#my neighbor has never heard of a rake apparently

[teamkrissy]

It should be illegal to use noisy equipment in a residential area before noon

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin Pt. 1 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series

Hello, and welcome to an unapologetically kinky, 90% smut / 10% plot mafia fic for Elriel. 

Blanket trigger warning for ALL parts (although the first is very vanilla and sweet): this is for adults and contains both sex and violence. If you are not a fan of those two things, or the mild combination of them, scroll along. It contains things that might be triggering. It’s a dark romance.

______________________________________________________

“Wake up, dolce mia.”

The words are a soft, accented whisper pressed against my ear during the darkest part of the night, followed by sinful lips pressing a kiss to my skin that jerks me out of my sleep.

Despite the rush of heat that floods my system, I keep my eyes closed and groan, pushing his face away. My body’s exhausted, and despite wanting nothing more than to wake up and let him make me even more tired, I need sleep. 

A rough chuckle escapes him, but he’s apparently inhuman, doesn’t need sleep, and isn’t giving up this easily. 

Dodging my weak attempts to push him away, he drags his mouth down the column of my throat, stopping to suck and nibble on parts that are especially interesting.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as he finds the junction between my shoulder and throat, but I still keep my eyes closed.

The cold metal of his chain raises goosebumps as it glints down the valley between my breasts, and his mouth follows, almost like he’s unable to help it. 

He’s all over me, scent surrounding me and making it impossible to truly fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am. 

He’s put my body through every possible sexual position known to man tonight, somehow pulling every ounce of pleasure from me.

But, like always, I want more.

He’s a drug, more potent than anything on the market, and I’ve come to crave the feel of him against me in the three weeks I’ve known him.

“Wake up, bellisima,” he murmurs, rough voice like a song that ignites a fire in my blood. 

I shake my head, and he smiles against me. I regret not opening my eyes a little, because while nothing about him is unattractive, his smile is something I could never get enough of and I hate missing it.

Calloused, scared hands ghost down my body almost reverently, and then he’s kissing a trail across my ribs, over my stomach, and up to my breasts. 

His tongue swirls around the peak of one, hand coming to mold the other to his touch, and I use every ounce of willpower to say still. 

I’m proud to say I make it a full two minutes before I can’t take anymore and give in. “Fine. I’m awake.”

I say it as if it’s a struggle to be awoken by him and not the best part of my day.

My eyes open to find his, the warm hazel taking my breath away like always. 

He gives me a slow smile, coming down to press a kiss to my lips. He tugs on the lower one with his teeth, then smooths the small hurt with his tongue. 

I can’t help the small whimper that slips out as his tongue meets mine, because I’m honestly powerless to the way he kisses me. 

Slow and deep and perfectly controlled, but also possessive and a little desperate. He’s a selfish kisser; he kisses me exactly how he wants, turning my head just right, nipping my lips when he wants, only breaking when I’m breathless. 

A  palm goes to my thigh, guiding it around his trim hips, then he’s grinding against me, letting me feel him against me, hard and ready and so tempting my eyes cross. 

I resist the urge to arch up into him long enough to tease, “Egoisto bastardo.” Selfish bastard.

“Egoista,” he corrects, smirking. 

I roll my eyes, caring less about adjectives and more about the feel of his hands on my hips. I roll my hips slightly, watching as the hazel of his eyes darkens to black. 

“Was there a reason you woke me up?” I ask innocently, reaching between us and palming him in a blatant attempt to drive him half as crazy as he does me. 

He nods and pushes into my palm. My hand instinctively wraps around him, and I guide him to the apex of my thighs, running the head of him against me in a way that makes us both shudder. 

He pushes my head to the side with his chin, then runs his mouth up the column of my throat, stubble making goose bumps rise in his wake. His teeth nip at my skin before he whispers roughly, “I want to fuck you, Elain. I want to feel you around me, hear you call out my name, watch as you come on my cock. So stop teasing me and let me make give us both what we want.”

I don’t respond with words, being completely unable to find them. I just tilt my hips and slip him inside me, watching as the brown in his eyes fades to black. 

Jaw tight, he pushes into me fully, causing me to arch up into him. My legs go around his waist, and he hums in satisfaction.

He pulls out the tiniest amount, then thrusts back in harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “You feel so good,” he praises, teeth finding my earlobe and biting down softly. I moan his name, my body on fire for him, and he murmurs, “I love the way you say my name.”

He pulls out all the way, then slams back inside me so hard I feel the reverberations in my hip bones. “But I want to hear you scream it.”

My head rolls back against the mattress, and I can hardly breathe around the feel of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Somehow I’m still not used to it, not used to how it somehow feels so right.

My breasts bounce as he works me, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. His head raises and his eyes drop, watching. 

“Minchia,” he curses, reaching up to palm my one roughly. “Cosi bella.”

If he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice, I won’t last another two minutes. I’m already shaking, but I push the impending release away, desperate to make this last as long as possible.

He moves faster, hands sliding down to my backside to lift me up exactly how he wants. His pelvic bone brushes against my clit every time our hips collide, and it’s almost too much. A low moan escapes me as he kisses my neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

His hands tighten on my ass, and then his palm is connecting with my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he growls, even though it’s obvious I did.

I nod, mouth too preoccupied with kissing his jaw to reply. 

Like always, he gives me exactly what I want, using the other hand this time to spank me. The sharp sting pushes me over the edge, and I yell his name yet again as I come.

He doesn’t come with me, just releases my ass to wrap one arm around my shoulders to keep me in place as he takes his own pleasure. His hips are harsh against mine, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I take everything he gives me and want even more.

My nails rake down his back, and he mutters a curse against my lips as he kisses me. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t stop myself from sucking on it, completely lost in him. 

“Fuck, Elain,” he growls, bracing a hand on the headboard I hadn’t realized was so close. His fingers are tight on my shoulder, lips brutal against mine, thrusts so hard I’m practically screaming.

But it isn’t any of that that makes release find me again. 

It’s him groaning, “Ti senti cosi bene,” then leaning down to press the rough translation to my ear. 

I come apart entirely, and it’s a miracle his lips stifle the helpless noises I make, otherwise I’d wake up my cranky old neighbor. Again.

I tremble beneath him as his movements get a little sloppy, then still entirely. 

He kisses my again as he comes, and it’s a rough, almost bruising sort of kiss that makes me want to do it all over again. 

He eventually slows to a stop, looking down at me with enough heat in his eyes I melt. 

“Fatto per me,” he whispers, running a knuckle over the curve of my cheek. 

My sluggish brain works overtime to figure out what he said, eventually finding the translation. 

Made for me. 

~Three weeks ago~

The opera house is unsurprisingly packed, opening night drawing in over two hundred well-dressed patrons. 

I had to pull together three months rent for the ticket alone, a ridiculous expense I’d normally never allow myself, but coming here has been on my bucket list for over nine years, ever since I first heard Cecilia Bartoli on a friend’s radio. 

I pinched pennies, picked up extra shifts, and only ate Ramen for the month leading up to my trip here--a real crime, considering my profession--so I could come. 

And even though I broke out in a cold sweat from the expense of this night, I have to say it’s already worth it. I have a huge smile on my face as I make my way through the lobby, stopping to look at the program and take in the portraits of the performers. 

By the time I go to enter the auditorium, there are only a few people left in the lobby. I want to use the restroom before the show starts, so I hurry up the stairs to the upper floor to look for it.

Except it’s nowhere to be found.

I search down every hallway, the stress of missing the show forcing me to almost jog. A man in a red jacket steps into the hall right when I’m starting to despair, and he turns to me and raises a brow.

“Excuse me... where’s the restroom?” I ask in the most atrociously broken Italian he’s probably ever heard.

His eyes skate over me from head to toe, then he says something back, way too quickly for me to decipher. 

I assume he’s asking if I have a ticket, so I hold up the crumpled paper I’ve been guarding for months and smile. 

He gives me a strange look, extending an arm and gesturing for me to follow. I nod, and we start off down the corridor, stopping in front of a plain white door. 

“This is the restroom?” I ask, not understanding why it isn’t labeled or anything. 

He mumbles something I can’t hear, seems to hurry me on, then opens the door and practically shoves me inside. 

And straight into a man’s chest.

Which makes this the strangest women’s room I’ve ever ventured into. 

He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders, and somehow I know, before I even look, that this man will be devastatingly handsome.

Too curious not to, I look up. And up, and up some more.

And I realize I was both right and wrong, because the man before me is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also so much more, to the point where those words aren’t enough to describe him.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

It’s a classic sort of look, one that will never go out of style and never be considered anything but perfect.

Hazel eyes rimmed in dark black eyelashes meet mine, narrowed at the edges with amusement. His full, all too kissable lips are turned up in a smirk and surrounded by a day’s worth of stubble I know would scratch at the fingers I’m tempted to run over it. 

He’s so tall my neck starts to cramp, but I’m a deer in the headlights, unable to so much as blink. 

He’s monochromatically dressed in black, from his suit jacket, shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. We’re still pressed against each other, and the differences between us couldn’t be more obvious. 

He’s sin incarnate, the perfect picture of a fallen angel, and I’m the naiive girl dressed in lilac and unable to stop blushing. 

His dark hair slips over his forehead as he leans his face further to mine, and for a strange second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he takes a step back and regards me with assessing eyes.

“Stai bene?”

The sound of his voice--a cool, deep balm that soothes my nerves--throws me for a second, but even my American self can understand that simple question. I nod.

His lips twitch. “Sei sicuro?” Are you sure?

I nod again. 

“Tu parli?” Do you speak?

My eyes narrow a little at the teasing note in his voice. “Si.”

“Cosa stai facendo qui?” 

My knowledge of Italian is limited to the Duolingo I’ve been cramming in the last couple of months, so I tell him I don’t understand. 

He waves a hand around us, his eyes growing a shade darker as he prowls toward me. He says something in a low voice, the tenor in his voice giving me goosebumps. 

“It was an accident! I was looking for the restroom,” I blurt when he takes another step toward me.

He stops. Understanding dawns. A smile breaks lose that threatens my sanity with its beauty.

“You’re American,” he says in surprisingly perfect English.

It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m at the opera,” I state stupidly. 

His lips tip upward, and I mentally slap myself for the dumb response. “You are. But what are you doing here?”

Oh. For the first time since I was shoved in here, I take a look around. I’m in one of the dark boxes on the upper floor of the opera house, the ones usually reserved for royalty or billionaires or people willing to spend an entire paycheck. There are two seats, a table in between them, and a perfect view of the stage from the slight balcony. 

I gasp when I realize the lights are dim, meaning the show has either started or is about to. “Have I missed anything?”

“No. Now answer the question.”

God, he’s relentless. I sigh and explain, “I was looking for the bathroom, and a very unhelpful attendant pushed me in here instead.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. Like he’s trying to tell if I’m being serious or something. Honestly, who would lie about going to the bathroom?

“Listen, Mr...” I realize I don’t know his name, so I just keep talking. “I don’t know why you think I’d lie and sneak in here, but I’m not, and I didn’t. And I don’t want to miss anything, so I’ll just head down to my regular seat and get out of your hair.”

With one last look at him, I make my way to the door. Only to be stopped by a large hand shooting out and a softly murmured, “Stay.”

I start to deny that knee-weakening request, start to tell him it would be crazy to sit here alone with a stranger. But then a woman steps onto the stage, and everything changes.

“Oh my God, it’s her,” I whisper, practically shoving him out of the way as I hurry over to the balcony. 

Cecilia Bartoli’s on the stage, wearing an elaborate gown, dripping with diamonds and confidence, effortlessly belting out lyrics I’m too dazed to even try to understand.

For a moment, I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice when a warm hand lands on my elbow and guides me to the chair behind me. I sink down, eyes still trained on the stage.

I’ve listened to her on my phone or the radio for so long that it’s surreal to hear her live. 

I’m breathless by the time the song ends, and it’s when I hear a deep breath I remember I’m not alone. “Sorry. I... I’m a big fan of hers.”

He presses a button on the table I hadn’t noticed and an usher immediately brings in a fresh glass of champagne and a tumblr full of amber liquid. “No apology is necessary. I’ve never met an American fond of Italian opera; it’s refreshing to meet someone with good taste. I’m surprised you don’t speak Italian, though, given your passion.”

“You don’t have to understand what someone’s saying to understand what they’re feeling,” I point out.

He grins like I’ve said the right answer to a difficult question. “True.”

The next song starts, a backup singer effortlessly building he crowd’s energy, and my gaze is torn between the man beside me and the stage. I want to stare at him and listen to him speak in that strangely sexy voice, but I’ve also been looking forward to this show for almost a year.

“I’d like to propose a deal,” he says, surprising me.

My eyebrows quirk at the practiced way he said that, and I debate if this is a good idea. Curiosity wins in the end. “A deal?”

“I leave you alone and stop interrupting your experience, and you agree to have a drink with me after the show’s over.”

I purse my lips to give the appearance of being deep in thought. “I could always just leave and sit in my own seat.”

He nods. “You could. But you won’t.”

“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” He should be.

He smiles, hazel eyes on mine as he takes a slow sip of his drink. For some reason, my stomach ties itself in knots and my thighs press together at the look in his eyes. He smirks like he knows what happened, and says, “You don’t want to leave. In the five minutes you’ve been here, you haven’t stopped blushing. And let’s not forget the spell of speechlessness.”

I blush again, making him chuckle. 

Then I murmur, “Fine. Deal.”

He takes my hand in his, shaking once and sealing it in metaphorical stone.

“Enjoy the show.”

Cecilia starts singing again before I can respond, and I become lost once again to the vibrato of her voice.

I don’t like all opera, and I don’t like all opera singers, but there’s something about her that makes you feel every single thing she’s thinking about while singing. It’s the rawest form of art I’ve ever experienced, and it’s impossible to look away while she tells her story.

That doesn’t mean I’m not overly aware of the man next to me.

His eyes are on me the entire time mine are on the stage, acting like I’m more interesting to watch than the show he undoubtedly paid thousands of dollars to see. His gaze burns a hole into the side of my face, but I can’t be bothered to care because I just can’t believe I’m here. 

The last song before intermission concludes, leaving the audience in suspense of what happens next, and I find I’m almost breathless as I watch the curtain sweep closed dramatically. 

A condition that does the opposite of improve when the man beside me says softly, “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“You’re charming,” I say back, my skin warming like it always does with compliments. 

He grins like that’s amusing.

“What’s your name?” he asks, facing me and crossing his long legs. I do the same, leaving less than an inch between our knees.

“Elain.”

“Elain,” he repeats, drawing the syllables out in a way that makes me bite into my lower lip. 

“What’s yours?”

He tilts his head, almost in preparation, as he answers, “My name is Azriel Pacino.”

He says it with finality, like he’s a person of importance and is used to being treated accordingly. I mean, it makes sense, considering the private booth we’re sitting in and the instantaneous service the waiter brought our drinks with.

I realize something I’d pushed to the back of my mind. “Why did the man from before bring me in here? He seemed like he was nervous or late or something.”

“He was,” he chuckles. “He was supposed to bring me my companion for the evening, and he was late.”

My jaw snaps shut. “Oh. So... you’re still waiting for her, then?”

At this point, she was very rudely late, but that’s absolutely none of my business.

He tilts his head and smiles, the sight too much for me and causing me to take a long swallow of champagne. “Are you asking if I’m single, Elain?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times to his amusement, but I end up whispering, “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I wasn’t.”

I feel a strange sense of relief, but I don’t have time to read into it before the curtains sweep back open and the lights dim, meaning the show’s about to start.

More singers are with Cecilia now, their voices joining to create a sound so moving, I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears. Which grows harder as the scenes progress, and it becomes obvious this story will end in a tragedy. 

By the end, I’m helpless. My eyes are watering, and I have a death grip on the arm of the seat I’ve all but forgotten I’m sitting in. The last song is the one that breaks the dam, and when the performers bow and the lights come back on, my cheeks are damp.

I wipe them with the backs of my hands, then stand and clap so hard my palms hurt.

Taking another large sip of champagne to calm myself, I turn back to Azriel, finding him watching me once again. I normally would feel a little guilty about completely ignoring a man for over an hour, but hey, we have a deal.

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“So much more,” I answer, laughing incredulously. “I’ve wanted to see her perform for years.”

A thoughtful look crosses his face, then he stands with fluid grace I could never hope to have and extends a hand. “Come with me.”

I remember our deal. “To get a drink?”

He shakes his head but offers no other explanation, and even though it might be a bad idea, I accept it.

Azriel pulls me from the booth and leads me down the hallway I ran through earlier, and I notice the people on this floor give him a wide birth, looking at him with round eyes. 

Maybe he’s famous here or something.

I shrug it off, deciding to live in the moment as his arm goes around me and his palm lands on my waist. 

We come to a stop at an elevator I hadn’t noticed, and once inside, he presses B instead of the button for the lobby. 

I’m confused as to why until the door opens and I see a flurry of people bustling back and forth, carrying props and costumes and other important stuff. 

My eyes shoot to Azriel’s, but he stays silent, just guiding me from the lift and down a narrow hallway. 

He knocks twice on a door, then opens it and tugs me inside.

When I glance around him to see what the surprise is, I almost hit the floor.

Cecilia Bartoli sits on a plush sofa, holding a martini and looking so beautiful and classy I almost start crying all over again. 

She looks up at us and raises an eyebrow, and I’m about to... I don’t know, apologize for barging in unannounced or something, when Azriel speaks.

It’s in Italian, so I can’t be sure what he’s saying, but then he tilts his head towards me and says simply, “Elain.”

She gets to her feet and comes toward us, bypassing him to grab my shoulders and kiss my cheeks. “Buona sera, Elain.”

I take a shaky breath, half convinced I passed out and this is all some elaborate dream. “Buona sera.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” she asks in heavily accented English, smiling at me kindly. 

“Oh, my goodness, yes. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen. I’m a huge fan of yours. I bought my ticket and have looked forward to this for months, and it was perfect,” I babble, not able to shut up in her presence.

“Gazie.” Her eyes shoot to the man beside me, and she asks kindly, “Would you like an autograph, dear?”

My mouth drops open, because I have to be dreaming. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

She waves a hand, grabs a program from tonight off the dressing table nearest us, and signs, “Elain, It was lovely to meet you. Cecilia.” 

Then she hands it to me, not possibly knowing how much it means, and says, “Come back anytime.”

I nod overzealously, too stunned by the events that have gone down in the last ten minutes to say anything witty besides, “Thank you so much. It was so wonderful to meet you.”

She kisses my cheeks again, nods to Azriel, then moves back toward the couch. He says something else that has her rolling her eyes, but he pulls me from the room before I can try and decipher it. 

As soon as it shuts behind us, I turn and smack his shoulder. 

He looks adorably confused, but I’m on an adrenaline high and don’t stop to appreciate the expression.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you know her! Or that that’s where you were taking me! I could’ve... I don’t know, fixed my hair or something!”

Smiling, he smooths a hand over the slightly curled locks resting on my shoulder and shakes his head. “She’s an old friend of mine. It’s why I came. And you look perfect.”

I ignore the tingly sensation that statement gives me. “You’re friends with Cecilia Bartoli.” 

I say it as a statement, but it still sounds ridiculous. 

He shrugs. Shrugs. 

I shake my head in bewilderment, not knowing what else to do, and he chuckles. “Come with me”

I do.

He leads me upstairs and outside, then down the Sicilian streets until we find a beautiful, quiet bar close to where I’m staying. It’s candlelit and romantic and this entire night sounds like a fairytale. 

We take one of the many abandoned booths and order, then he leans back, drapes a long arm over the back of the booth, and looks at me like he’s content to do just that all night long. 

“Why are you in Sicily?” he finally asks as our drinks are being set in front of us.

I take a sip of wine and respond, “I start at the Culinary Institute on Monday.”

Two days from now, and I could hardly freaking wait.

“You must be a talented chef, then. That’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world.”

“I guess. What about you?” I ask, desperate to talk about him instead of me. “What do you do for a living?”

He pauses, takes a drink. “I’m in security.”

That would explain the fact he could blend in at a boxing match or a board meeting. 

“How is your English so good, by the way?”

Another pause, this one longer than the one before. “I lived in Chicago for a while.” I’m about to ask why he moved, or maybe why his expression got darker when I asked him that when he beats me to it. “How long does the program last?”

It’s my turn to pause and stall with a sip. “Just the summer.”

He nods, taking that in stride, even though it feels much more dramatic to me. Of course I’d meet someone handsome and kind and interesting when I’m only in town for three months, two weeks, and six days. 

Suddenly, I’m worried he won’t want to continue this date, knowing it’s all but pointless, considering I’m not here permanently.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Elain.”

I look back up to find him studying me, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He reaches over and taps my bottom lip. “I know you’re frowning. And you’re beautiful when you frown, caro, but I much prefer your smile. So stop worrying about it and just enjoy the moment.”

“Okay,” I agree, vowing to do exactly that.

“Okay,” he parrots, taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head. “Why Cecilia Bartoli?”

I take a deep breath and try to think about how to phrase this. “My mom died when I was younger, and I lost my dad when I was fifteen. It hit me hard, and I couldn’t find the will to live, much less smile. And then one day, I was sitting outside the restaurant I was waitressing at, and our chef played a song by her.”

“And it was just... one of those life changing moments I’ll never forget. Her music got me through the hardest part of my life, and I’ve grown to appreciate it even more over the years.”

He smiles sadly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

I shrug, once again a little uncomfortable. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“So are you. I want to get to know you.”

We spend the next to hours talking.

We talk until the place is empty and I’m sure the owner is ruing the day we were born, but I can’t bring myself to stop. His dry commentary makes me laugh, his occasional smile makes my knees weak, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world makes my heart pound.

The music is still playing, even though the bartender is nowhere to be found, and since I’ve had pretty much the best night of my life and am just tipsy enough to be bold, I stand and offer my hand. 

“Dance with me, please.”

His lips twitch, even as he says, “I don’t dance.”

I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Well, if you want me smiling and happy, I suggest you change your policy.”

He snorts but gives in, sliding from the booth and taking me in his arms gently. One of his palms is cradling mine, the other is on the dip of my spine, and for a moment, we simply sway to the crackly sounds coming from the old stereo.

We dance through the tables, and he turns out to be much better than I expected, twirling me and leading me effortlessly. Or maybe that’s just him. 

He’s obviously a born leader, someone who’s always in control, and it’s refreshing to be with someone confident but not overbearing. 

My head rests against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothes an ache in my soul I never realized I had. “You smell good,” I tell him, very matter-of-factly.

It’s a weird thing to say, but I kind of can’t help it. 

He smells like smoke and spices, the combination so addictive it’s all I can think about as we move together. 

The hand on my back moves to the back of my head, and it quickly shifts from dancing to being held in his arms. We’re still swaying, but it’s more of a hug, both of us simply enjoying the feeling of the other against us. 

His hand glides through my hair, and it feels so good I close my eyes. 

I try telling myself I’ve known him a handful of hours, but it’s no good. He’s somehow transitioned from a stranger to someone I’ve known for years, someone I’m comfortable around. 

So when he pulls back and mumbles, “I want to kiss you,” against my ear, I let him.

And when he walks me to the townhouse I’m renting, kisses me slowly, and gives me a business card with his number on it, I promise to call. 

____________________________

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @highqueenofelfhame @ireallyshouldsleeprn @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @biggestwingspan-az

[jewish-space-laser]

Snowed In, Locked Out

Hello beautiful people! This is a repost of a story I wrote back in 2018. I deleted my original blog (she-guitar-solo) a couple months ago, but I’ve decided to try coming back! I’ll be reposting the rest of my writing today and tomorrow. Feel free to leave feedback, it’s always very much appreciated! 8.5k words

xxx Tile

Even bundled up with layers of thick clothing, a cup of steaming tea, and three blankets, Rosie was sure she had never been colder. It had started with a severe weather alert on the news, and had ended in a power outage and four feet of snow, which meant that her heat wasn’t working, and every flat surface in her disorganized studio apartment was covered in candles. It looked nice, but the plethora of scents from the candles were giving her a headache and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt her toes.  

She had tried to watch her weekly soaps on her laptop, but it quickly died, leaving her with a blank screen and an annoyed eye roll. Next, she’d dragged her puppy, Buddy, out into the snow for what was meant to be a quick walk, but ended up taking well over an hour due to his excited prancing and rolling. It was his first snowfall, and he was having a ball playing in the large piles that had already started to form along the sidewalk. It took an extra ten minutes to dry him off completely once Rosie got him back inside.

She hoped that this would be the worst of the bad weather. It was out of character for London to have a snowstorm this large. Ideally, it would all melt by the end of the month, and things would go back to normal. She didn’t know how much more of this she could handle.

Now, Buddy was curled up at the foot of the twin bed as Rosie cocooned herself so only her face was exposed. Having grown up in a warmer climate, she was a self-proclaimed wimp when it came to cold weather.

“This is basically hell, Buddy,” she told her puppy, who gave no indication that he’d heard her apart from a slight ear twitch. She nudged him gently with her foot, and he lifted his head slowly, giving Rosie a bleary glare before lowering his chin back to his paws. “You’re so lucky you have a built in coat.”

And that’s how the evening continued. Rosie would tug the blankets tighter around herself and tell Buddy about her plans to stay warm. Should she invest in a battery-powered space heater? No way, you’re right Bud, those are a huge fire hazard. It was starting to smell awfully strange due to the mix of scented candles, should she stand up and blow some of them out? Maybe if it wasn’t so cold, there’s no way these blankets are moving. When the power turns back on, she’s going to take a scalding hot shower. After we go for another hour-long walk, of course…

After a while of this, Rosie was running out of things to think about. Buddy had clearly fallen asleep. Just as she willed herself to stand up and fetch a novel from the tower of books teetering on her desk, there was a firm knock on the door, which of course, set Buddy into a frenzy. He jumped up from his place and raced towards the sound, hopping around on the welcome mat out of sheer excitement.  

As soon as Rosie unlatched the lock, the person on the other side twisted the handle and let themselves in, forcing her to take a quick leap backwards to dodge the door. She watched as Harry pulled the beanie off of his head, shucked his jacket off his shoulders and onto the ground, and toed off his boots. There was a growing puddle of muddy snow next to his pile of winter gear.

“Bloody freezing out!” He exclaimed, “This is meant to be London, not the fucking North Pole.”

Rosie watched with crossed arms as he stooped down to pat Buddy before glancing up at her with a swoon-worthy smile. She almost wanted to scream at him for shoving his way into her space, but she couldn’t do that, not when she hadn’t seen him in nearly four months and he looked good enough to eat in his skinny jeans.

He stood up slowly, giving Buddy one last pet on the rump before opening his arms wide. Rosie beamed at him, not hesitating to walk into his embrace.

“Hey, Ro,” he had dug his face into her hair, so his voice was muffled, but it sounded like heaven to her. “It’s so, so good to see you.”

“Harry,” she gleefully cheered, “I didn’t even know you were back in town!”

“Got in late last night,” he explained, moving his face away but not releasing her from his hold. “Was gonna stop by later on this week to say hey, but then…” he trailed off, sucking his lips into his mouth and hanging his head.

“Let me guess,” she stepped back, placing a hand on her hip. Harry’s arms swung loosely back to his sides. “You’ve locked yourself out again?”

Harry Styles had been her next-door neighbor since she moved into the complex two years prior, and had immediately welcomed her with a handmade card and a bottle of sparkling grape juice (“was gonna buy wine, but wasn’t sure if you drank alcohol or not, didn’t want to assume”). He had made it his mission to make her feel at home, and despite only spending a few months out of the year in London, he made sure to always drop by with sparkling grape juice and frozen TV dinners for lighting round catch-up sessions whenever he happened to be in town. It had become their little tradition.

He also had a tendency to lock himself out of his flat, a nasty habit that forced him to seek refuge at hers while he waited for the landlord to come on site. Harry had to be one of the most scatterbrained, forgetful men Rosie had ever met in her life. If they weren’t friends, she’d be annoyed, but it was impossible not be endeared by Harry.

“Locked my entire set of keys in my car, only realized once I got inside,” he confirmed, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “Called somebody to try and get it unlocked, but they said they couldn’t get here until the roads are plowed.”

“Harry!” Rosie groaned, “The plows won’t be out until tomorrow morning, at the earliest!”

Before the power had cut out, the news channel had mentioned something about the blizzard raging through the night. It was one of the worst snow storms that London had seen in years.

“You really think it’ll take that long?��� He asked incredulously, digging a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Before the power went out, I was watching the news, and it looks like the city is pretty much on lockdown until the snow stops,” Rosie patted Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “It’s supposed to go all night.”

“Well shit,” he laughed humorlessly, “think it’s too late for a hotel reservation?”

“I’m sure there’s something still available,” she reasoned, digging her cell phone from her pocket to check where the nearest vacancy was. Just as she found something closeby, Harry let out a soft expletive from where he stood. When she looked over at him, he was patting down his pockets helplessly.

“I’ve locked my wallet in my car, too,” he moaned. “I’m officially fucked.”

“Oh, H,” Rosie sighed. She gave her ratty couch a quick side-eye. She had bought it secondhand from a stranger on craigslist when she moved in, and even though a few springs were loose and the fabric was scratchy and threadbare, it was plush and large enough to take up the majority of her living room. Her flat definitely wasn’t big enough to share with another person, but poor Harry was absolutely stranded. “I suppose… you could take my couch, just for the night? I know you’ve been travelling a lot and probably want a nice bed, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I… don’t want to impose,” he said, though his eyes brightened at her offer.

“You’re not,” she assured him. “I’m not going to kick you out into the cold with nowhere to go.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” He pressed. “I can call for a ride.”

“Nonsense,” Rosie waved him off, turning around to grab some extra blankets from the closet. “I’ll just set up the couch, it’s really no bother. It definitely won’t be comfortable, but I don’t want you, or anybody else for that matter, out on the roads. It’s too slippery to be driving.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I owe you one, Ro. You’re the fucking best.”

“You say that every time,” Rosie reminded him, setting the pile of fuzzy blankets onto the arm of the couch for him.

“Well, that’s because it’s true,” he stated matter-of-factly, walking over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, H,” she smiled, “It’s been so long.”

Harry sat himself down onto the couch, pulling Rosie with him so that they could talk properly. Buddy, still reeling from having a new person in his space, hopped up onto the couch and set his front paws in Harry’s lap.

“Yeah, it really has,” Harry breathed with a faraway look in his eyes. “When’s the last time I saw you, then? September?”

“I think so,” Rosie nodded her head, feigning indifference. The truth was, she had been counting down the days until he made a visit to London, checking the hallway and mailroom for any sign he’d been home.

“I’ve been so busy,” he informed her, raking his fingers through Buddy’s fur.

“Have you?” He nodded his confirmation. “Tell me about everything you’ve been doing.”  

This was one of her favorite parts about hanging out with Harry. Even though it only happened every once in a while, he’d always return home with the most amazing stories to tell her. It was worth the wait to see his eyes light up when he talked about recording his second album in Tokyo. His excitement was contagious when he told her about his last night of tour, when the crowd begged him to sing Kiwi three times. She rubbed his arm comfortingly when he spoke of how he missed his family, and even with his new cat, Evie, in LA, he still felt lonely often.

“But that’s enough about me,” he leaned back further into the couch. He had just finished telling Rosie a very detailed count of the moment he won the tour ping-pong tournament, a victory that had apparently required him to remove all of his clothing backstage. “I want to hear about you.”

“Oh,” Rosie hummed. “Well, I got that promotion at work I’d been trying for!”

“Hey!” Harry beamed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. “That’s amazing, Ro! Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she preened. “But other than that, not much else has been happening.”

“Waiting for me to come home?” He smirked.

“Stop flirting with me,” she warned, pushing his arm off of her as he cackled. She was grateful that he couldn’t feel how sweaty her hands had gotten from just one silly comment. If only he knew how right he was.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Rosie playfully rolled her eyes, tucking her feet under her bottom for warmth. Even with the woolen socks she’d put on, the cold was a bit numbing.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Harry asked.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Obviously the power is out, so that narrows down our options.”

The pair sat quietly for a few moments, pondering the different activities they could find in Rosie’s shoebox apartment.

“We could watch a movie,” Harry finally suggested.

“I would love that,” Rosie started, “but my laptop battery is dead, and yours is locked in your flat.”

“Why don’t we just watch on my phone?” He pressed. “I mean, it’ll be a small screen but it’s better than doing nothing. I have a portable charger in my jacket, too.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. She stood up from the cushion and straightened out the sweater she was wearing. “Let’s do that, then. Here, you stay there, I’ll grab your charger.”

“No!” Harry shouted, launching himself off of the couch. “I’ll… I’ll get it. Why don’t you dig around the kitchen for snacks or something?”

“Um, alright,” she furrowed her eyebrows at him. He ignored her, reaching into his jacket pocket carefully before pulling out a tangled cord. “What kinds of snacks are you in the mood for? I don’t have much….”

“Anything’s fine,” he muttered. He had thrown his coat back onto her floor, and was now focused on getting his phone plugged in. “If you’ve got anything alcoholic, bring that, too.”

Rosie brushed off his odd behavior, shuffling off towards her kitchen. She was able to find some crackers that weren’t stale, and a container of Oreo’s that still had a sleeve and a half left. She skimmed her eyes over the liquor cabinet briefly, but there was nothing that would taste good without a mixer, so she let it be.

“Okay, which do you want first?” She asked, holding the snacks in each of her hands. Harry glanced up, scrunching his mouth in thought before pointing at the Oreo’s. Rosie pouted slightly, handing him the package. That’s the one she was hoping to start with.

“No drinks?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing good,” she told him.

“Hmm… bet I could find something.” He stated confidently, sliding his socked feet over to the kitchen. He pulled open her refrigerator, immediately reaching in to grab something. “You have wine in your fridge! Two bottles!”

“Yes, but it’s cold,” Rosie pointed out. “We’ll feel colder if we drink it.”

“Well, if we drink enough, we’ll feel warm,” Harry smiled, already pulling open her drawers in search of a corkscrew.

“I suppose you’re right,” she nodded, following him into the kitchen to fetch the wine glasses from the cabinets.

Harry found the corkscrew on the second drawer he opened, which wasn’t a surprise. He had been over often enough to know his way around Rosie’s place, even if it was just for a few hours at a time. It wasn’t difficult considering her flat was literally one room, plus a small bathroom. The only indication that the kitchen was separate from the rest of her space was the tile floor, as opposed to the carpet that covered her living room. Her bed was in the living room, pushed all the way into the far corner away from the window. Rosie was sure that Harry’s flat was much larger, but he didn’t seem to mind how small hers was.

Once they had settled onto the couch with their drinks and snacks, Harry unlocked his phone and held the screen between them. “Can you see?” he asked.

Rosie nodded. “We’re watching Grease?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Turns out the internet shuts off when the power’s down, and this is one of the only films I have saved into my phone. Is that okay?”

“More than,” she assured him. “I love this movie, used to have a huge crush on Kenickie.”

“Kenickie?” Harry repeated incredulously. “First of all, he’s such a sleaze. Second, Danny Zuko is clearly the heartthrob here. Him and Rizzo are the hottest.”

“Dunno what to tell you, H,” Rosie laughed, “just always had a think for Kenickie.”

“I think I’ll be Kenickie for Halloween next year,” he grinned teasingly. Rosie pretended that she didn’t see Harry’s gaze drop down over her body and then back up again.

“Harry,” she said sternly.

“I know, I know,” he raised both of his hands into the air, “stop flirting with you.”

Rosie let the conversation drop after that. After all, she wanted to focus on the movie. It had been ages since she’d been able to sit down and watch a classic like this.

Just as Danny Zuko belted out the last lyrics of Greased Lightning, Harry leaned over and cleared his throat. Rosie glanced up at him to see that he was already looking down at her.

“Erm, Rosie?” he said softly.

“Yeah H?”

“My arm is getting, like, really tired holding the phone up like this.”

“Oh,” Rosie frowned. “Do you want me to take a turn holding it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he mumbled, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. “It might be more comfortable if we just, moved to your bed, y’know? That way we can just set the phone down and prop it up with pillows and stuff.”

Rosie wasn’t sure if it was the wine she had consumed or the soft, calm focus that Harry was putting on her, but she found herself fidgeting with the ends of her hair. She and Harry had sat close together more times than she could count, but sharing a bed was an entirely different story. Things happened on beds, things that she and Harry definitely didn’t do.

As if he could sense her discomfort, he placed a hand on her knee. “I promise I’ll still sleep on the couch.”

His promise didn’t do much to appease her, but she agreed nonetheless, shrugging one shoulder and nodding towards her bed with her chin. “Go get us set up, then. I’m going to pour more wine for us.”

I’m going to need it, she thought.

“Getting me drunk and letting me lay on your bed?” Harry jabbed at her side playfully as he passed her. “If you want me that badly, all you have to do is-”

“Jeez, Harry,” Rosie groaned, unable to keep the smile from her face, “sometimes you’re too cheeky.”

She filled her glass higher than she normally would.

When she finished, she stalked over to her twin bed and carefully sprawled out, trying to avoid spilling her wine. It was a tight squeeze with both of them – their shoulders and hips were pressed together tightly while they both lay on their stomachs – but Harry’s reassuring glance had her feeling more at ease.

It almost felt too good having him this close.

“Alright,” Harry said, taking a quick gulp of his wine, “shall I press play?

~~~

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT!” Rosie yelled, slurring nearly every other word.

“OOH, OHH OHH, HONEY!” Harry shouted back, sounding equally as inebriated.

They had gotten up off her bed ages ago, opting to listen to the movie rather than watch it. The funny thing about having ‘just one more glass of wine, Ro’, was that it had turned into about three more glasses of wine, and they had each drank enough to get the room slightly off kilter. It was Rosie who had suggested that they danced when the song ‘Sandy’ came on, and Harry had agreed, leading her around the room in a poorly performed waltz.

Harry had been the one to insist they stayed standing, acting out each of the parts. He knew the lines much better than she did, but it was still hilarious to watch him flounce around her flat dramatically, dodging furniture as he went overboard with every scene.

“I was in a movie, y’know,” he had sulked when she laughed at him.

“Yes, H, I know,” she’d told him, pressing a firm kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

Now, they were more energetic than ever, the upbeat music adrenalizing them to the point of insanity. Harry was whipping his head all around in circles, feet tapping against the ground in fast, short jerks. Rosie was sure she had seen him pull this move when he had performed in London, but she was too busy dancing to say anything about it. Buddy, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, was tearing around the flat, occasionally stopping to jump up and press his nose to Harry’s stomach before racing away again.

“You better shape up!” She continued singing.

“‘Cause I need a man!” Harry interrupted her.

“Harry! That’s my line,” she whined, gripping the back of the couch to keep her balance. “I’m… I’m supposed to be Sandy.”

“Hmm, you are Sandy. I reckon you’d look nice in that costume, too,” Harry said seriously, stopping his twirling to get a better look at her. He had to hold onto the couch to keep from teetering as well.

“I actually was Sandy for Halloween once,” she told him, smiling at the memory. She and her high school sweetheart had done couples costumes her senior year, and she’d wanted to go all out. “Did you know that for the movie, Olivia Newton-John had to be stewn… stewn… sewn into her costume because it was so tight?” Rosie stumbled over her words.

Harry stepped closer to her. “Were you sewn into yours?”

Rosie was taken aback by Harry’s unfaltering stare. There was an intensity there that she hadn’t seen from him before, and certainly hadn’t been there just moments ago, and even though she knew that it was irresponsible to egg him on, she didn’t want to stop.

“No…” she told him. “It was really tight, though. Completely made of elastic.”

“Wow,” he sighed, raking his eyes up and down her frame with wine-hooded eyes. “Wish I had been there for that….”

He was close enough now to touch her, but his arms hung straight as needles by his sides. The air surrounding them, though freezing, was thick with tension. Everything felt hazy, as if anything outside of the moment was immersed in fog.

“My boyfriend at the time… he was dressed as Danny.”

Harry’s lips curled downwards into snarl. “Don’t have a boyfriend now, right?”

“Nope,” she whispered.

Harry’s arm lifted to her waist. Rosie couldn’t move, and even though she knew her heartbeat had picked up a considerable amount, she felt like it wasn’t beating at all. She swore her lungs stopped working the moment his fingertips buried into her sweater.

“That’s… good, yeah?” He hushed, watching his hand like somebody else was moving it for him.

“What?” She breathed, unable to pay attention to anything but his touch.

“‘S good that you,” he gulped, “s’good you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Why’s that good?”

He wrapped his arm further around her, pulling her closer to him. Rosie placed her palms flat against his chest, and relished in the fact that his heartbeat was just as erratic as hers.

“‘S good because you look, just, so beautiful,” he answered softly. Rosie couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Stop, um, stop flirting with me, Harry.”

His name had barely escaped her mouth when his lips pressed to hers. The kiss was gentle; timid, almost. Rosie didn’t dare move her hands, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the moment. Harry’s head tilted skillfully to the left, his nose just barely brushing against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, only pulling away to breathe in deeply. Rosie felt hypnotized.

When Harry finally took a small step back, they were both panting.

“Can’t believe I just did that,” he touched his fingertips to his lips. Rosie, however, was less than pleased by the distance he had created.

Taking a bold step forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. He watched her with eager eyes. “I can’t believe you just stopped,” she quipped.

Their second kiss was more intense, full of open mouths, clashing teeth, and tongues moulding against each other. It was sloppy, and tasted bitter like wine, but Rosie felt like she was flying. She loved the way Harry’s hands explored her body: running up and down her sides, tangling into her hair, and even reaching down to squeeze over her bottom. It was all heavenly.

She didn’t fight him when he walked her backwards towards the bed, and she definitely didn’t stop him when his hands pulled up on the hem of her sweater. She reached for the button on his jeans in retaliation, and the sounds he made were melodic, more beautiful than any song she’d ever heard.

“Ro,” he panted, rubbing over the fleshy part of her stomach with his thumb, “can I please….”

“Yes,” she breathed into his neck, “please, take it off."

She lifted her arms above her head, and Harry slowly tugged the material off of her, leaving her in nothing but her leggings and bralette. As soon as her shirt hit the floor, his hands were all over her; rubbing at her chest, latching onto her hips, even flicking at her nipples with his thumbs through the thin fabric.

Rosie tugged at one of the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “Take this off,” she demanded.

He complied, whipping his sweatshirt and t-shirt off in one go. She gawked at the way his tattoos looked in the candlelight, shadows flickering over the black ink in a dizzying motion. She couldn't decide if she wanted to stare at him or cover him in kisses.

She settled on the latter, sinking to her knees and pulling him forward by the backs of his thighs. Harry clearly hadn’t expected this, as he stumbled forward and nearly kneed Rosie in the chin.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Rosie couldn’t respond. She was too busy craning her neck to reach the center of Harry’s stomach. She placed one firm kiss to the patch of soft skin directly above his navel, and then she worked her way down with lighter, more delicate brushes of her lips. One of Harry’s hands reached down to tangle into her hair and gently press against the back of her head, guiding her downwards towards the waistband of his jeans.

“This okay?” She asked, fingers hesitantly brushing along his zipper. She could already tell that he was aroused, if the growing bulge under her hand was any indication.

“Yeah!” He panted, nodding vigorously, “please, yeah, ‘s fine.”

Getting his jeans off was difficult. They weren’t as tight as he used to wear them, but they still caught around his ankles and forced him to balance on one leg at a time to pull them off of his feet. Rosie had to scoot backwards slightly to give him more space.

As soon as they were off and flung across the room, she crawled back forward and drank in how appetizing he looked. He was swollen and leaking under his boxer briefs; a small wet patch leaking through where his head strained against the fabric.

Harry was breathing in broken puffs, the anticipation causing his chest to heave. Rosie watched as he reached down and pulled himself out of his underwear, sighing out loud when he gave himself a few short pumps. The bulbous head of his cock was a bright cherry color, while his strong shaft faded into a lighter pink. His foreskin had already been pushed down from the fisted grip he had on himself.

Her hand reached out to cover his. She followed his movements as he jerked himself off, marvelling at the way his thighs shook with each brush over the tip. The precum that hadn’t leaked into his boxers was now spread all around him, and the wet noises that his hand made with each movement were practically sinful.

Harry moved his hands away the moment Rosie leaned forward to suck part of him into her mouth, choosing instead to once again bury them into her hair. The pressure of his hands wasn’t forceful, but comforting. He would press her head forward just as his hips would shift, fucking into her mouth gently and slowly. Rosie closed her eyes, toying with the band of his boxers that were still tight around his thighs as the weight of him slid heavily against her tongue.

“Rosie,” he mumbled halting his movements. She let him drop from her mouth to peer up at his face, nearly moaning at the sight of his flushed chest and the thin sheen of sweat that glinted off of his skin. “Gonna cum soon… I don’t know if… did you, like, want to have sex?”

Rosie wanted to, she really did, but she was also hyper-aware that they were both still rather tipsy. She knew that if she had sex with him tonight, she might regret it in the morning. They hadn’t even had a conversation about what they were doing.

“Is it okay if we don’t?” She asked.

“Of course!” Harry gushed. “Not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do. I mean, obviously.”

“Okay, thank you,” she mumbled. She reached up to grab onto his cock again, squeezing it slightly. Small bubbles of liquid were dribbling from the tip, and she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the way they dripped down the underside and soaked into the small mousey hairs gathered at the base.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, closing his eyes at the feel of her fingers on him.

“Gonna help you finish,” she stated, pressing her mouth against his hip. “Then… will you maybe… just touch me a little?”

“Can do that,” he nodded, his jaw noticeably tightening. He bent his torso forward slightly to reach the hooks at the back of her bralette, fumbling with the delicate lace before pulling it open. It fell forward into the crooks of her elbows, and she quickly discarded it onto the floor.

The heat pooling between Rosie’s legs was slowly becoming unbearable, and Harry undressing her while she was still on her knees was making her impatient. She could already tell that she’d soaked through her underwear, so she hurriedly put Harry back into her mouth.

“Whoa,” he gasped, “slow, slower, Rosie. Promise I’ll touch you as soon as I’m done.”

He rubbed a finger soothingly along her jaw, encouraging her to open her lips wider. He went back to moving in and out of her mouth, pushing a little bit deeper down her throat with each thrust, but never to the point where she felt like she was going to gag.

“‘M about to cum, Rosie! ‘M gonna….” He warned not two minutes later. “Fuck!”

He was partially pulled out of her when spurts of salty, warm cum burst from him. Most of it landed on her tongue, but a few drips escaped over her lips, leaking down her chin and onto the floor beneath her.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The air surrounding them was musty and dense.

“Let’s move to the bed, yeah?” Harry requested tenderly, tucking himself back into his briefs. He gripped her hand in his own and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve got a bit of….”

He swiped his tongue out over her lips, lapping up the remnants of his orgasm from her skin. The open-mouthed kisses soon moved down her chin, over her jaw, and into the dip where her neck met her shoulder. He shuffled them both sideways until they fell unceremoniously onto her bed.

“Oof,” Rosie grunted, grimacing as her breasts bounced a little bit too heavily from the impact. This seemed to catch Harry’s attention, as he immediately moved to press his face into her chest, nipping at the skin above her cleavage.

“These are so nice,” he complimented, taking a breast into each of his hands.

“Thanks, grew them myself,” Rosie sighed.

“God,” Harry choked out a short laugh, “shut up, will you?”

And she did shut up, but only because he was petting her over her leggings and she thought she might scream if she opened her mouth.  

It felt amazing, but Rosie knew that she needed something more. She let out a small noise, pushing her leggings and underwear down slightly. Harry smiled, leaning back to pull them fully off of her legs.

“Harry,” she whispered. His calloused fingers brushed over inner thigh.

“Everything okay?” He asked, meeting her stare.

“Yeah, just,” she gulped. “I’m probably gonna be pretty quiet, but it’s not because it doesn’t feel good! I just need to… focus.”

“Okay,” he laughed, “good to know.”

“Wait!” She said just as is hand shifted closer to her center. “I haven’t… shaved in a long time. It’s just, it’s Winter and I wasn’t expecting-”

“Rosie,” he deadpanned, “I’ve literally never cared about anything less.”

And then he was touching her. He played her like a musical instrument, plucking at her clit with his thumb and slowly moving his fingers in and out of her. He was tucked into her side, using one of his legs to hold hers open. His head dipped slightly so he could wrap his lips around the nipple closest to him. Everything about him was soft and slow; purposeful and skilled.

The pads of fingers were rough and calloused, and Rosie closed her eyes at the feeling. She felt her legs twitch every time he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and her stomach clenched every time he bit down on her nipple. It was sure to feel bruised tomorrow, but she didn’t mind.

“Hm?” Harry hummed when Rosie sucked in a particularly sharp breath.

“‘M good,” she assured him, “feels good.”

She could feel his eyes on her face, gauging her reaction to his touch. His movements were calculated; curious fingers exploring her inside and out.

Rosie came quickly, euphoria taking over her body as Harry continued working her through her orgasm. Her back arched off of the bed, and Harry eagerly kissed at her neck as she threw her head back. As soon as it felt too sensitive, she grabbed onto his wrist to halt his movements.

A giggle escaped her lips as Harry wiped his fingers on his bare thigh. He had a silly, satisfied smile plastered across his cheeks, and he shifted them both so that he had an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Now that neither of them were moving, the cold air was freezing against their exposed skin. Rosie quickly pulled her covers over them.

They stayed like that for a while, occasionally nuzzling closer for warmth or pressing small kisses wherever they could reach. Rosie felt dopey; cuddling with Harry post-orgasm was the most addicting drug she’d ever consumed.

She never wanted to move, but Buddy started yelping desperately at the door. She groaned, burying her face into Harry’s shoulder. He pouted when she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“I need to take him outside,” she frowned.

“I’ll come with,” Harry announced.

After they haphazardly threw on some clothes (Harry had borrowed some of her sweatpants and his sweatshirt was inside out and backwards, and Rosie wasn’t wearing any underwear), they found themselves shivering outside while they waited for Buddy to finish. Despite their impatience, Buddy had decided to take his time, sniffing every single thing that his nose could reach.

“If it weren’t so bloody cold, this might be romantic,” Harry pointed out.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. This was the closest they’d come to actually addressing... everything, but she was still feeling a little bit wine-buzzed, and didn’t want to start a conversation she couldn’t finish. However, it did feel a bit romantic. Snow was falling in large, fluffy clumps, and the combination of streetlight and moonlight was casting a soft glow over Harry’s face.

“I think my brain is numb,” Rosie told him, deflecting from his previous statement.

“‘Cause of the cold, or something else?” Harry snickered, leaning over to bump his shoulder into hers.

“The cold, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. Harry continued laughing at her, so she ignored him while Buddy finished up. As soon as he was done, Rosie was making a beeline towards her door.

Harry was hot on her heels. “I know it’s not much warmer inside, but anything is better than this,” he stated, blinking his eyes against the wind. “Hopefully the power comes back on soon.”

Rosie hummed in agreement, twisting the handle and letting them back inside. It was just a short climb up the stairs, but Harry placed his hand on the small of her back to help her keep her balance. She could practically feel the heat of his skin burn through the thick layers she had on.

As soon as they were back in her flat, Rosie looked at him. His cheeks were flushed red and his nose looked a bit runny, but it was cute when he scrunched up his face, and she loved the way his hair looked when he pulled off his beanie, sticking out in nearly every direction as if he’d been electrocuted.  

She stepped up to place a quick peck against his lips, but Harry prolonged it, following her movements as she went to pull away.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed against her mouth. “What was that for, hm?”

“Just trying to be a good hostess,” Rosie breathed. Their closeness was dizzying.

“Ah, I see,” he grinned, “do you give all of your guests this kind of treatment?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she teased, pulling away and stepping back to finish unzipping her coat. Harry frowned.

“Heeeey,” his hands latched onto her forearms, pulling her back into his chest. “‘S rude,”

He nudged her fingers out of the way and dragged her zipper the rest of the way down for her. His tongue poked out from between his lip as he concentrated on not getting any fabric caught between the tines.

They moved slowly while they got ready for bed, partly because Harry refused to take his hands off of her, but also because they were exhausted. While Harry finished wiping down Buddy’s feet, Rosie walked around her flat to blow out all of the candles apart from the one right by her bed. Once Harry stripped down to nothing but his sweatpants, and Rosie had changed into an oversized t-shirt, they sluggishly crawled under the blankets.

“Erm, I can sleep here, right?” Harry asked, picking at the corner of the covers. “I can still sleep on the couch if you want me to.”

“Harry,” Rosie smiled, shaking her her head, “you’re obviously sleeping here. Now pull the covers back up, you’re letting the cold air in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, instantly scooching down in the bed and curling himself around her. She leaned over his frame to blow out the last remaining candle, and then burrowed herself into his arms.

Harry’s hands were icicles against her bare hips, and hers were frigid against his back, but it was the kind of cold where it was comfortable; the kind where they both knew that as long as they stayed pressed together, their hands would warm up against each others’ skin.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Harry whispered, so quietly that Rosie could have dreamed it.

“Always welcome here….” she returned as she began to drift off. She thought she heard him start to say something else, but her eyelids suddenly felt ten times heavier, and Harry’s thumb circling her hipbone was almost too soothing. Rosie drifted off to the soft rumble of his voice, and the rough texture of his fingertips on her skin.

~~~

Rosie woke up the same way she does nearly every morning: a wet, cold tongue lapping at her cheek. She forced herself to peel her eyes open, and found herself nose to nose with Buddy, who was wagging his tail expentently.

As more and more of her senses returned, she became acutely aware of Harry’s hand on her hip. His chest was pressed snugly to her back, and small puffs of air were hitting her scalp where his face was nestled into her hair. A smile crept up her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to settle into his warmth, but Buddy was growing increasingly impatient, letting out small whines and shifting his feet on Rosie’s leg.

Not wanting to wake Harry, Rosie gently lifted Harry’s arm enough to slide out without disturbing him. He shifted slightly, pulling the covers closer to his chin and letting out a small affronted sound, but thankfully, he stayed asleep.

The power must have turned back on overnight, because her flat was suddenly a comfortable temperature. Rosie let out a sigh at the thought of finally being able to lounge around comfortably.

“Hey boy,” she whispered, unhooking Buddy’s leash from the hook by the door. She held it out towards him and he pranced over to her, exposing his neck so that Rosie could attach the leash to his collar. “Wanna go for a walk?”

The moment she stepped out of the complex, her lips curled into a snarl. Snow certainly looks nice, but she hated the way that the small frozen particles scratched at her skin in the wind, and she definitely didn’t like how it hurt to breath in through her nose. Buddy didn’t seem to mind, already sniffing around to find a suitable place to do his business.

Once he was finished, Rosie decided that she would only take him around the block once. Normally, she’d go longer, but the bitterness in the air and the promise of returning home to Harry made her want to rush. She would take Buddy on an extra long walk later on.

Harry was just as she left him when she got back into her flat, but this time, his hooded eyes were blinking rapidly in the sunlight.

“Mmm, hi,” he groaned, raising his arms above his head in a stretch.

“Morning,” Rosie replied, eyes lingering on his biceps that were peeking out from under her bedsheets. “Sorry if I woke you, Buddy needed to go out. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“‘M up now,” he grunted, “you should come back over here….”

His tone was soft and inviting, and an involuntary flush crept up Rosie’s cheeks. Remembering how warm he’d felt pressed up against her left a chill over her skin that rivaled the biting cold outside. She quickly bent down to untie her snow boots, trying to hide her reddening face from him.

“Please?” Harry whined when she didn’t respond. “‘S cold, and you’re warm.”

“Shouldn’t you get up too, H?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “the plows have already been through, so you should probably call the locksmith to get your car open.”

“Yeah,” he muttered indifferently.

Rosie knew that the moment she looked at him, she’d be a goner, and while she normally doesn’t like to get back in bed after moving around, she was going to have to make an exception. Just as she’d suspected, as soon as she settled her gaze on where he was laying in bed, she was met with puppy-dog eyes and an outreached hand.

“Fine,” she relented. “Let me just get my coat off.”

“You can take off everything else too, if you’d like,” Harry called out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

“Stop flirting with me!” Rosie grinned, giddiness seeping into her bloodstream. She felt jittery, excited, and far too focused, as if she’d just gulped down three cups of coffee.

“Think we’re a bit past that, Ro.”

Rosie huffed playfully, going to set her sopping boots and coat on top of the radiator by the window. There was nothing more pleasant than putting on warm, dry boots before heading out into the winter. As she was walking across the room, she noticed Harry’s jacket thrown across the floor, so she picked it up to place on the heater as well.

Just as she was shaking it out to set down, something heavy fell out of his pocket and hit the floor with a thud. Rosie’s eyes widened as she bent down to pick up the set of keys, dangling it over her pointer finger. Not only were his car keys attached, but a key nearly identical to her own hung from the collection.

“What was….” Harry trailed off after seeing what she held in her hand, “...that… um….”

“So you weren’t locked out after all?” Rosie bit out. She felt heat creep up her back and over her shoulders, the giddiness she had felt just moments ago giving way to disbelief. He had lied to her.

“Um, no, I wasn’t,” Harry admitted with a sigh, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with her. “I… I was just….”

Rosie threw the keys onto the table. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she knew she had to do something, so she began to organize the blankets that she’d set out on the couch for Harry. Blankets that had gone unused.

“Just what?” Rosie snapped. “Just coming over to see if you could get me in bed with you? Is that what this is?”

“What? No, Ro. Absolutely not!” He threw the covers from his lap, rushing to his feet. Rosie stormed over to the closet and shoved the blankets inside, closing it more harshly than she normally would. When she turned back around, Harry was already walking towards her, a wild glint in his eyes.

“Well you did a mighty fine job, Harry,” Rosie seethed, ignoring his attempt to brush his hand along her arm. “Managed to get my clothes off, on my knees for you. You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Rosie, no,” he pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around her bicep to keep her still. “I swear, I would never do something like that. I wasn’t trying to trick you, or anything of the sort!”

“Then why lie about being locked out?” She demanded. “This… last night was a mist-”

“No!” Harry begged, cutting her off. “Please don’t say it was a mistake… it… it wasn’t-”

“And what about all of the other times?” Rosie interrupted. “Were you ever actually locked out of your flat, or were you just trying to… I dunno… wear me down?”

“How could you even think that?” Harry growled, his desperation morphing into something else entirely. He tugged at the ends of his hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping her arm, his eyes closing in exasperation. “I care about you so much.”

“So this is the only time you’ve lied?” She challenged, watching as his jaw flexed.

“Erm… not exactly,” Rosie went to tug her arm out of his hold, but Harry stepped closer, not allowing her to storm off like she’d planned. “But it’s not what you think! The first time, I really was locked out. It’s just… you were so sweet to me, I- I wanted to spend more time with you, that’s all.”

“You could have just knocked on my door,” she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t need to lie to me to spend time with me.”

“I know,” he rubbed a hand over his face. The tips of his ears were tinged bright red.

“I… I really don’t appreciate dishonesty-”

“I was nervous!” Harry exploded. Buddy yelped on the bed, stressed out due to the tension in the room, and Rosie took a short step back, not expecting him to be so loud. “You… you make me so nervous. Like, when Mr. Goldman moved out of this place, I had never even thought about anyone new moving in, let alone a cute girl…. Like, Ro, I’m not even kidding, I’ve had a crush on you since I first met you.”

“You… you could’ve-”

“And I know I’m shit for being dishonest, but fuck, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking down at their feet. “I never meant to upset you, I really just wanted to get to know you better. And then, once I started… I couldn’t stop.”

“Harry,” Rosie breathed brokenly, the air getting caught in her throat. “I don’t really… know what to say.”

“Just… say you forgive me?” he asked, his gaze lifting to flit around her face for any indication that she understood. “I’m so sorry.”

And then Rosie was laughing. It was definitely not an appropriate time, but she couldn’t contain her giggles. So many conflicting emotions were rushing through her; excitement, anxiety, relief, frustration. It was overwhelming.

“Um,” Harry watched owlishly as Rosie bent over to grip her knees, overcome by fits of laughter. “I’m... uh….”

“God,” she choked out finally, “you are such an idiot, Harry!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No! I don’t mean, like, literally.” Rosie forced herself to stop laughing, but was unable to wash the smile off of her face. Harry looked both impatient and perplexed. “It’s just… hilarious. You could’ve asked me out that very first time and I would’ve said yes.”

A slow smile crept up Harry’s cheeks.

“And I’m sorry for laughing, it’s just,” Rosie continued, “it’s so simple, and we’re so fucking dramatic.”

Harry started laughing then, too. He dragged a hand all the way down his face, rubbing at his tightly closed eyes before blinking them back open to stare at her.

“So, just to clarify here,” he started. Rosie launched into another set of quiet giggles when she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You… would go out with me.”

“Yes, Harry,” she replied, “for fucks sake, I like you so much. Thought it was obvious.”

“I thought I was the one being obvious!” His shoulders sagged as the tension left his body. “We’re both idiots.”

“So stupid,” Rosie agreed.

“And god, so fucking oblivious,” he added.

“So oblivious.”

“And we’re also… getting dinner tonight?”

“Going on a date,” she confirmed.

“Yeah,” his smile was so wide, she probably could have counted all of his teeth. “That, a date.”

“Yeah,” Rosie beamed back at him, twiddling her fingers together, “so… you should probably go, then. And maybe, I dunno, put some clothes on?”

Harry glanced down as if he’d forgotten that he was shirtless. “Might be a good idea.”

Rosie leaned back against the wall as Harry gathered his things. Somehow, the handful of belongings that he’d brought had scattered all around her flat: his phone charger, his sweatshirt, his beanie. One of his socks was on the other side of the room, it’s partner stuffed into one of his boots. It didn’t help that Rosie was also disorganized; Harry was forced to move piles of her things aside to reach his own.

Finally, he’d collected everything into his arms. Rosie opened the door for him, but he lingered in the doorway, leaning back onto his heels and rubbing his lips together.

“Well I guess, erm, I’ll just see you later?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You will,” Rosie confirmed. “6:00, somewhere we could walk to?”

“Sure,” Harry said. They were engulfed in an awkward silence, and there was nothing else to do but stare. “Uh, bye then?”

“Bye,” Rosie repeated quietly, shutting the door as soon as he’d turned around.

She pressed her back against the door with a huff, mind reeling from everything that had happened. It had all gone down in such a short period of time, it almost didn’t seem real. Had Harry really dragged his lips all over her body, or had that been her imagination?

She had just started to walk towards the bathroom to check in the mirror for hickeys when a knock sounded on her door. She whipped it open to find a sheepish Harry on the other side. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but when he finally spoke, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“I… may have forgotten my keys.”

~~~

To those of you made it this far, thank you! I’d love to hear from you if you’re willing to shoot me a message... feedback is key, after all! 

xxxooo Tile

[james-potters-animagus]

‘Til Kingdom Come

Remus LupinxGryffindor!Reader

Song fic based on ‘Til Kingdom Come by Coldplay its one of my favorite songs I highly suggest listening to it while you read :)

Warnings: death, angst,

The reader’s death takes a toll on Remus. Lyrics are bolded memories are italicized

Steal my heart and hold my heart

I feel my time, my time has come

“Let me in, unlock the door”

I’ve never felt this way before

Remus and Y/n met in their second year.

Y/n was sitting on the train in her own compartment when suddenly a boy with light, auburn brown hair and eyes to match bust into the compartment. She jumped, whipping her head up from her book.

“Hello. Sorry I scared you. Mind if I sit here?” He asked, setting down the jacket he had in his hands.

“Uh, no. Go right ahead.” She laughed a little, seeing the panic stretched across his face when he thought she was going to say he couldn’t sit.

She observed him, not having noticed the scar on his face. Raking her eyes over it she saw how deep it seemed to be. She was quite curious, but knew her boundaries, so didn’t ask.

“Hey, you’re Y/n right? Y/n Y/l/n?” Remus asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.

She blinked, gaining her confidence to speak. “Oh, yeah. Yeah that’s me.” She swallowed, not meeting his eyes. Why was she so shy all of a sudden? “You’re Remus Lupin.”

“Yep. An unfortunate friend of James, Sirius, and Peter, considering the fact that I had to disturb your reading. Little Women. One of my favorites by the way.” He apologized, eyeing the book she was reading.

“Mine too. This is probably my fourth time reading it.” She laughed, opening up to the boy. They had met only a few moments ago but she felt at home with him. And so did he.

As the time went on the pair became inseparable, it was hard to find one without the other. Y/n also became acquainted to the rest of the Marauders, but wasn’t nearly as close to them as she was with Remus.

The pair had gotten married two years out of Hogwarts. They had their first child around the same time as James and Lily. The six of them spent quite a bit of time with each other. Then, Halloween of 1981 came upon the group.

Remus was off on a little work trip and Y/n was with the Potters. They had planned to hang out that night, and plan Sirius’ 21st birthday party.

The door of the Potter’s home in Godric’s hollow opened to Voldemort.

“Lily, Y/n! Take the kids! I’ll distract him!” James shouted, seeing the two take the children and run up the stairs.

A green light flashed throughout the small house and Lily choked back a sob. Y/n closed her eyes, soothing her baby. Adrian wailed, sensing the tension in the air.

As Voldemort ascended up the stairs to the nursery Y/n felt her breathing run ragged. She knew this would be the end. She held Lily’s hand as he threw the door open.

“Have mercy! Please don’t touch the children!” Lily pleaded, getting cut short by Voldemort sending an Avada Kedavra her way.

“No!” Y/n yelled, placing Adrian next to Harry in the crib. She stood, pulling her wand from her back pocket.

“What is this? Someone brave enough to face me? After all these years Y/n. Too bad it’ll end in my favor. Really though, I’ll root for you.” He gave her a sinister smile, sending a crucio her way.

She jumped, the curse instead hitting the wall. He chuckled, the sound bringing a chill down her spine.

He had her trapped now, cornering her between his body and the wall. She wasn’t able to move. She cursed herself for being so dumb. Why would she move that way. Now she was going to die and so are Harry and Adrian.

“Well, I was going to not make you watch while I killed the two children who mean the most to you. But, since you tried to fight back I might as well just punish you more.” He cast a Petrificus Totalus on her as he moved toward the crib.

He started with Adrian, casting a simple Avada Kedavra, supposedly killing him. Moving on he turned to Harry, attempting the same spell. But, suddenly, his power drained and so did his physical form. He died, leaving Harry and a passed out Adrian in the crib.

Adrian woke to someone entering the room, letting out a scream of terror. There lie Lily Potter, Voldemort, and a petrified Y/n Lupin.

Severus entered the room, letting out a yell of terror. He rushed to Lily, cradling her body in his arms. Looking over, he realized Y/n wasn’t dead. He heaved, gently placing Lily’s body down and attending to Y/n.

Casting the counter spell he sat there as she woke. “Severus! Voldemort is back,” She sobbed. “And Adrian! My baby!” She quickly got up from his arms and rushed to Adrian and Harry. She smiled lightly when she saw the two practically unharmed.

Harry and Adrian, both sat with identical scars would go down in wizard history as the boys who lived.

And the wheels just keep on turning

The drummer begins to drum

I don't know which way I'm going

I don't know which way I've come

Unfortunately, Y/n didn’t last long after the incident. She was traumatized, she had a right to be. After months in St. Mungo’s her body stopped. It was quick, and painless. Remus almost didn’t notice. But he saw. As she read to him he heard her voice deteriorate, and her breathing slow down.

“Y/n? Y/n no. Y/n baby! Nurse! Someone! Help!” Remus sputtered, watching the life slip away from his beloved wife.

A part of Remus died that day too. He was her crutch. How could he raise Adrian on his own! He could barley take care of himself. What would he do on a full moon? Sirius betrayed the Potters and killed Peter, so he couldn’t ask for help from any of his friends.

Oh, and his best friend betrayed his family. The weight came crushing down on him. He wasn’t ready to do this.

He walked out of St. Mungo’s and apparated back to his small flat with Adrian.

Adrian began to cry for his mom and Remus tried to soothe him. ‘Y/n was always better at this.’ He thought, unable to hold back the dam anymore. The tears flooded his eyes, sinking to the floor with Adrian still in his arms. The two cried until Adrian fell asleep, allowing Remus to bring him up to his crib.

As Remus walked toward his old school he realized just what he had gotten himself into. He would be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, seeing as Gilderoy Lockhart bowed out after the Chamber of Secrets incident.

Adrian was now in his third year, and was happy to have his father with him at school. He was sorted into Gryffindor, just like both of his parents. He quickly became friends with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, which Remus was happy about.

Y/n had been friends with Neville’s parents, Alice and Frank when they were in school. In fact, they were Adrian’s God parents. Unfortunately, they had been tortured so much that they were unable to take care of Neville, so he lived with his grandmother. But Remus couldn’t ask her to take care of his son as well.

Y/n sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall talking with Alice Fortescue and Lily Evans. Mid conversation she heard Remus enter the hall, according to his barking laugh that could be heard from miles away. She smiled at the sound, not having to look up to feel his presence next to her.

Remus learned how to protect Adrian as the full moons went on. He always made sure Adrian was fully asleep before he left for the night, charming a small radio to play the white noise he fell asleep to. Usually Adrian stayed asleep, but on the rare occasion he didn’t Remus’ neighbors, the Tonks, would help Adrian back to sleep.

Remus kept on, Adrian being one of the only reasons he was still here. He couldn’t do that to the poor boy. He knew what Harry had to be going through, he couldn’t let Adrian go through that too. Not if he could change that.

Hold my head inside your hands

I need someone who understands

I need someone, someone who hears

For you, I've waited all these years

Remus could sometimes feel she was there. On full moons usually. He’d wait for the transformations to begin, and while he waited sometimes he could hear her voice, or feel her touch. It was always comforting, she only was there when he was down, or nervous. Like a little boost. She didn’t dare come while he was happy, not wanting to ruin his mood when he realized she wasn’t physically there.

Remus sat in the shrieking shack, waiting for the transformation to begin. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. The memories of his time at Hogwarts coming back to him. He then felt a presence next to him, a comforting one at that. A head rested on his shoulder as he sat there, tears being wiped off his face.

“Hi Remus.” Y/n’s voice sounded, pulling Remus from his thoughts.

“Y/n?” He choked back a sob at the sound of her voice, peering down to see a slightly faded version of his lover.

“It’s good to see you again darling.” Y/n murmured, wiping the continuous tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t understand. How are you here?” He asked, stroking her hair lightly.

“I’m just here for a little bit, to help you through the transformation.” She smiled, leading him up from the floor where he previously sat.

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come

Until my day, my day is done

And say you'll come and set me free

Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

It had been a particularly hard full moon, Remus lie on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, blood spilling from his gashes on his chest. He knew if he didn’t get up now for help he wouldn’t make it. Y/n appeared again, coaxing him up to find someone to help him.

“It’s not your time yet Rem. Trust me, I wish it was. I miss you. But Harry needs you. Go help him.” She consoled.

It was now the end of the Second Wizarding War and Remus was teetering on the edge of death. He had just been hit with an Avada Kedavra, coming from a death eater. As he lie there, he saw Y/n again.

“Remus. Hi honey.” She smiled gracefully, looking as beautiful as ever.

“Y/n. You look different.” He observed, pulling her into his grasp. This was different than transformations. On full moons he wasn’t able to actually hold her. Now, he stood, holding her as tightly as he could. Sirius and James stood behind her, smiling at the sight. Remus was happy again.

“It’s your time now darling.” Y/n graced, pulling him toward the rest of the Marauders and a scared looking Fred Weasley.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Love Me Roughly: House Hunting

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,220

Rating: M for Mature

Plot:  Severus meets up with the wizard in charge of finding him a place to live. He manages to strike up a deal and purchases his new home.

A/N: This is part 3 of 7 for the week 1 schedule for Snape Appreciation Month!  @snapeloveposts​

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/3/20

                  Chapter List

<– Last Chapter        Next Chapter –>

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus left his motel room, locking the door and placing the key firmly in his pocket. He picked the dog up and walked out of the parking lot, turning a corner, and heading along the outer wall to the back. He figured the center was where he was standing and started walking into the forest, counting out seventeen steps before stopping.

The woods surrounded him shielded most of the sun and made the forest seem eerie. The little dog started squirming so he set it down on some fallen leaves, watching as he shook his fur out and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to behind a large tree.

He heard rustling and then a very familiar witch walked out form behind, carrying the dog. She wore an open cloak with three buttons clumped at the top and a hood covering most of her hair, and yet, there was no mistaking who she was.

The woman from the airport walked closer and pulled her hood down, “I never would have guessed.”

“Not exactly a compliment,” Severus looked down at the dog, “Do you always make a habit of leaving your animals unattended?”

The woman laughed, “He makes sure our clients are here on time… and also that it isn’t a Ministry trap.”

He looked down at the dog in her arms, somehow doubting this particular one was very good at his job. He approached with caution and stuck out his arm, wanting to get a move on with house hunting. She took it and immediately apparated them out of the forest.

Severus heard a thump and opened his eyes, looking around at the wooden log walls and dark oak floorboards. They stood in the open kitchen of a small log cabin, a lounging area to the left and spiraling stairs directly behind them.

She set the dog down, “This is one of the simpler houses we have available to wizards here. During the winter, the snow mounds for miles and the trees offer much privacy.” She motioned to the stairs, “And the whole of it is so small that it’s easy to set up heating charms in every inch with ease.”

He walked behind the spiral stairs and opened the door to the laundry with a toilet and sink inside. He continued up the stairs to a corridor with three rooms. The first on the left looked to be the master bedroom with a large closet. The second was a smaller bedroom, A study perhaps, right across the way of the second bathroom.

He walked back downstairs and eyed the kitchen and connected room, finding it all surprisingly agreeable. “So, what is near?”

“Well, a short hike down is a corner store and your closest neighbor. A short hike up is a cliff,” she smiled.

He chuckled, these wizards really do know the business. He’d always heard of how well of a job they did, placing would-be convicts, escapees, and celebrities in the perfect homes for their situation. He suspected it had more to do with prior knowledge of the unsuspecting client, however. I always wondered where all the supposed diviners went. Even before the first wizarding war less and less were being found, though rumor had it they were being discovered for other, more appreciated, jobs.

“Well, I think you already know I approve of it.”

She dropped a folded paper on the low wooden dining table for him to take. He opened it and read out the price of the little log cabin.

“Really,” he sneered. “For maybe one twice the size of this one.”

She rolled her eyes, “You expect a well-built cabin, hidden from the noses of the Ministry, requiring no proof of wizard registration or mention of you on any documents for any less?” She laughed and picked up her dog, who had been lying peacefully next to the heater, and extended her elbow for him to take. “Why don’t we find you one worth the money you will have to pay, then?”

He scoffed, “Enough with the theatrics. Is there no discount?”

“Discount? For what? Looking cute?” she winked.

Severus swallowed and looked away quickly, raking his hair forward, “I’m sure the discount for that would be quite pitiful.”

The floorboards creaked under her shoes as she crept forward, “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’d give you ten percent off for your eyes alone.”

Severus turned to her, suddenly feeling the air very hot between them. Without thinking he opened his mouth, “And what else is… worthy… of a discount?”

She smiled and came closer still, “Hmm. Ten for those lips, and twenty for that incredible nose of yours.”

His hand went straight to cover his nose as her words replayed in his head, “Very funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” she stepped back glancing at the paper in his hands, “It’s my final offer.”

He looked at her confused, waiting for any clarification but none came.

He nodded, “Deal.”

She snapped her fingers and the numbers on the paper changed to a much more affordable price, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, for the money and to give you the keys.”

She apparated away and he was left alone in the house he would have to make his home now. He smiled to himself at their exchange. His heart wasn’t racing or thumping loudly, it was calm. He wasn’t ‘lusting’ after her like how his book described… but he did find guilty amusement in the fact she had indeed flirted with him. And he flirted back… something that, surprisingly, gave him enough joy to make him smile still, minutes after she had left.

His stomach growled and he remembered what time it was. He summoned his packed trunk and took out the food from it. He made himself a simple sandwich and placed the rest in the small fridge. He noticed the light did not turn on and figured there was no electricity yet.

He shrugged and charmed the fridge with a chilling spell and the freezer twice with the same one. That’ll do for now. He sat at the table and looked around at all the windows, watching the green trees sway with the wind and the occasional bird fly by.

He didn’t want to unpack just yet, not until everything was finalized, but there was one thing he could do. He took out his book from his muggle coat pocket and opened it back up, slouching over the table. He bit into his food and turned the page.

‘Robin turned from Stephano’s outstretched hand, not wanting to believe what his manly lips were saying. How could she believe a man that large, kind, muscly, handsome, and manly wanted such a small, dainty, soft, beautiful, girl like her?’

Severus rubbed his eyes and looked up, surprised to see the sun had set already and it was dark out. He locked the back door with a spell and walked over to the front door, doing the same. He dragged his luggage up the stairs and set it at the foot of the master bedroom’s large bed.

It was dark and he could barely see, cursing himself for not bringing candles. I had so many! Why didn’t I pack them? He imagined them al melted on the floor of his old home. I should have brought my scented ones at least. He fumbled for his night shirt in the dark and changed out of his clothes, unbuttoning everything slowly. He slid one arm in after the next and pulled the night shirt down. He took out his wand and cast Lumos to inspect the quality of the sheets.

They looked fine, recently cleaned even. He shrugged and set the wand down on the floor, hopping into bed and pulling the covers up. It was cold, but nothing compared to the dungeons during the winter. He turned and tried not to think of anything. Not tonight.

. . .

“Mmm, Stop it!” He lifted the hand that had fallen out of bed and was swinging low enough for the puny dog to lick. “Why must you do this? Hmm?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window at the bright blue sky and large green trees. He wasn’t sure of the time, but knew that woman was already here, unleashing her dog onto him. He picked up his wand and cast Nox, extinguishing the light.

He pushed the dog out of the bedroom door and closed it, changing behind the bed and away from the window. He combed through his hair with his hands, wiping them on his coat, and made his way down the spiral stairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen so he turned his head and leaned forward, looking into the living room where she sat on the floor, reading –

“That’s not mine!”

She looked up, laughing, “Oh isn’t it?”

Severus ran into the room, stopping himself suddenly and composed himself. “Of course not… some-someone gave it to me and – ”

“So… it is yours, then.”

“No. It’s not, because I don’t want it. I was going to throw it away,” he coughed and looked away. There was a mirror hanging on the wall and he saw his face was a deep red. He turned his back to her and walked into the kitchen, arms folded.

Stupid! Absolute idiot! How could I leave it there? The cover alone has an image of a near naked woman in the arms of a shirtless man! …And it’s pink! He breathed out to calm himself, No matter. She will be gone forever in a few minutes.

She walked in behind him and set the book on the counter, giggling quietly, “It’s alright if you’re reading it. It seems interesting enough – and quite steamy.”

“No! No, I-I… Here is your money,” he extended his hand and summoned the bag of Galleons he had prepared for her.

She took it. “Well… Here is your key.”

He took the key without looking and put it in his pocket.

“Your water will start running soon… First month is free… after that you’ll need to pay us at the start.”

Severus nodded stiffly but the woman did not leave, “Yes?”

“About our conversation yesterday… I believe I called you cute and complimented your lips.”

He looked at her finally, and noticed she was biting her lip. He didn’t need to use Legilimence to know what she was thinking… and Merlin knows he was now thinking the same thing, though he didn’t believe he could pull it off in the least. He straightened and walked closer, excited to start the conversation up again.

“I do remember. I believe you also complimented my eyes,” he smiled.

“Who wouldn’t?” she stepped closer and touched the black cloth tucked under his shirt, “I love the patterns on your cravat.”

Severus watched her smooth actions, smiling. It had been a while since he had flirted with anyone, let alone had someone so willingly participate. The last time was surely before the Dark Lord’s return and as far as he remembered, it hadn’t gone so well, not on his part.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He chuckled nervously, “Forgive me, I-I don’t really know how these things go…”

“Then perhaps you’ll allow me to lead?”

She came closer, forcing him to step back against the wood walls of the kitchen. He couldn’t help feeling so giddy, he wasn’t sure why. He supposed because for the first time he didn’t have to worry about anything else getting in the way of… whatever she allowed to happen.

He leaned his head down and brought his lips to her ear, “I would like that.”

He pulled back and he could see a new fire in her eyes and a mischievous twinkle too. He lowered his head only to have her immediately attack his lips with hers, tangling her hands in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her for a few intense seconds before pulling her away and leading her up the stairs – to his surprise she was following.

It was broad daylight but that hardly seemed to matter, not to him and by the looks of it, not to her. The second they reached his room they continued their intimate embrace, slowly inching closer to the bed. The second their legs touched the mattress they pulled apart and began to undress.

He undid button after button as fast as he could while watching her and the little show she was obviously putting on for him, making him blush. She got undressed and jumped on the bed, watching as he shed layer after layer. He left his wand in the kitchen or he would have used his unbuttoning spell already, but by the look on her face she was enjoying every second of it which made him want her even more.

“Are you sure?” his voice was deep and he could hear his own excitement in it.

She reached out and touched his skin, making it feel hot and electric where she stroked. She stood on the bed and pulled him in by his shoulders and kissed him again, humming and smiling. He touched her skin and felt it smooth and silky, warm, much like herself.

“Extremely,” she giggled.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

                Chapter List

<– Last Chapter       Next Chapter –>

[captcas]

Screwed (Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 3 of 3) Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town’s only contractor’s help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He’s screwed. notes: My first ever attempt in the Supernatural/Destiel fanfiction world… and into smut. please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) and to Meg on her help with the smutty portion read on ao3

In the weeks following going public , not much changes— the little touches and flirtatious glances were apparently always part of their routine no matter how blind Dean may have been to their significance— but the line between what’s his and what’s Cas’s is slowly but surely beginning to blur.

And Dean can kiss Cas whenever he wants.

Besides that, they move on with their days a lot like they always did. Saying goodnight lasts a bit longer and sometimes Cas spends the night. They wake up and make coffee and toast and talk about their renovations for the day and get to work.

It’s domestic, it’s nice, and Dean is pretty sure he’s never been more in love.

Dean is also dying for something more than PG-13.

Cas’s confession the night they kissed rings in Dean’s head every time things get a little more hot and heavy. He’s a bit more… experienced… and wants Cas to be ready.

But fuck if he hasn’t needed to carve out time for his own release each day. He’s positive Cas has noticed so he tries to keep his distance when riled up.

It’s nearly impossible and today in particular is proving to be excruciating. Cas is weeding the garden while Dean puts in new edging. Everytime he looks over he can’t help but notice the way the sweat trails down Cas’s features before disappearing below the hem of his shirt. Every once and awhile he uses his toned forearm to wipe the sweat away and Dean feels his resolve weakening.

Then Cas stretches– the bottom of his shirt rising enough to reveal his perfectly toned skin and a line of hair that disappears beneath the button of his jeans.

Fuck.

Frustrated beyond belief with his dick’s inability to keep to itself, Dean tells Cas he’s going to grab something from the garage. Cas hums in acknowledgement and gives him a small, naive smile as he walks away.

Dean can’t help but melt at the smile Cas reserves for him.

But then again he’s hot and bothered and needs some time away from his infuriatingly attractive boyfriend who won’t seem to let him in his pants.

Dean knows it’s not anything personal, Cas and him have talked about labels in the dark of the evening and Cas explained that while he’s definitely gay, he actually feels more at home on the ace spectrum. He’ll be honest and say he stayed up long past Cas that night researching demisexuality.

It just made him fall even harder for the man asleep beside him.

Dean busies himself with some unimportant organization in the garage in order to calm down before walking into the house to grab some water for the two of them. He closes the fridge and looks out the sliding glass door, dropping the water bottle at what he sees.

Apparently , the heat was too much for Cas who is now very shirtless while continuing to pull the weeds. Dean can’t help but watch him work. The way his muscles move with each pull and the sweat dripping down his back and off his brow is just too much.

Dean remembers what he learned about demisexuality and while they haven’t said the “L word”, he knows his feelings for Cas are anything but one-sided.

Fuck it.

Dean opens the sliding glass door and Cas turns around at the sound. He smiles brightly before he realizes just how determined Dean is to cross the lawn. At first he looks concerned, but then his gaze flickers down and Dean watches his boyfriend’s eyes go dark.

Cas meets him halfway.

This kiss is unlike any that they’ve shared before. The heat of the day mixed with the pent up sexual tension is surging through every inch of their touch. Cas’s hands explore Dean in ways Dean only dreamed about before. Not wanting to break apart, Dean feels the tightness in his chest from the lack of airflow. Cas pulls away first, breathing in the small amount of air between their lips. Dean gasps.

“Inside.” Cas whispers, but with his deep voice it sounds like a command and if Dean isn’t careful he’ll come right here in the backyard. He’s positive he looks totally wrecked when he nods in response before allowing Cas to grab his hand and lead him into the downstairs bedroom.

As soon as they’re indoors, clothing flies off. Dean isn’t sure who is removing what but it’s only a matter of seconds before they’re both down to their boxers and he’s pushing Cas backwards towards the bed.

The look in Cas’s eyes is one he hopes never to forget.

Then he’s on top of him and their lips are connecting before Cas trails down his neck and bites hard . Dean ruts his hips in response and Cas gasps.

It’s the most beautiful sound Dean has ever heard.

He searches blindly for Cas’s lips in the tangle of their bodies and when they connect again Dean is positive it creates a bolt of lightning down his spine.

Lost in his thoughts the kissing slows. Cas rests his forehead on Dean’s and they each open their eyes. Dean pauses to lose himself in the blown out blue of Cas’s eyes and only catches the end of Cas’s question, “...you?”

He can’t speak, not really, so he grunts in response and Cas chuckles against his lips, “I’d like to blow you.” It wasn’t a question this time. Dean can’t believe this is about to happen but he’s torn between wanting to feel Cas’s lips around him and wanting to do the same for Cas.

His brain only allows him to articulate one word of that, “You?”

Cas smiles softly before leaning in for another kiss. “Later, Dean.” Dean can’t begin to argue with the sound of his name mixed with Cas’s intense want so he nods.

Cas trails kisses down Dean’s chest before tracing a finger underneath the band of his boxers. He’s careful to help Dean remove them completely and his eyes light up when Dean’s hard-on springs from beneath the fabric.

This must be heaven.

“Are you…?” Dean knows what Cas is asking before he gets the words out. “All clean… I– uh– got tested... after our first date.” Dean diverts his gaze, but still sees the smile and blush that creep along Cas’s features.

Dean is surprised when Cas descends immediately once given the all clear. His tongue rakes the length of Dean’s cock before the warmth of his mouth envelopes the whole of it. Cas starts slow, moving up and down in a steady motion and Dean knows he won’t last long.

What Cas lacks in experience he is certainly making up for with enthusiasm.

As he glances down towards Cas, he is struck with how stunning he looks in this position. Every time he’s gotten head it’s been dirty and quick and secretive…but with Cas, he wants to take his time but knows the beauty and anticipation of it all won’t let him.

Someday he’ll draw this out so he can watch Cas work for as long as he wants.

Once he finds his rhythm, Cas speeds up and at the same time takes Dean’s balls in hand and begins massaging. Dean reaches for the top of Cas’s head, combing his hand through the dark locks and tugging gently. Cas gags a bit before coming up for air– Dean was quick to forget Cas’s inexperience. Cas rests his head against Dean’s thigh wordlessly and Dean wishes he could take a picture. Instead, he reaches forward, massaging the length of Cas’s jaw gently to help ease the soft pain he’s sure Cas is feeling. After a minute or so, Cas kisses the palm of Dean’s hand and looks up at him readily.

It doesn’t take long before Cas finds himself again and is moaning into Dean’s cock. Dean just about loses it when Cas’s cheeks hollow out. He whispers, “That’s it, Cas. Right– there–”

Dean thrusts hard. One– two– three times before he feels himself about to explode. “Cas, I’m close… I–” He feels his partner shift and suddenly Cas’s calloused hand is wrapped along the full length of Dean and he knows it’ll be any second now.

“Cas…” His moan comes out like a plea and a promise all wrapped into one and he feels himself come.

He swears he sees the cosmos as Cas brings him over the finish line and into the cooldown, the whole time whispering to Dean. “You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. I’ve wanted this for so long. Thank you.”

Dean opens his eyes and the world feels like it’s in hyper-saturation. Every nerve is on end and his soul feels like it’s on fire. He turns to Cas and immediately goes in for a kiss. Cas smiles into the movement and Dean grasps the back of his neck in an attempt to never let go of this moment.

Suddenly something feral courses through him and his hand moves quickly down to Cas’s boxers, he palms the length of his boyfriend and looks deep into his eyes, “Your turn.”

Cas’s dick twitches at the sound of Dean’s voice and if he hadn’t just been put on empty he could’ve come just from that movement. He starts to move down, ready to give Cas the same treatment he just got but Cas grabs his shoulder to stop him. Dean panics for a moment, worried they’ve gone too far and Cas is regretting the moment they connected in the garden but then he speaks.

“I want to kiss you when I come.”

Dean gulps, sex never being something intimate for him. A simple scratch of an itch, not something that means much of anything. But with Cas it does. He nods and begins adjusting their positions so they are laying side by side and facing one another. Cas shimmies out of his boxers before grabbing Dean’s hand and bringing it to his cock.

Dean stops him, pulling his hand back up to his mouth and licking his palm, all while keeping close eye contact with Cas– it makes them both shudder.

Cas hisses when Dean’s hand finally wraps itself around him and Dean wishes he could record that sound to listen to over and over again. Slowly, Dean starts to pump his fist. Cas’s eyes close, pleasure washing over his features in a look Dean could never have created in his mind. Soon they’re leaning in for a kiss. Cas urges it deepers, tongues moving in unison and teeth clacking together. It’s messy and perfect all in one. They smile into the kiss and share the same breath and all the while Cas is thrusting into Dean’s hand like it was always meant to be there.

And with that thought Dean hears the final gasp and feels the undeniable drip of come down his hands. He eases Cas through the aftershocks, reiterating everything Cas said to Dean during his come down. Dean almost doesn’t realize when he says it, but it comes out all the same. “I love you, Castiel.”

It settles in and Dean’s eyes shoot open. He searches to see any sort of acknowledgement in Cas but his eyes are closed in pleasure. Dean sighs in relief, assuming he’s dodged the bullet of scaring a man off by saying “I love you” the first time they sleep together.

He’s not a teenager.

But then Cas is speaking and Dean, once again absorbed in his own thoughts, catches the end, “... and I love you, too, Dean.”

He waits for the fear but it never comes. He doesn’t want to run or leave town and he certainly doesn’t think about just how mortified his homophobic father would be. He’s just is. Happiness and satisfaction coursing through him in a way he didn’t realize was real.

His past is filled with a lot of sex with a lot of people, but this… this must be what people mean by making love.

. . .

“Just ask him, Dean.” Sam sounds frustrated on their third phone call today. Dean has been pacing back and forth in the kitchen all day. They finished the inn a week ago and have essentially been playing house, neither of them making the move to either sell it or live there permanently. He knows Cas would live here if he asked, but he wasn’t sure how the financials all worked out. So he called Sam who assured him that if he kept the inn an actual operating inn he would be more than ok.

So why is he so damn nervous?

Up until now every “big decision�� in the relationship he’s been able to pawn off on Cas– inadvertently or otherwise. Cas called himself Dean’s boyfriend, Cas met him halfway on the lawn, Cas was the first one to bring up lube…

It’s Dean’s turn to take a step.

And he wants to so it shouldn’t be this damn hard. He knows Cas is waiting for the conversation, but he also feels zero pressure from his partner. Cas has always been good at letting Dean do things on his terms, even if he’s seven steps behind and wasting their time (Cas was right about the dark blue siding from the start and won’t let it go).

He doesn’t want to waste another minute.

Dean realizes he’s been silent for too long. It’s the sound of Sam unloading the dishwasher on the other end of the phone which reminds him to speak, “You’re sure?” Dean hesitates and he knows he’s shucking the decision making off on someone else yet again, but this time it’s genuine. This inn is all they’ve got left of their dad. As shitty as he was at times, he was still family.

“I’m sure. Dad’s probably rolling in his grave knowing he practically set you two up, but he’d want you to be happy Dean. Whoever that’s with.”

Dean fights back tears. Sam may be the younger brother but he’s always been better when it comes to this emotional crap. That’s why they always made a good team.

“Thanks, Sammy.” His voice cracks at the nickname. He misses his brother, but fuck if he ain’t proud of him.

“Of course. And now Jess, the kids, and I have somewhere to stay when we visit.” Dean smiles widely at the thought of the inn full of excitement and family and kids around the holidays or during the summer. He pictures it so clearly... and in every moment Cas is there, too.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

Hanging up the phone, he heads downstairs to the living room where Cas is curled up on the couch watching some documentary on the History channel. His blue eyes find Dean’s at the sound of the steps creaking and he smiles that smile again.

Dean’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He crosses the living room and sits down next to Cas who has turned his attention back to the tv. Dean instinctively reaches for the back of Cas’s neck, playing with the small tuft of hair at the nape. Pondering the show for a moment, Dean waits for a commercial to speak. He likes when they do this, the comfort of the silence is new to him. There are a million ways to ask what he’s about to and he’s running through them all in his head when a commercial for some medication blasts on the screen and Cas closes his eyes to lean into Dean’s touch.

He wants this. Forever.

“Move in with me. Here.”

Cas’s eyes open and Dean can tell he’s trying to hide a smile. Dean feigns interest in the commercial while the knowledge of Cas studying the side of his face burns blush into his cheeks.

“Did I forget to do that?”

Dean laughs and all the nerves he felt disappear. He never thought something like this was in the cards for him– secretly always wanting for the comfort and ease that comes so naturally with Cas.

It’s better than he could’ve wished for.

Cas turns his head to kiss Dean’s wrist (now resting on the couch) and Dean smiles. They’ve got a lot to work out– Dean doesn’t know the first thing about running an inn– but the nervous fear that would usually accompany Dean on a step like this is nowhere to be found.

All there is is Cas and Dean couldn’t ask for more.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 15

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

The chime of the doorbell startles him awake; eyes snapping open, brain foggy and disoriented as it tries to figure out just what the noise was. The moment both the baby and Declan had started yawning and fussing, he’d laid down with them in the living room; Addie on his chest, his son tucked securely between him and the back of the couch. He’s certain he’d drifted off before either of them had; a hand placed protectively on Addie’s back; an arm wrapped his son. Lulled to sleep by the warmth of their bodies and the sound of their soft, steady breathing. The house quiet and peaceful. The three oldest at school, Esme out with her brother, and nothing but the sound of the ocean and the cool, steady breeze that filters through the windows. 

 The noise becomes more insistent, pausing momentarily before into one long, incessant tone. At first he reaches for his cell phone that rests on the coffee table, brain still attempting to straighten itself out and register exactly what the sound is, where it’s coming from, where he is, and even what day it is. He’d gone back on the Valium that morning as soon as the kids got on the bus, and it hit him almost immediately; making him drowsy and lightheaded, causing him to sweat profusely and develop a pounding headache. Now he feels as if his senses are impaired; sounds muffled as if he’s trying to hear underwater, his vision blurry.   And in a near euphoric state he thinks about how he never even knew they had a doorbell; or at least he didn’t know what it sounded like.  No one’s ever used it in the past six months that they’d been living there; delivery drivers and the postal carrier all resorting to knocking or leaving things on the chair by the front door; spurred on to do so by a handwritten letter Esme had taped to the mailbox that stated if anyone dared waked the baby or bothered her while feeding, there’d be ‘hell to pay’. 

 It becomes apparent that whoever is at the door isn’t going away, and he attempts to slip off the couch without waking either of the kids. Declan the biggest obstacle with his sweaty body and damp hair pressed tightly against him.  And he manages to slide his arm out from underneath the sleeping toddler, who only gives a loud, content sigh and rolls over, pressing his face into the cushions.  Then he stands, placing Addie in the portable playpen in the middle of the room and using a foot to push the coffee table out of the way in case Declan rolls over and falls off the couch. The last he needs is having to haul two kids to the hospital for a concussion or stitches. Or both.  

 As he heads for the door, he briefly considers grabbing some clothes and throwing them on; it would really set off the religious zealots that often travelled door to door if he was to answer in nothing but a pair of low slung boardshorts, body covered in a myriad of tattoos and scars. He’d already gone to the door once in the same fashion: a group startled and slightly scared little old ladies collecting things for a church food drive. But when he hears Addie begin to fuss, he decides against clothes, only caring about wanting to get the goddamn noise to stop. 

 When he finally answers, the blond on the other side of the door opens her mouth to speak, then abruptly stops; clamping her lips shut as her eyes widen and she slowly looks him up and down.  Normally he’d be self-conscious; that the once over is in nothing more than a mixture of shock and concern due to the number of scars that mar his body.  He’d never given a shit before; until his brain decided to turn against him and try and make his life a living hell. But there’s no curiosity or concern regarding his battle wounds; this once over was one of admiration. And he can’t stop the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

 “Who are you?” Tyler asks, checking the driveway for any unfamiliar cars, then glancing towards the woods and then down the road, checking to see if she was alone or if there was anyone lying in wait. 

  It’s a hell of a way to live; thinking everyone is the enemy.  But he’s stepped on a lot of toes and made a lot of enemies. And while you may physically leave the job, you’re never fully clear of it. Not until you die. Then and only then is your slate wiped clean. 

 “Never mind that,” she replies. “Who are YOU? The pool boy?” 

 He frowns. “What?” 

 “Well dressed like that. Looking like...that. I just assumed that maybe...” 

 “I live here,” Tyler informs her. 

 “With Esme and the husband?” 

 “I am the husband.” 

 “You?” she gives a started laugh. “You’re the husband?” 

 “For the last six and a half years.” 

 “Okay...hold up,” she chews pensively on her bottom lip, head cocked to the side as she regards him. “You’re Esme’s husband?” 

 “Am I not speaking English? I just said I was.” 

 “She told me her husband is retired.” 

 “Yeah? I am. And?” 

 “So I’m sure you can understand why this...why you...are a bit of a surprise. I was expecting someone that actually looks retired.  Someone a lot older. And someone not as...” she once more looks him over from head to toe. “...well, not so you.” 

 “Look,” he rakes his fingers through his messy hair and scratches at the back of his head. “Not to sound like a total dick...” 

 “Too late.” 

 “...but who the hell are you? And why are you on my doorstep?” 

 “I’m Salena.” 

 “The new neighbor.” 

 “The one and only,” she confirms, and holds out a hand. “And you’re Tyler.” 

 He nods, hesitating at first, then shaking the hand offered to him. “Why are you here?” 

 “I was hoping to see Esme. I come bearing gifts,” she holds up a reusable shopping bag. “I told her last night when we were texting that I made a killer Dorito taco salad that she needed to try and that I make some up. Enough for all of you. Is she home?” 

 “She’s out with her brother.” 

 “The cute firefighter,” she states. 

 Tyler shrugs. “If you say he’s cute I’ll take your word for it, I guess.” 

 “I had messaged her saying I was going to pop by, but I never heard back. So, I’d thought I’d just run over and see what’s up.” 

 “I’m honestly so confused right now. I just woke up and my brain isn’t functioning properly yet. How you even know my wife?” 

 “We’ve been hanging out. Since we met the other days when I was moving the last of my stuff. She was taking the two littlest ones for a walk and Declan saw my dog and got away from her...” 

 “Wait. You know Declan too?”  It was the one that he absolutely hated; Esme taking it upon herself to allow strangers around his kids. She’s too trusting; too quick to see the good in everyone yet not even stopping to look for the bad. He doesn’t trust anyone. Aside from her.  And regardless of what she thinks of how paranoid she thinks he’s is; everyone is a possible threat. 

 “He’s my absolute favorite. He’s just such a little charmer. That smile and those eyes? I can see where he gets them. The eyes. Not the smile because you haven’t cracked one once since you answered the door. You do smile right?” 

 “Look, I had a rough night. I barely slept. You woke me up.  I don’t even know what day it is right now, to be honest.” 

 “It’s Friday,” she informs him. “I’m the one that watched Declan yesterday. So Esme could have said time to herself. Well she had the baby.  I just thought maybe she needed a break. That’s a lot to handle. Five kids.” 

 He tries hard to hide the anger that seeps into his voice. “You watched my kid?” 

 Salena nods. 

 “Yet I don’t even know who you are. You watched my kid, yet this is the first time we’ve met. And you’ve been hanging out with my wife?” 

 “Yeah, you know. Lunch. Girl talk. Stuff like that. She didn’t tell you? It must have just slipped her mind. I know she has a lot going on. Do you know when she’ll be back?” 

 Tyler shakes his head. 

 “Is it okay if I wait here for her or...” 

 He arches an eyebrow. “Here?” 

 “Where else?” 

 “I don’t usually let women into the house when my wife’s not home. That’s how rumors and shit start and I don’t need any more drama in my life. So I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I’m kinda busy with the little ones so...” 

 “I could help,” Salena offers 

 “I don’t need help. I’m not a rookie. And there’s nothing down there for you,” he informs her, when her eyes wander below his waist. “So if you could just...I don’t know...stop.” 

 A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. “Do you always walk around in no underwear?” 

 “You always question what people do in their own house?” Tyler counters. 

 “Touche.” 

 “If you weren’t looking down there so much and so closely, you wouldn’t even know I wasn’t wearing any.” 

 “Oh, I’d know,” she boldly responds. “That’s kind of hard not to notice.” 

 “Is there a reason you’re here or...” 

 “Like I said, I’m here to see Esme.” 

 “And like I said, she’s not home. You’ll have to come back. Or call her. Or text. I dunno.  But I’ve got little ones in the next room, so...” 

 “Yes! Sorry! I won’t keep you any longer!” She offers the shopping bag and he reluctantly takes it.  “I just...wow...you are definitely NOT what I was expecting. At all. Wow. Okay, I’m gonna go. If I don’t hear from Esme, will you let her know I came by?” 

 “How am I going to know if you didn’t get in touch with her?” he asks, as he steps out onto the front porch, quickly checking the mail before once against surveying the road and for any sign of remotely suspicious activity along the tree line. 

 “That!” she points at him, as she walks backwards down the front walk, bumping into one of the recycling bins that sit at the curb, giving it an awkward apology and then giggling in embarrassment. “Is a very good point! I’m going to go now. I just...wow...totally not what I thought you were going to look like. And now I’m rambling and making a total fool out myself.” 

 “Just a bit,” Tyler agrees. 

  “Oh! She calls to him before he can step inside. “Weird question, I know. But did someone come to your door last night? Around two am? Because someone showed up at my place and knocked for like ten straight minutes.” 

 “That would have been my very drunk brother in law. I think he was looking for a hook up.” 

 “Well if that’s the case, tell him to come to the back door next time. I’ll answer for sure then.” 

 Tyler just smirks and shakes his head, both amused and annoyed by her honesty, and then closes the door behind him. 

 *** 

 “Maybe we can try this again,” Kyle says, as they settle into a table on the Sovereign's outdoor patio. “Maybe we can make it through the meal without fighting.” 

 “Technically we didn’t start fighting until after dinner,” Esme points out. 

 “And technically you were the only one causing a scene, so...” 

 “Fair enough,” she surrenders, and places her hobo style purse and her lone shopping back on the ground, cell phone on the tabletop. “This isn’t a set-up is it? I’m not going to get five minutes into lunch and Nik will show up?” 

 “Nik’s gone.” 

 Esme arches an eyebrow. 

 “Not gone, gone. So don’t get your hopes up. She got a call last night. About a job in Venezuela. Needed to be there within a few hours or all hell was going to break loose.” 

 “Nature of the beast. You get used to those phone calls, unfortunately.” 

 “I thought maybe she’d slow down a little after we got engaged and started planning a wedding,” Kyle says. “I thought maybe that was enough to keep her busy and occupied, but...” he shrugs, and flips open his menu. 

 “Nik doesn’t do the job because she needs to keep busy or occupied. She does the job because she IS the job. She’s always been hard core about it. Completely devoted. Not to mention, she’s the boss. It’s her own company. And she has a lot of people relying on her to keep things running smoothly and to keep them safe. It’s a lot of pressure. A lot of stress. I wouldn’t to do it. Run the show.” 

 Kyle smirks. “Did you actually just pay Nik a compliment in some weird, back hand way?” 

 “I have nothing against job Nik.  I actually admire THAT Nik. It’s the other Nik I can't stand. The one that spent six and a half years trying to destroy my marriage. And...” she holds up her hand in a plea for silence when Kyle opens his mouth to speak. “...I know Tyler and I aren’t perfect. That things have never been conventional or normal between us. But that’s the way we are. And that doesn’t give her a right or a reason to try and bang my husband. So don’t even try to defend that.” 

 “I agree that that part is a little messed up.” 

 “You think?” Esme rummages through her purse for the bottle of recently purchased prescription meds. The doctor immediately writing out the order when she couldn’t get through the first thirty seconds of describing how she was feeling without bursting into tears. 

 “So you get used to it?” Kyle asked. 

 “What? Some trifling bitch trying to wreck your marriage?” She pops one of the pills into her mouth and swallows it down with ice water. “No. You don’t.” 

 “Not that. The job. The phone calls. Them leaving at a moment’s notice. Now what you’re doing or talking about at the time. You do get it used to it, right?” 

 “I don’t know if you get used to it. But you learn to tolerate it. I’ve had phone calls come in at some pretty inopportune times, let me tell you.” 

 “How inopportune?” 

 “Let’s just say, Nik and her phone calls are the epitome of cock blocking.” 

 Kyle nearly spits a mouthful of water across the table. 

 “Right?” Esme laughs. Talk about bad timing! But in Tyler’s defense, he did always finish the job at hand. So...” 

 “Okay, that is too much information. I don’t think about you two...you know...finishing.” 

 “Kyle, despite what you think, I’d have sex more than five times. I just don’t have it to procreate, you know. It happens to be a lot of fun.” 

 “I do not what to think about those things when it comes to my little sister, okay? I know you’re a wife and a mother and all of that, but you’re still my kid sister. I still want to beat the hell out of any guy that touches you.” 

 She laughs and sips her water. “I’d love to see you try.” 

 “And totally get my ass handed to me? No thanks.” 

 She grins. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit defeat.” 

 “I’m not stupid,” he chuckles. “This is Tyler we’re talking about. I’ve heard about the shit he’s done. What he’s capable of. And he’s totally capable of killing me with his bare hands.” 

 Esme nods in agreement. 

 “Aren’t you scared? You know what he can do. You know the things he’s done. Aren’t you even a little bit afraid? Of him?” 

 She shakes her head. “I’ve never been afraid of him. Ever. And I’ve seen his temper at its worst. He’d never hurt me. Or the kids. I have no reason to be scared of him.” 

 “But what if he snaps on day? What if everything that’s going on his brain just becomes too much and it gives way? What...” 

 “Tyler would never...ever...do anything to hurt me. I’m not scared of him. I’ve never been scared of him. It’s the opposite, actually. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Because I know if anyone ever tries to get to me or the kids, he’s more than capable of stopping them. He’s not a monster, K.” 

 “I never said he was. But that kind of job? Being a mercenary? And doing it as long as he did?” 

 “Tyler was never the job. The job was just part of him. I’ve known a lot of mercenaries. A lot. Guys that allowed the job to totally take them over. To the point you didn’t even recognize them anymore.  That’s that all they are. Callous, cold, calculated, violent. Extremely violent. And horrifically abusive. To everyone. Girlfriends, spouses, kids.” 

 Kyle gives a small, almost sad smile. “Nik’s told me some stories.” 

 “Tyler would kill himself before he ever hurt me or the kids. He’d put a bullet in his brain if he ever got like that. I’m not scared of him. I never have been. And don’t underestimate me. I could put him on his ass if I ever had to.” 

 Her brother laughs at that. 

 “He’d never do anything to us. That’s the last thing you need to worry about. He was never like those other guys. I guess that’s what really set him apart; what I found really intriguing about him. Out of all the mercenaries I’ve worked alongside of and knowing the stories that revolved around him, I expected him to be one of them. And he wasn’t. He was still human. And you may not see it because he’s stubborn and thinks he has to hide certain sides of himself, but he’s a good person, K. A good person who’s had to do some terrible things to stay alive. He’s a big man with an even bigger hurt. You just have to be fortunate enough to get to experience it.” 

 “I see how he was with you. How he is with the rugrats. He adores those kids. And worships the ground you walk on. I mean, I think you’re an annoying bitch, but...” 

 She smirks and directs a kick to his shin. 

 “But I see how he is with you. You guys share a pretty profound bond, you know. You saved his life. Literally.” 

 “I did what anyone would do,” Esme reasons. “You save people all the time.” 

 “That’s my job.” 

 “I wasn’t going to let him die there. And I definitely wasn’t going to let someone hold me back and expect me to just stand there and watch him die.” 

 “Esme,” Kyle sighs. “Don’t bring Nik into this.” 

 “She left him there. She didn’t even want anyone to get to him to help. What kind of person does that? He became expendable. The job was done, and she need him anymore. And she was willing to let me die on that bridge too. I know you love her, but least accept the truth on who she is and what she’s capable of.” 

 A server comes to take their drink and food order, and Esme gives he a smile of appreciation and hands her the menu. 

 “I saved Tyler because he deserved better than the end he was being given.” she says. “Because no matter how badly he thought he deserved death, he deserved a second chance more. You learn a lot about someone when you’re running for your life and trusting them to get keep you alive, believe me.” 

 “And when you spend five days in a hotel room pretend to be married to them,” Kyle grins.  

 “I’m not talking about what their favorite sexual positions are or how kinky they can be. And trust me, he can be extremely dirty.” 

 Kyle grimaces. “I do not need to hear this.” 

 “And regardless of what you or Nik think, it wasn’t just sex. Those five says. It’s  not like we never spoke to each other. We talked. A lot. We told each other things we’d never told anyone else. So it wasn’t just physical connection, as amazing as that was. It was more than that. Way more. I wouldn’t have stuck around in Australia and spent months sleeping in a chair at the hospital if it wasn’t.” 

 “And now here you are. Married, five kids.” 

 She nods. 

 “Honestly, I never expected this from you. Especially after Mark. After all the shit he put you through…" 

 “Well sometimes someone comes along and shows you that not all men are the same. That not all love hurts. I was lucky. Not everyone gets that chance.” 

 “I gotta hand it to you, kid. You’ve come a long way.” 

 “I didn’t mean to cause issues between you and Nik,” she says. “Just so you know. That wasn’t my intention. But we’d give up that life. That’s why we left Colorado. To start fresh. And suddenly she just shows up? Asking for his help? Again? He’s shed enough blood for her. Tyler owes her nothing.” 

 “It’s not she’s asking him to go back out there,” Kyle reasons. “She just needs his help. With Ovi.” 

 “And don’t even get me started about that! Her encouraging this with Ovi.  After everything that’s kid been through? For years we’ve struggled to get that kid healthy. Mentally healthy. And he gets some stupid ass idea in his head and instead of telling him how stupid it is, she encourages him! Recruits him. You must be able to see how screwed up that is.” 

 “He’s not a kid anymore,” Kyle reasons. “He’s a grown man.” 

 “He’s my kid. No matter how old he is. This is a horrible idea, K. Ovi deserves so much better than this. And something or someone has gotten into his head and poisoned him to the point he thinks this is a smart, viable option. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing. For Ovi. For Tyler.” 

 “All Tyler has to do is train him. That’s it.” 

 “And you think that’s enough?” she gives a dry laugh. “I’ll you what. You put in some of the leg work. Spend a couple of days when them ‘training’. It's not as simple and basic as you’re making it out to be. Try it. One day eve. And then see you how you feel about it.” 

 “Maybe I will.” 

 “Go ahead. I know you think you’re a total bad ass, bit you now idea what it all entails. No idea. But if you think it’s that easy, then come on over and Tyler will put you through the paces. You’re probably be crying for mom when it’s over. If you even last that long. You’ve been to the gym with him; you know how hard core goes.” 

 Kyle nods. 

 “Imagine that times...I don’t know...twenty. And that’s if he’s slacking. Don’t underestimate him. You can the take man out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the man.” 

 “You think he’ll go back?” Kyle asks. “That he’ll get the itch? That just training won’t be enough.” 

 “I’ve told him that if he has to go...if Ovi gets into trouble and needs his help.... that’s fine. I’ll support him one hundred percent. But if he willingly goes for any other reason, we’re done. I’m done. I’m leaving and I’m taking kids with me. No looking back. I cut my loses and that’s that.” 

 He frowns. “That seems a little harsh.” 

 “I can’t do that life again. I just can’t. And I love him, but I love my kids more. And they deserve better than that life. They deserve a father that’s devoted to them and only them. And he can’t be if he goes back to the job. He just can’t.” 

 “So you’d just take off and take his kids?” 

 “I didn’t say he wouldn’t be able to see them. Because I’d never do that to him. Or them. But they need a stable, calm environment. And when he’s doing the job, our house is anything but stable and calm. It’s not what’s best for the kids. Not Tyler. Not me. Them.” 

 “Well for his sake, I hope he does the right thing and doesn’t fuck up. That’d probably kill him losing his kids.” 

 “Don’t put that on me, Kyle. It’s hard enough making that kind of decision, but adding that kind of guilt to it?” 

 “That wasn’t what I was trying to do, and you know it. But you honestly go to that extreme? Taking his kids away from him?” 

 “I wouldn’t be taking them away. They’d still see him. It’s about giving them a stable environment. And nothing is stable when it comes to the job. Because first the job comes about, then the drinking, then the fighting. You don’t know what it was really like, K. You only know half of what went on in our house.” 

 “Couldn’t have been that bad,” he comments. “You guys got back together. After you split for those six months.” 

 “Because he promised to get his shit together and said he wanted to work on things and make them better. And you know what? That lasted about eight months. And then it all started all over again. All because of the stupid goddamn job and because of Nik’s inability to leave him alone.” 

 “Esme, we said we weren’t going to fight. And if you bring up Nik, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and you know it. If you didn’t want me with her, why’d you even set me up with her in the first place?” 

 “Because she was way too good to be stuck with Mark. No one deserved to be stuck with that asshole.” 

 “So what? You used me to get her away from Mark? What...?” 

 “I didn’t think anything would actually happen between you two,” she admits. “At least nothing serious. I thought you’d have your fun for a little bit and then move on. You’d never been interested in settling down before. I never thought you’d start thinking about it when you met her.” 

 “That’s messed up. Using your own brother like that. Here I thought you did it because you wanted me to happy.” 

 “Of course I want you to be happy. I just don’t want you to be happy with her.” 

 Kyle gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. 

 “You’re too good for you,” Esme informs her. 

 “First, she’s too good for Mark, now I’m too good for her?” 

 “You deserve someone...I don’t know...different. Someone who can devote themselves to you. Who isn’t so hung up on their career. Someone who’d be happy being a firefighter’s wife. And believe, there’s tons of girls like that out there.” 

 “Maybe that’s not the type I want. Maybe I want someone who has more going for her. If you were that against this, why didn’t you say something before? Instead of waiting until four months before the wedding. A wedding which you...my own sister...hasn’t even committed to yet.” 

 “Have you ever thought maybe I’m not comfortable being there? Kyle’ she’s spent years trying to fuck up my marriage. And now I’m just supposed to be okay with hers?” 

 “I’m your brother.” 

 “Exactly. You are. Which means something should have told you marrying the woman spent six and a half years trying to fuck mt husband wasn’t a good idea.” 

 “Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought you’d grown up enough to let it go. She tried, he turned her down. End of story.” 

 “So you’re okay with being married to someone with no morals?” 

 “You’re okay with it,” he retorts. “You’re married to someone who killed people for a living.” 

 Esme scowls. “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” 

 “You’re right. It’s not. It’s even worse. You’re going to preach to me about morals when you’re married to hired killer? Who you were fucking three days after you met him.  And you think you’re somehow morally superior?” 

 “That’s low, Kyle. Nik has enough blood on her hands herself. Including Tyler’s.” 

 “And you’re still holding onto that. It’s been almost what? Seven years? Since Dhaka? And you’re still holding onto that?” 

 “Oh I’m sorry,” she scoffs. “You watch someone you love get shot in the throat. You have them bleed out all over you. You stick your fingers in their neck to try and keep them alive. And then you tell me how easy it is to get over.” 

 The server arrives with their food, breaking the tension that has fallen on the table.  And Esme takes a sip of her water in a vain attempt to wash down the lump of emotion that now sits firmly on their throat. 

 “You have no idea what was like,” she scowls, as she uses her fork to stab at the salad on her plate. “Saying what I saw. Doing what I did. You have no clue, Kyle. And you have no right downplaying it and telling me to just ‘get over it’.” 

 “It’s been almost seven years,” he gently reminds her. 

 “And sometimes it feels like it’s only been seven days. So until you’re at in that kind of situation...and I hope you never ate...you need to keep your advice and your opinions to yourself. If you want to marry Nik, go ahead. But I won’t be there. None of us well. I love you. But I don’t agree with what you’re doing. If it were anyone but here, I’d be there.  But after what she’s done...after she was going to leave us there...I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy for you. Because I’m not. I know what she’s like and I know what your life is going to be like. You’re going to spend it being second to the job. And you deserve so much better than that.” 

 “So do you,” Kyle says. “But you stick around.” 

 “Don’t ever compare Tyler to her. Because you know that’s complete and utter bullshit. He is nothing like her.” 

 “You keep telling yourself that, Esme. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.” 

 “Don’t even put the two together in a sentence. If you want to marry her and never have a normal marriage or kids of a stable life, go ahead. But I’m supporting that bullshit.: 

 Kyle sighs heavily. “You’re even more stubborn than I remember.” 

 “I’m not stubborn. I’m just sick of peoples’ shit. Hers. Yours. Why couldn’t she just leave us alone? We were happy. Things were great. And now all of the drama is back again. And I’m had it up to my eyeballs in Nik drama.” 

 She sighs heavily when her phone vibrates against the table, then grins when she checks the text message. 

 “Apparently you’ve made an impression on my neighbor,” she says. 

 “Salena?” 

 Esme nods. “I guess she stopped by the house and Tyler told her you showed up at her place last night looking for a piece of ass. And she actually believed him. Now she wants me to give you her cell and her home number. You know shit is getting real when someone gives up their home number. Do you want them or...?” 

 “I’m engaged,” he reminds her. “I’m getting married in four months.” 

 “That means you have four months to change your mind.” 

 “Esme...” 

 “Don’t be so difficult,” she snags his cell from where it sits next to his plate and proceeds to add Salena’s name, info, and numbers into his contacts. “Trust me. You’ll thank me for this.” 

 He somehow doubts that.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Beholden (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: 18+

Warnings: oral (female), thigh-riding, dirty talk, voyeurism (not Y/N)

Word Count: 4,478

Summary: As the rightful Queen to your nation, you have always known you one day must marry. Each time the question has arisen in the past, you have found legitimate reasons to turn the men down. Until now, that is. Until the proposal of a distant King, one whose union would only bring benefit to your people. Except for the fact, that your heart has already been taken by his proposer. 

All breath expelled from his lungs, Jimin slowly lowers himself onto the seat of your chaise. He sits there frozen, eyes wide, due to the command you issued only moments prior.

Sit.

He does this, dark silk of his robes billowing, draping over the furniture. His gaze does not waver, even while dragging a hand through the silver-sand of his hair. The dignitary to a neighboring kingdom, ambassador to a King and mouthpiece of a nation, Park Jimin is here to argue on behalf of his Crown. He is here, to ask for your hand in marriage – not for himself, but for the aforementioned King.

Eyes sparking, you take a slow step forward and enter the room. Your hair is still damp from the bath, sticking to your skin and making you feel oddly exposed. Droplets of water cling to your brow, a substitute for the thin circlet of gold you usually wear.

Gaze raking your body, Jimin seems to devour you whole. His chest rises, falling against the elaborately embroidered brocade he wears. His expression turns tortured at the glimpses of skin you expose when you walk.

“Y/N,” he states – only to wince. “My apologies. What I meant was, your Majesty.”

“Call me Y/N,” you counter, closing the distance between you. Head spinning, you inhale the intoxicating scent Jimin exudes. “I insist.”

His returning smile is soft. “As you wish. Y/N.”

Hearing your name said in such a way – humbled, desperate, wanting – almost makes a moan slip free from your lips. The entire time Jimin has resided at court, you have fought your attraction to him – poorly, apparently and with ill-execution, since it has led to this moment. Earlier in the evening, he requested a private audience in which to plead the case of his ruler.

You responded by inviting him here, now.

He stares as you walk, swallowing around the prominent lump in his throat. Beyond him, your window remains open to the darkness of night, painted silver only by the light of the moon. A breeze stirs the hair at the nape of his neck, carrying with it ripe smells of jasmine and fir. The two primary riches of your land, and why Jimin’s King seeks your hand in the first place.

It is unfortunate, then, that you are not interested in having a King by your side. Coming to a stop before Jimin, you tilt your head sideways and look at him. He stares back, thighs spread openly on the black velvet of your couch. He has not changed since the state dinner of earlier and remains clothed in the wealth of his land – silks and gold, riches and jewels. The material of his trousers clings to muscle in a way which seems almost obscene. His fitness is not a surprise, though. Many mornings you have passed the royal grounds only to find Jimin there alone, exercising his skills.

His skills are many, and not to be underestimated. Hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship of various aspects, not to mention archery and daggers. Jimin is proficient, often excellent, at all of them. His body betrays this raw talent, muscles held taut while you openly survey him. This is the first time you have truly let yourself look. Before, you only allowed momentary glances, taken behind fans when you thought no one was watching.

Never before, have you had the luxury of looking at him openly. Tracing the broad panes of his chest, your gaze encircles his torso and comes to a halt at his lips.

Jimin exhales. “I should be explaining,” he states to you, quiet. “I should be arguing here on behalf of my King – I should be asking you accept his offer of marriage. He is a good King, your Majesty. His lands are rich, and his temperament fair. He is a most gracious ruler.”

“I have heard you say this before,” you muse, reaching out for the clasp of your robe. The fabric you wear is nothing like his – plain, woven material from the looms of your village. It is designed for comfort, rather than style but still, Jimin stares at this as though he might come undone.

“Then,” he swallows, looking up. “Am I here to hear your acceptance?”

Pausing mid-motion, you stare at his frame. The offer of marriage is a complicated notion. On the one hand, you have weighed the odds and found it in your best interest to accept. Your lands need his trade routes and vice versa, his King needs your raw goods. Everything you know validates Jimin’s recent claim – their King is a good one, just and fair in his decision-making.

Still, you cannot help but feel resentful. The idea that someone other than yourself might be best for your Kingdom is a difficult notion to bear. Not only that – for you, it would be a loveless marriage. There is someone else, you desire in your bed.

Returning your gaze to Jimin, your fingers close over the clasp. “I have not yet decided,” you answer him honestly. “That is not why I brought you here.”

“Oh?” Jimin speaks softly, lowering both hands to the chaise. “Then tell me, Queen – why am I here?”

Arching a brow, you undo the latch. “Do not insult your own intelligence,” you state, shrugging free from your robe. It pools at your feet, a small heap of fabric. “You know why I asked you here, tonight.”

Jimin does not control his reaction in time. A tiny groan escapes, seeing your naked body before him. Nothing covering you but the balmy breeze of the window and the weight of his gaze. He traces eagerly, lingering on the peaks of your breasts, the shadowed dip between thighs. Fingers curled around the edge of your chaise, when he looks back up, there is desire in his gaze.

“Y/N…” Jimin’s voice drops to a whisper. “My King would behead me, if he knew.”

“Do you not want me?” you ask, ignoring this protest. Perhaps you misread the situation, earlier – for each glance you gave him, you were certain one was returned. Jimin’s expressions over the past weeks have been longing, meaningful and yearning for more.

Closing his eyes, Jimin holds his jaw taut. “More than anything,” he admits, hoarse. “From the moment I saw you, I feared you would be my undoing.”

“Then,” you exhale, lowering yourself onto his lap, “have me.”

Legs folding around him, your hands slide into his hair. Jimin opens his eyes, clutching at your body, despite all he just said. Between your thighs, you already feel yourself wet, slick with the carnal knowledge of just what Jimin is capable of. It is hard not to recall the night from which this awareness stems.

It was several weeks prior, after a celebratory ball held in honor of the fall harvest. The night was spent in revelry, drunk on both the company of others and the oldest wines from your cellar. Around midnight you excused yourself form the madness – waving aside concerns of your advisors, stating you could make it upstairs to your chambers alone.

Midway through the empty corridor of the second floor, you saw him – Jimin, although he was not by himself. The entire evening, the two of you had been flirting. Furtive looks here, a press of fingers there, a brushing of hands while you walked towards the dance floor. It had affected you greatly (partly, this is why you were retiring to bed early), and it appeared you were not alone in your emotions.

As stated earlier, Jimin was not alone. A handmaiden accompanied him, not one of yours, hoisted onto the low wall between you. Her attire would not have been out of place at the party – but her bodice was ripped, hair undone, skirts hiked up past her waist while Jimin fucked himself into her. He had her on the bearing wall, legs wrapped tightly around him and his breeches shoved past his ass.

You froze, staring at his lips on her breast, switching to the other while his hips pounded forward. The sight made you ache with the force of your wanting. Warmth unfurled in your veins, blazing like lightning and wildfire. When Jimin looked up, catching you staring – he did not stop. If anything, he fucked the girl harder. Lips parting, you found yourself unsure whether to stay or to flee, because the interaction no longer was theirs. No, now it belonged to you. To you and to Jimin, watching you while he pushed himself into this girl.

She came apart underneath him, gasping his name and upon hearing his name – Jimin – torn from her lips, you jolted back to your senses and ran. The visual, along with your hand, was enough to come quickly that night. Ever since, you have not been able to remove the image from mind.

“Jimin,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his ear. “Feel how badly I want you,” you murmur, taking his hand and lowering it in between your legs. “Do you see?”

Jimin’s inhale is shaky. “God, you’re so wet,” he moans, tracing over your folds. Your body is slick with arousal, pushing against him when he brushes over your mound. “Is it all for me?”

“Mm,” you agree, grinding yourself into his palm. Jimin responds eagerly, cupping your heat to slide a finger backwards. “These days, I am always ready for you.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and before you can utter a word, he crushes your lips to his. His kiss is soft, yet intense – much like Jimin himself. One of hands remains at your core, teasing while the other grasps your neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue flicks out to meet yours and you exhale, opening your lips to let him in fully.

The motion of your hips must be ruining the silk of his pants, but Jimin does not seem to mind. Indeed, he pulls you closer, forcing your nipples over the broadness of his chest. They seem achingly hard, in desperate want of attention – and, as though sensing your desire, Jimin chuckles and pulls himself back.

“Would you like to be fucked in the same way?” he inquires, referring to the night you saw him. “Spread out on this chaise, or your bed?”

Bending, Jimin closes his lips around a nipple as you moan, tugging his hair with your fingers. His mouth is attentive – overly so – and your blood pressure spikes, with each tender ministration.

“No – I want to ride you,” you whine, gasping the words. “I want your cock between my legs, your hands on my body while I take you in deeper.”

Jimin nods in agreement, already moving to disrobe. This necessitates the removal of his hands from your body, a fact which you do not approve of. Jimin smirks at your expression, dutifully undoing the trappings of his clothing. “Patience,” he cautions, pushing silk from his shoulders.

Falling to the chaise, the removal reveals the beauty of Jimin’s toned upper body. Unable to speak, you stare, since this is the first time you have seen Jimin shirtless. Even when practicing in the courtyard, he typically does so while dressed in a thin, sweat-drenched tunic. This reasoning becomes clear, when black ink is revealed along the length of his torso. Thin, delicate lines of writing in a language you do not understand.

“What do they say,” you whisper, awed. Gently, you trace over the words with your palms and Jimin inhales, staring at your hands on his skin.

“They are promises,” he explains, pressing his lips to your jaw. “Each new year, I tattoo another – it is the custom, where I am from. This one,” he murmurs, taking your hand and moving it north. Small letters interconnect between his breastbone. “It is a promise of obedience. I swear to be loyal, hard-working and honest to the Crown.”

“Oh?” Your word is barely more than a breath. Fingers exploring the dark whorls of ink, your curiosity only grows. “And what about this one?” you ask, hands sliding lower. A tattoo that is only half-visible, above the waist of his trousers. “What is this one’s meaning?”

Jimin is naked from the waist up, though his pants remain on – they cover the view that you crave. “Another promise,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his palms. “To love as deeply as I can, whenever I can.”

“Ah,” you exhale – uneven, when he begins to kiss down your jaw. Jimin presses his chest to yours, molding you to him. “Is that what you were doing, that night after the ball?”

From his place at your throat, Jimin chuckles. “Were you jealous, Majesty?” he asks, a throaty purr. “Did you wish it had been you, instead?”

“I,” you falter, grinding yourself on his thigh. “I merely thought that, were you interested, you would have asked me instead.”

“I should have asked the Queen into bed?” Jimin repeats, amused. He arches a brow. “I do not imagine that would have gone well,” he exhales, hands sliding to cup the curve of your ass. “I have had to be satisfied by whatever scraps you throw my way. Then, I go and fuck the first woman who’ll have me. I imagine they’re you, you, always you. Their moans,” he whispers, a hand slipping between you, “their swears. Their tight, wet pussies wrapped around my cock. All of it, I only want from you.”

“Oh,” you whimper, finding a rhythm against him. Jimin pulls you over his leg, watching you writhe from the pleasure. His lips find your neck, lips, breasts – briefly, you wonder if you might come undone just like this.

Your eyes fly open. “Not like this,” you pant, reaching for his waistband. “I want you naked, on my bed. Now.”

With a smirk, Jimin watches you rise from the chaise. He catches your waist with his hands, pressing a kiss to your belly button. As he pulls back, caught by the visual, Jimin hovers for a moment. Before you can stop him, his lips brush a more sensitive area. Shivering, your hands curl into his hair and your stance involuntarily widens. Jimin’s tongue darts out to lick arousal-soaked folds and you whimper, pushing your hips forward, seeking out more, more, more.

Withdrawing, Jimin’s tongue touches the edge of his lips. “Not yet,” he agrees, pushing himself to stand. Undoing the waist of his clothing, he lowers his pants to the ground.

His cock stands, half-hard from his waist; reddened and pretty, just begging to be touched. The lines of his muscles are prominent, abdominals disappearing into obliques, wrapped around the edge of his hips. Staring, you wonder if there has ever been a view as glorious as his. The ink of his tattoos blend into the panes of his body, making you uncertain just where to begin.

Gently, Jimin takes your hand. “I am sorry,” he blinks, seeing your shock at the gesture. “I apologize, if tenderness is not as customary for you as for me. I only – I wish to have every piece of you, my Queen. That includes your heart.”

Startled by this, you stare. Jimin stares back, lips wet from your body and gaze full of sincerity. Beneath the bones of your chest, your heart beats like a drum. Despite what you said to him earlier, this is not just about sex. The truth of the matter is; over the past several weeks, you have fallen in love with him. His quiet thinking, his sensible resolve, his lowly voiced humor. All of this has ensnared, entrapped you body and soul.

The fact makes tonight even more dangerous.

Lacing your fingers in his, you let Jimin pull you closer. His next kiss is soft, gentle with his body pressed to yours. Naked and deprived of his wrappings, Jimin moves in a way which drags air from your lungs, scorching them dry. You feel every part of him, know every part and, emboldened, pull him back towards your bed.

“Here,” you instruct, settling down on the edge. “I want you here, so that I might think of you tomorrow.”

Gaze dark and aching, Jimin lowers himself to your mattress, one knee at a time. “I hope that you do,” he confesses, palms laid flat to either side of your body. “I hope you remember the sight of my head between your legs, the feel of my tongue pressed to your sex. I want you to think of me with all other men, Y/N.”

Leaning back on your elbows, you meet his gaze. “I wish that as well,” you exhale, letting your hair fan over the pillows. “Do your worst.”

The sheets beneath you are silk, sensual while Jimin lowers his head to your knee. His lips start off gentle, trailing upwards in a slow pattern; higher, then lower, seeking a path to your core. When he reaches your hips, Jimin kisses each jut of bone before moving to your belly button. Inching lower again, Jimin does not push your legs apart.

Instead, he kisses soft over your sex. With your legs pressed together, everything is so sensitive. Jimin’s tongue darts out quickly, parting your folds with his tongue to make you arch on the bed. He barely grazes your clit, making you shudder, realizing this is entirely new. With a growl, Jimin realizes how wet you are and – suddenly impatient – pushes your legs apart on the sheets.

“Oh,” he exhales, seeing your body splayed out before him. Before you can speak, Jimin bends to close his lips over your bud, sucking hard.

“Ah!” you cry out, arching against him.

“Fuck,” Jimin mutters, lifting his head. He holds your legs open, rubbing the length of your folds. “I imagined before, Queen, what you would look like. I imagined what you would smell like, taste like and I – I never imagined someone this sweet.”

“Liar,” you manage, falling flat on your back. Jimin’s tongue swirls, moving in circles – first one way, then the other. Suddenly, you no longer care if he is telling the truth or not. “Oh!”

“I would not lie to you,” he chuckles, withdrawing. Keeping his gaze firmly on yours, Jimin drags his tongue up the length of your sex – you shiver, when he finds unexplored parts. “Look how hard I am,” Jimin declares, lifting himself from stomach to knees.

Exhaling, you stare because, yes, Jimin is much harder than before. His cock stands out from his waist, reddened and eager. You almost forget what he was doing before with his mouth, and demand that he fuck you right now.

With a small laugh, Jimin drops back down. Spreading your sex with both fingers, he licks over your clit. You squirm, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity until he inches further back, slipping a finger inside. Hips bucking upwards, you gasp and realize you will not last for much longer.

This is not the way you wish to come. Reaching down, you slide your hands into his hair, pulling him upwards. “Jimin,” you moan, chest rising and falling. “I want you inside me.”

After a moment, he nods. Pressing a final kiss to your sex, Jimin scrambles upwards and lowers himself to your bed. He sits there, legs outstretched and cock hard between thighs. When he holds out his hand, you accept, arranging yourself in a position above him.

Gaze dropping, you stare at his cock leaking pre-cum beneath you. Jimin’s hands continue to roam while you look, flicking your breasts and stroking your ass. It is enough that you pant, arching your back to roll your hips in mid-air.

Jimin lets out a low whine at the sight. “Y/N,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. “Please. I want to be inside you.”

“Are you clean?” you inquire, though you already know that he is. You would not have asked him here tonight, had he not been on the Royal Physician’s charts. “Your Queen demands honestly from you,” you tease.

“My Queen,” Jimin repeats, tasting the words on his tongue. With a resolute nod, he grips your waist in both hands. “Indeed, I am, my Queen.”

“Good,” you exhale, ignoring the pang the words send and lowering yourself to his length. His tip brushes your folds, easing inside and it takes several moments to work your way down. He is not the biggest you have ever had, but he is thick, hard and hot in your body. Then Jimin rolls his hips, and you realize his lethalness.

His cock thrusts into you, brushing each toe-curling place that you have. This is something you have never experienced: it makes you gasp, lurching forward to clasp the sheets of your bed. From here, Jimin twists to take your breast in his mouth. His tongue flicks over your nipple, hardening this into a peak while he thrusts slow from below.

“Oh,” you gasp when he fills you. He continues, relentless, picking up a rhythm designed to scatter your thoughts. Meanwhile, his mouth does not stop – he switches to the other breast, once you are sufficiently sated.

Gripping your waist, Jimin eases you up and down on his cock. The rhythm stokes a fire within you, renders you molten, in need of release. Pushing yourself higher, you remove your chest from his mouth. Jimin’s gaze darkens questioningly, until you lean back on your palms and take over the motion.

Slowly, you roll your hips in an attempt to feel every inch of him. Lifting yourself higher, then lower, you realize Jimin has gone still underneath. He stares, unable to look away from the sight of you fucking his cock. Legs splayed, chest rising and falling from the motion you set, you push his dick deep inside.

Eager to help, Jimin reaches up and presses his thumb to your clit. You gasp, clenching around his length – in response, Jimin hisses, dick twitching inside you. He rubs you harder, faster and your hips buck, uncontrolled, losing hold of the rhythm.

“Jimin,” you choke out, entire body trembling. “I need your help, make me come.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, hands sliding into your hair to tug you back down. Jimin lays you flat on his chest, hands gripping your ass. “Mm,” he exhales, spreading your folds with his hands. “I don’t know what I did, to deserve to touch you like this.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you exhale, turning and connecting your lips to his. Jimin spreads you wider, thrusting his cock deeper inside. “I could stay here for years.”

Jimin smiles, soft and true – it makes your heart stop for a moment. “Good,” he exhales, before thrusting into you.

With a groan, you collapse on his chest and let him fuck you like that. Each thrust of his hips rubs your clit on his stomach, making you moan and clutch at him tighter. Jimin’s hips are relentless, pounding you openly and forcing you forward. His hands grab your ass, your thighs, your hair; molding you to him. Unable to take it, you cry out from the motion – a risk, but your quarters are fairly isolated from others.

Giving in, you let go and tell Jimin exactly what you think of him. His cock, filling you so deeply, his lips molding to yours. Fingers digging into his back, you whisper how hard and beautiful he is, how he hits all the right places, how he makes you want to come so fucking hard.

Jimin groans, gathering you closer and giving himself to you fully. You can barely see through the pleasure, thrusting your hips each time that he fills you; frantic and needy, chasing after your high. Jimin helps – he laces a hand through your hair, bringing your ear down to his lips. Breathlessly, he details how perfect you are to him. How tight your body is, how wet and needy you sound for his cock. No one else can compare – he was right to want you, since there is no after for him.

He wants to come, deep inside and, upon hearing this, you break apart at the seams. Jimin’s words shatter you, send your body spiraling over the edge, fallen apart in his arms. Jimin’s lips brush your temple, guiding you through and before long, you feel him coming as well. His groan is rough, broken as he releases inside you. Burying your face in his shoulder, he rocks into you until the moment has passed.

Warmth singes your veins, wrapping your body in ecstasy. You do not want him to leave and, lifting your head from his chest, you see a similar debate raging in Jimin’s gaze. On the one hand, this is the safest you have felt in a long time. On the other, if Jimin is not in his chambers come morning, it will raise suspicion. It is not unusual, for you to have lovers – it is unusual, for one to belong to a King who asks your hand in marriage.

With the utmost of care, Jimin sits up, taking you with. The breeze from the window is chilly and he wraps himself around you, pulling the sheet up to your lap.

“I do not know what I wish for your answer to be,” Jimin confesses at last, pressing his lips to your throat. He pulls back, resolutely meeting your gaze. “Practically, this marriage is a good thing for both nations. And yet – selfishly, I want you all to myself.”

Fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, you move closer. “I want that, too,” you admit, barely a whisper. “Logically, you speak true. Logically, I should accept your King’s proposal and join our lands together. But,” you swallow, looking down. “The reason I have not, is I feel for another.”

Brushing your chin, Jimin’s fingers force your gaze upwards. “If I do not return to him with an answer,” he admits, desperate. “He will just send another in my place.”

“And if my response to him is no?” you return, tilting your head.

Jimin does not move. “Then, I will be called back to duty.”

Resignedly, you recall the ink on his skin. Jimin promised obedience, fidelity, loyalty. He would not break a promise to the Crown so easily – it is part of what you love about him. Inhaling softly, you look out the window. The night beyond beckons; it encourages wild propositions and wanton shirking of duty. Instead, you know that when this nighttime does end, you will be left in the day. You cannot run away for too long and, at the end of the night, your choices are not fully your own.

“If I say yes,” you whisper, returning to him. Pushing the words past trembling lips, your fingers curl into his hair. “If I say yes to your King – this Min Yoongi – what will you do?”

Jimin’s gaze burns, pulling your lips close to his. “I will accompany you to him,” he whispers, before kissing you.

A/N: This will be turned into a series! I do not know length of timing yet. Please see the follow-up interlude from Yoongi’s perspective here: Weighted.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[lilyvandersteen]

The Christmas Guest

I know it’s unseasonal, but here’s a Christmas story for you as a birthday gift, @hkvoyage. (Well, the first chapter... The rest will come later.)

 “What do you mean you’re on a cruise?!”

Kurt, who’d just taken the first sip of his mocha and was savoring the taste, turned around to see who was disturbing his moment with their yelling.

He was surprised to see that it was the perfect gentleman who’d sat next to him on the plane and who’d never so much as winced when Kurt kept sneezing and coughing, going so far as to offer him a handkerchief when Kurt ran out of tissues. Even when Kurt had knocked over his tea, the man hadn’t complained. Most of it had landed on Kurt’s lap, of course, but some of it had spilled on his neighbor, and it had been hot, yet Mr. Perfect had seemed unperturbed, smiling at Kurt when he bumbled through an apology.

Now, though, Mr. Perfect seemed a lot less put together. His eyes were wild, and he was raking his hand through his hair.

“You’re telling me that I bought a plane ticket to Ohio to spend time with my parents only to find that they’ve gone on a cruise? At Christmas?”

Mr. Perfect paced to and fro while listening to the other end of the conversation.

“Oh, it’s not about the money, Mom, seriously. It’s about me being fool enough to believe you’d want me around for the holidays. Isn’t Christmas supposed to be family time?”

A few moments’ silence followed.

“So… What? Now that I’ve graduated high school, all of a sudden, I’m not supposed to need my parents anymore? I’m eighteen, Mom, not a thirty-something who has it all figured out! Sue me for looking forward to eating your lasagna and your meatloaf again after months of fix-it-myself meals.”

Mr. Perfect huffed at his mother’s answer to that.

“Ugh, as usual, you’re completely missing the point. Yes, I could eat out, and I do when I have the time and the money for it, but there’s nothing that beats home cooking. Anyway, I should stop making a scene here at the airport and look into flights going back to New York. Enjoy your cruise, and Merry Christmas, I guess.”

Muttering something under his breath, Mr. Perfect pocketed his phone and strode past Kurt towards the help desk.

“Um, hey…”

Kurt put his hand on the man’s arm for a split second. He stopped and turned towards Kurt, scowling, “Not now, please, I…”

Recognition dawned on his face. “You’re my plane buddy! Hey!”

“Yes. Kurt Hummel. Pleased to officially meet you. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I wouldn’t want you to catch my cold.”

Mr. Perfect smiled. “My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

“So, Blaine… I’m sorry, but I overheard you talking to your mom.”

“I was loud. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey now, you had every reason to be angry. You came home and your family’s not here.”

Blaine sighed. “Yeah. Apparently, now that I’m no longer a burden around their necks, they’re honeymooning all over the place.”

“I heard. So I was wondering… If you’d like a family Christmas, as you said… You could come home with me? My father’s coming to pick me up, and I know he’d welcome any friend of mine with open arms.”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.

“I mean, I know we don’t really know each other, but you were so nice to me on the plane, so I thought, maybe…”

Kurt let his voice trail off and huffed. “You know what, forget it, it was a crazy idea. Sometimes I speak before I think.”

“No, no, it’s… I think it’s very sweet, but… I couldn’t possibly impose…”

A booming voice interrupted whatever else Blaine was going to say. “Kurt!! There you are!”

Kurt felt strong arms envelop him, and the comforting smell of Old Spice and motor oil surround him. He smiled and hugged his dad back just as hard. Oh, how he had missed this!

Burt released Kurt and grabbed the handle of one of his suitcases. “Packed light again, did you?”

“Daaaad…”

“So who’s that with you? The boyfriend?”

Kurt could blurt out no more than a “Huh, wha…” before his father was shaking Blaine’s hand and introducing himself. Blaine looked like a cute goldfish with his mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out.

“He’s kind of quiet, Kurt. Do you do all the talking for him, is that it? Let the guy get a word in edgeways once in a while, eh?”

Kurt sighed. “Dad, you’ve got it all wrong. Blaine is…”

“Oh, he’s just shy, is he? Meeting the parents is kind of a big thing, that’s true. Well, I’ll give him a few days to get over it. Now, come along. I think I parked somewhere I shouldn’t, and I don’t want my car towed away, so we’d better hurry up. This way!”

Burt hurried off.

“He’s got my luggage!” Blaine said, his eyes wide and frantic. “What do I do?”

Kurt laughed. “When my dad gets something into his head, good luck knocking it out again. Seems like you’re coming home with us, Blaine. Don’t worry, you’ll survive. And you’ll have a good time. We’re crazy, yes, but harmless. Come!”

When Blaine, still flabbergasted, made no move to follow, Kurt grabbed his hand and tugged him along, providing some more information about the family as they weaved through the crowd.

“It used to be just the two of us, my dad and I, but when I was sixteen, Dad remarried, and I got a stepmom and stepbrother out of it. Carole is a darling, you’ll love her, and Finn… Well, he’s clumsy and he eats so much that he’s not allowed to take seconds until everyone else has been served, and he has a big mouth and always puts his foot in it, but he’s great, really. A good guy. And a good brother. He’s studying to be a teacher.”

When they reached the car, Burt had already loaded the luggage and urged them to get in, quick. Kurt decided to get in the back seat with Blaine. He just knew that Burt was going to spend the whole ride glancing into the rear-view mirror and questioning the supposed boyfriend, and he hoped him sitting next to Blaine would bolster the poor guy’s confidence.

Blaine did look grateful when Kurt slid in next to him, and grabbed his hand again as if it was a lifeline.

“What am I, your chauffeur?” Burt quipped.

Kurt faked a British accent. “Yes, of course. Take us home, James. The queen is coming to tea this afternoon, and I still need to make scones.”

Blaine snorted.

Still in the same accent, Kurt said, “What? I make wonderful scones!”

Blaine laughed out loud and then said, “I won’t believe that until I’ve eaten them.”

Kurt grinned, glad that Blaine was getting into the spirit of things.

“So, Blaine, is it? How did you meet Kurt?” Burt wanted to know. “You studying at the same school?”

Blaine shot a panicky look at Kurt, who squeezed his hand in comfort. “I’m studying at NYU, sir. Music therapy and composition.”

“Call me Burt, kiddo. Sir makes me feel old. Ah, so you’re a music nut, too. Are you working at the Spotlight Diner?”

“No, sir... uhm, Burt. I work as a barista.”

Burt chuckled. “With how much coffee Kurt drinks every day, I’m not surprised he found a boyfriend in a coffee shop. So what did you do, leave a foam heart on his drink? Write your number on the cup? Serenade him in front of all the other customers?”

Blaine went rigid, and his hold on Kurt’s hand bordered on painful. Kurt decided to save Blaine from further interrogation.

“Dad, please stop, okay? Blaine is exhausted, leave him alone.”

Burt huffed but shut up for the rest of the ride, cranking the volume of the radio up.

Bit by bit, Blaine relaxed, until he was bopping his head to a Katy Perry tune and softly singing along. He had a lovely voice, and Kurt sat there watching him and listening, completely entranced, until Blaine noticed. He stopped singing at once and ducked his head.

Kurt wanted to say something reassuring, but was distracted by Blaine’s fluttering lashes. The urge to tilt Blaine’s chin up and claim his lips in a kiss was overwhelming. Mesmerised, Kurt moved just a little closer, and then froze when someone cleared his throat.

“We’re home.”

Kurt snapped his head up and looked out of the window, and yes, the car was in the Hudmel driveway.

Next to him, he felt the click of Blaine’s seatbelt, and then his hand suddenly felt cold and empty when Blaine’s slipped out of it.

Kurt hastened to leave the car too, and felt his cheeks heat up when he saw his dad’s knowing grin.

Carole hugged Kurt tightly and told him not to lose any more weight. “What on earth are you eating, there in New York? You can’t live on coffee alone! And you’re way too pale. Are you cooped up inside 24/7? And you have a cough, tsk, tsk, I’ll make you some tea with honey straight away.”

She cooed over Blaine, who was polite and bashful and the perfect guest personified, apologizing that he hadn’t brought a hostess gift for her.

Dinner that night was meatloaf, and Kurt grinned at Blaine, who couldn’t quite disguise his enthusiasm. “Look, it’s your favourite! And Finn isn’t home yet, so you’ll actually get seconds this time.”

Carole squeezed Blaine’s shoulder affectionately. “You take as much as you like, sweetie.”

Blaine did the meal justice, and heaped praise on Carole, his eyes shining with sincerity.

Kurt didn’t notice he was smiling until he caught his dad’s eye and flushed at the meaningful look he saw there. It seemed to say, Oh boy, you’re so far gone on this kid!

Well, Burt did have a point there, but Blaine wasn’t really Kurt’s boyfriend, so this crush would lead to nothing again, as usual. That realization made the smile slide off Kurt’s face as fast as it had come, and he got up and started stacking the plates to clear the table.

“Let me help,” Blaine offered, and he took the oven dish holding the rest of the meatloaf and then hesitated, not quite sure where to take it.

“Follow me,” Kurt said, and led the way to the kitchen.

Blaine deposited the dish on the counter. “That was seriously the BEST meatloaf I’ve ever had in my life.”

“It’s the cheese,” Kurt revealed. “There’s Parmesan cheese in it. That’s what makes it so yummy. It’s my recipe. I can teach you how to make it. If you like.”

“I like.”

Kurt rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher, and then popped his head into the living room to ask Carole and Burt if they wanted coffee. “I could make some decaf? And are there any cookies?”

They said yes to the coffee, and apparently, Carole had baked the day before.

Kurt found the cookie tin and sniffed appreciatively as he opened it. Even though he had a cold, the spices were strong enough for him to catch a whiff. Mmm, that smelled good!

He saw sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies and snickerdoodles. No chocolate or chocolate chip as yet, so he’d be making those the next day. Also almond snowballs, shortbread and maybe his rosemary-lemon bars? He’d have to ask Blaine what his favourite cookies were.

He held out the tin to Blaine. “Try one. We’ll be baking more tomorrow. Lots more, ‘cause Finn eats them faster than we can bake them.”

Blaine laughed and took a cookie. His moan when he bit off a piece made the tips of Kurt’s ears redden, and he hastily rummaged in the cupboards to find a tray for the coffee and the cookies.

In the living room, Carole had started the film It’s A Wonderful Life, and Kurt sighed happily, set down the tray on the coffee table and curled up on the sofa. He felt the cushions give, and a hand reach for his. Blaine!

The corners of his lips turned up of their own accord. He interlocked his fingers with Blaine’s and inched a bit closer because Blaine exuded so much body heat it was like sitting next to an oven. Cold and tired as Kurt felt, this was as close to perfect as it could get.

He watched the movie, munching a few cookies and nursing a mug of tea with honey, and suppressing more and more yawns.

The last thing he was aware of before his eyes slid closed was someone taking the mug from him and covering him with a blanket, with a soft whisper, “Sleep well.”

[talpup]

Erase the Shadow:2

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/52640275

2.1

Hizashi had been working at Hero Radio, doing various jobs, since his second year at UA.  So, when he had finally gotten his own show fourteen months and twenty-one days ago.  Yes, he counted.  He had been Plus Ultra thrilled.

He loved his show and took great pride in how quickly it was gaining popularity.

He had never not wanted to go in and do his show.  Nor had he ever been tempted to do a prerecording.  ‘Put Your Hands Up’ was his love. It was his baby.  It meant the world to him.  And he would gladly miss out on anything if he had a show to do.  Or so he had thought.

It was early Saturday morning and Hizashi was on a bullet train back to the town he had visited last weekend.

He had made it through the week and his long radio show; though it had killed him not to take a half day at school, skip out on his show, and meet Teris for dinner Friday night.

As soon as the On Air light had shut off for the last time, Hizashi had rushed out of the studio.  He hadn’t even bothered to go back to his apartment for the packed bag he forgotten to take with him Friday morning.  He had money.  He could buy toiletries and clothes.  What he couldn’t buy was time.

Stepping off the train, Hizashi looked at the time on his phone.  It was early.  Though the barely rising sun could have told him that.

He wondered if Teris would even be awake.

Like Shouta, she was an underground hero who did night patrols.  So, depending on how her patrol went, it was possible that she might just be getting home.

Still, just being in the same town as her, Hizashi felt relaxed.  Giddy. Excited.  But at ease.

He walked in the general direction of her apartment and got the idea to buy what he needed for the weekend.  It would kill some time while he waited for a more suitable hour to pay Teris call.

Thankfully, he found a twenty-four hour convenience store that had basically everything he needed.  So what if the tee shirt was some cheap, cheesy tourist thing that had a skyline of the city and All Might saying ‘I am here!  To view the sights!’.  He owned worse.  He would just have to wash, or buy pants and underwear later.

An hour and a half later, he sent Teris a text.

Hizashi: ‘What do you say to breakfast instead of dinner?’

It took Teris a few minutes to respond; and Hizashi grew increasingly nervous as the seconds ticked by.  Finally, his phone dinged.

Teris: ‘Sure.  When and where?’

Hizashi grinned at his phone.

Making sure not to drop or spill anything, he quickly pocketed the device and knocked a little tune on Teris’ door.

As soon as the door was opened, Hizashi gave her his best smile.  “How about here and now?”

“Yamada!”

Hizashi's smile fell slightly.  “I told you back in UA to call me Hizashi. That hasn’t changed.”

Her surprise wearing off, Teris’ brow smoothed, replaced by a smile.

She shook her head and released a breath.  “Still the same ol’ Zashi. Come on in.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”  Hizashi said, kicking the door closed behind him.

Teris made her way toward the back of the apartment.  “Being full of surprises is one of the things I always liked about you.”

“I hope there was more than one thing you liked about me.”  Hizashi played.

“Flirt. Go on and set us up while I change into some proper clothes.”

“Friends don’t need to stand on propriety.”  Hizashi said, admiring the way her short robe clung to her hips and ass.

“Why don’t we save the impropriety for after dinner.”  She laughed, closing the bedroom door behind her.

He had just finished setting the table, when he heard Teris exit the bedroom.

Gesturing to the table, he gave a small bow.  “Dinner is served.”

Teris felt her cheeks heat and cursed herself for tying her hair back.

“Zashi. I thought you wanted to reconnect, not just get in my pants.”

“Yeah! I do!  I mean.  I totally wanna reconnect.  But… That doesn’t mean we can’t connect in other ways too.”

She laughed, pulling out a chair.  “Do those lines usually work?”

“Don’t know.”  Hizashi shrugged, taking a seat.  “You’ll have to let me know.”

2.2

Hizashi and Teris spent the day together.  After breakfast, they had gone for a long walk at a nearby park, then visited her favorite cat cafe. Hizashi had previously done an internet search for some good, hole in the wall music stores.  And being a music lover herself, Teris had happily suggested that they visit all of them.  Damn, he loved this woman.

They had dined at an American restaurant Teris knew about and was sure Hizashi would love.  After dinner, they had taken another long walk. Apparently, a very long walk as it was nearing midnight and they were only just now returning to her apartment.

“Well, today was really fun.”  Hizashi smiled, eyes on her backside.

Turning the key in the lock, Teris looked over her shoulder at him.  “Don’t act like you’re not coming in.”

“Oh? Am I invited in?”

“Yeah. You gotta get your bag don’t you?”

Hizashi's winning smile faltered.  “Right.”

“Though, if you’d like to stay for a--”

“Yeah!”

Teris cringed at Hizashi's volume, smiling apologetically at her passing neighbor.

“Yamada Hizashi, if I get a noise complaint...”  She scolded lightly.

Hizashi grimaced.  “Sorry.”  He leaned against the door jam as she opened the door.  “But you might wanna apologize to your neighbors now. Cause you’ll be screaming--”

Teris pushed Hizashi inside, and turned to her wide-eyed neighbor who was unlocking their own door a few meters away.  “He means that in the dirtiest way, not a threat.”

“I think they know that, Baby.”  Hizashi called from inside.

Teris’ blush grew, reaching her ears.  Damn it.  Why was she such a dork?

Unable to even look in her neighbors direction, she quickly apologized and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

She was met with Hizashi’s hungry lips, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

Pushing lightly against his chest, she pulled her head back.  “Hizashi! What are you doing?”

Arms still wrapped around her, Hizashi blinked in honest surprise.  “Did I read this wrong?  You apologized to your neighbor out there and--”

Teris smashed her lips against his, tongue diving into his mouth.  Her once pushing hands slid up his shoulders to pull him closer.

What the hell are you doing!  She thought as Hizashi tightened his hold and swirled his tongue with hers.  Shut up!  She told herself.  He’s hot and I’m horny.  He’s also one of the two guys you’ve had a thing for since UA, she reminded herself.  This isn’t some random guy you met at bar.  This Hizashi.  I told you to shut up!  You’re an idiot for not seeing how messy this could get, she warned herself. You should stop now.

As if to spite herself, Teris clumsily reached back searching.

Breathing hard, Hizashi broke the kiss.  “Whatcha need, Baby?”

“Door. Lock.”  Teris said in between nipping kisses to Hizashi's neck.

Hizashi groaned at her administrations.  Hand on the deadbolt, he snapped it shut.

“Damn, Baby.  You keep that up and I’ll be cumming in my pants.”

“You better not.  You made me a promise.”  She pulled back, eyes locking with his.  “Let’s see if you can keep it and make me scream.”

Hizashi whined, cock throbbing in his tight pants.  He needed to get out of the things.

Thankfully, Teris was already undoing his belt.

He quickly did the same with hers.

Hizashi sighed in relief when she pulled down his pants.  He stepped back, watching her push her down.

Teris stepped out of her pants and took off her shirt.

“Damn, Ris.  You’re beautiful.

“Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Maybe. But, I’ve never meant it half as much as I do now.”

“You’ve always been a sweet talker, Zashi.  It’s one of the things that made telling you no back in UA so difficult.”

“It’s alright, Babe.  I understood.  You had it rough.  You gave up everything to be in UA’s hero course.  But you’re a pro-hero now. So,” he licked his lips, eyes raking over her, “whatcha say we make up for lost time?”

Teris nodded and stepped to him.

Hizashi pulled off his shirt and kissed her.  One hand dropped the tee, while the other wrapped around her and unclasped her bra.

Teris shrugged it off and carded her fingers through his loose, long blonde hair.  It was even softer than it looked.

She squeaked when he picked her up.

He turned and made for the back of the apartment.  “What d'ya say we take this to the bedroom.”

Wrapping her legs and arms around him, Teris kissed and sucked at his neck.

“Mark me up all you want, Babe.  I’ll wear those hickeys like a badge of honor.”

“Only cause your speaker covers them up.”  She shot back, biting and sucking harder.

“I only wear it when I’m working.”

“Yeah. Well I have no such covering so be mindful of that.”

He dropped her on the bed and pushed her back.

“Remind me.  How low does the collar of your costume go?”  He asked, latching onto a pert nipple.

Her back arched, a moan falling from her lips.

He smiled at that.  And to think he had been a bit worried that he wouldn’t be able to give her a romp that would have her coming back for more.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in costume.  Is that collar lower still?”  He asked, lips trailing down her breast to her torso.

Teris squirmed at the tickle of his mustache.

He stopped at her navel.

“Maybe here would be a good place to leave my mark.”  His hand glided up her thigh, the other plucking at the waistband of her panties.  “Then again, I don’t wanna chance people seeing it and thinking you’re unprofessional.  Perhaps I should go lower still.  Just to be doubly safe.”

“Zashi.” Teris whined, rocking her hips up against him.

His fingers rubbed at her clothed pussy, reveling in the dampness of the fabric.  Finding her already that wet and eager for him had pre-cum leaking out of his cock, dampening his own underwear.

Teris’ legs trembled, another whine sounding from her throat.

“Zashi.” She rutted against his hand.

“Yes, my Sweet?”

“Please.”

“Please what, Baby?”

She groaned, pouting.

Damn. She was so cute, Hizashi thought.  He would definitely be making up for lost time.  He hadn’t been lying when he said he had understood.  Even as a love-struck boy of sixteen, he hadn’t wanted to be the reason Teris got distracted and failed out of the hero course.  Not when he knew what she had given up to go to UA and become a hero.  But they were passed that now.

He was no longer a love-struck boy wanting to date his crush.  He was a man who had spent the day with his boyhood crush and learned that girl he had fallen for had grown up into an even better woman.  He was a man who not only wanted to date this woman, but wanted to be in a relationship with her.  A long term, exclusively him and her relationship.

“Don’t worry, Baby.  I won’t make you beg.  Just tell me you want it.”

“I want it, Zashi.”

Damn it.  She was making a fool of herself, she thought.  Well, you’re the one whose always too busy to go out and find a guy to take the edge off.  You don’t even take your time masturbating.  You just do it quickly and fall asleep.  And now, you’re laying in nothing but your panties with one of the two guys you imagine every time you masturbate.  Of course you’re gonna make a fool of yourself.  Just be grateful it’s not Shouta above you.  You’d never hear the end of it.  As if Shouta would still want me after...

“Give me hand, Babe.  Lift those pretty hips.”

Teris blinked.  She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Hizashi rise up to his knees between her legs and hook his fingers into the waistband of her panties.

She blushed, chastising herself.  What would Hizashi say if he learned you were thinking about his best friend just now?

Seeing her tinted cheeks, Hizashi cajoled  “No need to be shy.  Here. I’ll go first.”

He stripped off his briefs.

Teris stared at his proud cock.

“You like them?”  Hizashi asked, nervously.

Why was he so freaking nervous?  He was usually proud, sure, and flaunting about his piercings.

She blinking at the three Jacob’s Ladder piercings.  Did she like them? They were certainly interesting.

Her eyes lifted to his green ones.  “Your dick is pierced.”

What! What the fuck was that?  She would’ve facepalmed herself and hidden in shame if Hizashi hadn’t chuckled.

“How observant.  Yeah.  I considered doing my tongue too but was too scared.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “You got your dick pierced, but not your tongue, because you were scared?”

“Well, yeah.  Do you realize how important the tongue is when it comes to speech?  I’m the Voice Hero!  I couldn’t chance anything messing with that.”

Teris gave a small laugh.  Damn, this man was so incredibly cute.

She sat up and slid a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him closer.  “Come here.”

Hizashi happily received and returned her kiss.

He wondered if her should tell her the other reason he had feared piercing his tongue.  That it would mess with his ability to act as a human vibrator when he went down on his partners.

He smiled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers.  Nah.  She had said she like his surprises.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”  He gruffed, pushing her down and pulling at her panties.

She readily lifted her hips this time, rearing back up and pulling him down with her as soon as they were gone.

“Save the playing around for next time.  I need you now, Zashi.”

Hizashi's cock bobbed against her thigh.  Fucking hell!  He loved this woman.

He swallowed, biting his tongue, least those words spill from his mouth. He was pretty sure saying something like that would be an instant killer.

“I—fuck.” He cursed softly, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead against hers.  “I don’t have a condom.”

“Not even in your bag?”

Hizashi bit his lower lip and shook his head.  “I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.”

“Says the guy who started making innuendos as soon as he walked in my door.”

Hizashi pulled his head back.  “That was flirting!  That’s different.” He sighed, lowering his head and looking at the delectable twin mounds of her breasts.  “Do you have one?”

Teris scoffed.  “I don’t get around much.  And when I do, I don’t bring them home.”

Hizashi nodded.

Though disappointed that she didn’t have a condom, he was pleased she was being safe.  Even as a pro hero, Teris was still a woman living alone.  Never mind the chance that one of her hook-ups might figure out she was a pro and sell her address to a villain.

“I’m clean.”  He said.  “If you don’t trust me you can call RG, or… I could go out and--”

She tucked his hair behind his ear.  “I trust you, Zashi.  I’m clean too.  Though I have no one like Recovery Girl for you to verify--”

Her words were cut off an enthusiastic kiss.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, encouraging him to lay more of his weight on her.  She wanted to feel this man she had like and fantasized over for so long.  Though she was a little nervous about his piercings, wondering how they would feel.

“Are you ready for me, Baby?”

“Put it in, Sunshine.”

Hizashi whined.

Fuck. Was she trying to get him to cum before he got a chance to please her?

Hizashi brought his hips back and took himself to hand, running his length through her sopping cunt.  Damn.  She was so wet.

It was a huge ego boost.  Though the more sensible side of him told himself that she was probably just that horny.

After spending the day with her, talking and reconnecting, he had learned that she was still a lot like Shouta.  Taking on too much work, and rarely getting out and having fun.

He shook his head.

Where the hell had that come from?  It had been bad enough that Teris had asked about Shouta numerous times throughout their day together.  He didn’t want to bring his friend into the bedroom.  He certainly didn’t want to bring his friend into this bedroom.  If he got is way, by the end of this weekend, Teris would be his.  And if somehow she wasn’t, there was always next weekend.

The thought made him push in in one single, hard trust.  Fuck!  She was tight.

Teris clawed at his shoulders.

“Sorry. Too much?”  Hizashi asked, cursing his roughness.

“Just right.”  Teris breathed.

Well that was one questioned answered.  The piercings felt wonderful.

Lacing her fingers through his hair, she pulled him into another heated kiss.

“Fuck me, Zashi.  Make me scream.”

2.3

Shouta woke up early Sunday morning in a sad, foul mood.  He rolled over, glaring at the small swath of light that filtered in between the blackout curtains.

Shouta didn’t dream on the night of the new moon, unless Teris was asleep to share his dream.  So his short dream cycle with her last night told him that she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

It was always a disappointment when that happen; but what made it even worse this time was that he knew Hizashi had gone to see her.

Shouta pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it over his face even though the curse he yelled was silent.

This might've seemed a little quick with Hizashi and Teris just having reconnected; but I hc Hizashi as a horndog and he definitely will be in this fic.  In Teris' defense, she really was pent up and horny.  She also always had a thing for Zashi and Shouta.  Also, I just really wanted to write a bit of light smut.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or reblogged.  They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 who has never failed to encourage me.  I'm not kidding when I say you all are getting this fic cause of them.  This fic was my personal guilt pleasure and never would've been seeing the light of day if it weren't for them.

[storiesabouthumanandthings]

Milkshake 3

His milkshake?

(This is the last one.....i hope)

The woman was cleaning out her house with the help of the gentleman from down the block. She simply scooped up the broken blender and its pieces into a small grocery bag to throw away. Before throwing it away, a teenage boy rolled by on his bike. He could see electrical components sticking out of the bag. He stopped and pull up to the woman right before she dropped the bag in. "can I have that?" He quietly asked. Unable to her him the woman asked what. He repeated slightly louder, "may I have that? I play with electronics and it looks like I could..." before he could finish she woman handed him the bag, "it's trash, I don't need your life story. Just be careful with it. It's, like, cursed or something." The boy took the bag with a raised eyebrow. He thanked her and hurried back home. He inspected the main electrical pieces. A few welds and everything should work. He slowly glued all the glass pieces and covering back together. After the weekend was over, he had it rebuilt. The glass blender was still unusable but the base worked fine. He was planning to throw the blender out now he fixed it but it was late and he had school in the morning. He left the blender in the basement for the week, forgetting about it.��

The weekend came and he got his hands on some new electronics, a few broken phones with cracked screens and old tablets. He was hoping to combine the two. When coming down stairs he saw the blender was whole. It still had lines where he glued but it was all solid. Is this what the woman meant by cursed? A healing blender? How is that a curse? He immediately decided that it needed to be tested. He went slow, blending fruits and soft items. He slowly increased the hardness of the items to be blended until it was just solid ice. Once done, he decided it was strong enough for everyday uses. He now had to dispose of a lot of random liquids into the garden without being seen for wasting food. He pushed the random containers of random liquids outside the basement window. As he did so, he could hear his new favorite sound. The roar of a motorcycle. Instead of finishing the task at hand, he went to the front yard. He was a few houses down but he could still see the motorcycle. It was in poor condition but he fantasized about working on it, making it better with a few extra components. He also envied the bike owner. He always thought she was so free and cool, he wished he was more like that. After staring probably longer than normal, he realized he still had a task to do. 

He went to the back of his property and began to poor the liquids into his mother’s garden bed, hoping it all to soak into the soil before anyone would notice. Once finished, he went back to his basement. He couldn’t see how a this blender could be cursed. It did seem abnormal that it sorta healed but that might be some new material. Or maybe the heat of the glue welded it together. He didn’t care, but he did want to test it some more. But it was getting late again and he had a busy day tomorrow. 

The next day was a lot of yard work. He was tasked to clean the yard. He hated that was his chore, the sun was a deadly laser in his mind. It was always too hot and it didn’t seem to matter how much sun block he used, he always ended up burnt. He mowed the lawn, raked the clippings and any debris the blew in. He also watered the lawn and garden, which he was actually thankful for since his experiment was still mostly laying on top. After watering, most of the remains were dispensed out or covered with dirt. By the time he finished, the sun was setting. He made his way to the basement. He wanted to go to bed but the basement was cooler than his room. He saw the blender and immediately knew what he wanted. He begrudgingly made his way back upstairs, gather the ingredients and began to make his well deserved snack. His parents left for the night so it was up to him to make his dinner. A simple milkshake sounded perfect. He washed the blender, making sure that there was no remnants of his experiments or glue floating about.

Once finished, he plopped himself down in front of his homemade entertainment system, piece together from other’s trash. The surround sound was so great, he nearly missed the the banging at his front door. He was slow to answer. Before opening the door, he peered through the peephole. He noticed his yard was filled with people. He immediately began to panic. This must be the vandalized that has been hitting the neighborhood for the past month. He began backing up when he heard screaming voices from outside. He patted himself down when he realized he left his phone in the basement. Suddenly his front door flew open and the girl that owned the bicycle was in his house with another girl. 

“Dammit!” screamed the delivery girl, “they are already inside!” She swung her bat high behind her, getting ready for the swing. The boy collapsed onto the floor, covering his face. “Wait!” screamed the girl, “He’s different. He’s not in a zombie state.” The girl extended a hand, “we’re here to help. Now is your mom or sister or any female relative in the house?” The boy shook his head, taking her hand slowly. “What’s going on?” Screamed the deliver girl over the banging at the door. “I don’t know but we got to get out of here.” The delivery girl nodded and held a hand, “Come with me if you want to live.” The girl huffed and rolled her eyes. The delivery girl answered defensively, “Oh come on, that was funny! And I always wanted to say that and when am I going to get another chance?” The girl snapped back angrily, “Next weekend, with our luck. And we need to study for finals to make sure you graduate and I still have top grades.” The delivery girl pouted, “My grades aren’t that bad.” 

“Hey!” called out the boy, “escape?” The girl nodded, still holding onto his hand, “Follow us and we will try to keep you safe.” The girl stood at the door. The delivery girl took a few steps back, stretched and rolled her neck, making it pop at the joints, “Let’s do this, baby!” The girl rolled her eyes and smiled, “such a drama queen.” The girl yanked the door open as the delivery ran full speed towards it, using the bat in front of her as a sort of battle ram, pushing and hitting boys out of the way. The girl quickly followed behind her, pulling the boy with them. As they ran, some of the boys were able to react and were reaching out at the boy. He screamed as they ran, occasionally needing the delivery girl to hit a few back or the girl to yank him up and away from them. They eventually cleared the thick part of the mob. The delivery girl jumped on her bike, starting it up fast, “everyone hold on tight, I’ve never done this with 3 people.” The girl held onto the delivery girl and the boy held onto the girl as the slowly rolled down the street shakily. 

They were eventually able to clear the crowd and stopped at a nearby park. “We can’t stay here long but we can’t out run them,” stated the delivery girl. The girl walked in circles, “I know, I know but what has changed?” The girl turned to the boy, “are you sure none of the women in your house were there? or did they make a milkshake before leaving the house?” The boy shook his head, “No, I was the only one home. I did make a milkshake. How did you know this?” The girls’ heads shoot at him, “You made a milkshake?!” He nodded taking a step back, like he was being sculled. “Did you buy a blender from a gypsy?” asked the delivery girl. “Or just a yard sale from a woman?” The boy shook his head. The girls’ sighed exhausted, not liking his answer. “I did get a blender recently.” The girls continued to talk on their own, ignoring him. “If it wasn’t the blender, then all of our previous theories are wrong,” worried the girl. “Maybe not, maybe this is a new curse. Maybe he is cursed with something else,” suggested the delivery girl. The girl shook her head, “No, we are just missing something.” 

“Curse? A cursed blender?” asked the boy. The delivery girl nodded, “It started with this one,” pointing at the girl, “and then again with the neighbor. But we destroyed the blender, so end of story.” “apparently not,” grumbled the girl. The delivery girl continued, “all we know is the blender zombiefied all the boys in the neighborhood, if not the whole town, to the girl or woman who made a milkshake in the blender, causing them all to go to her house.” “Oh!” exclaimed the boy. The delivery girl nodded, “and that’s what has been our date night for the past month basically.” The boy whispered quietly, “I, um, fixed the blender.” “What?!” screamed the girl. The boy suddenly spurted everything out, “The woman said it was cursed but who believes in curses anymore and I just wanted a puzzle to I put it back together and forgot about it, after a week, the blender was whole again after gluing it together, and it seemed more of a blessing than a curse, and I had a hot day and I wanted a cold drink so I made a milkshake and how was I to know it knew it was really cursed and how does it know I am a woman, no one knows that but me.”

The park became quiet except for the income steps of the neighborhood boys. The girl spoke first, “Wait, so your trans-woman?” The boy, now new girl nodded, tearing up a little. The delivery girl blurted out, “Forget that, how did you fix it?!” The new girl blinked, “What?” “How did you fix it, she smashed the shit out of the stupid blender and you just fixed it?” The new girl nodded, “well yeah. I am good with electronics so I put the peaces back together. I looked at the blended as a 3D puzzle and just put it back together with some circuitry soldering and superglue.” The girl began to laugh, “now it all makes sense. He, I mean she, sorry. She put the cursed blender back together, it magically healed, She made a milkshake, and it brought the boys to her yard. The theory still works!” The delivery girl nodded, “so next, we do what we have been doing, destroy the blender and the milkshake and we should be ok?” The girl nodded, “Let’s hurry back to her house before it gets worse.”

It was a quick ride back to the street. It was already packed. “I don’t we are getting through this way,” stated the delivery girl. “What other way do we have?” ask the girl. “I have an idea,” the new girl offered. She quickly pointed to the next block over and had them stop at an unseeming house. “Now, we run through this person’s yard, climb the back fence, and get inside my house. The blender in in the basement so we can squeeze through a small window.” The girls’ nodded and ran through the back yard. Once reaching the fence, the deliver girl tossed her bat and lifted the girl over. The new girl attempted to climb over herself but had no upper body strength to speak of. The delivery girl walked over to where the new girl was basically dangling off the fence and hefted her over with little effort. She was able to run, jump, and yank herself over the wall with ease.

Once over, they could see the boys start filing in on either side of the house. “Quick,” yelled the new girl. They ran to the window. The new girl opened in the window, “Go in first. You apparently know what to do.” The girl climbed through first. “Okay, now you,” said the delivery girl. The new girl shook her head, “No you, leave me the bat and I’ll hold off until your in. You know how to stop this, I don’t” The delivery girl nodded and handed the bat over. The new girl ran towards some of the boys, knocking them down and pushing them back, then running to the other side, trying to hold them back. “Okay, it’s clear, it’s your turn,” called the delivery girl. The new girl ran to the window. She tossed the bat in first and began to crawl in. She was about half in when the boys began to pull on her legs, “Help,” she screamed. The girl grabbed the new girl’s hands, “Don’t let go.” “I don’t plan to.” The girl began to pull the new girl in in a tug-o-war effort. The delivery girl quickly found the blender and re-smashed it. “Do you have a cup of it?” the delivery girl called out. The new girl nodded, “yes but it’s in my favorite cup!” “I’ll buy you a new damn cup, where is it?” “Next to the TV.” The delivery girl grabbed it and slammed it to the ground next to the blender.

Once the cup shattered, the boys released and the new girl came flying in on top of the girl. The delivery girl walked over with an extended hand, “Oh we save your life and now you’re trying to steal my girlfriend.” The new girl quickly got up, “What?! No! I wasn’t doing anything!” The delivery girl laughed, “I was only joking. Now let’s clean this mess up.” They piled all the glass in once spot and the solid blender pieces in another. They bagged the up separate. They walked around the block, most of the boys had dispersed by now, a few were confused where they even were, pulling up maps on their phone or calling for a ride. They got back onto the delivery girl’s bike and rode to a secluded area, holding the bags on opposite sides of the bike. Upon arrival, the girl’s went into separate directions, set both bags on fire, and buried the pieces separate. “That should be the last of that,” exclaimed the girl. 

They all returned back to the new girl’s house. “Hey, Thank you both for tonight.” The delivery girl shrugged, “we had nothing better plan.” The new girl nodded and continued slowly, “but you now know something about me that no one else does. not my parents. not my friends.” The girl stepped up and grabbed her hand, “Your secret is safe. Plus, if you need help again, just give us a call.” The delivery girl wrapped an arm around the new girl’s shoulder, “Plus aren’t we friends now. We did just defeat a curse and a horde of zombie boys.” The new girl nodded, “yeah, I guess that would make us friends.” “Just one question though. What do we call you?” the delivery girl asked. “What?” said the new girl. “What do we call you? Like I knew your name from classes but now that you are out, to us at least, do we still call you that or do you have a new, preferred name?” The new girl blinked, “Oh. Um, well, I haven’t thought of a new name. Do I need a new name? I was just planning to come out after I moved away” The girls shook their heads, the girl speaking, “You don’t need a new name but we will support you in whatever you need and will stand with you when you come out.” The new girl nodded, “well, just call me the same name for now.”

As they talked, their stomach’s began to growl, the delivery girl spoke first, “Pizza?” the girl rolled her eyes, “why always pizza?” “Because pizza is awesome,” answered the new girl. “You are going to fit in great here,” laughed the delivery girl, “I’ll run to work and get a couple of boxes and we can eat.” The new girl nodded, “when you come back, I want to talk to you about your bike.” “What about this piece of junk?” “Well I am always messing with electrics. I can update your headlights and turn signals, maybe add electric readers.” “You can do that?! that’ll be awesome!” The new girl shrugged, “if I can find parts, sure. In the mean time, I can get some make up tips from you?” turning to the girl. She almost squealed, “Oo, makeover! She never lets me put make up on her unless it’s something extreme for possible concert ideas.” The delivery girl rushed to Barnyard Pizza, and they had a girls night in to relax. 

Previous                              Next                                First

[raendrops]

when was the last time you slept? - Jacob Seed x Deputy

a/n: hi! ok so this is my first fic ever. it’s not been beta read because i’m too anxious to have anyone read it lmfao. ANYWAYS i have reread this about two thousand times so if i don’t post it here now, i never will. that said, i’ve cross-posted on AO3-- my user there is the same as here. let me know what you think! <3

link to AO3

Somehow, some way, Rook found herself in the goddamned cage again. If she didn’t know any better, Rook would say someone inside her head was throwing pebbles against the walls of her skull. Her ears rang and her back ached. Rook was tired of being treated like a zoo animal.

The wails and caterwauling of the captive, innocent citizens of the Whitetail Mountains filled the air. As she looked around her, Rook made eye contact with as many of the prisoners as she could. The boy next to her (who couldn’t have been older than Wheaty) shivered in the cold Montana air.

How long has this quasi-Holy War been going on for? It was difficult -- no, impossible-- to track time in this war-torn Hope County. The frigid breeze in the air suggested late fall, but then again, Rook was malnourished, exhausted, and exposed. She always felt cold nowadays.

Rook was yanked out of her reverie to the uncomfortably familiar sound of military grade combat boots and the clink clink clink of dog tags.

“Look who’s up. How was your cat nap, kitten?” Jacob Seed’s voice always gave her chills. Excluding the night of Joseph Seed’s arrest, Rook had only met Jacob twice before. But, she had spent enough time in the mountains and liberating his outposts. She was very familiar with the man’s smooth timbre.

The sky was the kind of orange that only happens on the cusp of daybreak or the cusp of nightfall. Rook wasn’t sure exactly which it was. She raked her eyes up the Herald’s form and landed on his cool grey eyes. Looking Jacob Seed in the eyes was about as intimidating as making direct eye contact with a hungry wolf. A staring contest with a wolf is basically guaranteed disembowelment. Rook wasn’t quite sure what this prolonged stare with the eldest Seed would result in. Hell, she very well could be disemboweled.

As Rook was about to counter his snide comment, she interrupted herself with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Still a bit drowsy, huh pup? Gonna be honest, you look like shit. Eyes are dull, skin’s looking a little gray... Damn, when was the last time you slept?” He regarded her with a scornful smirk. His barrage of insults wasn’t lost on Rook. She knew she looked like shit-- she felt even worse. In truth, Rook wasn’t exactly sure when the last time she really slept was.

“Good question Seed. Guess it depends... what day is it?” The corners of Jacob’s mouth twitched upwards, but his face was quickly schooled back into the severe gaze that Rook had become accustomed to.

“Pathetic.” He murmured and turned his face away from her shivering form. Rook had relatively thick skin. She’d always been able to tolerate ridicule, but Rook had reached the end of her rope.

“Me? Pathetic? The only reason I can’t get any fucking sleep is because I’m constantly forced to check over my shoulder for you and your siblings and your fucking death arrows and murder dogs! I haven’t slept in a bed that wasn’t previously occupied by a corpse in months! I’m tired. I’m cold. I’m ready to leave these fucking mountains-- hell, this fucking county! But I can’t! I took an oath-- made a promise that I would protect the people of this county. The longer I’m in this cage, the longer I break my promise. I’m tired of breaking promises.” She felt her eyes watering, but Rook blamed the slipping tears on the blustery winds. The soldier was not so easily fooled.

“Don’t cry, pup. Crying is for the weak.”

“Thought I was weak.” Rook sniffled.

“Haven’t been for a while,” he replied gruffly “do ya recognize any of your neighbors?”

Rook threw her head around, searching for familiar faces in the cages around her. No, they were all new. Fresh meat.

“No, I made you strong, and I’ll make you stronger.” He looked smug. What Rook would do to be able to get out of this cage and bitch slap him. Despite her growing urge for violence, she had to laugh.

“I’d be stronger if I could get some peace and quiet. Maybe a pillow. Or something to eat that wasn’t raw meat.”

“Got any other requests?” Jacob’s tone was joking, but the look in his eyes was not.

Rook crawled to the front of the cage and wrapped her hands around the bars. The sudden movement sent her world spinning and she struggled to maintain her balance. She sat on her haunches and bared her teeth at her captor in a devilish grin.

“Would you consider letting me out of my cage?” She fluttered her eyelashes and pushed her shoulders back. Rook never considered herself particularly attractive, but she tried her damnedest to look the part of the alluring hostage.

Jacob crouched and gripped the bars of the cage just above Rook’s hands. He leaned forward until the only thing separating his face from Rook’s was the iron rods and a few spare centimeters. Internally, Rook balked at the nearness of his wolf eyes to hers. She balked at the nearness of his nose to hers, of his lips to hers. Despite his intimidation tactic, Rook did not shrink from him-- and for that she was proud. The staring contest continued, and Rook’s thought began to wander. It had been a long time since she was this close to anyone. The sharp contrast of the cold metal bars and the radiating warmth of Jacob's hands above hers gave Rook goosebumps. The heat of his breath cascaded across her face. He had had coffee recently, Rook noted. His proximity allowed the deputy the chance to actually smell the man in front of her. He smelled like metal and moss. Not entirely unpleasant. She was lost in his eyes; apparently, piercing blue eyes was a Seed trait. Rook determined that Jacob’s were the most domineering. Upon further inspection of his eyes, Rook discovered a certain sadness to them. When was the last time he was this close to someone?

Rook was startled out of her trance when hot ball of spit landed on her across cheek. She recoiled in mortification. Jacob stood abruptly and smirked.

“Remember your place, pup.”

Somehow, some goddamned way, Rook found herself with a bliss arrow lodged in her upper thigh. Again. Her vision blurred and the last thing she heard before she collapsed was Sharky exclaiming “Holy shitsticks, Dep!”.

Rook woke up. Head throbbing, ears ringing. It had only been a short while since she last found herself at the hands of Jacob Seed. Only a few days at most. But then again, time moves strangely in Hope County.

She shouldn’t have stayed in the mountains, but something inside her just wouldn’t let her leave.

Seconds after opening her eyes, bright white lights forced Rook to squeeze her eyes shut again. After recovering from her temporary blindness, she slowly wrenched her sore eyes open.

She realized two things:

1. She wasn’t in the cage.

She sat up-- her back didn’t ache.

2. She was in a bed.

Upon her second inspection, it was less a bed, more of a cot.

The room she found herself in was Spartan-- sterile and blindingly bright. But it was still a room. No exposed sky, no frigid Montana winds, no corpse neighbors.

She finally gathered the nerve to stand. On a nearby desk sat a tray with a protein bar, an apple, a bottle of water, and a slip of paper. Weak arms struggled to unscrew the cap of the water bottle. Once she had opened the bottle, Rook chugged half the water. A quiet voice in her head reminded Rook that she didn't know if this was her only source of water. Still feeling parched, she screwed the bottle shut.

Too nauseated from the Bliss to eat, she picked up the note.

Written in small, concise letters, the note read: “Remember your place.”

[hoseokbubu]

Pinkie [chapter 3]

When they walked up the stairs to their floor, Yoongi was getting ready to take out his trash. “Hey Jimin”. Jimin’s heart stopped, but he knew after their conversation earlier, he had to start calling him by his name.  

“Hey Yoongi” Jimin squinted at the way his voice sounded so insecure. They just passed each other and went their separate ways. When they made it into the room, Jimin let out a huge breath.

“That was crazy… did you see that?” Taehyung was pretty amused, to say the least. “You guys literally only said hi to each other..” Jimin threw a pillow Taehyung's way and got him right in the face.

“Better than nothing amiright?”

◾◾◾

It's now Saturday afternoon and it's Jimin day off. He usually sleeps in as long as he can, or takes as many naps as he can. He’d be napping right now if it weren't for his loud neighbors. Most saturdays, Yoongi and his roomate seemingly have a few friends over and it's always pretty loud. He didn't mind much, unless he was trying to nap like now, but Jimin’s grateful this is a once a week type of thing and not every night, so he doesn't get mad, just decides he's done napping and climbs out of bed. It's better if he does something productive anyway. He barely made it to his dresser when there was a knock on his door. He quickly grabbed the closest sweatpants and ran to the door, assuming to find Taehyung. They always try to find a way to see each other on days off, but when Jimin opened his front door, shirtless and sporting some bad bed head, all he saw was “Yoongi hyung?” Yoongi tried his damn hardest not to let his eyes go where they wanted to go. It was LITERALLy painful keeping control of himself.

“Hey Jimin, morning, did I wake you?” he was dressed in light wash skinny jeans and a big black zip up hoodie and Jimin couldn't but stare. He looked so comfortable and simple but so fucking hot.

“No, not at all, what's up?”

“Well uh, I have a couple friends over right now and were just kind of doing karaoke and drinking and.. well do you wanna maybe come hang out?” Jimin was ecstatic at the invitation but laughed.

“You guys start drinking this early??” Yoongi smiled at the giggling Pinkie and pulled out his phone to check the time.

“I mean it's past 2 so..” Jimin laughed again “yeah I think I’d really like that” When silence fell between them again Jimin suddenly remembered he was shirtless and crossed his arms. “I'll be over in a second I need to change” he laughed awkwardly and didn't give a Yoongi a chance to respond and just shut his door.

“Okay breathe. Breathe. Call Tae. Tae will help.” He quickly dialed his best friends number and jogged in place nervously.

“TAE TAE TAE TAE TAE” Jimin yelled when he finally picked up. “Oh my god what??”

“HEINVITEDMEOVERTOHANGOUTWITHHISFRIENDSANDDRINKBEERSANDIMGOINGOVERWHATDOIDO?”

“Okay… uh. So you're gonna go hang out with him and his friends.. In his house?”

“YES. NOW HELP.”

“Okay, but calm down first. What are you going to wear??” Jimin was raking through his hangers trying to find something. “I don't know Tae I was kinda hoping you'd HELP ME” Taehyung laughed, “Wear your ripped skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, don't overthink it. You're only going over to hangout so just dress comfortably.” Jimin let out a breath.

“Thanks, I seriously can't think at all right now.”

“No problem just remember, be yourself and stay calm.” Tae always has the best advice. Jimin feel 200% better as he hangs up with Taehyung and yanks his clothes out of the closet. He laid it out all on the bed and stared at it thinking, ‘now how can I make this sexier?’ He suddenly remembered the thin leather choker Tae bought him for his birthday last year. He's never really had a reason to wear it until now. Once he was fully dressed he smiled at himself in the mirror and slipped his converse on. It took him way too long to knock on Yoongi's front door but once he did, it was opened almost immediately revealing a very drunk looking friend of his.

“Oh hey you're Jimin. Come on in Yoongi is peeing.” Jimin laughed at his words walked came in holding a bottle of wine that's been sitting in his cabinet for too long. The first thing he sees when he walks in is a big comfy couch with a hyper ass boy jumping on it singing Bboom bboom by Momoland at full volume. The man who opened the door for him quickly got his attention back though when he hears a “damn your ass IS fucking great” from behind him. His eyes widened and he turned to look at him but Yoongi was pulling Jimin by the arm.

“Don't listen to Hoseok. He's already an idiot but when he's drunk there's no telling what he'll say.” Jimin tried to pay attention to his words but all he could seem to focus on was the burning feeling he felt on his wrist where Yoongi was still holding him. He must've noticed Jimin absence because suddenly Yoongi let go “sorry”. Jimin silently gasped.

“What? No it's okay, sorry, I was just uh distracted by what your friend said.” Yoongi's eyes narrowed, “What did he say to you?”

“Oh? I thought you heard him, it's not a big deal.”

“I didn't hear, I only mentioned him having a big mouth because I half expected him to hit on you.” Jimin flushed up a little at that, not knowing if he should tell Yoongi that's exactly what he did. Yoongi caught on.

“Oh shit, he did. What did he say? Did he make you uncomfortable??” Jimin smiled at his protective tone but decided not to overthink it.

“He just said, “damn your ass IS fucking great” but it's fine, it's kinda nice to hear that my ass is great. And He's your friend so I'm sure he's harmless, right?”

“He said… what?” Yoongi looked more than irritated but swallowed it down. “No you're right, he's harmless, but he's also taken, so.” Jimin’s heart sank. Taken by who? You?

“OH cool no don't worry I wasn't gonna go after him, I was just caught off guard a little, I uh don't want your man I promise.” Yoongi felt a twist in his tummy. He told him that so he wouldn't try to get with him, not so he'd think Yoongi was his boyfriend. He wanted to explain that they in fact aren't dating but a very buzzed Bboom Bboom boy ran up to the pair with two beers.

"You haven't started drinking yet??? Come on come on they have Big Bang!!!” He yanked Jimin to the TV, despite not even knowing his name, and put on If You. Bboom Bboom boy was very tipsy already but Jimin wasn't so he took a second to chug his beer and set it aside. If he's about sing in front of his crush, he's doing it at least one beer in. The intro played through and Bboom Bboom boy started out very soft and emotional. Wasn't he just jumping around two minutes ago? Jimin sang his part and got so lost in it that he forgot Yoongi was watching him, four feet away on the couch. Some time when it wasn't his part, Hoseok handed him another beer, and before he knew it, the slow song was over and him and Bboom Bboom boy were jumping around screaming the lyrics to Cherry Bomb. Yoongi sat there with a grin plastered on his fact, he's glad Jimin gets along with his friends, and he's hoping that means he’ll come back soon. Hoseok was next to him on the couch, but was still too plastered to function. He just sat there laughing and dancing in his seat.

“Jesus christ he's hot” Hoseok spewed out, eyeing Jimin who's still dancing around and laughing and drinking. Yoongi knew he was drunk so instead of snapping like he wanted to he just took a deep breath and agreed.

“Yeah, he is.” In less than 20 minutes, Bboom Bboom boy who, at some point during the last song, introduced himself as joonie, was now on his back out of breath. Jimin just laughed and turned to look at Yoongi but only saw a passed out Hoseok with a beer that was ready to spill. Jimin found him in the kitchen, rummaging the fridge for a drink.

“Thank you for inviting me tonight, I'm having a lot of fun. Your friends are nice.” Jimin giggled and swooshed the beer in his hand around. Yoongi met him at the kitchen counter with two fresh beers. “I'm glad you're having fun” he sipped from his bottle and an awkward silence fell over them. They both had something to say but had no idea how to say it.

“Me and Hoseok arent-”

“I'm sorry im always-” They spoke at the same time, cutting eachother off. They both laughed at the situation, but did it again.

“I'm sorry-”

“You first-” They stayed quiet for a second and Jimin just cutely pointed at him to suggest he starts. The elder chuckled, ‘how much cuter can he get?’ he thought.

“I was just gonna say that Hoseok and I aren't together.. kinda seemed like you thought that earlier” he fiddled with the cold bottle in his hand. Jimin's heart swelled, ‘oh thank fucking god’ he thought, but he just says “OH sorry for assuming.. thats rude haha”

“What were you gonna say?” Jimin suddenly regretted speaking before, because now it’s his turn.

“Oh it's nothing I just wanted to apologize.. for always running away. You're not a scary guy, you're really nice..” Yoongi took a sip from his drink to give him the courage he was lacking.

“I forgive you.. but can I know why? If not because I'm scary then why? I mean.. it's been two years, Jimin.”

“I know, I know, and I'm sorry, I'm such a shitty neighbor I just-” he stopped talking to chug the rest of his beer.

“Listen, I'm not very confident okay? so when I see someone who I'm attracted to, I tend to take the fuck off instead of talk to them” Yoongi's face had changed at some point from a confused expression to one that Jimin couldn't figure out.

“Attracted to?” Jimin didn't bring his head up but just nodded.

“So… the reason you haven't talked to me for a full ass two years.. is because you're attracted to me??” Jimin took a deep breath. He really didn't wanna ruin this new friendship. He nodded again, and for a good 30 seconds, neither of them said a word. and apparently it was long enough for Hoseok to stumble into the kitchen and interrupt.

“GUYS namjoon passed out and I can't carry his heavy ass by myself please help me”

[ohfrickfanfic]

Daddy Issues

Requested by @duryik - Ok I’ve got an idea (Another Josh x reader) So your just moved into a new apartment like a few weeks ago so you don’t really know the neighbors. You get locked out of your apartment (with your phone in there) so you go across the hall to ask to borrow their phone to call your super and when the door opens you’re greeted with a sweaty sexy Josh who just came back from practice (maybe he needs to blow off some steam 😉)and one thing leads to another he’s nailing you with a (daddy and choking kink.

I also had a separate private request to add face sitting to a fic so I threw that in here too.

So I based this off my own real life "daddy issues" I thought it would be therapeutic to write about or cathartic as Tyler would say. But basically, this same exact scenario happened to me except my dad didn't call me he just showed up at my new house with bags backed like I was just gonna let him move in. Oh and he also wasn't 'allowed' at my wedding either but those are stories for another day... Josh is in the band in this but reader is written as being unfamiliar with the band and who Josh is.

You can listen to the daddy kink playlist used in this fic here, feel free to suggest more songs it’s pretty short.

Pairings: Josh x Reader

Warnings/tags: daddy kink, choking, face sitting

You hang up your phone, and whip it into the couch. It bounces off and lands on the floor with a thud as tears of anger sting the corners of your eyes and stream down your face. It was just like your father to be a manipulating selfish asshole. You should be used to this by now he's been like this ever since he left you and your mom for another woman when you were ten. You've hardly seen him since except for split holidays and the court ordered every other weekend visitations while you were growing up. Even then he hardly spoke two words to you unless it was to brag about a big buck he killed hunting, or to berate you for being bisexual after your new stepsister outed you. But luckily, kindly reminding him that adultery is also 'against the bible' quickly put an end to that. Still, with that information, you quickly became his pawn in a messy divorce and child support battle. "Tell your mom not to take your father back to court for child support or I'll tell your little secret on the stand if she does," his new wife would threaten and he'd allow. He also missed a lot of important events in your life including your sweet sixteen; he wasn't allowed to go per his new wife. It's not like he even remembered your birthday anyway, he'd call to say Happy Birthday in May when your birthday's in March, and you'll never forget the time he called to ask you for your birth-date for some paperwork for his job.

As you grew older you spoke less and less often years would go by without a word. But of course the second he heard through the grapevine that you've moved out of your mother's house and now have an apartment of your own he calls. Apparently several years and four more kids later, his new wife cheated on him and kicked him out and now he needs a place to live. While you couldn't be any more pleased with karma, the audacity of your father's request to live with you filled you with such rage that all you could do was laugh maniacally at the absurdity before you hung up.

You decide to go for a walk to calm down and help clear your head but the second you close the door to your new apartment behind you, you realize you locked your keys inside. Frantically, you tap your pockets looking for your phone to call your best friend who has a spare when it suddenly it hits you that in your emotional state you absentmindedly left it inside as well.

Well, this is one way to meet my new neighbors, you think to yourself as you knock on the door across the hall to ask to use the phone.

"Coming!" You hear a male voice shout, as you quickly wipe your face with your hands hoping your makeup is not streaked all over it. "Can I help you?" A colorful haired man asks from behind the chain latch of the now slightly ajar door.

"Hi..umm ..yes sorry to bother you but I just moved in across the hall and I accidentally locked my keys and phone inside and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call someone to bring me a spare,” you ramble like an idiot, what a great first impression I'm making on the new neighbors already. You think to yourself.

"Yeah sure hold on," he says before closing the door. You can hear the clang of the sliding chain lock. "You don't recognize me, do you?" He asks once he opens the door back up. It seems like an odd question and you study him briefly thinking maybe you've met before. But you're fairly certain you would remember the gorgeous creature before you with brightly colored hair, and a wet sculpted body with nothing but a towel around his waist.

"I'm sorry were you in the shower when I knocked? You ask apologetically, "But no, I'm sorry I don't recognize you, should I?"

"No, it's okay I like it better this way," he smiles as he closes the apartment door behind you . "and no I was just about to get in actually I'm all sweaty from drum practice, but don't worry about it I'd rather help a pretty girl in distress," he smirks. "Have a seat on the couch, I'll grab you my phone."

You take a seat on the couch and he returns a few moments later cellphone in hand. He's now wearing an extremely low riding pair of grey sweatpants that don't leave anymore to the imagination than the towel did. You can't help but stare at the chiseled V of his hips that are drawing your eyes down to the slight cloth covered bulge below as he hands you the phone. The sight is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together; God, what you would do for a nice orgasm as a distraction right now.

"Need anything, water, LaCroix, Red Bull?" He calls from behind you now in the kitchen of the open floor plan, as you scour your brain, silently cursing technology for not allowing you to recall your best friends phone number without it so conveniently listed in your contacts.

How about for you to fuck me until I forget. Your mind wanders. but "Water's fine," is all you say.

"Sure thing," he answers. "So how'd you manage to lock your phone and keys inside anyways? You looked pretty upset when I answered the door, like you'd been crying," he asks as he reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Ugh long story short, but my piece of shit father who's never been there for me suddenly needs a place to live, and really thought I would let him live with me. I just wanted to go for a walk and clear my head, and in my anger, I absentmindedly left them behind."

"Oooh, Daddy issues!" He speaks with a low growl, his voice dripping with suggestion, knowing girls who didn’t have a proper father figure growing up are far more likely to have a daddy kink than those who did. The cold water bottle makes contact with the palm of your hand as he takes a seat and hands it to you, but rolls to the floor when you don't grab it; your hands instead planting themselves firmly on the colorful-haired man's chest pushing him down on the couch, a knee on either side of his hips as you connect your lips to his. He parts his lips and moans into the kiss as his tongue slides against yours.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I should really go," you jump back breaking the kiss.

"Shhhh Babygirl, don't be sorry Daddy's got you," He whispers brushing his thumb over your lips, his other fingers caressing your cheek softly, as his free hand slips his phone into his pocket; because you won't be needing it and he has plans.

"Oh fuck," You practically moan as his words ignite a warmth in your abdomen, and you reconnect your lips once again.

"Bedroom?" He pulls back momentarily to suggest.

"Bedroom," you repeat with a nod of your head like you forgot the word ‘yes’.

On your way to the bedroom, he tangles his left hand in your hair using his grip on it to keep your face close to his and your mouths latched, the free hand of his tattooed arm swiftly undoing the buttons of our blousy top, and sliding it off your shoulders, your bra to follow.

Inside his room, he sinks down on the edge of his bed grabbing you by your jean-clad backside and pulling you close. With his lips dancing over the horizon of flesh and jean along your lower abdomen and his eyes burning into yours, he unzips them and begins tugging them down. Assisting him, you slip your thumbs into the waistband and shimmy your hips as you pull the tight fabric over your backside and down your thighs.

"Fuck, I wanna feel these thighs wrapped around my head, Babygirl," he breathes as he strokes them, softly at first, then rougher, squeezing as run his hands up and down there expanse.

“Mmmm, Yeah?”

“Yeah, let Daddy make you feel good, beautiful. Come sit on my face,” he says raking his pearly white teeth over his bottom lip as he begins to move up the bed.

You pull your panties down to meet your jeans, kicking them off completely as you crawl onto the bed and over the toned body of your new neighbor, settling a knee on either side of his head.

“Wait!” He exclaims, his warm breath cascading over your core, as he reaches into the pocket of his grey sweats, pulling out his phone. “I’ve been dying to get some use out of this playlist.” he smirks, as he presses play and sets the phone to his right on the nightstand, wrapping his arms around your thighs. The first song starts and you recognize it immediately as Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood. He locks eyes with you and flattens his tongue, giving you a long, slow, teasing lick. Moaning at the taste he grips your ass pulling you flush against his mouth as the lyrics start.

Take you like a drug

Taste you on my tongue

He delves his tongue deeper lapping at the wetness that’s been pooling since you first laid eyes on his V line.

“Mmm, Fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips against his mouth desperate for more friction, he takes notice gliding his tongue back up over your clit and sucking on it lightly as the music continues in the background.

And if you were my little girl

I’d do whatever I could do

I’d runaway and hide with you

I know you got daddy issues

Your hands find their way into his hair, gripping his brightly colored locks as you ride his face, rocking your hips back and forth along his tongue. As you feel your orgasm steadily approaching, you remove one of your hands from his hair and brace yourself on the headboard.

He slides a hand from your ass, down over his chiseled abs and into his sweatpants pulling his erection free, and begins stroking himself as his tongue continues to work against your clit.

“Ohhh… Fuck Daddy!” You moan in a shaky breath, gripping his hair tighter as you cum with your head thrown back and your thighs tightening around his head, as you ride it out.

“Mmmmm, good girl,” he says simply, his lips and chin glossed with your wetness as he pulls away.

You remove your legs from around his head and move back down his body to now straddle his hips. Leaning forward over his perfect body you slide your tongue between his slippery lips and into his mouth kissing him with fierce passion. He moans at your actions, breaking this kiss to speak.

“You. Like. Tasting. Yourself. Beautiful?” He asks, each word punctuated with the slip of his tongue into your eager mouth.

“Mmmm yes,” you pull back playfully to answer, teasing your tongue along his lips.

“Yes, what?” He prompts you, stretching his neck to capture your mouth again.

“Yes, Daddy,” you smile against his lips, before moving farther back down his body, kissing as you go before finally settling with his thighs viced between yours. Sitting back on his thighs you grasp his length admiring it as you begin to pump him. He’s only slightly longer than the others you’ve been with, but oh so thick, a prominent vein running from the base to just under the head, you stroke your thumb along it teasingly causing him to whimper in desperation.

“Stop teasing and ride me already,” he commands, bucking his hips off the bed and fucking into your hand.

You smile seductively as you raise your body up and hover teasingly over his erect length in your grasp. He slips into you as he bucks his hips a second time, and you sink down with a loud moan as you bottom out on his thick cock. Bouncing on his length you raise and lower your hips to the beat of the music a Demi Lovato song now playing.

Lucky for you I got all these daddy issues

What can I do?

I’m going crazy when I’m with you

Forget all the therapy that I’ve been through

Lucky for you

I’ve got all these daddy issues

All these daddy issues

Daddy issues uhhh daddy issues uhhh

“Mmmm fuck, look at you, tits bouncing as you ride my dick like a good little slut,” he groans, as he bites his lip and grips your waist.

Changing up your motions and pace you begin rocking quickly back and forth, the grasp of his strong hands and broad fingers guiding your movements. With your hands on his chest, you lean forward desperate for friction grinding your clit against his well-groomed, smooth, hairless pubic bone.

“So close,” you whine, the added sensation being exactly what you were after.

“Not so fast,” he smirks pushing you off of him. He walks to the edge of the mattress, and grabs your ankle, swiftly tugging you to the end of the bed and bending you over. Wasting no time he enters back into you and quickly settles into a rhythm. Reaching under you he snakes his hands up over your stomach to your chest, firmly clutching your breast as he pistons his hips against your flesh. You turn back to look at him, Lana Del Rey’s words now filling the room.

You can be the boss Daddy

You can be the boss

He grins intensely, moving one hand up from your breast and wrapping it firmly around your neck, causing you let out a moan and arch your back in response.

“Mmmm you like that?” He questions.

“Fuck, Daddy, yes harder!” You instruct, pushing back on his length. Squeezing tighter, he picks up the pace of his rhythm fucking you harder as the heat in your abdomen builds.

“I can feel this sloppy cunt tightening Babygirl, come on, cum for Daddy, I know you're close,” he breathes in your ear adding slightly more pressure to your neck. His words and actions take your over the edge, the lack of oxygen and blood flow magnifying the intensity of your orgasm.

Dropping his hand from your neck, he continues to thrust into you, sounds of your audible wetness filling the room as he chases after his own release. Within moments he’s pulling out of you and finishing on the small of your back. You lay still, dangling from the edge of the bed your body wracked with pleasure and try to catch your breath while he heads to the bathroom to fetch you a washcloth. He wipes your back haphazardly and throws the cloth to the floor before sinking down on the bed next to you.

“Well, that solved one of my problems,” you huff with a smile, still trying to catch your breath. “But I’m still locked out and I can’t remember my friend's number.”

“Come on let’s get dressed I think I can help with that too,” he says with a laugh.

You locate your strewn about clothes quickly dressing in them as he slips his grey sweats back on and heads into the kitchen, you follow. He digs around in a junk drawer by the microwave and pulls out a paper clip.

“Let’s get you home beautiful, you look like you could use a nap,” he smiles, guiding you to the door with a hand on your lower back, your shirt sticking to the remnants of the poorly cleaned and now drying cum.

Back across the hall he kneels in front of your door and straightens out the paper clip guiding it into the keyhole. In a few minutes of picking your lock, your door is open.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you knew how to do that to begin with?” You question as you step inside your apartment.

“What fun would that have been?” He grins with a slight laugh.

“Well thank you for everything ..uhh.. umm,” you stutter realizing you never got his name.

“Anytime,” he smirks. “The name’s Josh, by the way, Josh Dun.”

[darkesttimelinestuff]

Happy Halloween, Philes!

Is the unremarkable house haunted??

'Poltergeist' by all_these_ghosts

This pre-IWTB fic is easy, fluffy, fun.

1,890 words, Rated Teen

On the way home from work she stops by Blockbuster. He'd requested something "creepy, not gory", so she checks out Poltergeist. They've both seen it before, but they never actually watch the movie, so she can't imagine it'll matter. 

At the counter she adds on a bag of mixed fun-size candy. Last year they didn't get any trick-or-treaters - not surprising, considering their house lies two miles down an unmarked dirt road - but you never know, and Scully has no interest in cleaning egg off the siding tomorrow morning.

When she pulls up in front of the house, he’s outside raking leaves in the waning light. She's glad to see him outside, glad to see him doing something useful. She worries about him alone in that house all day.

There's a pumpkin sitting on the front porch, perfectly fat and round and orange. "Where'd that come from?" she calls.

Mulder turns to her, letting the handle of the rake rest on his shoulder. "Took a walk earlier. The Harringtons are selling them out of their truck."

All of this is good news to her. He'd spent the whole sweltering summer lying on the hardwood floor in their living room with a fan blowing on him, refusing to go outside during the day even when she accused him of being a vampire. Maybe that was just a phase, or some kind of reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder.

"I got your movie," she says, waving the blue-and-white box in the air.

He lets the rake fall to the ground and comes over to grab the box. "Good choice," he says. He peers in the bag. "And candy? We never have candy."

"It's Halloween, Mulder, I'm not a monster."

“If you were, it’d be seasonally appropriate."

She flashes a grin at him. "Besides, we might get trick-or-treaters."

Mulder looks around at their complete lack of neighbors - way off to the west there's a little light on the horizon from the nearest house, and that's it - then back at her. "We're not gonna get any trick-or-treaters." Then he shrugs. "More candy for us."

"More candy for you," she corrects, linking her arm through his. He smells good, like earth and charred wood, and she brushes a stray leaf from his shoulder. "I'm only going to have one piece."

"That's what you always say," he grumbles. "And then I look up and the whole bag's gone."

"I don't think that’s ever happened.”

”Selective amnesia.”

“Sounds like an X-file,” she says lightly, and his smile isn’t entirely convincing. One day they’ll be able to joke about it. Eventually enough time will pass. The wounds will scar over, then fade.

One day.

An hour later they're curled up together on the couch, eating fun-size Mars bars and drinking spiked apple cider in their pajamas. A couple of Scully’s pumpkin-scented candles light the dark corners of their living room. It's pleasantly festive.

His hand, which started out resting on Scully’s flannel-clad knee, has gradually wandered up her thigh; it reaches a critical juncture right when Carol Anne gets sucked through the TV, and she smacks him away.

“You made me stop for this movie after an incredibly long day at work, so now we have to watch it,”  she says, but the way her hips curve toward him means that she could be convinced otherwise.

He puts his hand right back where he left off and presses his lips to her ear. ”I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, running his tongue around the curve of her ear.

Apparently Scully doesn’t need much convincing. She climbs into his lap, her knees on either side of his legs, all of her wrapped tightly around him. It’s immediately obvious that he’s been thinking about this for a while, and she leans down to kiss him, nipping at his lower lip and mumbling, “Thatis not fun-size.”

“I’m not sure how to take that,” he replies, but he kisses her again, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her even closer. She moans into his mouth, her arms go around his neck—

And then she pulls sharply back. “What the hell was that?” Her eyes dart around the room, then lock on the window even though there’s nothing to see. It’s just as dark outside as it is in the house. “There’s something out there.”

He cocks an eyebrow. ”You’re not getting spooked by the movie, are you?” A thousand years ago they’d watched The Exorcist in some motel somewhere - Georgia, maybe? - and she’d pretended to be scared, and he’d pretended to be fifteen, stretching his right arm out and then letting it rest across her shoulders. He’d pulled her close when she fake-gasped.

But she shakes her head. Which makes sense; they’re well past the point of needing excuses to touch each other. ”I’m serious, Mulder, I heard something."

He mutes the movie and they sit in absolute silence. This time he definitely hears it: the sound of screaming, coming from somewhere outside.

Feeling suddenly like the lead in a slasher flick, Mulder disentangles himself and goes into his office, emerging a minute later with their handgun. (Well, her handgun; for obvious reasons, Mulder can't get a license.) He tries to remember how those movies go. The lead doesn't die, right?

What about the lead's partner? Girlfriends always die in those movies, he's pretty sure. Probably wives too. Partners might be safe. But just to be sure...

"Stay here," he says to Scully, but she just rolls her eyes at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder." She shrugs on her coat and follows him outside, grabbing a flashlight off the hall table.

They stand on the porch for a minute, surveying their surroundings. A screech echoes in the darkness, and when they look toward the sound they see flashlights dancing in a copse of trees.

"What the hell?” Mulder barks, but Scully's already out ahead of him, running towards the woods. He calls her name and then follows her. The screaming continues.

And then abruptly stops. The flashlights go out. He catches up to her and they stand together, breathing heavily, staring into the woods.

“Who’s there?” Scully calls.

Silence. Then giggling. A flashlight blinks on, then off, and a voice hisses “turn that off!” and another voice says “shut up!”

Scully sighs. “It’s just kids, Mulder. I’m going back to the house.” She turns and walks away. He considers following her, but instead he continues toward the woods.

The snickering continues. Under his feet branches snap and leaves crackle. He remembers that you’re never supposed to split up.

And then a third voice, slightly louder, says, “Did you hear that?”

“It’s just a squirrel, don’t be stupid.”

“It’s not a squirrel! Squirrels don’t make that much noise, it’s somebody walking—“

“They left, the flashlight’s gone—“

“Then it’s someone else! I told you this place was haunted! Nobody who’s alive would live in that dump.”

Mulder can’t decide whether he thinks that’s funny or offensive, but he’s kind of enjoying the increasing panic in their voices, so he keeps coming closer. And just for good measure - it’s Halloween, after all - he says, “oooooooo” in his ghostliest voice.

Somebody screams. The last voice, again: “I told you!” They’re not whispering anymore.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” says the squirrel one - this kid is the Scully, clearly. “It’s the wind.”

“Oh my God it is not the wind.”

“Somebody turn a flashlight on so we can see.”

“Do you want it to eat us?”

“Do you seriously think that ghosts eat people??”

“Let’s just go,” says the panicky one.

The Scully says, “Not a chance.”

Mulder steps in an extra-thick pile of leaves and crunches them vigorously underfoot. “Oooooo,” he says again, louder.

That’s the final straw. They scream, and then two silhouettes run through the woods, making no attempt to keep quiet.

This is fun, he thinks. He should do this every Halloween.

But the Scully - he should’ve known - the Scully didn’t run away. He hears her mutter, “For fuck’s sake,” and she turns her flashlight on.

Right in his face.

He winces in the bright light and brings his arm up to cover his eyes. Flatly, the girl says, “You’re not a ghost.”

“Uh, no.”

She lowers her flashlight enough that he can see again. She’s maybe fifteen, and she is not impressed. “Is that your house?” she asks, pointing her flashlight towards it.

“…Yeah.”

“What are you even doing out here?”

“What are you doing out here? This is private property.”

The girl shrugs. “It’s Halloween. We’re ghost-hunting. Abby thinks your house is haunted.” And then, with just the tiniest glint of curiosity in her eyes, she adds: “Is it?”

“Not that I know of.” And he’s checked.

“Well, you freaked my friends out. Honestly it’s kind of weird for a grownup to wander around the woods pretending to be a ghost.”

“It’s Halloween,” he retorts. “And we only came out here because we heard you and your friends screaming. Besides, you said you were ghost hunting. Now you can say that you found a ghost.”

“But we didn’t.”

He gestures towards the woods, all the footprints the other kids left behind. “Your friends don’t know that.”

For the first time, she does look impressed. “Huh.”

“I mean, as far as they know, you stayed behind to fight off the ghost.” He shrugs. “You’d look like a badass. That’s all I’m saying.”

She nods. “That’s…kind of awesome. And they’re stupid enough to believe it.” She grins at him. “Thanks for the tip, Mr…”

“Freeling,” Mulder supplies, suppressing his own grin.

“Mr. Freeling,” she repeats slowly, and for a second he thinks she’s going to call him out. “Why not? Well um…I’m gonna try to catch up with my friends. Enjoy being a creepy ghost, I guess.”

“Next year just ring the doorbell,” he says. “We have candy.”

Her eyes go big. “Dude, no one is ever going to trick-or-treat at your house. No offense, but even if it’s not haunted, it’s creepy as shit.” Just for good measure, she repeats, “No offense.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Happy Halloween, kid.”

“You too,” the girl says, and then she’s running off, flashlight bobbing in the dark.

Mulder comes through the door in his socks, muddy shoes abandoned on the front porch. When he tells Scully about the kids in the woods, she just laughs at him. And then she starts picking leaves off his clothes and brushing the dirt from his shoulders, and then he says that he should probably take a shower, and since she was running around in the woods too she might as well join him - and in any case, they don’t finish the movie.

In the middle of the night, Mulder wakes up when he hears more noises from outside the house, but he convinces himself that it’s his imagination. He goes back to sleep, pulling Scully close against him. She snuggles into his arms, and all he can think is how much he likes this house. Maybe it’s creepy - it might even be haunted - but it’s theirs together, which makes it at least a little bit perfect. He dreams of ghosts and snickering teenagers and strange crackling sounds.

And in the morning, the side of the house is covered in gooey, dripping egg.

Mulder cleans it up.

[mahalidael]

Sparkboys #2: A Roof Redneck Offers Me Brownies

Content warning: Profanity, drug mentions, screaming rednecks.

The polls are in and the polls want Murphy!  Buckle up, buttercups, because Murphy ain’t done falling into this vortex of terror.

My tablet is on the road to recovery, so if the guys from Best Buy pull through, you might be seeing chapter art for each of these.

(Chapter 1)

“They’re staring at us.”

“Yeah, because you broke into a goddamn bathroom stall,” Jacob replied through a mouthful of shrimp. “Anybody reasonable’ld be starin’ at you.”

Picture this: you’ve got a scrawny looking kid with a bad dye job, a ratty hoodie, and the beginnings of a nosebleed. You’ve got a linebacker who’s been beat to hell and dunked in water. Put them in the same restaurant booth. That’s what was going on.

We figured we were both hungry, and that nobody would bother us if we sat together. Jacob looked socially pathetic, but he was still a whole lot of dude, and I was sure I would be eternally branded the Crazy Toilet Guy™, but at least no one would fuck with me.

The ideal football player looks like an all-American boy. Jacob looked like somebody who mugged all-American boys in a dark alley. Maybe the black eye was part of it (lord knows how that happened), maybe the piercings was part of it (earrings, nose stud, the whole works), but mostly he was just moody-looking. If Allison thought I was scowling, she should have gotten a load of this guy.

“Nah, they were already staring when I first came in…” I was looking out the window, pretending not to notice the gawkers. The outlet looked creepy, though I imagine it looked better in daylight. I thought of the people who were whispering Allison’s name. “Does it have anything to do with Dr. Allison?”

Jacob jumped a little, as if stabbed. “Why’d you think that?”

“Well,  you seemed surprised when you read my texts. Come to think of it—thank you,” I said to the waitress, who put two drinks down. She, too, gave me a bit of a stink-eye. “—everyone seems to know who she is.”

Jacob took some sugar packets from the little tray on the table and started dumping them in his drink. I eyed the reddish-brown drinks cautiously—I had been getting my food while the waitress was at the booth, letting Jacob order drinks for both of us. He looked at me, lit up with curiosity. “What’s she to you?”

“Eh, she’s my mother,” I said evenly.

“You call your mother by her last name?”

“Fostered.”

“Oh. Like… real recently?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?” I took a tiny sip of the drink. It already tasted like sugar. I couldn’t understand why Jacob was putting more in it.

“Sweet tea.”

“What?”

“The drinks. You were starin’ at ‘em like they were gonna bite you,” he chuckled, low. Masculine. I made a note to work on my laugh. “But Dr. Allison has a strange reputation in this town. We know maybe one thing about her, and it’s that she’s a doctor.”

“Robot scientist. Roboticist?”

“Really?”

“It’s what the social worker said.”

“Man, I knew she had to be doin’ somethin’ with all that sheet metal. My dad works at Lowe’s,” Jacob added. “Her neighbors swear up and down that she’s an organ trafficker.”

I picked at my dumplings uncomfortably—and there’s something strangely comforting about how, no matter where they are or what the sign says, Chinese restaurants will always serve dumplings. “Why?”

“Uh, foreign people showing up at her doorstep with briefcases. Strange noises from her house at night. General weirdness. But mostly because she don’t talk to anyone.”

“What, that’s an issue?”

“Ev’ryone knows ev’ryone in Cottonport. Nobody knows Allison—‘cept you, I suppose.” He got very quiet. “How is it?”

“The sweet tea, or Allison?”

“Both.”

“The tea’s sweet. Allison’s… I don’t know. I haven’t been there long enough to really have an opinion,” I admitted.

The waitress came back with the check and two fortune cookies. I was glad that I was at a buffet, otherwise she might’ve spat in my food. I looked over the restaurant again. The other teenagers had gotten bored of us, and instead, their eyes were on two women in suits speaking to the cashier. Local lesbians, I guessed.

I offered to pick up the check. At the same time, Jacob offered to pick up the check. “Dude, seriously, let me handle it, you’re already putting up with the town witch—”

“You were in a toilet when I met you, you don’t get to feel sorry for me—!”

“Lemme be nice to you!”

“Never!”

This was the first in what would prove to be a friendship full of arguments.

We ended up splitting it halfway. I still think I should have covered the whole check, especially since I got an extra box for Allison. Maybe if I gave her enough food she’d let me keep my kidneys.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“You’ll have to tell me where to turn.”

Sitting in Jacob’s car was way more calming than I thought a ride with a stranger would be. It helps that his car looks like a mom car. You know those cars that you always see a million of at a carpool? That exact car.

I racked—wracked? Raked? I can never get those words straight—my brain, trying to remember where my house was. “Uh, turn left here.”

I’m not a fan of the suburbs at the best of times, but when I see a quiet neighborhood at night, my fight or flight instinct goes off. It was pitch dark, except maybe one or two streetlights. It was dark in Jacob’s car, too, but a nice dark. Allison’s takeout box burned in my lap. I hoped she liked fried rice.

Jacob kept driving down the winding roads as I tried to direct him. The poor guy, he was doing his best, but I wasn’t paying attention on my way in the first time. We were both thinking that we were lost but we were also both too busy wallowing in social anxiety to voice that.

We had been driving for about ten minutes when I looked at something on the side of the road and said “what’s that.”

At that point I knew we were Lost As Fuck, because this street had some odd houses. I knew what a McMansion looked like, but these weren’t really big enough to be mansions, they were just… Mc. But as much of a hot mess as these houses were, I was focusing on the moving light on top of the house.

“What’s what—wait,” Jacob said, slowing down. “What is that?”

It looked like somebody was waving a flashlight on the roof, though it was too dark for me to make out anything else. “Fuck if I know. You’ve got the good eyes.”

Jacob stopped the car and stared at the roof for a good moment. The syrupy light calmed down, apparently done with spinning around. “Is that—oh my god, it’s Rebecca!”

I squinted at the roof, still seeing nothing. “Who’s Rebecca?”

“The only person who’d climb onto a roof in the middle of the night, that’s who.” He covered his mouth, his eyebrows coming together. “Damn, what’s she even doing here?” He asked himself. “I thought her dad moved to Tacoma.”

Then the flashlight was aimed at the car. Jacob ducked like it was a gun. “Get down!”

I automatically bent over as far as the box would allow, and only afterwards did I realize I had no clue what this was about. “What? What’s going on?”

The beam was pointed through the car window. From the distance, I heard a girl shouting: “Jacob? Is that you?”

Jacob shushed me. “You can’t let her know I’m here!”

“I know you’re in there, silly, you left your headlights on!” Rebecca drawled. She also had an accent, but it was softer, I think? She sounded like that Gone With the Wind chick, which I think she’d find ironic.

Jacob groaned, sat up, and rolled down his window. “Don’t mind me, Rebecca, I’m just passin’ through!”

“Who’s that?”

“None of your business!” I peeked out the window, and immediately got a face full of light. “Hey! Don’t let her see you!”

“Oooooooooh! You got a boy in there!”

“No I don’t!”

I covered my eyes and squinted at the roof, but the nighttime was the wrong time this time. “Hey, roll down your window, stranger!” she shouted.

I looked to Jacob, but he had his head in his hands. I rolled the window down. Rebecca nodded her flashlight in approval. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you don’t look familiar. Are you new in town?”

“Uh, yeah,” I called out.

“You want a brownie?”

“I… what?”

“I got some brownies, do you want a couple? Consider them a housewarming gift!”

“Do not,” Jacob hissed.

I was super confused now. “Hey, what’s up with this girl?” I asked Jacob.

“She’s just creepy. Don’t talk to her,” he whispered.

“I figured, she’s yelling at us from her roof. But how does she know who you are?”

“I was the top linebacker, a lot people know who I am.”

It didn’t explain the overly-familiar friendly rudeness, or how she knew what his truck looked like, or how he recognized her from so many yards away—but Jacob was close-lipped, and pumping him for answers would be stupid.

There was only one question that I could get a real straight answer on. “But does she have, like… drugs?”

“What? No!” Jacob sputtered. “...W—why? D’you want any?”

Hm, Rebecca was weird and possibly troubled. Sounded like my kind of company. So I grabbed some stuff and got out of the car. “What’re you doin’?!” Jacob demanded, getting out of the driver’s seat.

“Going to meet the crazy roof girl. Hold my box.”

“See, Jacob? Some people know how to have a good time,” Rebecca chortled.

“You mind your own goddamn business, Rebecca!” Jacob yelled at the roof.

“There’s a ladder by the wall here,” she continued, pointing her flashlight at a spot on the grass. “You don’t have to stay, you can just grab you a brownie.”

I started towards the spot, only to be stopped in my tracks. I turned and saw Jacob holding the hood of my sweatshirt. “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doin’? This ain’t your house! We’re trespassing,” he snapped. “You know what could happen? We could get arrested!”

“Bad things can happen every day, you ding-dong. I could get herpes every time I walk outside! That doesn’t stop me from living my life!”

“That ain’t how herpes works.”

“You don’t know what I do in my free time!” I spotted the shape of a ladder leaning against the building. Great!

I think a lot about that ladder. I guess Rebecca put it there, but she could have gone out the window to get on the roof. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have taken her offer. How different would my life turn out if I had?

Anyway:

I started climbing up the ladder, and Jacob was basically scurrying behind me. “If you don’t come down from there, you’re gonna be walkin’ home!”

“Cool.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined it was turning red. “Fine! Stay here, see if I care!”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m drivin’ off, and you’re either gettin’ arrested or draggin’ yourself into one of Rebecca’s dumb shenanigans! I’m tired of enablin’ ev’ry mildly quirky boy that says hello to me!”

“Then drive off.”

“I am, asshole! Good evenin’!”

I heard him storming off behind me. He wouldn’t be gone for long, I had his car keys.

Vote for more Sparkboys by giving this post a like or reblog!