaves at 7:30 AM, but you can sleep on the trip. We transfer busses twice and that'll take us all the way to Elmerton. There a person from Amity will come by with a van or bus to pick up anyone who's trying to get there. We won't be the only ones and outsiders have a hard time actually finding the city. More convenient to just pick us all up together. The driver will take us right to my home."

"Okay. If you show me the transfers, I'll buy my tickets. I can't make a promise right now, but I should know within the week."

"Don't be silly! I invited you, so I'll cover the cost of your ticket."

Jason shook his head. "Jazz, I've got the funds and you're just a college student. I'll feel guilty if you pay."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "I've got a creepy billionaire 'uncle' who owes my family so much. My friend Tucker set up automatic bank transfers to our accounts as reparations. The only one who doesn't use his money is Danny because that pisses off Vlad. So trust me when I say I can afford it."

Jason's eyes narrowed and he sent out <concern>. "I want to know all about this creepy uncle."

Jazz laughed. "Sure. If you come to Thanksgiving, Danny and Sam and Tucker would be more than happy to share all the stories. But right now I need to get back to working on my projects and papers."

"Bribery? Really? You're an ass." But he sent out <amusement> so Jazz just squeezed his hand and grinned.

-----

We get to see more of Jazz and Jason!

Now, this post is getting quite long, so I've set up a subscription post! Follow that if you want to be notified of further updates which'll go to my writing blog instead of this specific post.

Short DPXDC Prompts #823

Jazz first ran into Jason outside the library. Jazz was too busy on her phone and tripped straight into Jason. On instinct, Jason grabbed her in a hug and steadied her. Being wrapped in a hug suddenly isn’t something Jazz expected to happen today but damn the man had one comforting embrace.

[kieraelieson]

In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Four, Remus.

Virgil Roman Patton Logan Janus

Warning for Remus-y metaphors relating to gore and indirect references to less than sfw things.

Remus had barely realized someone was in the room when Virgil had yelled “Remus! Affection!” Almost exactly the same as he had when they’d been kids. Though back then he hadn’t used words like affection, he’d grin and fling his arms out and call for a hug, or a spin, or a squish, or whatever he wanted.

Remus wasn’t one for nostalgia most of the time. He lived in the present, and loved or hated it as the situation presented itself. But in that moment it had swamped him entirely.

He’d hugged Virgil tight. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Stormy!”

But after that, Virgil had gone upstairs again. It made sense, he lived there now. But still.

And then other light sides had come down, oddly enough also asking for hugs. But. If they were coming down. Remus could go up.

— — —

But there was one person he obviously had to go to first.

Remus burst in the door as quietly as he could, which basically meant it didn’t bang too hard on the wall, and he flipped himself across Janus’s lap, knocking over a bottle of oily liquid.

Janus, used to his sudden and often riotous entrances, ignored the spilled liquid other than to sigh at the bottle and vanish it so it couldn’t spill any more. “Hello, Remus.”

Remus wiggled into a comfier position and grinned. “I wanted to spend time with you, do the whole ‘Affection!’ thing.”

Janus smiled back, and then a little spark of mischief gleamed in his eyes. He set a gloved hand on Remus’s face. Licking his hand didn’t do much when he had his gloves on, so Remus made a grab for the edge of the glove. Janus swatted his hand away, a playful grin growing on his face.

Remus knew to be careful and not let things get to the blood drawn level, but he loved this game, and soon he and Janus were tumbling off the bed, nearly wrestling.

— — —

Now that Janus was sound asleep, successfully exhausted and not paying attention anymore, Remus snuck out and went upstairs.

Obviously he knew who he wanted first.

He also knew he had to be a little sneaky. If he burst the door open up here, he’d be swarmed by angry sides, and… that might actually be fun. No. First came Virgil, then came angry sides.

He tried the handle, a bit surprised it wasn’t locked.

Virgil let out a little shriek when he saw someone entering. He always did get real antsy late at night.

Virgil scrambled for the light, and when it turned on he looked very pale. Oops. “Remus!”

Remus tried a wild grin.

Virgil threw a pillow at his head. “What are you doing in here?! You’re awful, you scared me! You— how are you up here?”

Remus shrugged. His energy and craze had abandoned him, probably mostly used up wrestling with Janus earlier, but still, traitorous. He was feeling, ugh, normal emotions. “I missed you too.”

Virgil blinked, several emotions Remus didn’t bother to try decoding crossing his face. Finally he looked down at his bed and patted beside him. “If you’re mostly clean you can share.”

There came that nostalgia feeling again. Remus hated it, it always made him feel like a piece of him had been ripped out all over again. And at the same time, he felt an intense longing.

Soon he had a double armful of spiderchild again. It was going to hurt more than a bucketful of his own guts when he had to leave.

— — —

Remus plopped himself in the middle of the couch in the living room. Virgil liked to sleep in, and as much as Remus wanted to stay and hold shadowling, he knew he would have less of the feelings that hurt if he didn’t have to see Virgil watching him leave. Letting him leave.

“Remus?” Logan asked curiously. “What are you doing here?”

Double damn that it was him first. Roman would have screamed and he could have dealt with all three sides at once.

Remus wiggled suggestively. “I’m here for affection~”

Logan’s nose wrinkled and he rolled his eyes, walking away. But after three steps he stopped.

“I would not be willing to provide what you’re insinuating,” Logan said. “But if your request is genuine, I would be willing to negotiate a way in which I can fulfill it.”

Remus blinked. Really? Even after Roman and Patton both had come for hugs out of the blue, he’d never suspected any of them would be willing to give affection to him, especially not to negotiate it.

Logan turned back to him, a bit cautious, but seeming to be sincere.

Remus’s brain spun the wheel of ‘goody-two-shoes approved but still kinda fun activities’, and landed on one. “What if we made slime and dyed it red and brown until it looks like congealed blood.”

Logan nodded slowly, considering. “Provided you assist in cleanup after, I would be willing to participate in that.”

Remus was still more than a little stunned, and his answering smile was barely even crazy.

— — —

As he had previously predicted, the moment Roman saw Remus, probably especially since he was next to Logan and they both had red slime at least up to their elbows, Roman screamed.

“What happened?!!”

Logan winced at the loud yell. It was a good thing Virgil’s room was soundproof or he would definitely be racing down here in a panic.

“Roman, please, it is far too early for such noise. Remus asked if I would make slime with him and I agreed.”

“It’s… slime?” Roman asked, nearly breathless, a sword having summoned into his hand and now clattering to the floor.

“Wanna join?” Remus offered, holding his slime filled hand above his head so it would drip in his hair and down his face like a headwound.

Roman took a few more seconds to just stare and breathe heavily. “I guess,” he said finally.

Roman was more fun than Logan, cause he was more willing to pretend the slime was blood, and when Remus threw a handful at his chest, he fell back with a groan, bemoaning his death at the traitorous hands of his evil brother. Remus climbed onto the table to gloat, covered in the blood of his enemies, at having finally made the ultimate betrayal. The kingdom would now be his!

— — —

He had to go back downstairs now. Janus and Virgil would wake up anytime, and he’d already helped clean up the red that had gone everywhere.

It had been… fun. He wouldn’t like to hold himself back so far all the time, but he could see why Virgil stayed up here.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said to Patton, who’d followed him to the door. The awful sappy painful emotions were starting already. He just wanted them done with. He’d drown himself in the imagination. Fire and blood and sex and insanity.

“You know, especially if you give us a little heads up first, we’d be happy to have you visit again,” Patton said, his voice serious, genuine, not overly happy in his polite lies.

Remus wasn’t standing on the ground anymore, it had fallen out from under him. He reached out, and Patton caught him in a tight hug before he could float away.

There were tears on his face, catching in his mustache.

“I’m sorry…” Patton said, holding him tight and safe.

Remus clung to him.

— — —

I won’t bother you now, you have plans. But if those plans are ever R-rated, you know where to find me.

—Remus

Thomas looked over the note several times. Maybe… sometime, he could look back over his list of video games. Pick one he usually wouldn’t.

[fallen-gravity]

Step By Step

“Grunkle Ford, you should dance with me!”

“W-What?” Ford blushes, caught off-guard by the request.

“Dance with me!” Mabel beams, and gestures around the living room. “When else are we going to get another opportunity like this? Dipper and Stan are out of the house and we have the entire living room to ourselves? We’d be crazy not to take advantage of it!" She bends over to pick up the box of records and places it on the recliner. “I’ll even let you pick out the song!”

Notes:

~ written for @fluffbruary day 18: dance ~

Fun fact! The outline for this fic has been sitting in the notes app on my phone since at least October, and I've been practically waiting for an excuse to write it ever since.

Sometimes you just need to let yourself write the softest, mushiest thing you can picture, as a treat.

AO3

When Ford first moved to Gravity Falls, he loved listening to music while he worked on his research. One of the first things he bought for pleasure rather than necessity was a record player, and he always kept it where he could always hear it playing as he wrote. Whenever he found himself in a pawn shop, or a second hand store, he would always be on the lookout for the records his Ma always played when he still lived at home, as they always filled him with a sense of comfort and nostalgia.

When Fiddleford moved in to help further his research, his record player was a great aid in drowning out all of that godforsaken banjo playing. They would get into spats about it, but they were always in good nature, and if anything, helped to quell the intense loneliness Ford had been feeling since he left for college. Fidds eventually came to a “compromise” and started recommending records for Ford to play instead, but even those were often bluegrass or country singers yodeling for almost an hour straight. 

Ford would play them once or twice to be nice to his friend, but truth be told the moment Fiddleford had to fly home for a week when his son caught the flu Ford snapped the thing in half and buried the pieces in the backyard. 

After Bill’s betrayal, music became a safe haven for Ford. Every night when he attempted to work on dismantling the portal, he would pick out the loudest, most aggressive-sounding records he could find and move the player right next to his desk to stop himself from falling asleep. It didn’t help much with the exhaustion, but more important than anything else, it worked to drown out all the voices screaming in his head. 

One night, when he got just a little bit too careless and just a little bit too comfortable, he fell asleep at his desk. When he came to hours later, his record player was knocked to the ground, his box of records was nowhere to be found, and there was blood dripping from his right eye. 

That’s right, brainiac! I smashed all of your precious music to pieces! Bill’s voice shrieked in his head. That’s what you get for trying to drown me out and undo millennia of tedious work! He cackled, and no matter how many times Ford’s heard that same laugh it still managed to send chills down his spine. 

And for decades, he had no choice but to believe that was the truth. He didn’t have the time to turn his house upside down looking for the hidden records while he waited for Stan to arrive to help hide his journals, and he’d all about forgotten them in the thirty years he spent fending for himself in the multiverse. 

…As a matter of fact, Ford’s not sure he would’ve remembered them at all if he hadn’t just been startled by the sound of someone loudly playing music from upstairs. 

That’s…strange. He was sure he’d heard the Stanleymobile driving away about ten minutes ago, and it’s rare that Stan would leave in his car without taking the kids with him.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Ford closes the journal he’d been editing and makes his way up the stairs. A quick glance out the gift shop window tells him that Stan’s car is still missing, but there’s definitely still loud music coming from one of the other rooms. Frowning, Ford shoves his hands in his trench coat pockets just in case, and slowly creeps his way towards the other rooms to investigate where the music could possibly be coming from. He has no luck in the kitchen or in the hallway, but as soon as he peeks his head into the living room the nervous frown on his face is replaced with a soft smile. 

Mabel’s there in the middle of the room, eyes squeezed shut and grinning from ear to ear as she dances like nobody’s watching. Her arms are flailing around as her legs bounce from side to side, looking like she’s having the most fun she’s ever had in her entire life. Bouncing around in time to the music, she spins on her feet until she’s facing Ford, and when she finally opens her eyes and sees him watching her she yelps, freezing in place. 

“Grunkle Ford!” she squeaks, and dives towards the record player by Stan’s recliner to turn the music off. There’s a pink blush on her face when she looks at him again. “I thought I was home alone!” 

Ford chuckles as he steps into the room to join her. “I could say the same thing, dear. Where are Stan and your brother?” 

“At the grocery store,” she shrugs. “I told them I needed to stay behind and work on an art project, but I really just wanted to have a single-person-super-secret-dance-party-for-no-reason.” she nods firmly, but the blush returns to her face when she makes eye contact with Ford again. “Oh, my loud music wasn’t…bothering you, was it? I can always listen to my own music upstairs, but there’s something really charming about all these old-timey records that Stan keeps around the house.”

“Not at all” Ford smiles as he approaches the box of records on the floor beside the record player. “I actually came upstairs because I thought I recognized the song you were listening to,” he says, and kneels down to flip through the selection. It’s a significantly larger collection than the last time he looked through it, but he supposes that could be because Stan found the time to go out and buy more as the years went on. 

More importantly, though, there isn’t a single record missing, from what he can recall. Ford’s not sure how, but Stan managed to find every single record that Bill had supposedly “destroyed” and tucked them neatly back into their case.

Bill never destroyed them at all. If Ford had to guess, he had simply taunted him with a threat, and Ford was too paranoid and sleep deprived to see through it. 

“As a matter of fact…” he picks one of them up and inspects it with his hands. “Most of these are actually my records”

Mabel gasps, stars forming in her eyes at the revelation. “Grunkle Ford, I didn’t know you liked music!” 

Ford laughs. “Come on, now, I’m not nearly as stiff as Stanley likes to make me out to be” he ruffles her hair as he stands to his feet. “I love music. It was a vital part of my life when I was working on the journals”

“Ahh! I knew I wasn’t the only artistic one in the family!” Mabel squeals, excitedly bouncing on her feet. She bounds towards him to give him a hug, but she pulls away with a gasp after only a single beat. “Grunkle Ford, you should dance with me!”

“W-What?” Ford blushes, caught off-guard by the request. 

“Dance with me!” Mabel beams, and gestures around the living room. “When else are we going to get another opportunity like this? Dipper and Stan are out of the house and we have the entire living room to ourselves? We’d be crazy not to take advantage of it!” She bends over to pick up the box of records and places it on the recliner. “I’ll even let you pick out the song!” 

Ford hesitates for a few moments, but it’s near impossible to resist when Mabel smiles like that. Not to mention that she’s right; he hasn’t had an opportunity to allow himself to just enjoy music for what it is for decades, and especially not a quiet afternoon alone like this. 

“Alright,” he nods, and begins flipping through the collection of records. He knows just the song he’s looking for, and finds himself smiling when he finds it. “Let’s dance.”  As gently as he can, Ford removes the record from its case and places it down on the player. He backs away as the music begins to play, and offers a hand to Mabel as it increases in volume. Mabel, seemingly recognizing the song, takes his hand with a big grin on her face.

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day

When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May

She gently sways back and forth in time to the music, looking carefully to the ground to avoid stepping on his feet. If Ford looks close enough, he swears he can see her mouthing the words of the song.

I’d guess you’d say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl

Talkin’ bout my girl

As the chorus picks up, Ford lifts Mabel’s hand into the air and gently twirls her in a circle, causing her to giggle. Her hair flies out in front of her face as she spins, but she makes little effort to fix it. Ford can’t help but smile, and when she attempts to lift his arm into the air to return the favor, he meets her halfway and spins himself in a circle. 

I don’t need no money, fortune or fame

I’ve got all the riches baby one man can claim

Well I’d guess you’d say

What can make me feel this way?

Ford’s not entirely sure when, but at some point during the song, Mabel had switched to standing on his feet while they danced. He merely pretends he doesn’t notice, and continues to dance around the room in slow circles.

My girl, my girl

Talkin’ bout my girl, talkin’ bout my girl

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day with my girl

I’ve even got the month of May with my girl

As the song reaches its conclusion and begins to fade, Ford and Mabel remain dancing, and neither of them stop until the next song begins to play. Mabel steps off of Ford’s feet to allow him to turn the music off, but stands close behind him with a huge grin on her face. 

“Grunkle Ford, you never told me you were such a great dancer!” she beams. “How could you keep such an important secret from me?”

Ford finds himself blushing at the compliment. “Ah, well, I guess it’s been so long since the last time I went dancing that I guess I forgot” he rubs at the back of his neck, smiling shyly. 

“Aww, then I’m super glad I got to be the one to remind you!” she squeals, beaming from ear to ear.  “Thank you for that, Grunkle Ford, it was so much more fun than just dancing around the room by myself”

Ford smiles, and formally bows to her in return. “And thank you, my dear”

She giggles. “What are you thanking me for?”

Ford returns to a standing position, smile growing softer. “For reminding me what it’s like to take things slowly.”

Even before he’d been forced to live between dimensions for thirty years, Ford always found himself living in the fast lane. He was convinced he had to be the first to discover everything, the first to publish research papers, the first to deliver speeches about his findings. He would get such an intense rush from being the first that he’d almost entirely forgotten about the comfort in taking things at a leisurely pace. 

“Oh!” Mabel grins. “Of course! Don’t think you’re the only anxious mess in the family. I’ve gotta help poor Dipdop slow down all the time” she shakes her head in disapproval. “I swear, one of these days he’s going to vibrate so hard he’ll pop” 

Ford laughs. “Well, it helps to know that we have someone in the family with experience in knocking us down a few pegs”

“Yep, Miss Gentle and Down To Earth, that’s me!” Mabel puffs out her chest with pride, which only makes Ford laugh even more. A soft smile forms on her face as well, and she gently reaches to take one of Ford’s hands in her own. “In all seriousness, Grunkle Ford, I’m really happy for you. You deserve nice things like music and sugary snacks and all that kinda stuff just as much as the rest of us do” 

A tiny, choked up sound escapes Ford at the sentiment, but before he can say anything in return, Mabel rushes forward and winds her tiny arms around him in a hug. Ford returns the gesture instead of replying, and Mabel squeezes him extra hard for a moment before she pulls away. 

“Y’know…” she begins, a grin returning to her face. “Dipper and Grunkle Stan still aren’t back yet.” She offers out her hand the same way he’d done for her a few minutes prior. “Would you care for another dance?” 

Ford chuckles, a sense of warmth rushing to his chest.  “I would love one,” he replies, moving to turn the music back on before taking her up on her offer. 

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 1.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 1 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You knocked on the large wooden door and took a step back, hands shaking with how nervous you were. 

You were quite far from your neighborhood, and none of your friends were in town currently. So really so there was no one who could come pick you up. Plus, the thunderstorm was making things worse. Your car had broken down for no reason while you were heading back home. And you drove down this road often, to get to the other side of the town and you always, always admired this mansion - at the doorstep of which you found yourself at the moment. 

The mansion was renowned for its unusualness. It was the largest property around so definitely whoever owns it must be extremely well-off. Another reason why it was so talked about is because no one personally knew the man who owned it. People saw him once in a while, some claimed to have seen him at the library, or at the museum or at the coffee shops. He had no friends apparently, always seen alone. No one knew of his occupation, or how he was able to afford and maintain this large estate. 

Most people said he was stand-offish, or mean, or rude or arrogant. Well, whatever he was, you were about to find out in a few seconds given that you were now knocking at his front door. What if he doesn’t agree to help? Or worse, what if he’s a creepy weirdo who-

Your thoughts were cut short as the door flew open. And the man revealed himself. Your gaze locked with his and for a brief moment, it felt like time had stopped. Blue eyes. The bluest you had ever seen. Magnetic, mesmerizing. Strong jaw, broad shoulders - the man was a dream. 

I finally found you… 

For some reasons those words echoed in your head, and you felt a pressing need to say them out loud. You had to force yourself out of whatever trance you were under and come back to reality. 

You cleared your throat. “Hello Mr. Barnes. I apologize for-,”

He cut you off, abruptly. “Come on in.” he spoke with a warm smile and opened the door wider. And you found yourself under his spell just by the sound of his voice, again. 

“But Mr. Barnes you didn’t even let me-,” you realized it would be much better if you told him why you were here in the first place, you would hate to impose. 

He gave you another smile as he waited for you to enter his home, closing the door behind you. “You’re a long way from home, I figured that the only reason why you would be here at this time is because you need shelter from the terrible weather, or maybe your car broke down.” He gave you a soft look, “So which is it?” 

You looked down at your shoes now drenched by the rain, sheepishly answering, “Both actually.” You looked back up at him and finally took all of him in. You had to admit, he was just as they described him; very, very handsome.  

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. He looked like he was crafted by the gods above. His soft sweater gave him a very warm look, but his eyes - icy blue, they reminded you of glaciers and mountain tops, and snowstorms. He was the kind of man one could spend hours looking at. And the more you looked at him, the more details you picked up on. For instance, how perfect his nose was. Or how well he carried himself, or just how mature and wise his facial hair made him look. He was… oddly familiar. Maybe you had seen him at the library or something before.

He must've caught you checking him out judging by the smirk he gave you. You cleared your throat again, looking everywhere else but right at him. “I promise I’ll be gone by morning, Mr. Barnes.” 

He took a step forward and you froze in place. “Please, call me Bucky. And you can stay for as long as you need too, there’s no way I’m letting you leave until this terrible storm passes.” And just as he said that, you heard the thunder roar right above you. 

“Thank you.” you replied with a shy smile. Normally, whenever you came face to face with men this handsome, you’d turn into a nervous mess. But Bucky had a sense of familiarity with him. Warmth, comfort; you couldn’t explain it. “You have a lovely home.” you commented. 

Bucky looked right at you with a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher. Longing? Sadness? Or was it just you who was overthinking? “Thank you.” he stared at you for a few more seconds before rushing over to the coat hangers and grabbed one, holding it open for you. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot how to be a good host. We don’t get many visitors.” 

You happily accepted the coat and turned back around to smile at him. “I think you’re doing perfectly alright.” 

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something but another voice beat him to it. “Who is it? I heard someone come in. Is it-,” 

The woman with brown hair and a white apron, who suddenly emerged from one of the hallways, stopped talking the moment she saw you. Her lips parted in surprise and you could’ve sworn you heard her gasp. You assumed it was because of the odd time you showed up. 

“Oh…” she seemed surprised. “Hello miss...” her eyes searched for Bucky and the moment she found him, her eyes widened again.

Bucky spoke up. “Wanda, this is Y/N. She will be spending the night here. Could you prepare the guestroom for her please?” 

The woman, Wanda, smiled brightly and you wondered how she had this much energy at this time of the night. “Of course! Right away.” And with that, she left. Leaving you and Bucky alone again. You turned to face him again. 

“That was my housekeeper, Wanda. Her and her husband take care of the house.” He explained, and you nodded. 

“She seemed a little surprised upon seeing me. I didn’t mean to disturb your household at such a time, I’m-” 

He cut you off again, stepping closer and gently placing his cold hands on your shoulder. You shivered a little and he didn’t seem to notice. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t disturb anyone, okay?” 

His piercing blue eyes were making it hard for you to focus on what he was saying but you grasped whatever you could and nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You tried hard not to, but you couldn’t help but be all bothered by his simple touch. His very presence screamed power, in a good way. You felt safe. 

“Good. Now come on, you could use some rest.” He held your hand in his gently, and led you up the grand stairs. He took your hand in his with such ease almost like he had done so a thousand times before, and you let him. 

You took in more and more of the house as you moved upstairs. It was the right mixture between modern and vintage. Parts of the house looked like it belonged in one of the home décor magazines you were currently obsessed with, while others seemed like they were pieces of ancient manors. It was unusually, hauntingly beautiful. 

Once you entered the guest room, you felt a wave of emotions hit you right in the face. Like homesickness, but for a place you had never stepped in before until this very moment. Nostalgia, but for a moment back in time which you had never lived in. 

The room was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wooden interior, with accents of black and gold. A chandelier which reminded you of an ancient castle, and a bed which seemed fit for royalty. “I must say, you have incredible taste in interior décor.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I take it you like the room. Very well then, you’ll find everything you need in the closets and in the bathroom.” He took a step back. “And if you need anything, anything at all, just call out.” 

You giggled as he said so. “This place is massive. There’s no way you’re gonna hear me if I call out for you.” 

He let out a little laugh. “Trust me doll, I will hear you.” And with that, he left. 

You watched him as he closed the door behind him, feeling just a little more warm after that nickname. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. Well, you were weirdly comfortable here. You walked further into the room, taking in every little detail. You took off the coat Bucky gave you earlier and placed it down on one of the couches. Taking off your heels, you made your way to the bathroom and it was everything one can dream of. 

You searched the cabinets and closets and found sweatpants and t-shirts which would fit you. Grabbing a set of clothes, you hopped into the shower and forgot about your broken down car and the thunderstorm. Instead, you thought of Bucky. What a peculiar man he is; no one in the town knows where he comes from, or what he does but here you were seeking help from him, showering his bathroom. 

There was something about him, a sense of ease and warmth which many people lack when you first meet them. But Bucky was different. It almost felt like you’ve known him all your life.  

When you stepped out, all refreshed and dressed you sensed a change the moment you walked back into the bedroom. Someone was here. 

“I brought you some tea. To warm you up a little.” 

You turned around and found Bucky sat on one of the couches by the bed. You instantly smiled, instead of being startled. He was so easy to be around. 

You walked towards him. You picked up one of the cups from the coffee table and brought it up to your nose, softly blowing on it before inhaling the lovely scent. 

“It’s chamomile and lavender.” Bucky said, and you faced him with a big smile. 

“My favorite, thank you.” you smiled at the odd coincidence as you took a sip of the tea. It soothed you immediately. 

Bucky picked up his own cup and took a slow sip as he watched you intently. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.” 

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. Which then reminded you that you never actually told him your name. Or maybe you did and you forgot. 

You held your warm cup with both hands and began. You told him your name, where you’re from, where you work and a little bit about your family. You knew you shouldn’t be giving this much detail about your life to a stranger but you were currently drinking tea in his guest room wearing clothes he provided, so the least you could do is engage fully in the conversation. 

He did a little nod after each piece of information you fed him, and you found it adorable. 

“It’s your turn.” you spoke after you were done talking about yourself. 

He smiled. It was a sad smile, or so it seemed. Surely you were overthinking. “I’m quite a boring person to be honest. I work all day, and I work all night. My family is… not around so I have to handle everything. All their businesses and companies around the country.” 

“Doesn’t it get lonely here? I mean it’s a magnificent home but, to live here alone must be quite hard, no?” 

You didn’t mean to pry but the way he looked straight into your eyes made you want to know the man a little better. Why was he so calm and collected? How is he so okay with you just being in his home? Why is he so kind? He didn’t seem old, then why did he give off the vibes of being so mature and wise, like he’s lived lifetimes before this one?

“Memories can be great company.” He answered in a tone which gave away that the man had lost a lot. Perhaps a close family member? Or a friend or a spouse? He added, “And this house is full of it.” 

“You grew up here?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

He gave you that same look; sad, longing like he was desperately trying to show certain emotion but he couldn’t. 

“I moved here. With my wife.” Those words of his caused your heart to feel heavy. “But she passed, a long time ago.” The look on his face made your heart burn for some reasons. The need to comfort him took over you but you refrained from doing so, it wasn’t your place to. 

“You must’ve loved her a lot.” You didn’t ask, you stated. Because it showed. 

He had that same sad smile on his face. “She was my everything. My lifeline.” 

He sounded so broken, it hurt. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He smiled again. “You know, I like to think that the things we lose end up coming back to us, eventually. One way or another.” 

That didn’t really make sense to you right away, but it was a beautiful thought nonetheless. “That’s beautiful.” 

He stared into your eyes again, and it seemed like he was fighting something back. The need to say something perhaps. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” And just as he said that, the thunder roared again, as loud as it could. 

You stood up as he did. He said goodnight and left. And you were left standing there wondering what the hell happened in the past few minutes. His presence alone made you feel safe for some reasons. Knowing that he was just a few doors down the hallway made you less anxious. Even when you settled under the covers, it didn’t feel like a foreign bed. 

You wondered why. How could you have settled into an unfamiliar home so easily? It wasn’t weird, just surprising. 

With the help of the tea, you drifted off to sleep in no time. Dreaming about ballrooms, and kissing a man inside a beautiful mansion and… and a pair of ocean blue eyes… 

A flutter on your cheek, and you looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking down at you. “Hello sweetheart. You ready?” the man said as he offered you a red rose. 

You nodded, despite his face being quite blurry. You felt his arms around you, and you felt safe; like nothing could go wrong and this was a perfect world. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your surroundings changed and now you were at a ball, wearing a lovely rose gold gown, arms linked with the tall man. The music was unfamiliar but lovely. He twirled you around and pulled you close, your one hand carefully placed in his and the other on his shoulder. You noticed the shiny ring on your ring finger, and the wedding band on his. You smiled, realizing that this was your husband and all was well. 

Your surroundings faded again. Now you were inside your home. A beautiful home, with the fireplace warming the room you were in. Your blue-eyed husband was beside you again, the two of you sat by the fireplace and he offered you a glass of wine. You smiled, taking it from him. You felt a slight discomfort inside your mouth, around your front teeth but that was alright, it seemed like you were used to it. You brought the wine glass up to your lips, letting some of the contents into your mouth. It wasn’t wine, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

Euphoria, you felt utter euphoria as you stared into the same pair of eyes only this time they were so red, they seemed black. He reached out and held your face in place and tilted his head just a little; deepening the kiss. He nibbled on your lower lip and shoved his tongue past your lips. Your body tingled in his arms. It all felt so right and perfect, it felt like a dream. Like a dream inside a dream. 

Gentle sin, that’s what it felt like when he pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your night dress and resting on your thigh while his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hands slid into his hair naturally and he moaned into the kiss again when you tugged at his roots a little. He kissed down your neck, his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body against his. He nibbled on the skin at the side of your throat, his teeth sharp and you were sure he left marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. 

You gasped and moaned. This felt right. He pulled away after a while. He looked down at you with pink, swollen, parted lips. Slightly breathless, and his eyes showed nothing but love and passion, and a hunger like you had never seen before, but it was all familiar. His face was unclear, but you could make out certain features of his and he was oddly familiar too. 

“I love you.” He mumbled. 

You knew that voice… 

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips, his hand slipping in between your legs with no shame; his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He smiled against your lips upon feeling just how aroused you were, before he pulled away and kissed down your body. He took your sensitive nipples in his mouth. 

He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud. His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. 

Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. You felt him kiss his way down your body; from your lips all the way down to your hip bones; his lips soft and gentle on your skin. 

He placed his hands on either one of your thighs and slowly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without any hesitation. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly. 

Obscene, wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. He had dark hair you noticed. The room was getting darker and darker as well. You could see your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the large bed. 

Your body arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you when his tongue slowly circled around your sensitive clit. The pressure between your legs was building up nicely. 

With a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face without any warning. He licked you clean, then kissed his way up your body again. “You’re all mine, Y/N.” he whispered softly against your lips as he settled in between your legs again. You shuddered under him and whined against his mouth, the feeling reminding you a lot of how you shivered earlier when a pair of cold hands held you gently by the shoulder. 

Your body felt tingly as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head to look at you and you gasped quietly in surprise. It was Bucky. Although he still had dark eyes, and sharp canines? 

He didn’t give you time to think too much. You moaned out loud once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to relax your tense body. You wrapped around him perfectly. You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply while he rolled his hips against yours.  

His body felt cold. But it also felt familiar. Being so close to him felt right. 

You whimpered as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you slightly harder. He groaned right in your ear as you felt your walls wrap around him, squeezing and clenching. This felt right. 

Panting and swearing under his breath, he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed your face; all over. You felt a little bold so you hooked your legs around his waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him as your hands gripped his arms and shoulder. Your body moved against his like a rag doll. You knew, in your dream that you belonged to him, and him you. 

“I love you.” he whispered. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. If anything, you wanted more. You needed him closer. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. He growled and bit down on your shoulder as he fucked you. He was relentless, and you liked it. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as you tried to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. Your eyes watered as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again. You felt him everywhere, each nerve ending burning and tingling. 

You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. A sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning; gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Bucky... ” you sounded breathless. 

He gasped and snuggled closer to you. His eyes were back to the gentle blue again. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. I love you, Y/N.” 

You wanted to say it back. But then you woke up to a loud boom. You sat up gasping, and looking around frantically. You were sweating, but also cold. The room was dark, unlike the one in your dream earlier, which was illuminated by candlelight. It took you a little while to reorient yourself. The storm was somehow getting more and more loud and violent outside. 

And you just had a weird dream about Bucky. Which didn’t feel like a dream, but more like a memory. A memory buried so deep that it almost didn’t feel real. 

You were confused. What is the meaning of all this?

---

a/n: hi

[kanaloasteele]

Loa watched as Maeve casually shot a snake with barely a glance, chuckling to himself.  It was an impressive skill, one that he admired.  His own hunting skills focused more on fishing and the water than on land.

A curious look passed over his face as he thought back before the l8fht of recollection lit up his face.  “Oh yeah.  I saw they needed to be finished and I had some free time on my hands.  Figured I could help out since I had the time.  I'll check the safe when I get back.”

Having spent enough time around other races, he couldn't help but smirk a little when he caught Maeve sniffing him.  He had fellow mercenaries do the same thing when they were partnered together and it brought him a strange sense of nostalgia as he chuckled.  “If you decide you want some I’ll be happy to make you some.  It'd be an interesting challenge to make them to fit you.”

“It was good to meet you as well.  Glad to see you actually live up to the hype I've heard.”  His lips stretched into a smile at her teasing and he waved his own goodbye, getting ready to finish his run.  “I'll see you at the shop.”

.

Admitting to herself that Kanaloa seemed to have a good energy led to the blonde eventually releasing the strung arrow in her bow. There was a satisfying swish and then a depressing thonk as it hit a snake which had been winding its way down a tree trunk about a yard from where they stood. Maeve made a mental note to retrieve her catch and the arrow, but beyond that she did not outwardly acknowledge the fresh kill. She instead looper her bow over her shoulder and smiled, baring great wolfish, white teeth.

"I've been hoping to make your acquaintance!" The warmth of some familiarity seeped into Maeve's tone now "You finished off a set of blades I was working on, I have to say it was a lot better than what the client expected, so they paid a little extra. I left it in the safe for you, I wasn't sure if you retrieved it?"

Respect for quality craftsmanship was high on Maeve's list of priorities. She couldn't help it, but she felt good work was usually indicative of a work ethic and a determination to perfect one's craft, working hardest on their weaknesses. That behaviour, in Maeve's eye, said a lot about one's character, and so she already began to hold Kanaloa in a higher regard than some of her colleagues. It didn't mean trust, but that, she felt, should always be harder to earn.

"You're welcome" Maeve inhaled subtly, taking in the man's scent which so reminded of her father. A persons scent could give so much information, one sniff and Maeve might be able to identify his species, maybe catch and idea of where he had previously been and with who or what. It sounds like absurd instinct, but to Maeve who was so in tune with her wolf form, using her canine sense of smell to acquire information was exactly that, instinct, not even something she consciously did.

"I will have to order a set for myself" Maeve half teased now, unsure if weights were something she would remember to utilise or not. Either way, her curiosity was piqued, both by Kanaloa and his weaponry.

Still, the morning was continuing on without them, and Maeve was conscious that she had to bathe and change before starting her work at Ashen. Not to mention, she had interrupted her colleague on his morning run, so Maeve began moving towards the snake which had fallen from the trunk to the floor in a lifeless heep.

"I'm glad we finally ran into one another, I won't keep you"

"I have new competition at work you see" she teased, tossing him a smile over her shoulder before she squatted to retrieve her last kill of the day from the floor. "Cannot risk being late!" She continued as she stood back up and turned back around to say goodbye to the stranger turned colleague.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you and harry meet again after six months.

a/n: hiiii! this is for @theharriediaries fic challenge! the photo used is the one on the left of the banner, and the dialogue i chose was ‘Is this seat taken?’ ‘By you, I hope.’ & ‘I’m sorry it took us this long.’ thank you for creating this challenge, soph!

thank you @sunflowers-styles for beta reading this for me, mwah! <3

WORD COUNT: 12k of dad!harry with slight angst and fluff (pls appreciate the dilfrry dialogues in this lmao)

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘THE TRAIN RIDE BACK TO US’ I’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

The gold bell chimed quite loudly, informing the baristas that someone had entered their shop. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans immediately filled your senses once you pushed open the sage green door as the smell feeling of nostalgia and comforted you. 

Everything looked the same in the coffee shop. The oak wood floor never changed with coffee stains in certain areas that didn’t quite seem to come off all the way, no matter how hard the employees scrubbed—but it gave the shop character, in your opinion. Different colored potted plants filled the shop in every corner and on the clean white windowsill, making the place look lively. Crisp oxygen mixed with Columbian coffee beans flowed around the shop, making customers want to come back to a comfortable environment. Black and white bistro tables sat within the café, with silver metal bases, holding the circular table tops up as they alternated with colors along the built-in brown bench against the light-gray colored wall; with matching black and white metal chairs that practically screeched against the oak wood floors when someone was trying to scoot in or out of the table. 

The entire shop was the exact same from what you remembered it to be six months ago. The only difference was that when you sat on the wooden bench, specifically at the black table in the corner that was right next to the window, the person who was supposed to be in front of you wouldn’t be there; and for that, your heart dropped a little. 

Trying not to think too much about your change of mood, you ordered your usual—an iced mocha latte with a pump of sweet vanilla syrup—before you paid and turned around to see which tables were available. The usual corner table was staring right at you, practically mocking you, and you wished that the table was occupied, but then you would’ve felt wrong sitting at a different table when yours was clearly open. 

You took your seat on the bench, and almost immediately, you started shaking your leg underneath the table. Your seat felt hot, as if the wood was catching fire underneath you, burning your legs and making you antsy. 

Luckily, the shop wasn’t crowded so it took the baristas less than six minutes to make your drink and to call out your name from behind the counter. Quickly, standing up from the burning hot seat, you made your way to the counter, thanking Mel for the drink. Since coming here, you had become quite a constant in the cute Portland coffee shop. Mel was one of the employees that had worked at the shop the longest, so she made everyone’s drinks because she knew the menu the best. So, you caught up with her a bit, and inevitably, she asked where you had been. 

“You didn’t find a better coffee shop did you?” She teased, making you chuckle. 

“No, I’ve just been, uh, too busy to come around. But I promise, your drinks and shop are still the best,” you said truthfully, to which she beamed. To this day, you hadn’t found a superior coffee shop than ‘Coava’ because the others just didn’t compare—they didn’t make you feel the same way you did with this one. “But thanks for the coffee.” You gave her one last smile before you turned around to make your way back to your table. 

And then the bell chimed. 

It was as if the sun was peeking out through the clouds; the sun beams strongly pointed down onto the wet pavement after a night of rain, leaving the air with its pleasant smell of petrichor. He was the light that seeped through the curtains, and you knew it was going to be a lovely day. 

“Harry…” you stopped in your tracks, careful not to spill the contents of your coffee cup. Your heart skipped several beats once he flashed you his gorgeous smile that you were still hopelessly in love with. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry mindlessly played with the buttons of his coat as he mentally tried to situate the nerves in his head and stomach. His breath felt like it was stuck in his throat, making his voice slightly trail off with a crack to the tone. 

It felt like the two of you were the only ones in the coffee shop—minus the locals who were sitting at the tables, minding their own business, or wondering what the fuck they were doing standing in the middle of the shop—completely and fully captured by the other’s stare and presence. 

The loud screeching noise of steam took you out of your dazy trance as you cleared your throat. Harry looked down at his feet before looking up at you through his lashes, shyly intertwining his hands behind his back. 

“Uh, would you like to join me?” 

Harry raised his brows at your proposal, pursing his lips to contain his giddy excitement. “S-Sure.” You took a deep breath before you started to walk towards the table in the corner—one he was also very familiar with. “This seat...Is this seat taken?” He asked politely but, almost instantly, mentally cursed himself because you wouldn’t have invited him if you were with someone. 

You didn’t catch his slip up, instead, you smiled as your face grew warm. “By you, I hope.” Harry blushed, taking a seat on the black metal chair across from you. 

“So, how’ve you been? It’s been a while since I last saw you,” you mentioned. 

It’d been six months since the last time you saw and sat in front of Harry—a very long six months. The conversation six months ago wasn’t the most happiest of memories because that  conversation brought in the heartache and heartbreak; the chat had included the mutual separation of your relationship that involved tears, chest pain, and as always, the smell of Colombian coffee that surrounded your afflictive conversation, hoping it would calm the tension between you two. 

“Yeah, it has been a while, but I’m doing okay. How are you?” 

“I’m good.” There was a bit of awkwardness swirling in the air, and you absolutely despised it—you wanted it to leave the shop and never return. You had always imagined what it would be like bumping into Harry again, more importantly, what you would say to him. And despite all those moments daydreaming of finding the right words, you were completely stuck, and you fully blamed it on the awkward tension. “Can we not be…y’know, awkward? That’s not us,” you simply said. 

Harry let out a sigh of relief, adding a breathy laugh. “Yes, yes, of course. You’re right, that isn’t us at all.” Mel brought him an iced black coffee since it was his usual, and she saw that he didn’t get the chance to order because he was immediately occupied by the sight of you. He softly thanked her with a smile, only taking his attention off of you for a split second before his eyes were right back on you; he didn’t know what this conversation would lead to, nor did he want to get his hopes up, so that meant spending every moment with his complete attention and eyes averted to you. “I miss you…” he said. 

There was a sense of relief as you exhaled deeply, glad that he wasn’t the only one who was missing the other. His words had brought a flutter of butterflies to your stomach, soaring as they pleased while your face felt warm. 

You and Harry had been together for a year and a half before calling it quits. For most of the relationship, it was happiness and bliss—occasional fights, but they weren’t frequent—towards the last few months however, things were getting a bit stressful. You remembered the days like it was yesterday as the vivid memory crept inside of your head...

It was nearing nine in the evening and the house was quiet. The silence was louder than the ongoing noise inside your head that was constantly yelling at you, making your head ache from the incessant thoughts. It was safe to say that you weren’t happy, and that even Harry wasn’t happy either. But you had only gotten a glimpse of him during the evening, so you were simply assuming that he wasn’t content—but it was a very logical assumption since every time he looked at you, it seemed like he was becoming more stressed out by the minute; as if he didn’t already have a lot on his plate during the day, and by night, he would still have to deal with whatever argument and fight either of you would pick for no apparent reason. 

It started with petty little arguments, getting annoyed and frustrated at the other because of burnt toast or something as small as running out of detergent for the laundry. But fighting over nothing had turned into completely confessing that you weren’t happy anymore, and that the exhaustion had gotten to you. 

“I-I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Harry,” you said in between your sobs that you tried to contain. “All we’re doing is hurting each other—we’re not even happy together anymore!” 

It felt like his heart was exploding, but it was the truth. “Darling…” 

“You can’t lie and tell me that we’re happy together because it’s obvious that we’re not.” You wiped the tears from your face, leaving your skin damp from the moisture. 

Harry sighed deeply, knowing he couldn’t argue anymore. He felt defeated and upset with himself; it was like he was doing well in everything else or at least trying, and he couldn’t even do his part in being a good boyfriend to you. He knew part of the reason why both of you weren’t happy was because of the neglectance, and both of you were too exhausted to even communicate that feeling. You two were both independent entrepreneurs—always knowing when to close business and how to make a well deserved investment or sale with others who were trying to buy whatever stock or product. But when it came down to each other, to Y/N and Harry, it seemed like the individuals that were trying to please and charm others had dissipated, leaving no room or patience for each other. 

“We’re both busy, Harry, I get that. And maybe it’s best if we call it quits until everything settles down—until we both know what we want—”

“I want you,” he interrupted. 

You softly huffed, looking down at your lap as you slightly nodded before you looked up at him again. He had tears streaming down his face and more forming in his eyes; you loved that he wasn’t embarrassed or afraid to show his true emotions—he was being vulnerable every time he let his guard down, and for that, you would appreciate him forever. 

Muffled, static cracks followed by quiet little groans were heard from the baby monitor on the coffee table. Harry glanced at it before looking back at you, knowing he had to take care of his number one priority, and who were you to stop him? So, you nodded, tilting your head towards the room, and he sadly smiled before heading towards the nursery. 

You walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote ‘Meet me at Coava tomorrow. Usual time.’ before you placed it on the coffee table beside the monitor. As you were leaving, you heard soft humming coming from the baby monitor, and your heart squeezed, frowning as this was most likely going to be the last time you were going to be in this house. Taking one look around, you took in all of the memories that you made in the building that made you feel safe and warm before you stepped out, immediately welcomed by the cool temperatures of the evening. 

The next afternoon when you walked into Coava, Harry was already sitting at the usual table you two sat at. His head was down, mindlessly wiping down the condensation that formed outside of his glass. You took a seat in front of him without saying a word, making him look up. He had dark circles around eyes as he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

“Hi,” you whispered. There was your usual cup of iced coffee placed in front of you. “Thank you for the coffee.” 

He nodded and smiled softly, despite his current mood. “Hello.” 

You took a deep breath. “So…where do we go from here?” 

Harry sadly looked at you with desperation in his eyes that spoke, no, begged you to tell him to stay, to tell him that you two could and would work this out. But it seemed like you hadn’t received that specific message from his green and sorrowful eyes. 

“You were right…We haven’t been able to make time for one another. So, we’ll just…take some time apart.” His heart and voice cracked at the end of his sentence, finding it hard to even form a sentence that didn’t absolutely break him. You nodded, agreeing, but it didn’t hurt any less; you knew this would be best for the two of you because both of you had to focus on yourselves, especially when Harry had his priorities, such as his family, which you weren’t going to make him change whatsoever. “Okay…so, we’re over.” He hadn’t said it as a question but rather a way to see that realization. 

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his, and you were lucky that he didn’t pull away. “Harry, this doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I…will always love you.” 

“And I’ll always love you too,” he said honestly. 

Behind the civil and mature conversation that occurred, there was sadness and heartbreak. There were no more smiles or laughs, no more love and affection, or anymore meet-ups during lunch or coffee dates during breaks. The painful look on Harry’s face had only pained you even more, but you both knew this split-up and time apart was for the best. 

That was six months ago. 

Now, as you sat across Harry, you felt an overwhelming rush of relief and joy; he just looked happier and you saw a familiar glint in his eyes as he looked at you. It may not be the same sparkle of love as it once was, which you were afraid it wasn’t, but there was still some kind of sparkle—the kind someone would give when they reunite with an old friend. 

“The kids miss you—they miss you a lot.” 

Your eyes look at him fondly at the mention of his children. “Really?” 

“Yeah, they do. They said, and I quote, they miss their ‘pretty fairy second mom,’” Harry said quite proudly. 

Harry had three kids that you absolutely adored. There was Mira and Estelle, seven-year-old twins that looked like their father. Mira was very energetic and talkative—that little girl could talk for hours on end without missing a beat; Estelle was more quiet and reserved, but once you started hanging around, she opened up and was quite fun to have a laugh with. Then there was the sweet little two-year-old boy, Rory, who resembled his mother. He was always babbling and giggling, so happy and free. 

If Harry was being honest, Rory was a complete accident. Him and his ex had separated and broken up when the twins were four, but they were still seeing each other. Those occasional hangouts led to another child, which they both thought would help them bond, but six months into the pregnancy, they both knew it wasn’t right anymore—not like before. So, they stuck to coparenting and, if they were speaking the truth, it was much better than being together. 

When Rory was six months old, that was when Harry met you. On an unexpected literal run in the park when you and Harry were on your daily runs, the trail was only narrow and small enough for one person to run. So, when you and Harry were running towards each other, you braced yourself for the awkwardness you were about to face with the man. Harry politely smiled, moving to his left, only for you to move to your right, which made you both giggle. The two of you then moved to the opposite side, only to clash again. The thought was quite hilarious to the two of you, so you both started laughing, clutching your stomachs. Once you two calmed down, Harry then said that he was going to his left, so you moved to your left, running the opposite directions from each other. 

At the end of the trail and on your way to the parking lot, you saw Harry finish the same trail but exit from the other side. And if it said anything more, you parked right next to his car as well. Harry smiled, dimples flashing and asked you how your run was, which then led to a bit of small talk. In the six minutes you two were talking, Harry made the impulsive decision to ask you if you would like some coffee. He wouldn’t have asked if it were anyone else, and until that moment he didn’t even know  if he was ready to date again. But he took the chance and decided to ask you, and luckily, you said yes. 

The rest was history. 

“I miss them so much too.” You smiled softly, thinking about the kids that you had thought of as your own. 

“I, uh, I know it’s too much to ask, but I figured I should ask either way…Would you like to see them? Mira would never live it down if I told them that I saw you and didn’t ask if you wanted to see them.” He added a chuckle at the end, nerves creeping up his skin. 

Your eyes lit up. “Really? You’d let me see them?” 

Harry raised his brows. “Yeah, of course! You could see them anytime you want, if you’d like. Just because we’re not, y’know, together doesn’t mean that you can’t see them. I know how much you love them and how much they love you too,” he reassured. 

“Would Laurie be okay with that?” You asked about his ex and the mother of said children. 

He nodded. “Yeah, she would. I mean, she also knows how much they love you.” Harry was lucky that the mother of his children and his ex was so kind and chill with having someone that Harry loved be ‘another mother’ to her children; all Laurie really asked of you was to not try and replace her role as their mom and to always keep them safe when she wasn’t around, and who were you to disrespect her wishes? 

“Harry, I would love to, thank you. I really do miss them.” You felt yourself getting a bit emotional because of how much you missed the kids, and it’d felt like an eternity since you last saw them. 

“Great! Tomorrow is the weekend, so are you free to go to the park and maybe get some ice cream after?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” You smiled, not too widely as you tried to contain your excitement. 

Harry smiled back at you before quickly looking at his phone to check the time. “I gotta get back. But I’ll see you tomorrow and will text you the details tonight.” 

“Okay, see you soon.” You stood up to hug him, and his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his chest. His stomach was doing flips as he felt your breath against the crook of his neck. He didn’t want the moment to end, and it was the most physical contact that you two had in six months. 

Pulling away, he offered you a smile before bidding you goodbye, and you finally let out the breath you had been holding the moment the bell chimed and the man you still loved walked in. 

A soft blush was planted on Harry’s cheeks for the entire day. He was driving from work to Laurie’s house to pick up his beloved children as he thought about how his day turned out to be. 

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to see you in the coffee shop that you two had gone to throughout the entirety of your relationship. He had just gotten out of a meeting and was debating on going to Coava because he hadn’t been there since the day you two called it quits, but he figured it was time and thought that maybe reminiscing on the memories you two had with each other wasn’t a bad thing. So, he walked into that shop thinking he was just going to get a coffee to-go, but he had gone in there and left with something so much better. 

The moment his eyes landed on yours his mind had screamed and reassured him that he wasn’t just dreaming that you were standing right in front of him, he felt his stomach drop in the best way. The heat had rushed to his cheeks, tugging on the corners of his lips, urging his mouth to smile, and he did not hold back his joy when he saw you. You were beautiful, just like he remembered, but he had no doubt that there wasn’t a day that went by where you weren’t not absolutely stunning. 

And the giddy feeling he felt when he asked you if you’d like to see the kids made his heart tumble inside of his chest as he couldn’t wait for you and the kids to finally see each other again. 

Harry pulled into Laurie’s driveway, and he quickly got out and knocked on the door, waiting for Laurie to answer. He chuckled as he could practically hear the twins screaming from across the house to make sure they had everything they needed. When the door opened, he was met by his ex that he once loved, and still had some platonic love for her, naturally, as the mother of his children. 

“Hey, Harry! They’re just getting their stuff ready,” she greeted with a smile, opening the door wider as she walked away from the entrance and let him in. She grabbed Rory from the couch, who was mindlessly playing with a giant puzzle piece, and gave him many kisses to his cheeks before saying goodbye to her son and handing him off to Harry. 

Rory’s eyes lightened up at the sight of his father. “Dada!”

“Hi, my sweet boy. I’ve missed you.” He placed soft kisses to his chubby and squeezable cheeks. 

“Girls, dad’s waiting!” Laurie called out from the bottom of the stairway before turning back towards Harry. “Why do you look like that?” She gave him a knowing look. 

“Like what?” Harry asked, acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about. The blush really gave him away, he thought. 

“You’re just…extra happy today.” 

“Can’t I be happy, Laurie? To see my kids?” He teased, smirking as he hugged Rory to his chest. 

“I mean, sure, but…did something happen today?” 

His smile widened, and it was like he couldn’t contain the exciting feeling anymore and he just had to tell someone. “I saw Y/N today.” 

Her brows raised. “Really? How is she?” 

“She’s doing well, yeah. We talked for a little bit.” Was all that he told her. 

“And I’m assuming it went well.” He nodded, not wanting to tell her more. “Well, that’s great, Harry. She was, is, a lovely woman and she took care of the kids, so that’s all that matters to me,” Laurie said genuinely; she wasn’t jealous, if she was being honest. All that mattered to her was that her kids were in good hands. 

Suddenly more footsteps were coming down the stairs. “Dad!” The twins yelled at the same time. He put Rory down for a moment before he bent down to hug his two girls. 

“Hi, my loves. How are you?” He kissed both of their cheeks, making their small arms hug him tighter. 

“Dad, I scored one hundred percent on all my spelling tests, so I’m qualified for the spelling bee!” Mira explained excitedly once she let go of Harry. 

“Really?! That’s amazing, bug. This week, I’ll help you study for it.” Mira beamed at that before walking over to her mom to say bye. 

“How are you, my sunshine?” He directly asked Estelle, knowing that she was specifically waiting for Harry to have his attention on only her. Even though she’d never told him that, he could tell that sometimes Estelle lets Mira have her moment and wanted to speak with Harry when no one else was paying attention. 

“I’m good. My teacher told me I could become a math…mathmat—daddy, what are they called?” She looked at Harry for help. 

“Look at you, sunshine! I’m so proud of you my little mathematician.” Estelle’s eyes widened. “Is that you meant mathematician, sweetheart?” He smiled. 

“Yes, that! I did good on my math test and even baked cookies for you!” Before Harry could say anything, Estelle ran off to the kitchen to grab the plate of cookies she baked last night. 

“Alright, babies, let’s go. Say bye to mommy.” The kids said their goodbyes before Harry safely buckled them into their car seats and drove home for a week at their father’s. 

When all four of them reached the front door, Harry told the twins to put their belongings away and wash up for dinner. He set Rory down in his high chair before cutting up some bananas in halves, and placing them on the plastic table in front of him for his pre-dinner snack. Knowing that his kids liked home cooked meals better than takeout, fortunately, he set out the ingredients to make some fried rice, which was quick and easy. 

The twins rushed down the stairs once Harry put the leftover rice into the pan filled with sautéed veggies, and they settled onto the couch in front of the TV, waiting for dinner.

“Loves, set the table for me, please!” He called out from the kitchen as he transferred the rice from the pan to a large bowl, topping it with green onions. The girls each had a task for setting the table; Mira was in charge of forks and spoons, and Estelle handled the plates since she was less clums. He rolled Rory’s high chair over to the table, which he was so lucky to have gotten a high chair with wheels because it was so much easier to move him without carrying him and the chair; and he gave everyone an equal scoop, depending on how much they ate, and if they wanted seconds, he would be glad to serve them more. 

As they ate, Harry was occasionally helping Rory eat the rice, just picking up the contents that didn’t make it into his mouth, as Estelle and Mira both took turns talking. Harry loved family dinner, he tried his very best to give all three of his children the attention that they deserved, but dinner was the one time they bonded the most because no one felt competitive or had the urge to start an argument when there was food in front of them. 

“Daddy, how was your day?” Estelle asked curiously, and Harry smiled at his sunshine, as if she was the sun itself, heart swooning. 

“It was great, thanks for asking, my love.” He placed his spoon on his plate. “I actually wanted to talk to you all about something.” The twins didn’t respond, just stared at him, encouraging him to continue. “Do you remember Y/N?” Just at the sound of your name, the crowd went absolutely wild. 

“Y/N, yes!” Screamed Estelle, which was rare for her to raise her voice. 

“Pretty, fairy second mom, of course we remember her, dad!” Mira exclaimed obviously. 

“Fairy!” Rory had repeated the only word he could make out from Mira’s mouth as he fussed because of the volume that had increased from his sisters. 

Harry laughed. “Alright, okay, settle down. Well, I saw her today.” The twins gasped, making him chuckle. It genuinely felt like he was on a talk show with a live audience. “And I wanted to ask you all if you wanted to see her tomorrow? Figured we could go to the park and get some ice cream together?” He asked hesitantly, even though he knew they’d say yes, and he’d get another chance to see you again. 

“Yes!” The girls both answered. 

Harry beamed, turning to Rory. “Bubba, remember Y/N? Your slide friend? Remember you used to go on the slide with Y/N?” Rory giggled, a sound that was Harry’s weakness, and nodded. “Do you wanna see her tomorrow?” 

“Slide with fairy?” Rory asked, and Harry laughed. 

“Yes, slide with fairy,” he confirmed, and Rory nodded his head eagerly. 

Harry smiled, glad his kids were with the plans tomorrow. The rest of the dinner was filled with the twins talking about you; they talked about what you all could do together at the park and what they wanted to show you, and Harry would be lucky if they slept through the entire night without continuously waking up because of their excitement for the upcoming afternoon. 

Once everything was cleaned up and put away, the twins washed and cleaned, Harry give Rory a bath, and everyone was ready for bed, Harry said good night to his babies, spending about five minutes cuddling and talking them to sleep until they fluttered their eyes closed and off to slumber. 

Sighing, Harry closed his door, leaving the baby monitor from Rory’s room on his bedside table before he was able to unwind for the day. He always spent an extra amount of time on his skin care routine, figuring that he sometimes didn’t have time for himself and the only time he had was during nights. 

When he was ready for bed, he felt a huge amount of relief to be getting into bed after a long but grateful day, and he picked up his phone and clicked on your message thread. The last time you two texted was a few weeks after the breakup, asking if you were doing okay, and he could practically feel the awkward tension through the texts as he reread them. But he was glad that this time would be a much lighter and better conversation. 

Hi, Y/N. Hope this is the right number still. But if it is, kids are on board for tomorrow. Does 12:30 work for you? We could meet at the usual park. If it’s not Y/N, please don’t meet at the usual park because the kids are not on board. 

You chuckled at the end of his text, happy to see that Harry is always trying to make jokes and be the comedian. 

Hi, Harry! Don’t worry, this is Y/N. Probably would have hunted the person with my number down to get tomorrow’s plans. But that sounds perfect! I can't wait to see the kids tomorrow. See you then! 

Harry softly smiled at his phone, not feeling the need to respond and figured he would talk to you a lot more tomorrow while the kids are playing. He stared at the message for quite some time, completely blank as he couldn’t believe the chances that he happened to see you at the shop six months after the breakup, and now he’s making plans with you tomorrow; his jaw was aching from smiling so much. 

A few minutes later, he put his phone away to change before he comfortably situated himself under the blanket, feeling the heaviness of his eyes. But once he felt himself starting to drift away into dreamland, his phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he tried his best to ignore it, but curiosity got the best of him, so he picked up his phone and opened the new message. 

And I can’t wait to see you tomorrow too.  

And just like that, Harry was wide awake, struggling to sleep, but a smile permanently etched on his face for the night. 

The day that everyone in the Styles’ household had been waiting for had finally arrived. Luckily, the kids had gotten their needed hours of sleep; Harry had only gotten a few hours of sleep, but when the sun seeped through his curtains, he didn’t dread getting up for the day. Instead, he felt a rush of eagerness, instantly remembering what the day held for him and his kids, and he jumped right out of bed. 

Once the four of them were out of the house, Harry had successfully fed, cleaned, and changed his children with no complaints. The house and car ride was filled with conversations about how excited they were to see you again, asking how many more hours there was until they got to see you and if they were almost at the park. 

Screams bounced off the roof of the car once Harry parked on the side of the curb; the twins had already taken their seatbelts off, getting antsy as they waited for their dad to open the car from the outside. Harry unbuckled Rory, carrying him until he rounded on the other side of the car to open the door for the twins. They quickly jumped out, clearly excited, but Harry did not forget to remind them that this was still a public area and anything could happen. 

“Girls, slow down, please.” Estelle was holding Harry’s hand as Mira was holding her sister’s; Harry was still carrying Rory in his arms because his sister’s were practically lugging Harry with all their might, trying to get to their usual spot, so he didn’t want Rory to get hurt. “Loves, you know Y/N would tell you the exact same thing. Please, just slow down for me.” He pulled the Y/N card on them, knowing that they were better listeners with you than they are with him. 

Once they were all close enough, they spotted a thick beige blanket under the tree with a picnic basket, and you sitting on top of it, setting everything up. 

“Y/N!” The girls both screamed, Estelle letting go of Harry’s hand as they both ran towards you. 

You looked up at the sound of your name, eyes brightening at the little girls running. “My Princesses! Hi, my loves!” You opened your arms widely, inviting the twins into your arms— they practically collided into your arms, making you fall onto your back since you didn’t get the chance to stand up—and embracing them with a big hug. Laughs came out of all of your mouths as wide smiles permanently stayed on your faces. “Oh, I missed you two so much!” You kissed both of their cheeks, making them giggle. You stood up, helping the girls up and brushed their clothes off with your hand from the grass. Harry and Rory were in sight, and Harry put the little boy down, making Rory run towards you. “My sweetheart, oh, you’ve gotten so big.” You hugged Rory to your chest, placing your hand behind his head as your other arm wrapped around his small body. 

You were glad that Rory still had some memory of you, and didn’t shy away behind his father’s leg. You placed soft kisses on his cheeks, taking in his baby scent that you always loved. 

After Rory was starting to fuss in your arms, most likely due to feeling overwhelmed from the lack of space, you let go of him before standing up. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Harry greeted, offering a hug, which you gladly took. 

You rubbed his back. “Hi, Harry. I’m so glad I’m here with you all.” You pulled away, smiling at him. Harry’s heart pounded against his chest at the sight of you smiling up at him. His heart did a backflip at the sight of your gorgeous smile, trickling all the way down to his stomach where it triggered the butterflies to release from the net. 

“Please, we were all really excited to see you. So, thank you for agreeing.” His hand innocently ran down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. 

You turned around to look at the kids who were making themselves comfortable on the blanket. You and Harry joined them as you sat in between Estelle and Rory, and Harry sat in between Mira and Rory. 

“Okay, so I made some sandwiches. You all still like grilled cheese, right?” You hoped, and the twins nodded; you turned towards Rory. “What about you, sweet pea? Grilled cheese?” At the sound of cheese, Rory nodded his head and clapped his hands, making you smile. 

Harry was so lost in his mind and heart that he was simply so distracted in helping you out as you unwrapped the sandwiches from the foil, putting them on a paper plate. He was just so fond of watching you interact with his children so naturally, like there was no time that was wasted when you and Harry were apart. And he was especially happy that the kids still loved you just as much as they did when you two were together; and how they still kept talking about you despite the breakup. 

Aside from you and Harry, the kids had taken the breakup the hardest. From the knowledge they had based on what Harry and Laurie told them, they understood that their mommy and daddy couldn’t be together anymore due to adult reasons; it took them a while to adjust to that, but they eventually managed and figured it was better and more fun. But when Harry had to break the news on why they wouldn’t be seeing their ‘Pretty Fairy Second Mom’ anymore, they took it harder than expected. They simply looked at it as you didn’t want to see them anymore, which wasn’t the case at all, Harry explained. 

“Sometimes adults need to take some time apart, loves. That does not mean that Y/N doesn’t love you anymore because she does very much, I can tell you that. But it's good to have some time to yourself, especially in a relationship.” 

“But daddy, I thought you were gonna be together forever with Y/N,” Estelle spoke up, tears in her eyes. He was lucky that his kids loved you so much, and he never doubted that they weren’t going to. But his fear had come true when you two called it quits and he had to tell them the truth. 

“And maybe we will, but as for right now, it’s best to be apart. Sometimes being apart saves the relationship rather than letting it burn,” he told them honestly, which was the best as he could explain it. 

“D-Does Y/N still love you?” Mira asked softly. It wasn’t like Mira to be so soft spoken, which meant that the breakup had affected her deeply. 

Harry sighed, grabbing both of their small hands. “She does,” he replied for the sake of more tears coming out of their eyes—plus, he was taking your word for it back at the cafe. “And she also loves you all so much too,” he reminded them again. What he really wanted to say was that maybe one day you two will get back together, but he really didn’t want to get their hopes up. 

Looking back on his conversation from half a year ago, he was glad that he told them the truth on why you two broke up. He didn’t want to confuse his children even further, making them completely oblivious to the situation—he just wanted to be honest with them because he hoped you two would meet again and get back together at some point. 

“Harry, would you like one?” You asked, bringing Harry back out of his thoughts. He smiled, nodding, not trusting his voice to speak; and you gladly handed him a plate with a sandwich, pouring some chips onto the side—his favorite chips, you still remembered. 

“Thank you.” He smiled softly. The corners of your lips turned up as you bashfully looked at the picnic basket in front of you. You placed Rory’s plate in front of him as he seemed to have crawled to sit closer to you, and you cut out his sandwich into small pieces, along with cutting his grapes in half. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He stopped you from what you were doing, ready to take Rory from your side as he didn’t want you to feel obligated to take care of him.

“Oh, if you don’t want me to, that’s fine. But I wouldn’t mind feeding him a bit.” 

“If you want to.” 

You gave him the sweetest grin, and Harry was lucky to be sitting down because his knees would give out on him if he were standing. “I want to.” He only nodded, a crimson color laid on his cheeks. 

Harry comfortably watched as you made conversation with the twins as you fed Rory. You always gave them your undivided attention; your expression always lit up everytime they talked about something they were passionate about or interested in, and it just made Harry fall even more with how you were always so supportive in what his kids loved. You were always uplifting them, never dragging their hopes and dreams down. 

After everyone was finished with their meals and had time to digest their food, the twins asked if they could go on the swings and Harry said yes. The tree that they were under was only a few feet away, so Harry had a clear view of his girls. 

“You’re, like, a magician.” Harry suddenly said, breaking the silence once the girls were safely on the swing. 

You chuckled. “How’s that?” 

“It’s like hiring a magician at a party—everyone is so excited to see what they do and see them in general—you’re like that; the girls and Rory were so excited to see you.” 

You playfully gasped, holding Rory to your chest. “You were excited to see me? Well, I was excited to see you!” You booped his nose, making Rory giggle. 

“Fairy!” He exclaimed, and you and Harry laughed. Rory was a quiet two-year-old, but he picked up on keywords that he repeatedly said. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You cut to the chase, skipping the small talk.

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Nope. Not entirely sure if anyone wants to date a thirty-four-year-old with three kids.” 

You raised your brows in shock, and he knew that look you’re giving him very well—prepared to tease him; even though you weren’t that much younger than him either. “What? Do you think no one wants to date a hot dad? Harry, you’re peak-dilf, everyone wants to date you.” 

“And what about you? Do you wanna date me? A dilf?” He teased; a smirk that you knew all too well appeared on his face, making you want to kiss it off, which was what you used to do. 

Pursing your lips and cheeks heating up, you gave him an obvious look before you said, “Think you know the answer to that one, baby.” In all honesty, the pet name had slipped, and for a brief moment your eyes widened at the realization, but you brushed it off and continued with your confident and teasing attitude; and it worked quite well on Harry because he definitely heard what you used to call him loud and clear. It made his heart flutter as he missed you calling him that; he never wanted to hear that name come out of anyone else’s mouth because only yours would do it justice. 

Harry was left to ponder about your response before you changed the subject, talking to Rory. “Sweets, do you wanna go on the slide?” The little boy jumped up and down, pulling your arm as he had a big smile on his face. You looked at Harry, and he gave you a nod, telling you that he would stay put and watch your belongings. 

You and Rory walked hand in hand, or more like hand and finger, to the slide. It was an open purple slide with two sides, and it lasted about two seconds if you slid correctly and if the slide was slippery enough. You helped Rory step onto the playground as the dull metal steps were quite high for him to reach on his own before you guided him towards the slide. 

Sitting down at the top and on the edge of the slide, you carried Rory into your lap, hyping him up for what he had been waiting for. “Ready, sweets? Are you ready?” Your tone was pure excitement as you squeezed and tickled his belly. 

“Go, Y/N, go!” Directed Rory, and you scooted forward and held onto the sweet boy in your arms tightly as you two slid down the slide. Mouthfuls of squealing screams and giggles came from Rory’s mouth as he clapped his hands towards the end of the slide, causing you to cheer as well. 

And the proper dad that he was, Harry clicked the red button on the screen to stop recording you and Rory from the slide. He zoomed in, capturing the bright smiles placed on his sweet boy’s and the love of his life’s face, screenshotting the perfect frame. He didn’t think the day could have gone any better than this; it was quite the perfect day, he thought. 

When it was rounding two in the afternoon, Rory’s eyes were starting to droop, exhaustion taking over him from running around for almost an hour that his little body couldn’t keep up, so a nap was in his favor. He lazily looked up at you, reaching his arms up for you to carry him, which you happily held him. He settled his head on your shoulder, and it only took a few kisses and back rubs for him to be out like a light while the sun still shined in his face. 

You walked over to the blanket, figuring it was time to call it a day at the park; Harry and the twins were running around nearby on the bedded grass area playing tag. They retreated to the blanket once they saw you with Rory in your arms, breaths heavy from their run. 

“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.” Harry sighed when he got to spot under the tree; you handed Rory to him, admiring the two boys cuddling as Harry pressed quiet and soft kisses to his son’s head. Since your lap was available, Estelle and Mira took the chance to finally be able to properly cuddle you since Rory was taking most of your attention. The girls took one leg each, and you wrapped your arms around their waist, kissing their shoulder. 

The five of you stayed put for a while, calming down under the breezy weather that had started to pick up until it got even colder was when Harry decided it was time to leave. Luckily the girls were still awake to help with cleaning up, and were rather helpful because Harry was trying his best with Rory situated on one side of his body. 

Once all of you were next to your cars, Harry placed Rory in his car seat as you were hugging the girls goodbye. You and Harry agreed that everyone was too tired to go out for some ice cream since all the twins wanted to do was lie down. Harry knew he didn’t want the day to end, even though it was still quite early, but the older he got, the tougher it was to keep up with his little children who just loved running around; a relaxing and peaceful night was calling him. 

“Hey.” Harry closed the passenger door before he rounded the car to meet you on the grass. “I know we talked about going for ice cream today, but it seemed like we’re all too tired, but I was wondering…” he paused for a moment, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. “Would you like to come over? Maybe…for dinner, or to have a glass or w-water?” He scratched the back of his neck, nerves getting the best of him. 

You smiled, thinking he was the absolute cutest when he was flustered. “Harry, I’d love to. Feels like I haven’t drank any water so I’m parched,” you teased. 

He breathed out a laugh. “Okay, uh, I’ll see you home.” He gave you another smile before walking away and inside of his car, completely unaware of his choice of words. 

Home. More specifically, Harry’s home. It was a place that made you feel safe, and if you’re being honest, it’s been too long since you’d had complete solace. 

Your mental pep-talk throughout the drive toward Harry’s had helped in some way. Keeping it simple without driving your mind into overthinking every single thought, you laid it all down as if you were planning and preparing a business proposal. 

You didn’t want to dive deep into what Harry’s invitation could entail—more like you didn’t want to get your hopes up on if you two were to get back together because the potential rejection you could face would absolutely crush you. Harry’s a kind and sweet guy, he’s simply inviting a friend over for a drink and dinner, if you could even call yourself that. Plus, it was still early to fully call it a day, and he planned for ice cream after the park, so he was fulfilling that promise of sweet dessert. 

Without realizing, you’d been sitting in your car for a solid five minutes, staring over your steering wheel as you were parked on the curb in front of Harry’s house. Harry’s car was already in the driveway, so they were just waiting on you. 

You walked towards the front door, and it swung open before you even got the chance to knock. 

“Hey, thought you’d change your mind when you weren’t getting out of the car,” Harry joked, although that thought really crossed his mind when he peeked out through the window and saw you still in your car. 

You chuckled nervously. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t.” You stepped inside his house, and a wave of nostalgia rushed through you as if you were at the beach and the harsh current knocked you over as you were trying to walk against the sandy wind. 

Everything still looked the same—the same since the night you left without another word to the kids, just a note to Harry telling you to meet at the shop. A pinch of guilt appeared in your face as you frowned, and Harry immediately took notice, but you waved it off as you slightly smiled, telling him that you two would talk later. He didn’t press any further, waiting until later or when you were ready. Instead, he asked if you wanted anything to drink, to which he already knew you’d go for a class of Cabernet, and luckily, he had some in stock—more like, he still had the untouched bottle for when you stayed over. 

The two of you leaned against the cold granite counter as music softly played on the speaker that was connected through Bluetooth on his phone. Conversations were light, but it wasn’t awkward in any sense. As a matter of fact, it felt just like old times when you would stay over his house, talking about each other’s day and simply enjoying the presence of one another. That’s what you think this was, you thought—enjoying the fact that Harry was in front of you after so many months and you were cherishing it until the next set of months went by. 

After a few conversations and sips of wine later, the time had gone by fairly fast, which always happened when you were with him, and it was nearing five. The kids had woken up from their nap at four and quietly settled in the living room—the twins on the couch in front of the television and Rory was on the padded mat playing with his toys, occasionally talking to his sisters. Harry asked if you would be okay watching them so he could make dinner, and you were close to reminding him that he didn’t need to ask to watch his kids, but then again, you had to remind yourself that things were a bit different now. So, you said that you didn’t mind and walked over to the sofa chair next to the couch and watched TV with the girls as well as play with Rory. 

Twenty-five minutes had gone by and Harry called everyone, announcing that dinner was ready. You all walked into the dining room, taking your seats. Your assigned seat was next to Rory’s chair, which was in between you and Harry; the girls were sitting across from you. Once everyone took several bites of Harry’s dinner--a quick fettuccine alfredo--the chatter was back. You enthusiastically listened to the girls and Rory talk; it made Harry smile, loving how natural everything felt. 

Estelle tapped Harry’s shoulder, making him turn towards her with a smile on his face. “What is it, sunshine?” She got off her chair, leaning over to whisper something into his ear and he smiled, turning back to his family who was curious as to what Estelle had said. “Go ahead and ask her, love.” 

You put down your fork and placed your arms on the table. “What’s up, Princess?” 

“Uh, c-can we go to that place?” 

“What place is that?” You asked curiously. 

“That place where you told Daddy you loved him,” she responded quite bashfully. Your mouth was slightly open, not expecting her to say what she did. Looking over at Harry, he simply had a soft smile on his face with his brows raised, shrugging his shoulders.

Did you want to go back there? The answer was a simple yes. There wasn’t any excuse that you could possibly make up on the spot as to why you couldn’t go there, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad place whenever you thought about it. In fact, you really missed going over there and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about that place often. 

Your head turned towards Estelle. “Sure, why not. How about we go tomorrow?” You asked everyone, and they all had smiles on their faces. You looked at Harry, directly asking him for permission. “Is that okay?” His elbow was resting against the arm of the brown chair, fingers placed under his lips as he slightly puckered his soft and pink lips; without looking under the table, you knew his legs were crossed. Harry smiled, nodding his head, and everyone cheered. 

The rest of the time everyone was sitting at the dinner table, you all talked about plans for tomorrow, and everyone was really excited. Once it was almost eight, Harry realized that it was almost their bedtime, so he hurried them up the stairs to get ready for bed before saying goodnight to you, getting in as many hugs and kisses as they could get. 

Harry was upstairs, changing Rory and putting him to bed before he walked down and found you in the kitchen washing dishes. He slipped past you, placing his hand along your lower back briefly before he grabbed the dish rag. The action sent a chill down your spine and you immediately missed his hands on you. 

“The kids seem really excited about tomorrow.” Harry broke the silence, glancing over at you as you continued to wash the dishes. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m really excited too.” 

Harry noticed the slight shortness, and he thought it may be because you were tired. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You turned off the water and faced him, crossing your arms as he did the same. 

“Do the kids hate me?” The corner of his lips turned up before he started laughing, clutching his stomach. If it were any other time, you would obsess over his laugh; it was music to your ears, the highlight of your day, and the sun when it’s bright out. You softly slapped his arm. “Harry! I’m being serious!” 

“Darling, you’re joking, right?” Your heart briefly fluttered at his nickname for you. “Those kids love you!” He noticed your change of attitude and that you’d been thinking about this for a while and beating yourself up over it. 

“It’s just…I don’t want them to think that we broke up and I forgot about them. I mean I understand if they see it that way because I left without saying another word for six months--didn’t even get to say goodbye to them and have a proper talk. I just don’t want them to hate me.” You looked down at your feet as you played with the thin silver band on your middle finger.  

Harry’s seen you in work mode, and it reeks confidence and power. You don’t need much reassurance during work unless it’s when your employees tell you that progress is moving along. But this was completely different; you needed all the reassurance that you could get to get it through your head that the kids that you’d come to love--from the moment you met them--don’t hate you. And Harry didn’t mind telling you over and over again. 

“They were just that we split up, that’s all. But they quickly understood why.” 

“What’d you tell them?” You asked curiously. 

“The truth--that sometimes it’s better to be apart for a while rather than drive ourselves crazy. Told them that when the time is right, then maybe we’ll get back together.” The look in his eyes was so comforting that you immediately fell into them. Harry was always the best with giving you that extra reassurance that you and his kids need. 

You felt the extra beat in your chest that pumped so harshly against your chest, but it was surrounded by butterflies, making it flutter throughout your body. As you looked so deeply into Harry’s beautiful green eyes, you realized one of two things; the first thing was that you never wanted to look so deeply into another person’s eyes unless it was Harry’s; and the second thing was that you were incredibly and overwhelmingly still in love with this man and his three children, and there hadn’t been a day that gone by where you weren’t. 

Taking a deep breath, itches were crawling up your skin, begging you to say something. “D-Do you think it’s time?” Your voice asked shyly. 

Harry was taken back by your question as he raised his brows. He couldn’t deny the nerves that he felt whenever he was around you, but your question seemed to have increased his nervousness. 

“We’ve been separated for what feels like a long time now.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he recouped his thoughts to say the right words. “I think-”

“Daddy?” Yours and Harry’s head whipped towards the staircase, finding Estelle at the bottom of it with groggy eyes. 

Harry walked towards his sunshine. “What is it, my love?” He kneeled down onto the bottom step, matching her height. Estelle told him that she couldn’t sleep, and that she’s been tossing and turning for a while, so Harry told her that he would lay with her until she fell asleep and carried her to her bedroom. He looked back at you as he was walking up the steps, and you gave him a soft smile, letting him know that it was completely okay. 

You finished tidying up the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning the dining table until you realized that you needed to get ready for tomorrow’s adventure. 

Once Harry came down the stairs, he found you sitting on the edge of the armchair with your purse on your shoulder; you looked up as he walked up to you. 

“I’m gonna head out.” 

Harry’s slightly frowned. “Oh, you can stay the night if you want to.” 

“No, it’s okay, thanks.” You really did want to stay the night, but you didn’t have a change of clothes for tomorrow. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” He nodded, walking you to the door, opening it for you. 

You stepped out on his doorstep, turning around as you wrapped your arm around his waist, tiptoeing to plant a kiss to his cheek. The slightest bit of touch from your lips sent Harry’s skin on fire, warming up to the affection. The touch was sent away too quickly as you let go of him completely, giving him one last smile before walking to your car and waving at him as you drove away. 

Harry closed the door, the palm of his hand cupped the cheek that you kissed and he sighed as if he was shot with Cupid’s love-arrow, and he wouldn’t mind it if it meant he would feel your affection every single day. 

You arrived at the Styles household at ten in the morning with a tote-full of snacks and water, knowing the kids would get hungry from all the walking. You got there forty-five minutes earlier than planned, knowing that the Styles family wouldn’t be out the door right on time because Harry has three kids, two of them who bicker and complain from time to time—especially when they’re sleepy—and a two-year-old who was starting to run away from everything. So, you figured Harry would appreciate your help. 

When Harry saw you standing on his doorstep, he let out a sigh of relief. He was still in his striped pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, holding a small pair of olive green pants. You walked in and saw Rory running around half naked, despite it being early in the morning. You told Harry that he could shower and get ready for the day, and to leave it to you because you’ll handle it—plus, you both knew that the kids often listened to you more than their own dad. He smiled appreciatively, kissing your head briefly before walking up the stairs and getting ready. 

Once Rory saw you, he stopped running around the house and instead, ran towards you and into your arms. You carried him up the stairs and to his room to get some clothes on him, and luckily, Harry was able to bathe him before you showed up. You gave him his favorite toy to fumble with before you walked into Mira's room, setting Rory on her twin bed before helping her get ready. You left Rory in Mira’s room and went to Estelle’s bedroom, doing the same. 

By the time Harry walked downstairs, you and the three kids were sitting on the couch, eating a banana. He smiled, slowing his steps as he was amazed at the quietness and stillness in the house, but then again, he wasn’t that amazed because he knew you’d come in and get things in order. 

Harry’s home was a two minute walk to the train station, and everyone decided to take the train since it was what you and Harry did when you two were dating, and the kids really wanted to walk through the entire path of their father’s love story. 

Luckily, there weren’t that many people on the train—it was practically empty—so they didn’t have to rush to get a spot for the kids. Rory sat in the middle of his sisters as they all smiled brightly towards Harry’s phone that was capturing the adorable children for a sweet memory sake. You and Harry were standing, making sure neither of the kids fell over if the train made a halting stop. You held onto the metal bar above you, Harry held the bar that was mounted into the floor, and you both watched the kids interact with one another—counting on their fingers, booping one another’s noses, and laughing; it was every parent’s dream. 

Without noticing, Harry moved closer to you, placing his hand directly next to yours; the side of your hand touched his, and you looked at him with wide eyes while your heart fluttered. You were hip to hip, and you saw the smirk he had on his face while occasionally glancing over at you. You couldn’t help the heat that rose onto your cheeks because it felt like old times when you two used to ride the train together and it would get too packed to where you had to stand up; he would always face you as your hands touched—sometimes he would even intertwine your fingers together while you two held the bar as you were one—and he would hover over you, giving you plentiful kisses like the true romantic that he was. 

The train ride took about 30 minutes and it was a two minute walk to the place that gave you so many happy memories and nostalgia—International Rose Test Garden was where the memories of you and Harry were stored. 

You had the girls on either side of you, holding their hands; and Harry carried Rory since he was likely to run around and Harry didn’t want to risk his safety. 

The sun was bright—beautiful for a day in the garden as the roses and flowers bloomed ever so widely. All of you walked the rows and rows of flowers, occasionally taking pictures in front of the rose bushes.

Remembering all the times you and Harry were hand in hand, laughing until your stomachs were sore, like you did an intense ab workout, and there were tears resting in the outer corner of your eyes. All the memories that were swirling around in your head made you come to the conclusion to one thing: you never want to be without Harry and his kids ever again. 

You don’t know how it took you so long to realize this, maybe it was seeing them for the first time in six months that you realized that you had it great—a small family that accepted you and loved you for who you were, and you loved them just the same. 

Harry walked beside you, the kids skipping and playing around in the grass in front of you two. Confidently, you slipped your hand into Harry’s ringed hand, immediately intertwining your fingers together as if your hand knew what it was missing. Harry briefly looked down before looking at you. He smiled, and turned his head back towards the kids, not making a big deal of it as his warm hand accepted the coldness of yours. 

You gently tugged against his arm, pulling him back as he came face to face with you; a quiet gasp came out of his mouth when doing so. You looked up at him with bright eyes, and Harry was taken back to a year and a half ago where you, coincidentally, were in this same spot on the very green patch of grass. 

“Harry…” you breathed out, looking down at your feet nervously. He made the bold move to step closer to you, chests almost touching. Harry lifted your chin up with his fingers, locking eyes with you so intently that you practically lost your breath. 

“What is it?” He whispered. 

Taking a deep breath, you said, “I-I realized something.” 

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

Glancing over at the kids, they were giving you big smiles and thumbs up for reassurance, and your heart swooned at their support and love they provided you to finally get back together with their father, even if you weren’t their biological mother. 

You looked back at Harry, who was waiting patiently. “I love you. I still do and never stopped.” Harry felt like he stopped breathing at that moment. “You make me so happy—you and the kids, and I don’t want to be without you all anymore. I-I don’t like how it’s only taken me this much time to tell you this, but it felt like the perfect time since this was the place where I first told you I loved you.” 

Harry smiled, taking your hands into his. His thumbs smoothed your skin on the back of your hand before he brought them up to his lips and kissed them so delicately. The action made you smile softly before your mind had switched it to thinking that it was affection before the rejection. 

But then he opened his mouth to speak such beautiful words that you had been aching to hear during the breakup. 

“You’re my everything. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you because you. You’re part of my source of happiness, and life didn’t feel the same without you—the kids could agree with me on that.” He chuckled, looking at them to find them holding hands and jumping around in circles. “But I know that we separated for the better only for us to come back stronger than ever, and I’m never gonna let go of you again, okay?” 

Tears pricked your eyes before they streamed down your cheeks. Your heart felt like it was pounding harder than ever, but it was filled with so much love from and for this man in front of you. 

Harry wiped away your tears, leaning in to kiss your forehead, down to your eyelids as he kissed your tears away. He pulled away and you opened your eyes, giving each other a relieved and happy smile. 

“I love you,” he said, and he swore he saw the brightest smile he’s ever seen—brighter than the sun. “Always have and always will.” 

“And I love you. C-Can you kiss me, please?” 

Harry grinned. “It would be an honor.” 

Placing his palms on the side of your face, he leaned his forehead against yours. Your hands were wrapped around his wrists, rubbing his skin softly. With a smile, he kissed you with such softness and passion that the flowers bloomed largely and the sun shined ever so brightly. The kids cheered and clapped, making bystanders think that you’d just gotten engaged, but you both knew that would be the next step. Your stomach was in knots, butterflies surrounding your body as he captured your lips with his. Hugging Harry’s waist, you pulled him closer and wrapped your arms around him, and he kissed you harder, effortlessly moving his lips in sync with yours as if he was a pro on kissing you, which he was. 

Harry pulled away first, giving you several pecks before opening his eyes. “God, I missed doing that. Missed you so much, darling.” 

“I missed you too, baby.” You were high on happiness, high on love. “I’m sorry it took us this long.” A slight frown appeared on your face, but Harry kissed it away. 

“Hey, hey. None of that. I would’ve loved you until the end of time. I don’t care how long it took, you’re my forever,” he vowed, not planning to break that promise. 

Missing his lips on yours, you leaned up to kiss him again while your arms were wrapped around his neck and his were around your waist, holding you tightly as if he was afraid you’d run off. 

Suddenly, you started giggling into the kiss, making Harry smile before he pulled away. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You started thinking about the conversation from the park when you asked him if he was seeing someone. 

You curled in your lips before you said, “You’re a literal dilf, and I’m so in love with you.” 

please tell me all of your thoughts, feelings, favorite moments and scenes! thank you for reading <3

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

���’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 25: Hiraeth

Hiraeth (Welch): A kind of homesickness which is a combination of the homesickness, longing, nostalgia, and yearning, for a home that you cannot return to, no longer exists, or maybe never was.

Harry hated cleaning Grimmauld. And it always seemed that no matter how much cleaning he did, more junk (half of it cursed) appeared to replace it.

He forced himself to set aside two hours every Saturday morning, someday this house would be worth living in and having guests in.

This particular morning, Harry was working in the hideous study, cleaning out the desk and thinking that he really ought to tear out the carpet and take down the wall paper, when he accidentally knocked over a small bust of Merlin only knew which Black. A heartbeat after the bust was knocked over, a panel on the wall scraped open.

That was interesting.

With a bit of caution, which was warranted given how many things had attempted to kill and maim him in this house, Harry made his way over and peeked inside of what appeared to be a cupboard of some sort. Inside was a pensive with a shelf above with memories floating in vials. Many weren't labeled at all but there were some that were labeled in Sirius' familiar script.

One sitting right in the front, as though it had been placed there for him, was labeled Harry. There were several memories swirling together in this one and Harry found himself reaching out and pouring it into the pensive without really thinking about it.

A moment later he plunged his head into the pensive.

He looked around when he landed and saw that he was standing in his parents' home in Godric's Hollow. His mum was sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table rubbing at the side of her very pregnant belly.

Sirius was knelt on the floor next to her, rubbing his hand over the other side, "And I am going to be your favorite uncle," he promised. "I'm the cool one, I'll teach you how to ride my motorbike and help you with your boy trouble."

"His boy trouble?" his mum asked, obviously amused.

"Well, I can't very well help him with his girl trouble."

(Read more below the cut)

His mum laughed and brushed her fingers through Sirius' hair. "I suppose you're right about that.

"He's kicking," Sirius crowed, rubbing his thumb over his mum's belly. "Hi, Harry," he said. "It's your uncle Padfoot," he informed him, leaning closer and putting his mouth almost against her belly, "I love you and I cannot wait to meet you."

--------

The scene faded and was replaced by the next one.

"He's perfect, Prongs," Sirius murmured and Harry saw that he was standing in a hospital room. His mum was sitting up in a bed, looking tired but smiling so wide that Harry's mouth ached in sympathy. Sirius and his dad were standing close together, a baby held securely in Sirius' arms and his dad hovering near his head.

"Yeah," his dad whispered in reply, sounding genuinely choked up as he brushed his fingers over the baby's downy head.

"Look at his tiny fingers," Sirius said. "He's got your eyes, Lily," he added.

Harry watched as the baby wrapped Sirius forefinger in his little fist.

"Oh Godric," he murmured. "I'm gone on him," he said, looking up at James and Lily. "I love him more than life itself."

"We feel the same," his mum replied, smiling. "James, you should tell him."

His dad covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head as though he couldn't manage any words.

"Tell me what?"

"We want you to be Harry's Godfather," his mum said.

"Really?" Sirius whispered looking back and forth at his mum and dad like he could hardly believe they were serious.

"Yeah," his dad said, patting his shoulder, "Yeah, of course."

Sirius looked down at the baby in his arms and Harry watched a tear track down his cheek, "You hear that, Harry?" he murmured. "I'm your Godfather. I'll never let anything bad happen to you," he promised.

-------

Godric's Hollow came back into view and Sirius was sitting on the couch, his arm around Remus' shoulders while Remus fed Harry a bottle.

"You're just a little angel, aren't you?" Remus cooed at him. "Just the most perfect, beautiful baby anyone has ever seen."

The baby kicked his feet.

"We'll teach you how to get up to mischief," Sirius promised. "Don't you worry. You'll get to inherit everything we've learned, you're going to make the best prankster imaginable."

Remus huffed, "But you'll be good to Minerva, won't you? She had more than enough trouble with your dad and uncles."

The baby finished the bottle and Remus sat him up, holding him over his shoulder as he lightly patted the baby's back. "I know things are a little scary right now," Remus murmured and Harry for the first time wondered where his parents were, if they were on a mission for the order at the moment, "But everything's going to be okay. You'll see."

Sirius rubbed Remus' neck soothingly, "Everything's going to be okay," he repeated but his face looked as weary and worn as Remus' did.

--------

"Come on, Harry! You can do it!" Sirius cheered and Harry shaded his eyes to see the back garden better. Sirius was squatted a few feet away from his dad who was steadying the baby as he apparently thought about walking. "Come on," Sirius said again, holding out his arms.

With a little giggle, the baby started to toddle unsteadily across the distance to Sirius. Sirius caught him and scooped him up in his arms, swinging him as he stood before pulling him in to smother him with kisses.

The baby giggled and grabbed at Sirius sunglasses, pulling them off his face.

"Ah, here, allow me," Sirius said, as he put them on the baby instead with a big smile. "Already developing better taste than your dad, I see."

"Oy," his dad called from where he stood with his arm around his mum's waist, stealing her glass of iced tea.

"I can't believe how big you've grown," Sirius murmured.

"Us either," his mum replied. "It's all gone so quickly. At this rate we'll be watching him head off to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"We'll all be there," Sirius promised, pressing a kiss to the baby's chubby cheek.

--------

The baby was a bit older in the next memory, and Harry knew there wasn't much longer left before the inevitable.

"I don't know how to do this," Sirius said, he was holding the baby in his arms, swaying back and forth, and Harry could hear the unshed tears in his voice.

"Be our secret keeper," his dad insisted. "Sirius we trust you with our lives, we trust you more than anyone."

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Dumbledore said it himself, they'll know it's me."

"Then stay here," Lily pleaded. "Just stay with us. Help us keep Harry safe."

"I would," Sirius said, "You know I would if I could. The Order won't allow it, they need more people to be able to go out on missions."

His dad nodded, scuffing the toe of his trainer over the carpet and it struck Harry how young they were. Harry was older now than his parents had lived to be.

"How am I supposed to say goodbye?" Sirius asked, pressing his forehead into the baby's dark curls.

"It's not goodbye," his mum said fiercely. "We can't think like that. It's just for a little while. It's just a see you later."

Sirius nodded and pressed a long kiss to the baby's forehead, "See you later, love," he murmured. "I'll miss you every second."

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

Harry was snapped out of the pensive and he stood still for a long moment, in what must have been shock, before he realized that he was crying. It took another second to realize that his entire body was shaking as he was overcome with a sense of grief that he thought he'd long since buried.

He was overwhelmed by the longing to have a home, to have a place where people loved him and cared about him, a home were people wanted to protect him and be sure he was safe. It was a longing that he'd felt from the core of his being for as long as he could remember. And in these memories he'd had that.

He'd had so many people who loved him, so many people desperate to keep him safe, desperate to watch him grow up, and he'd lost it before he'd ever really known it.

The injustice, the hurt, the loneliness, and every moment that he'd ever desperately wished to be loved welled up inside of him at once and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. It was like he was being pounded by waves in the ocean and he could make it up for air.

Harry couldn't stay here, he pulled out his wand and apparated.

He'd intended to go to Ron and Hermione's, or maybe even the Weasley's but that was not where he ended up. No, Harry ended up in the front yard at his auror partner's house, sobbing and gasping for air.

"What the-" he heard and looked over to see that Draco was out working in his Garden, "Potter? What-" he started as he got closer. "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head but couldn't manage to get any words out.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head again, "I didn't mean-"

"Alright," Draco said softly, wrapping a protective arm around him before Harry could even finish his sentence, "Come on. Come inside."

Harry could only nod, trying to make his feet move in spite of their numbness.

"You're shaking," Draco murmured as he guided him inside of the cozy cottage, all full of sunlight and fresh air. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, voice still raw.

Draco nodded, "Let's have some tea, yes?" he asked, guiding Harry into the sunny yellow kitchen. "Here," he said, pulling out a chair and settling Harry into it before moving to prepare tea.

Harry took the few moments of relative privacy to try to get himself under control, to try to reign in all of the feelings. He was certain that he would feel embarrassed about this later; this wasn't a great look for someone you were a little bit in love with to see.

By the time Draco turned around and brought the mugs of tea over, his breathing had even out a bit and he wasn't sobbing anymore. Draco set a cup of tea in front of him, "Here you go," he murmured before sitting down in the chair next to Harry instead of across from him.

"Thank you," Harry managed as he took a sip of tea made just the way that he liked it.

"Don't mention it," he said, he reached over and rubbed soothing circles on the center of Harry's back as Harry drank his tea. He didn't push or ask any questions, he was just quiet, just there with him as Harry's heart slowly came down to a normal pace and he finally managed to stop crying. "There we are," he said.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, feeling embarrassed and foolish and raw. "I didn't even mean to come here," he confessed.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Draco told him and for some reason, Harry believed him. "I've got some ginger biscuits in, if you'd like?"

"I shouldn't impose-"

"It's no imposition," Draco said, standing up and reaching for the cookie jar. He set them out, offering it to Harry before taking a couple himself.

Harry nibbled at his biscuit, not really sure what to say.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asked. "You don't have to, of course, but I can be quite a good listener."

They'd been partners for three years at this point, so Harry knew it was true that the other man was an excellent listener. After a moment debating where to start, Harry confessed, "I always felt like there was something wrong with me." He stared down at the biscuit in his hands for a moment, "When I was little," he swallowed and set down his half eaten biscuit. "My aunt and uncle didn't want me and they weren't shy about letting me know."

Draco frowned, "Then why did you live with them? Surely there were no shortage of wizarding families who-"

"I had to," Harry said. "In her death, my mother's magic protected me. It's why Voldemort couldn't kill me. Because my aunt Petunia shared my mother's blood, as long as I lived with them I was protected."

"Alright," Draco said, nodding once and apparently accepting that answer without any other questions, which Harry was grateful for.

"They didn't want me and they didn't love me," Harry continued, "and I just really wanted to be loved, you know?"

Draco nodded, "Yeah, of course," he said as though Harry was being totally reasonable right now.

"I always imagined that I'd had parents who loved me," he said. "Like I always imagined that Lily and James Potter were completely besotted with me; they literally died trying to protect me. And I've had it confirmed by people throughout my life in a casual sort of way."

Draco nodded again, "But you've just had it confirmed in a more tangible way?" he guessed.

Harry nodded and felt a tear slip down his cheek. "I found some of Sirius memories when I was cleaning today," he said.

"That's fascinating," Draco replied.

"Yes," Harry agreed, "And there was a vial with my name on it, so I poured them into the pensive and took a look." Draco waited patiently as Harry tried to calm himself enough to get the next words out. "They were all of me as a baby," he finally managed in a whisper. "Of him with me, of my mum and dad, and Remus. And they all-" he choked on the words. He could hardly get them out, "They all loved me so much," he managed.

Draco took his hand.

"And I can't even remember-" he couldn't manage another word before the waves of grief rolled through his soul once more.

"Oh, love," Draco murmured as he stood and moved to wrap his arms around Harry, holding him and letting him cry against his stomach.

"It's not fair," Harry finally managed.

"No, it's not," Draco agreed, one of his hands stroking through Harry's hair. "It's not fair at all."

When Harry finally got himself under control once more, Draco drew back and sat down in the chair beside him.

"Sorry," Harry said, feeling miserable, and drained, and exhausted.

"You've nothing to apologize for," Draco said as he took another biscuit.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I just thought that I'd stopped grieving this."

"Do we ever really stop grieving the people we love?"

"It's not just the people, though," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's that I had a home, I had a place where people loved me and cared about me. If I'd fallen and scraped a knee in that home, I would have had adults clambering over themselves to fix it. I would have been tucked in at night, and someone would have read me stories. I would have always had enough to eat and I would have had clothes that fit me and toys that weren't broken. There are a million things that could have been that I'll never know."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly, "I can't imagine what that must feel like." He put his hand over Harry's, his thumb rubbing soothingly over Harry's knuckles.

Harry nodded once, trying very hard not to start crying again because three times felt like it might be a bit ridiculous for one day.

"There are people who love you now, though," Draco said gently. "And I know it doesn't change the past, and it doesn't make this hurt any less, but you have people who love you. And I'm sure that someday, you'll live with someone who loves you, someone who wants to protect you and comfort you when you're hurt, someone who wants to share their life with you."

Harry scoffed, "I have my friends but there's no one who would want that with me."

"There are loads of people who would want that with you," Draco said, rolling his eyes as if Harry was being ridiculous.

"Not people who actually know me," Harry argued. "Sure, there are people who want me because I'm Harry Potter but no one who wants me because I'm just Harry."

"That's not true," Draco replied.

"Name one person who wants that life with me because I'm just Harry and not the savior," he challenged. "One, single person and I will go out right now and move in with them. Tell me one name of someone who would want this," he said, gesturing at himself, "Who wants all of this mess, all of this baggage, and traum-"

"Me," Draco finally exploded. "I want that with you. I want to protect you and comfort you when you're hurt. I want to make you tea in the evening before bed and I want you to wake me up with coffee in the morning. I want to spend every moment with you, celebrating your successes and weeping with you about what makes you sad. I want that."

Harry blinked at him, a bit (alright, a lot) shocked.

"And I know that it's stupid and you don't want that with me, because, well," he shook his head. "There are a million reasons you shouldn't, but you said one person and I want you to know that it's more than possible for someone to know you and want that with you."

"You do?" Harry asked.

"Do you think I would have told you that I did if I didn't?"

Harry felt a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "I would like that with you, too."

"What?"

Harry shrugged one shoulder, "I've been a little in love with you for like a year," he confessed, feeling brave now that Draco had already told him how he felt.

Draco smiled a shy little smile at him, "Maybe we should go on a few dates before you move in, for appearance's sake," he joked.

He laughed, but then actually considered it, "Do you care about appearance's sake? We already know that we work together, we already know that we're good at spending time together," Harry replied. "I know more about you than I've ever known about anyone I've dated."

"Do you really want to move in with me? Already?"

Harry shrugged, "I mean, you've got a second bedroom, right? We wouldn't have to rush into anything. Just," he swallowed and he reached over and took Draco's hand, "Wouldn't it be nice to come home at night to someone who cares about you?"

"Yeah," the other man agreed with a smile, "Yes it would."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, feeling hopeful.

He nodded, "Yes, of course. Merlin, of course you can move in," he said with a laugh.

"I'd like very much to kiss you if you'd be amenable to that," Harry said.

"I'd like that, too," Draco said, with a breathless little smile.

Harry leaned across the corner of the table, cupped Draco's cheek in his palm, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

When he pulled back Draco's eyes were still closed and he murmured, "I'm going to need you to do that again."

Harry grinned and obliged him.

"Again," Draco breathed.

Harry leaned in and took Draco's bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before brushing his tongue over it. Draco let out a soft sigh and his fingers clenched in the fabric of Harry's t-shirt.

"Again," Draco whispered when Harry pulled back.

He smiled and let his finger's slide in Draco's hair, tilting his head slightly as he slotted their lips together. He slowly explored Draco's mouth and Draco explored his in turn, they kissed slowly, luxuriously. Hands brushed over necks, cheeks, shoulders, and backs as they carefully learned their way around each other.

Draco was the first to pull back this time and Harry's eyes fluttered open to look at him, his cheeks flushed and lips red. "You are so beautiful," Harry murmured.

He looked down at the table, smiling shyly, "We should start getting you moved in."

"I'd like nothing better," Harry replied with a big smile of his own.

And while moving in with Draco didn't give him back the home he'd lost, it did give him a place where he belonged. It gave him a place where he could receive the love he'd longed for and give all of the love he'd always wanted to. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't always easy, but it was home and Harry wouldn't have traded it for anything.

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

Thank you, @iamactuallya-cat for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it and that I didn't break your heart too much! <3

Day 24: Mafia Husband | Day 26: Broken Bone

[sundimus]

Request for Spot! - “You should be in bed.” / Wukong and Macaque /// Macaque doesn’t sleep.

Or, rather, he doesn’t need to sleep. Not really. That doesn’t mean he’s immune to tiredness or fatigue when it comes to sleep deprivation. Going longer than a week without sleep will dull his senses quite considerably, and as a being who is nearly constantly snaking through the shadows, it’s pretty important for him to keep well rested so that everything was in tune for him. He would prefer to not have anyone sneak up on him if he could help it. Plus the yawning that comes with lack of sleep serves as too much of an annoyance anyway. Occasionally, though, there are nights where he simply can’t sleep. Whether it be from nightmares or memories or something else, sleep just refuses to embrace him every once in a while. Tonight it was something else. A large clap of thunder resonates throughout the ship they’re on and he winces, his ears ringing from the sensitivity brought on by having two more sets. He leans against the wall of his room and breathes deeply and shakily, pulling his blanket tighter to him to combat the chill brought on by the storm. It wasn’t the worst storm they’ve been in so far, but all storms sound the same to him, and they sound loud. “You should be in bed.” He curses when he accidentally slams his head against the wall, jumping from being completely caught by surprise. His guard had been down. So much for not being snuck up on. Rubbing his head he turns to see Sun Wukong standing in the room, his room, hands on his hips and lips twitching as he’s clearly trying not to smile at what he just witnessed. “What do you want?” He mutters bluntly, turning fully to face him. Normally he’d tell his brother to get out and leave him alone, but this situation is an easy distraction from what’s happening outside. Even if the distraction was Sun Wukong of all people, but Macaque wasn’t known for being a begging chooser. Wukong shrugs and steps more into the room, his eyes looking around and taking in the very, very, very few decorations that Macaque had managed to scrounge up and keep during his time here. Not that he has many either, most of his stuff is kept in his cave on Flowerfruit Mountain. Mac himself almost wants to tell him to stop looking as he feels like he’s sort of being scrutinized although Wukong’s face holds no sort of judgement on it. “I just wanted to check up on you,” Wukong says as his eyes finally land on him again. Macaque responds immediately, so quickly that he didn’t even think about it. “No.” “No?” “No. I don’t believe it.” Wukong sighs and, without warning, moves even closer and plops himself right next to Macaque, the latter of which feels his fur bristle. Wukong props an arm against his leg and puts his face into his hand casually. “Well, you should. I make my rounds every night to check up on everyone. To make sure they’re safe and asleep and all that.” Macaque simply blinks at him. “Did someone ask you to do that?” He shakes his head. “Nope.” He pops the ending of the word. “It’s all me. Everyone’s mortal here, and I just get concerned, you know. Especially after the whole Lady Bone Demon thing.” Macaque tries not to shudder at the mention of her name, still feeling the ice cold grip of the Mayor’s hand clamped around his throat. “Well, I’m not a mortal. You don’t need to be concerned over me.” Wukong nods in agreement. “You’re right. I know you can take care of yourself, and so can everyone else on this boat, but I still care about you enough that I get concerned. Hence why you’re included in me checking up on everyone at night.” Macaque can’t stop the sharp barking laugh that comes out. “You? Caring about me?” He stops himself there, the words you’re the one who killed me, remember? rising and dying on his tongue. He doesn’t want to fight tonight, not when it’s loud enough outside as it is, and not when he’s already so tired. He’s not even sure if he’s ready to confront him about it at all, if he had to be honest. Maybe when they’re both truly alone and only a few feet away from a group of people. Wukong simply stares at him in turn, his expression telling Macaque that perhaps he already knows the words left unspoken. “Would I be here if I didn’t care? At least a little?” He counters. Macaque clamps his mouth shut, not really knowing how to respond to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to relish in the thought of his twin admitting that he still cares about him in some way, or if he wants to dismiss him and his concerns altogether. He chooses not to think about it too much right now. The sun is starting to peek through the window. “Well... you’re in here,” he says lamely. He can’t bring himself to say thanks to him for anything yet, not at the moment anyway. “Are you going to leave or are you going to stay and bother me some more?” It’s not quite an invitation, but he also doesn’t just outright tell Wukong to get out of his room either, not like he would have - or probably should have. Hearing that, Wukong stretches his arms with a loud and guttural yawn, his mouth opened wide enough to show off four large, deadly fangs. He rips two small pieces of his hair out of his head and blows on them to create two pillows, which he promptly sets on the ground next to them before laying down and resting his head on one of them. “What are you doing?” Macaque asks. “I have a bed right there.” He doesn’t bother asking why Wukong is deciding to sleep in his room of all places. The Monkey King doesn’t pretty much whatever he wants. “Yeah, but you’re right here. And I don’t feel like moving, so come lay down and bring your blanket, would you?” Macaque grumbles but lays down next to him anyway, messily throwing his blanket over the both of them. He hasn’t slept next to his brother in... however many years it’s been. Centuries, even. The last time he remembers is when they were both small, and there hadn’t yet been any kind of bad blood between them yet. It’s sort of painful - the nostalgia he’s feeling right now. He closes his eyes, and he never realizes that the thunder has stopped a while ago.

[somedrunkpirate]

learn the dead | Arthur/Eames

Read here on ao3 or continue below Tags: Presumed Dead, First Time, Angst with a happy ending, pining Rating: T Wordcount: 5,4k 

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

Everything checks out. 

The hospital records, the police report, even the fucking local news because, to quote scruffy looking anchor, with a stutter no less, “There has— sn’t been an lethal acc—sident for over ten years on this s—street.” 

The information is bare-bones, but that isn’t remarkable for an open and shut case like this: drunk driver meets tree trunk. Happens a thousand times a year, and will continue to happen whether you make a fuss out of it or not. Write down the licence plate, try (and fail) to inform relatives, do the paperwork and get home on time for dinner for once. Simple as pie. 

Except. Except Arthur wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have driven drunk. His stick reaches too far up his ass to do something so utterly reckless in reality. 

That thought is what had spurred Eames to begin his search— there had to be something, anything, that could explain the whole bullshit situation. Even if that something is a hit, covered up like an accident. Then at least Eames would have some to blame— Someone to kill. 

But everything checks out. 

Even that initial discrepancy. Arthur couldn’t have been drunk, but after many phone calls and bribes, Eames had learned what Arthur could have been. 

He could have been high. 

His last job had been an experimental trial. Not with a chemist Eames knew. An academic who had shit his pants when Eames barged in with a smile as sharp as a knife— and a knife in his hand, of course. Wouldn’t do to be less than intimidating in this case. The chemist had spluttered into a rant Eames had understood half of, so he’d called Yusuf and held the phone up without responding to the cursing at being awoken in the middle of the night. But he’d caught on quickly, started to ask questions Eames wouldn’t have thought to ask. Then more, sharper. With a hiss.  

“What is he saying?” Eames had asked, after the chemist had run out of breath. 

“Eames—“ 

The way Yusuf sounded, a sigh more than an utterance. The tone of his voice as it tried to fold in pity— badly. Yusuf was never quite made for compassion. Though the attempt had been enough to haunt Eames’ nightmares since. 

“Eames. He’s dead.” 

The confirmation had come without fanfare in the end. Eames didn’t even kill the chemist, after. It hadn’t been his fault that the mix Arthur had taken voluntarily turned out to suppress reflexes when tired. Not tired as they would call it— after a rush job, when exhaustion nipped at your heels. Just tired; about to drink a cup of coffee tired. Arthur probably hadn’t even felt any different until it was too late. But it had been raining, and he’d been driving for more than six hours. It was no one’s fault that Arthur had lost control over the vehicle just in front of the only tree in a three mile radius.There had been a rabbit flattened between the car and the bark. He’d probably been trying to save it. 

A fucking rabbit. 

Eames had hung up on Yusuf without a word. It had been the last time he’d spoken to anyone for a long time. 

Except that isn’t quite true. 

“Well, darling, you’ve gotten me in quite a pickle.” 

The grave doesn’t respond. It never does. 

— — — — —

If someone had told him that his reaction to Arthur’s death would be to stand before his grave every day for a month straight, he'd have laughed his lungs out of his chest. 

It would’ve been sad, of course, to see such a talented colleague go. He might even have gone on a bender for a week— drinking away the sorrows that come with a lost acquaintance— maybe a friend. But he’d have better things to do than indulge himself for longer than that. He’d been indulging himself with Arthur for far too long, and death should have been the end to it. 

Because he had been thinking about it, sometimes, when he was feeling fanciful. You would have had to be blind not to see the chemistry. The push and pull that led to delicious flirtation — as much as Arthur wanted to deny it — and even more delicious dreamsharing. They made each other better and that was honestly the only thing Eames ever looked for, when, if ever, he thought about that nebulous concept of ‘settling down’. 

So yes, there would be something more to losing Arthur. Eames had known even then. It was losing that slight hint of potential. Though that is always a treacherous word. 

Because he never truly believed he’d make it that far— not just with Arthur, who would’ve laughed even harder if Eames were ever to confess his vague future plans for them — but with life in general. Why plan for something that would be cut short anyway? Even if Arthur could be persuaded to make something out of the spark between them, it would’ve been cruel to do so. Eames knew himself well. He wouldn’t have stopped taking risks, stop wanting more-- craving freedom like a drug. The idea to set Arthur up for inevitable heartbreak had been enough to avoid thinking about practical steps. A fantasy was fine. Eames got paid to live in them. He didn’t get paid for reality. 

So, Arthur’s death would of course be sad. But it shouldn’t have been more than another scar on his back— the punishment of the trade he chose, along with a whisper of nostalgia at losing a construct of his imagination. Even he wouldn’t have had the heart to keep the fantasy of a dead man alive for his own entertainment. A week, a few drinks, and it should’ve been over. 

It shouldn’t have destroyed him. 

“I just never thought I’d be the one left behind, darling,” Eames says to the wet dirt below him. It feels off to tell the headstone itself— the name is fake. Aaron Fister. Arthur had thrown a knife past his head when Eames had shown him the forged papers. To say he regrets the joke now is an understatement. 

“In all fairness, it should’ve been you here, it would make more sense for you to fall in love with me, once I’m not there to bother you anymore. Absentia makes the heart go fonder, hmm?” 

The dirt seems to be judging him. It’s good that some things never change. 

“I know— I know it's hypocritical. I didn’t even— I didn’t even love you. It was just a game. A fun thing to theorise about when the goings got tough. Would you be as snappish if we lived together? Would you forgive me faster if I sucked you off? Would you kiss me goodbye in the airport?” Eames stops himself, and rubs a hand over his face, groaning. “It’s humiliating, darling. I should’ve just gotten off at the thought of you like half of the dreamshare community was doing. Hand on or in their whatever and imagine you moaning next to them. But I had to be pathetic about it. Though this is reaching new heights, I must say.” 

He leaves, abruptly sick of himself. He comes back the next day, as always. 

Some days, though, Eames doesn’t devolve into confessions that make the little old ladies passing by their lost friend’s grave raise their eyebrows and linger by a random grave to listen anyway. 

Some days, Eames is angry. 

The first time, he breaks his toe in the process. 

“You bloody cunt!” He’s aware that he’s shouting, but he doesn’t stop. “Never experiment alone! Isn’t that what you fucking say to the newbies? You need someone to be a baseline. Someone who can bring you home safe. You fuck. Why didn’t you call me. Why didn’t you fucking—“ 

Kicking the gravestone had not been his best idea, but the pain of it brings a rush of satisfaction. There is— so much, inside of him. Eames is drowning in it, and the throb in his feet cuts right through it. Clarity. He kicks again. 

“You fucking bastard.” 

The old ladies have gone from curious to concerned now. Eames hobbles away, hissing, before he gets a restraining order on a grave. 

The next day he’s back, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and finds himself apologising. 

“I know— I never made it quite clear that you could call me, for stuff like that. That I would pick up. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Or no, I would have, but I might not have bothered for that. The jobs— I knew how to handle you on the job. But outside of that. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage. I wouldn’t think that way then, of course. Convince myself that I’m above errand runs like that. Throw you a bone recommending some up and coming kid I knew or something— intern type, for all that we have those here. But I don’t think I would’ve come. So it isn’t your fault. You made a mistake, not getting back-up, but it isn’t your fault. You didn’t know you had any. And I didn’t dare to believe I could be yours. That you would let me. That it wouldn’t end in disaster.” 

Eames leans against the cold stone and sighs. “’Suppose it has, already. Would’ve been too good to have it end any other way.” 

— — — — —

When Eames isn’t in a graveyard, or in a bar, he’s in the warehouse. 

It had felt too… personal, to get a hotel room for this. To do his research in a living room, as opposed to the dreary, dusty and echoey spaces where most of their professional relationship had flourished. It’s too big for a one-man job, but Eames had managed to fill it up anyway. Boxes upon boxes of information, any trace of Arthur he could find. Every email, record, police report, college paper— printed and archived. Eames can find his way through the documents blind and drunk. Arthur has taken over every nook and cranny of the warehouse— and every nook and cranny of Eames’ mind. Eames has read everything, twice over. 

If Arthur had been alive to know, he would’ve killed him. 

Because Arthur had always been a private person, for all that he pries in the lives of clients and collaborators both. He was the one who asked the questions and rarely answered them. It had always been a luxury— a rare reward, to be thrown a scrap of information. He’d always said something with that slight subtle smile, like he knew the power his breadcrumbs of personal life held over others. Everyone ravenous for more intel on one of the greatest pointmen of their generation. 

How horrible is it then to revel in the mountains of information that Eames had been able to gather after his death. He’d always known he’d had enough pull to find something, and after the inception job he’d had more than enough cash to buy the rest. But he’d never done it; at first because of the wrath that would quickly follow. Then because he’d known it would tarnish Arthur’s trust in him— something he’d wanted to protect at all costs. And then lastly — but maybe from the start — because it was so much more thrilling to learn bit by bit, piece by piece. To earn his knowledge of Arthur, and to ensure that his curiosity would never run out. He’d become slightly addicted to the feeling. 

But now, with no one left to tell, it had only taken the excuse of the suspicious circumstances of his death for Eames to turn into the hoarder he’d always known he could be. It had gotten to a point where new packages arrived every so often— criminals even beyond dreamshare having caught wind of an individual willing to invest heavily on any information. Someone had even hacked the pentagon to get classified documents. From the message on the box, the hacker thought they were helping a spy of some kind. Eames had sent him enough bitcoin to blow wind in the direction of that particular fire hearth of urban legend. He’d rather have people think there is a whole network of people digging into this, than anyone realising it’s in truth only one pathetic man. 

So Eames drinks. Eames talks to a grave. And Eames reads. It only takes him two boxes until Arthur makes him laugh for the first time since the car crash. It was due to a spirited essay on the importance of open source information that was clearly written to spite the professor leading the course, who’d been forced to give it an A+ regardless. Eames had chuckled, imagining the self-righteous satisfaction of this young Arthur as he got his grade back, and then began crying. Not to grieve the loss of a future he hadn’t realised how much he wanted, as is his wont, these days. But from the unfairness of it all. That a person like this, who had so much to say in this world, should’ve been taken so early, and in such a meaningless way. 

Arthur would’ve denied it, but Eames knows he’d only be content with a death from sacrifice . He’d shown that side of him clearly when he jumped into Cobb’s mess headfirst and without hesitation. If Arthur had died from a bullet taken for Cobb, Ariadne, or maybe even Eames, he would’ve been at peace— or as much as you can while bleeding out. 

Eames had known that, but as he learns more and more of Arthur, he realises how true it is. How, despite everything, Arthur cannot stop himself from being a silent hero. There are so many instances where Arthur, behind the screens, helps someone. Whether it was connecting the right people to each other under the mum of a potential project, or taking jobs way below his pay grade because he sympathised with the client, Arthur did not let their line of work destroy the possibility to be kind, every once in a while. 

It’s not like he advertised it. He didn’t do it in a way people would recognize his actions— which was smart, as it could be seen as a weakness in their circles. But whenever the chance came along, even if it was to his own detriment, Arthur chose the rough road home if it would ease someone else’s way. 

And this, Eames realises, is the secret to his competency. All other pointmen are expert researchers through and through, but no one had the reach Arthur had. Arthur knew everything, and if he didn’t know, he knew someone who knew— and most importantly, someone who would tell him. Eames doesn’t even know if Arthur ever realised that it was his kindesses, in and out the community, which led him into such a position of power. His actions are too random and inconsistent to be a strategic scheme to build an empire. Some of his biggest successes are results of a nicety five or ten years ago, something that he might have forgotten doing, but the people receiving it definitely haven’t. 

On the surface Arthur had been known as cool and effective— someone with a distance to the rest of the world that resulted in a highly detailed overview of any situation, even if it brought a side of professionalism to even the most informal of interactions. The people who witnessed a more casual side of him were few and far in between, but even those came away with the impression that to Arthur, doing the job in the best way possible was the only drive to his actions. 

No one had seen every little thing he did that had no other reason at all besides that he could do them for someone.

Eames maps out everything on the walls of the warehouse. And when he stands back to take it all in, he realises that more than anyone, the person Arthur had silently helped was him. 

Everything he’d done for Cobb had been grand and obvious, but more out of loyalty to Mal and her children than kindness without any other motivation. And Ariadne’s training had been as much for the inception job than for herself— maybe introducing her to the life hadn’t been a kindness at all. Continuing after could be seen as one, even if you could argue that her honing her raw talent would directly result in better and more stable dreams in later jobs. 

But Eames— what Arthur had done for Eames—

Eames can’t think of a single reason besides just being plain nice. 

Because it hadn’t been like he needed to. Eames had made him very clear that he’d be down for almost any job Arthur put in front of him. Just him being himself had always been enough, he didn’t need to do him any favours to persuade him like everyone else did.

And maybe Arthur had gotten the memo, because he’d done Eames favours without ever telling him, and those you can’t pay back. Eames had no idea the reason he got out of that trouble in Chicago was because Arthur bailed him out— it was presented to him as a procedure mistake. And then there was the Telula job, with an extractor-architect team Eames had wanted to work with for ages, but the chemist they’d been looking to hire was someone from Eames’ not so smooth first years of dream-share and he’d almost cut out of the job to not be forced to confront that past. That was until the chemist suddenly dropped out with an offer he couldn’t refuse— an offer Arthur had been behind. 

There were so many things like that. Little things, small things— warehouses next to Eames’ favourite restaurants; nuggets of information given anonymously through the channels of dreamshare gossip to hit Eames’ ears right on time before a betrayal; a job a week delayed because of Eames’ mother’s funeral. 

It’s not like Eames had been the only one, but he was by far the most frequent of all of them. More and more so over the years, like Arthur had been finding more reasons to be nice to him, while Eames had still been stuck in his pathetic imaginations, blind to what was already in front of him. 

A friendship. 

He’d been so preoccupied with his own flights of fancy, that he only realises how close they had been all this time until it was too late to experience it. Too late to thank Arthur for everything he’s done. 

The agony of it— the longing. His heart thundering with the sudden need to have Arthur in his arms, alive and real and—

“Oh god. I love him.” 

Eames drinks until he can’t remember. He manages to avoid the grave for a little while, but he doesn’t last long. Inevitably he’s pulled back to the grave yard, whiskey in hand, ready to talk to the love he lost again. 

— — — — —

His cemetery  routine— because he has one of those now — is usually to be at the grave around noon. Late enough to roll out of bed reasonably comfortably after a long night of drinking and/or reading, but early enough for there to be time left to check the new documents coming along and pay the right people before they send thugs to his hideout. 

But this time the afternoon light shines golden over the rows and rows of headstones and Eames shivers in the Autumn breeze. The old ladies are all dressed in fur coats. He recognizes some of them, and wonders if they noticed he was gone. None of them greet him as he passes, so he assumes not. 

Eames takes another sip of his bottle, allowing his feet to lead him over the familiar path up the hill, and then he drops his bottle all together. 

A man is standing before the grave. 

Tall, hunched a little in the wind. Long coat and thick black beanie. Nondescript. Anonymous. 

He does not turn as Eames nears. 

“You’re late.” 

Eames’ hand is on his gun at the first syllable, but before he can put it on his temple a leather gloved hand snatches it from his fingers. The clip ejects with a decisive click. 

Arthur gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t be dramatic. We don’t need a scene.” 

His face— a little gaunt. His eyes— tense, intent, darker than they should be. Eames doesn’t recognize the coat. But he’s there, pressed in close to hide the gun between their bodies. His breath— warm, hits Eames’ cheek. It isn’t— It can’t. He can’t be breathing because he’s—

Eames squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of metal against the palm of his hand, the smell of gunpowder. 

A sigh falls between them. “It won’t work. This isn’t a dream, Eames.” 

The hell it isn’t. “Experimental somacin, three levels.” 

Raised eyebrows shouldn’t be audible only through speech. “Do you remember how you got here?” 

Eames opens his eyes and says, “Deep immersion dream.” 

Arthur huffs at that. “Do you really think they’ve been keeping you under for years? Fine. When have you last lost memories?” 

Oh, that’s easy. “Two days ago.” 

There is a pause, and Eames hates the fact that he can see the exact moment of tension in Arthur’s jaw that signals him suppressing a question. It’s too detailed, too precise, too re—

“Later,” Arthur murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. Like later is a given between them. He seems frustrated. His eyes keep flicking to the side and his hand hovers near Eames’ arm, like he’s trying to keep himself from hurrying Eames along and is annoyed that Eames is stalling them. 

“I’m sorry darling,’” Eames drawls, “but in case it has escaped your notice: we are having this discussion on your fucking grave, so forgive me for being reasonably sceptical about the reality of this situation.” 

Arthur breathes out a deep sigh, clenched teeth. “Eames, think about it, is there any forger you know capable of forging me in a way you can’t see through it? Or for that matter, is there anyone who would dare to try steal from the fucking person who invented the craft?” 

No. The answer is no. It hits Eames with a muffled weight. He wonders what his face is doing, but whatever it is, Arthur responds to it with a curt nod. It suddenly strikes Eames as absurdly hilarious, in the way only the most traumatic experiences can. 

“You know, complimenting me really doesn’t help with the reality argument. Never mind doing it twice. Death changed you, darling.” 

Arthur stills in the middle of putting the clip back in Eames’ gun. There is the slightest flicker of his lips, and he huffs. “Maybe it did— can I trust you not to shoot yourself the moment I hand this back?” 

“Come on now Arthur,” Eames says, “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

And there— there it is. Arthur rolls his eyes as he presses the gun into Eames’ waiting hands, and a part of Eames’ breaks with it. Still muffled, still numb, but something is lumbering closer. He can almost hear its laboured breaths. 

“There you are,” Eames says, smiling. “You don’t know how much I missed that.” 

It is a miracle he doesn’t choke on the words. 

“Glad to be remembered for something,” Arthur is saying, and now he’s pushing Eames— gently but with intent, away from the grave. “And I’d like to keep it that way, so we need to talk before your insatiable curiosity ruins everything I worked for.” 

Eames doesn’t know if it's the words, or the press of Arthur’s hand against his back— barely sensable beneath all the layers but even the slightest hint of pressure sets him alight— but all at once everything falls into place. 

“You faked your death.” 

“Have you always been this slow on the uptake?” 

Eames barely hears him. Reality is roaring and there is space for nothing else. Arthur isn’t dead. Arthur isn’t dead. They’re standing on Arthur’s grave— an empty grave. A lie. A trick. He’s been fooled because Arthur isn’t dead, he’s right here. He’s touching him because he isn’t— 

Arthur isn’t. He isn’t. 

He’s alive. 

Eames doesn’t say anything the rest of the way to wherever. If Arthur speaks, he doesn’t strain to listen. Because Arthur isn’t dead and if he hears anything at all he’s either going to scream or kick the shit out of him just like he did on that stupid fucking grave— just to check that this one isn’t made of stone but flesh and blood and he is alive.

His fists hurt from clenching by the time they enter a hotel room. Something of the turmoil must have reached Arthur because he’s gone quiet. The roar lets off the very moment the door clicks closed and Arthur stands before it, uncertain, almost as if he regrets closing off his only exit. His expression is one Eames knows very well— preparing himself for a fight he saw coming too late. But he isn’t reaching for his gun. He just stands there. 

He’s just waiting to take it. 

Eames kisses him. 

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s—

A heartbeat feels more real when it’s underneath your lips. A pulse against a jaw— up, up to feel breath against breath. To hear the rush of it— a hitch of— of surprise. 

Strength— dead people don’t have strength and Arthur is pushing him so he can’t be dead. 

“Eames—“ 

Alive, alive, alive. 

“Eames! Wait!” 

Eames pushes closer. He places his forehead against Arthur’s, presses them both against the door. Arthur isn’t pushing him away anymore but his hands are still on his chest. Eames wonders if he can feel the beat of his heart. He hopes, quietly insane for a moment, that Arthur will never forget to make his heart beat as long as he is feeling one. As long as he’s given an example on how to live. 

“Eames,” Arthur says. A word, a question, a name. All in one. His eyes are wide. Breathing heavy— breathing, breathing, breathing— and he’s flushed. Sharp cheekbones stained red. Lips wet. 

Eames’ hands move of their own accord and cradle each side of Arthur’s face. 

“Let me, darling. Just let me.” 

Arthur breathes again. 

Eames trembles, trying to hold himself back. Trying to breathe. But one more moment and he will collapse and he can’t— he can’t risk it. He can’t risk losing another chance. He needs this as much as he needs Arthur to be alive. He needs to stop regretting not having done this when he could and now he can again and how can he let this undeserved second chance slip through his fingers. He has to. Please. He has to. 

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “Eames. Eames, it’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to beg. It’s okay.” 

“Let me, Arthur,” Eames repeats, “Let me.” 

Arthur lets him. 

Arthur lets him do everything. 

— — — — —

It’s after when Arthur whispers, “I didn’t know.” 

His head is on Eames chest, moving ever so slightly when he breathes. In and out. Eames has his fingers tangled in his hair. The strands slip away when Arthur turns around to look up at him. 

“I didn’t know,” he says again. There is a rasp in his voice and his eyes are wet. Eames has never been apologised to like this before. Arthur sounds as if he believes sorry would be an insult, the word too small to encompass his regret. There is guilt there, in the flush of his cheeks, and the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact. His pupils flickering, microscopic twitches of shame. 

Sometimes he’d dream of this. Arthur’s return. A fantasy, a different one, yet still addictive like a drug. He’d expected to be angry, to want to spill his pain onto Arthur’s feet and watch him try and walk through it; burn in it. A stimulation of the magmatic life Eames has been living since his death. 

But now, face to face with an Arthur who is alive, Eames doesn’t want any of it. 

So he leans down, and kisses Arthur on the forehead, like a benediction, trying to extract the regret from his face. And he tells him, honest in a way he’s learned to be in the last scant weeks, “I didn’t either, darling.” 

Arthur doesn’t relax, but there is something about his misery that is easily pushed to the side for curiosity. 

Eames smiles at him and continues. “You were— you were a fantasy. A what if. Something amusing to think of when I was bored, or something  life saving to dive into when reality drew a knife and stabbed me with it— literally, sometimes. But it was always a fantasy. An escape. It— it couldn’t have become real, if you’d given it a chance back then.” Eames takes a breath, shakes his head. 

Arthur reaches up with a hand, frowning, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“But the trouble is, darling, it is incredibly hard not to fall in love with you the more I learn about you.” Eames smiles under his finger tips. “That is what changed. You never let me learn you. But who is to stop anyone from learning the dead?” 

Something flickers over Arthur’s face— guilt, again, but different. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn about me— I thought you only gave a fuck about what I could be for you.” 

Eames lays his hand over Arthur’s. “You’re right. I was blind— too blinded by the possibilities and too selfish to do anything about it. Maybe I needed to lose you in order to learn how to see .” 

“No— No I should’ve,” Arthur shakes his head sharply. “I should have told you. There would’ve been another way without— How long have you been drinking?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to darling.”

“Eames.” 

Arthur takes his hand off and moves off of Eames’ chest, sitting up straight. Eames follows him, struck by a sudden vision of Arthur slipping out of bed— out of his life, dogged by misplaced guilt and regret. He curls his hands around Arthur’s wrists, as gently as he can. Don’t trap him. Don’t chase him away. 

“No. It’s fine. We’re fine,” Eames hurries to say. “Why would you tell me? I was a colleague at best, bane of your existence at worst. I had— I have no right—“ 

“I should have told you because I did know you,” Arthur interrupts him. “I was supposed to know. You said possibilities? I am supposed to be the one who sees them— all of them. I’m the one who has to prepare for all scenarios, know the players, do the research and put the pieces together. That is what I do, Eames. And I missed something.” Arthur takes a shuddering breath, looking forlorn and tired. “I’m so sorry for missing the most important part.” 

“You can’t apologise for missing something that wasn’t even really there yet.” 

“Yes, I can. I’m sorry for missing our potential. For underestimating us. Underestimating you.” Arthur laughs. “I’m so fucking stupid. I thought you kept searching for me out of— curiosity. Or that I fucked up, left a trail somewhere and you wanted to prove to me that you found it, you figured it out. Fuck. I never thought it was because you missed me.” 

“I did,” Eames says, and it almost chokes him. “Every day.” 

Arthur looks at him then, eyes flicking to the side, his hair covering half of his face, but his smile is visible. “You know, I did too. That’s why I knew you were looking for me. Kept tabs on you, even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.” 

Eames swallows at the sight— at the hope it instills in him. Arthur let him, yes. It could have been a kindness. But this smile, shy and bashful, and the words that follow it. Maybe potential comes in twos. “I didn’t keep looking because I missed you,” Eames tells him, because he has no time for secrets anymore, no time for regret, for either of them. “I kept looking because I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t bear it. Darling.” Eames slips his hands from Arthur’s wrists and puts them on either side of Arthur’s face instead, bracketing the smile. “You’re my future. You couldn’t be dead.” 

“I’m not,” Arthur tells him, like a confession of his own. “I’m not dead, Eames.” 

“Good.” Eames pulls him in closer, and Arthur lets him. He lets him trace the smile with his thumbs, lets him breathe close against his mouth and whisper, “Next time darling, when decide to you kill yourself. Kill me too.”  

The grin that blooms doesn’t fit between Eames’ fingers, so he kisses Arthur instead. Deep, possessive. Loving. Arthur lets him, and he never stops. 

[herstarburststories]

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle. 

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea,  how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once. 

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction. 

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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