#the way sam and harry's eyelashes are different too!!!

[libertatias]

so many artifacts, the list goes on if you just say the words i'll up and run but to you oh, you oh, i'd leave it all

au where harry lives and buys a penthouse loft with chloe in bermondsey and they accidentally adopt a tuxedo cat called jimbo (james bond) and then sam waltzes into their lives and makes himself comfortable in their home (and eventually their bed) and they live happily ever after as a thief polycule ✨

commission by the lovely and talented @cecikiwi 💖

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Fallout of the Century 🌑💔

Part 1. 🥜

Word-count: 4.5K

Warnings- This is very angsty, Mentions of cheating, falling apart, and overall depression. 

Masterlist

Summery: Your wold has practically fallen apart when you walk in on something you weren't supposed to see. Causing you and your soon to be husband Harry Holland to call of your engagement. Months pass and you are just trying to put the pieces back together. Will you ever be able to sort your life out?

My head came up from under the surface, breaking the water around me. I let out a gasp as I rubbed the water from my face. There was a banging at the bathroom door before it swung open with force. He swung the curtain open, exposing my naked body. He had seen me this way before, so the sight didn't even make him bat an eyelash. 

“Seriously peanut? I was out there for like three minutes calling you.” His tone was harsh and firm, this was not the first time this had happened. Ever since the break up I just wasn't the same anymore, and the only one who saw the bad was Harrison. 

“Sorry,” I muttered , slipping back below the surface of the water. Harrison’s hands reached in and grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up.

“We are not doing this again peanut,” he groaned as he pulled me to my feet, soaking himself in the process. 

“Harrison, I'm fine,” I tried to convince him, but he knew otherwise. 

“I know tonight will be hard, and I know you'll want to bail, and I know that you will hate it, but I'll be right here, and so will Tuwaine. We have to try and put this behind us,” He pulled the towel around my shoulders and helped me out of the tub. He walked me to my bedroom and stood in the doorway until I had a pair of leggings and a hoodie on. “You sure you want to wear that one?” he asked. I looked down, noticing I had grabbed Harry's pink hoodie, because I was in such a haze. I felt tears rush to my eyes as I pulled it off and grabbed one of my own. We walked down to the living room and sat on the armchairs, waiting. My hair was still wet, and Harrison’s shirt was damp from helping me out of the bath, but I was sure no one would notice. Or care. 

First to arrive was Tuwaine, he walked over giving me a hug and kissing my forehead before finding his usual spot on the couch. Next it was Sam, then Tom, and then finally. Harry. 

He didn't look good, not like himself, he looked sad and hollow, but i tried to ignore it. Six months ago there would have been one more person with us, but six months ago seemed like a lifetime away.

Harry walked past me, without even so much as a glance, which was no different than I had expected. 

Harrison pulled out the board game and arranged it on the table in front of us. I looked up and caught Harry's glance, he instantly looked away. I sighed and went to get up but was stopped by Harrison’s voice. 

“OK, this is going to go differently tonight. No name calling. No snide comments. No outbursts. None. and if anyone does, their buy-in is instantly up for grabs and you forfeit.” Everyone shook their heads at the new rules Harrison had put in place. It sucked to think Harry and I were the reason for it, but that's the way life works sometimes. 

Our monthly monopoly games had become nothing more than awkward, so when Harrison had brought it up last week at dinner I was instantly ready to find anything else to do, But he insisted I be there. 

So here I am, sitting across from the love of my life, broken and damaged and completely regretting agreeing to this. 

“You're on my property Y/N, pay up.” Harry said coldly to me. I grabbed the five dollars I owed him and handed it over. I felt bad for our friends, the tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. No one knew what had happened between us, but they all knew it had to have been bad. 

“Where has Olivia been?” Tuwaine asked, not knowing where the girl had disappeared to. Truth be told no one knew, because I had told her if she ever showed her face or talked to any of them again I would do a lot worse to her than she did to me. I took a deep breath trying to keep my cool. 

“I'm sorry Harrison, I just can't do this tonight,” I told him as I got up and stormed out of the living room. All I could think about was that night, the memories flashing through my mind. 

“Harry baby, I'm home,” I yelled as I walked into our small apartment. I had been out of town on a business trip, but somehow made it home earlier than i expected. I had set my keys on the table and noticed a key chain that I recognized, but was not my fiance’s. I remember the tightening in my stomach as I walked down the hall and saw discarded clothing all the way to our bedroom. And when I opened the door, I was shocked to see the man I was set to marry in less than four months and my best friend laying naked and asleep in my bed.

There was a knock on my door and it opened slowly. I looked up expecting Hazza but instead saw the man I once would do anything for. “Can I come in?” He asked quietly. I nodded my head and scooted over on the bed giving him a spot to sit. 

“They make you come up?” I asked him. 

“No, they actually told me not to.” He said. “You still haven't told them?” He asked me softly.

“I have no reason to ruin the way everyone sees you, Harry,” I told him coldly. He nodded and I could see him chewing the inside of his cheek, a bad habit he had when he was stressed. “Stop doing that, you're going to put a hole in your cheek,” I told him. He laughed at that although it was a dry laugh. 

“You know you're not the only one hurting Y/N,” He said boldly. I wasn't one to freak out, hell i was the calmest person i knew, but he had a way of just getting under my skin.

“No you're right Harry, I'm not. You must be devastated that you cheated on my with my best friend, you must be crushed that you wasted five years of your life just to throw it away over some dumb slut who was always out for your dick, You must be wrecked, not having to explain to all your family and friends that your wedding is canceled, and not having anything to tell them because your too loving of a person to ruin your ex’s reputation,” i took a deep breath trying to keep my cool, seemed to be a trend tonight. 

“Well, you didn't exactly make the five years easy Y/N. I'm sorry I slept with Olivia, yes. But I'm pretty sure our relationship ended way before that,” I looked at Harry dumbfounded, our relationship had been perfect, never once was there any problems, until the week leading up to the fall out. 

“Because I got a good job and was traveling more?” I demanded. He nodded his head and it took everything inside me not to punch him in the jaw. “Get out Harry,” I told him, annoyed with his presence in my room. “And take that stupid hoodie with you,”

He stood up standing at the edge of the bed and looked down at the pink hoodie, before looking back at me. I thought for a moment I saw the boy I had fallen In love with all those years ago shine through, but his face quickly contorted back to what he had become. "That one always looked better on you, keep it," he said as he walked out the door. 

I wanted to scream and shout. I wanted to cry. 

I wanted to feel anything.

But I just felt numb. 

I walked around the apartment grabbing all the discarded clothes and Olivia's keys before walking back to my bedroom and throwing them on them sleeping in MY bed. “Forgot to clean up after yourselves” I shouted slamming the door closed. I heard rummaging around and Olivia shrieked. 

“Oh my god what did we do?” 

Harry came rushing out of our bedroom and found me standing in the kitchen. “Baby, i don't know what happened,” He was panicking. Maybe they had gotten drunk, maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, but no excuse would make up for it. 

“I'm going to Harrison's, I'll be here to get my stuff in a few days,” Was all I told him that night. I walked out the door, my head held high and kept my composure until Harrison opened his door. I collapsed in his arms, every emotion flooding my body, I couldn't speak, or move. 

I rolled out of bed and looked at my alarm clock. 2am. I was sure the boys would probably still be down there playing the game. I needed to go and get a glass of water, so I walked downstairs and to the kitchen. Just as I thought they were all still huddled around the coffee table, empty beer bottles all around them. 

“Peanut!” Tom exclaimed as soon as his eyes saw me, “I thought you went to bed,” He was drunk, and I was sure he wasn't the only one.

“Need water,” I told him, giving him a weak smile. 

“She sleeps with like five bottles next to the bed,” Harry laughed. I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. I could hear some of the conversation from the kitchen but nothing sparked my interest until I heard Harry say. “Well if i would not have slept with Olivia then nothing would be fucked up, so its my fault anyway,” all the noise subsided. 

I stepped out of the kitchen with my water in hand and looked at Harry who was sitting with his face in his hands, and everyone else was staring at him, with their jaws on the floor. 

“Is that why you guys broke up?” Tom asked. He wasn't asking me, he needed to hear from his brother. I had kept all of the bad to myself, not wanting anyone to look at Harry like a monster. Cause i knew he wasn't one. 

Harry didn't move his hands from his face, “I fucked it all up,” He groaned. I felt a twinge of guilt rush over me and I went to go comfort him despite how much he had hurt me, but Sam stood up as soon as he saw me take a step, shaking his head. I nodded and scurried off to my room, soon after I heard my door open, and Harrison walked in, flipping my light switch on. “You didn't tell me.” He said.

“Didn't want you to see him differently,” I told him quietly.

“With Olivia?” He asked as he walked over to my bed. 

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “I'm not innocent in this though, so please don't feel sorry for me,” I told him. 

“How are you not innocent?” He asked me. 

I thought about whether or not I wanted to tell Harrison, would he think as low of me as Harry now did? “Before me and Harry got together. One night we were all out at a pub, and me and Tom snuck off and, had sex. The next day he told us he blacked out and didn't remember anything, so I never brought that night up. Me and Harry started dating like a month after that, but I kept that secret. Until I threw it in his face to hurt him.” I sighed. I didn't want to look at Harrison, I was scared he would look at me like a monster. 

“That was before you together though, it's not the same nut,” He said, surprising me. 

“Maybe not, but it was still shitty of me,” I told him.  He shrugged his shoulders and then we started to hear yelling downstairs. Harrison got up and left to go see what was going on.

About an hour passed and the yelling had stopped and so had any noise. I assumed everyone had gone to bed or left. My door opened quietly and then shut. There was a shuffling as someone climbed into bed next to me. I rolled over and before my eyes even made out who it was, the smell hit me. So familiar yet so distant. 

“Harry,” I whispered, looking at the ginger boy whose eyes were puffy and nose was red, surly from crying.

“I know,” He whispered. “I just, can I please, just tonight?” he asked. I wanted to be strong and tell him to get out of my room. I wanted to push him off my bed. I wanted to hate him. Truth be told, I missed him. Sleeping in his arms, his curly hair tickling my face as he snuggles into my neck, the sweet kisses he would litter my body with. 

“Just tonight,” I told him firmly. A smile spread across his lips and he pulled my body into his, holding me close, instantly falling back into a routine we both knew so well. 

“Hey miss,” A voice called from behind me. I turned to see Harry running after me. 

“Harry?” I asked recognizing him from a few nights we had bumped into each other at clubs and parties. 

“Oh you remembered?” He asked surprised. 

“I mean a face like that is pretty hard to forget,” I chuckled. 

“I was wondering if I could take you out? On a date?” He was nervous to ask me. 

“Yeah, id- Id like that a lot,” I told him, a smile spread across his face as we exchanged numbers.

I didn't know then how much I would love him. Also how much I would hate him. 

I opened my eyes and looked down to see the familiar arms still around me holding me tight. He was drunk last night so i hadn't been mad about him crashing in my bed, but i wasn't sure i wanted to lay here cuddling him. “Harry,” I said as I wriggled my body trying to get out of his firm grip. 

“Five more minutes,” He groaned. 

“Harry,” I said a bit more forcefully, making his arms loosen their grip so I could get up. “I have to get ready for work, and you should probably go,” I was practically whispering. 

“Peanut,” He started, but then shook his head. “You're right, I should go,” he pushed himself up and then stood up from the bed. He looked at me for a minute standing at the end of my bed with my arms crossed, I was sure I looked pathetic. He stepped forward, coming dangerously close to me. He reached out letting his fingers brush across my cheek. I felt the tears rush to my eyes, but held them back. “Will we ever be able to fix this?” He asked quietly. I bit my bottom lip, hard, trying to figure out how to respond. 

“Is there anything worth fixing anymore?” I asked him. Looking up and seeing the hurt in his eyes. 

“I think a life with you is worth fixing,” He muttered. “I'm sorry,” He said before he walked out of my room. 

 I threw myself onto my bed and groaned. My life honestly sucked. I got out of bed and got ready for work. I walked down to the kitchen to see Harrison drinking a cup of tea. “Hazza,” I smiled. 

“I don't like it,” he said softly. I turned to him as I poured my coffee. 

“Don't like what?” I asked. 

“Him trying to weasel his way in. you deserve more than him, and he knows it,” i was caught off guard by his sudden anger towards Harry. 

“Harrison, I-” I was quickly cut off as he stepped forward, grabbing my face and pushing his lips into mine. I was going to push him away, but I found myself kissing him back. He broke his lips away from mine and left the kitchen without so much as a word. Leaving me standing there, dumbfounded and confused. 

I grabbed my keys and left the house. Maybe work would be less confusing than my morning. 

“Try it,” Harry pushed the sushi in my face. 

“Harry, it has raw fish,” I complained, pushing it back. 

“Babe just take a tiny bite, you might just like it,” He told me. I rolled my eyes and took the smallest bite, chewing for a minute and then spitting it in the napkin. 

“Awful, just like I thought,” I told him.he laughed as he pushed the sushi to the side and leaned forward, kissing me. 

“I love you,” He whispered for the first time. 

“You do?” I asked. He nodded his head and kissed me once more. “I love you, Harry,” I told him. 

Work flew by, faster than I would have hoped. My day had come to an end and I was sitting in my car, debating on what to do, when my phone started to ring. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it's me,” id recognize that voice anywhere. 

“What do you want Olivia?” I asked. 

“Can we just talk? I miss you.” 

“I don't want to talk to you, and i don’t miss you,” i hung up the call without letting her respond. I just wanted to crawl into a whole and die. 

I drove home, and parked in my spot. I wasn't sure I wanted to go in. Harrison had kissed me this morning. Which in and of itself was weird, but add on top of that that I had spent the night with Harry. I threw my head back hitting the headrest, I let out a loud groan as I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I had dialed too many times to count. 

“Are you OK?” His voice was full of concern and worry, I hadn't called him in months. 

“I'm so lost, Harry,” I said quietly.

“Like you need me to come and find you? Or metaphorically?” He asked me, i could sense the smirk through the phone.

“Metaphorically, I guess.” I told him.

“I can come to you if you want,” He sounded hopeful and eager. 

“No.” I just wanted to talk to you,” I muttered. Why had I called him anyway? Did I enjoy torturing myself? “Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?” 

“The sushi date? Of course I do nut,” He said quietly. 

“I was sure that that was forever. That day, I knew it was you, and it always would be. Looking back, we were so happy. So why did you do it?” I had never given him a chance to explain what had happened that night, every time he would try I would storm off or yell. I think deep down I didn't want to know the truth, but if I was going to figure out what I was doing I needed to know all the facts. 

I heard him sigh through the other side of the phone. “I missed you, probably too much. She had come over for some reason, and I had been drinking, I don't even remember it. I just remember waking up, to you throwing clothes and shoes at us, and then seeing your face. I… I didn't know it was possible to physically feel your heart shatter, but that night I did. I felt my whole world slip out from under me,” He sounded sincere.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Tom. That wasn't a fair secret to keep, I should have told you as soon as I knew he was your brother,” I said. 

“It was none of my business, It happened before we even knew each other,” he said. 

“I love you Harry. I do. But i don’t what to do,” I whispered. 

“I love you, I'll keep fighting for you, for us. This can't be how we end, ours was the epic one, the love story for the ages,” he said.

“And it was the fallout of the century,” I whispered as I hung up. 

I walked into the house, not sure what to expect. Harrison was standing in the kitchen cooking something and Tuwaine was on the couch watching TV. “Smells good,” I told Harrison as I walked over to beside him. 

“It's your favorite,” He said, giving me a big smile. 

“What's the occasion?” I asked. He looked at me with a goofy grin and his crystal blue eyes.

“Just thought you could use a little pick me up,” He leaned over kissing my forehead, which was not out of the ordinary. 

“I definitely do need it,” I said as I went to the couch, throwing myself down next to Tuwaine. 

“Work?” He asked me. 

“It was fast, so not bad” I smiled at him. 

“And are you OK? I mean last night was kind of a lot for all of us,” He muttered. 

“I will be, in time. I just need to figure out what I need and want,” he looked over his shoulder to Harrison who was distracted with his cooking. 

“I don't know if you know this or not, but he's in love with you, and I know Harry still is too. Things are probably going to get really complicated,” He warned me.

“I don't even know what to do. Harry crushed me, like soul shattering pain, but I still love him. And Hazza, i mean i love him so much, but I've never considered him as anything other than a friend,” i told Tuwaine. 

“Well, you never had to consider Hazza as anything else, cause you had Harry, and now you don't. So you can make the choice for yourself. Maybe Harrison is who you were meant to be with, and Harry was just keeping you close until Harrison was ready,” he whispered, shrugging his shoulders. I laughed at that.

“Damn,” Harrison said from the kitchen. We both looked back to see him staring at us. 

“What?” I asked him.

“I missed the sound of your laugh,” He said, making my cheeks go red. Maybe Tuwaine was right.

We ate dinner and talked and laughed about our days, before turning in for the night. Tuwaine’s room was on the opposite side of the house than mine and Harrison’s, so Harrison walked me to my bedroom door. 

“I'm sorry about this morning, that may have been out of line,” he ran his hand through his wavy blonde hair. 

“You don't need to apologize to me,” I told him, grabbing his hand. “I just don't know if I'm ready to move on, or not,” I whispered. 

“Well, when you decide you are, you know where i'll be,” He leaned in, pushing his lips softly against mine before walking across the hall to his room. As if my life wasn't already confusing.

“Harry!” I groaned as we hiked up the tall hill. 

“Just a bit farther, baby, I promise the view will be worth it,” He told me. We reached the top of the hill just as the sun was setting over the horizon. It was a breathtaking view. I turned to Harry, or where he should have been, but he wasn't there. I turned around to see him down on one knee in front of me holding a little white box. 

“I know this is cheesy, but I'm a little cheesy. I've known for so long that you were my forever, my happily ever after. I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to. Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He flipped the box open revealing a white band ring with a black and blue stone, something I had always said I wanted.

“Oh my god Harry, yes i'll marry you. A million times yes!” I exclaimed , pulling him to his feet and jumping into his arms. 

How did we go from that to now?

I was sitting on my bed, going through pictures when my phone vibrated. I looked down and it was a text from Harry. 

‘You think I could swing by for a minute?’ 

I knew I should tell him no, but I was curious as to what he wanted at this hour. 

‘Sure’ I texted him back. I heard the front door open almost as soon as the text was delivered, and then my door opened and he stepped into my room, shutting the door behind him. 

“You came before texting?” I asked him. 

“I forgot to, until I pulled in,” He sighed. “What are you doing?” He asked me. 

“Going through all these pictures. I want to frame a few, just don't know which ones,” I told him. He walked over grabbing one of the photos that I had in a pile, it was from when he proposed, a stranger had taken it for us. The picture itself was blurry but it was still my favorite. 

“That one was always my favorite,” He said, setting it back down. I nodded in agreement.

“So what brings you over?” I asked quietly. 

“Um, Olivia called me.” He said. My eyes shot up, my brows were furrowed and I could feel the anger rising inside of me. “She said you won't talk to her, and she just wants to apologize or something,” he sighed. “I didn't answer her, that's just what she said on my voicemail,” 

“Well i’m not going to call her, i don’t need her stupid apology,” I said blankly. “It sucks knowing my best friend came over to my house and took advantage of my intoxicated fiance. like I could maybe forgive you, in time. But I want to kill her, with every fiber of my being, I want to hurt her.” I took a deep breath, and looked at the pictures in my hands. 

“Yeah,” was all he said. 

“Maybe we should try dating,” I told him quietly. 

“Each other?” He asked me. 

“No, I mean other people. We should probably put ourselves back out there, and who knows maybe we will hate it and come back together. But it's been six months, we have to start moving on,” I sighed. 

He stood there looking at me, his eyes full of hurt and confusion, and I felt bad, but I knew that this was something we both needed. “Yeah we probably should do the dating thing, i'm not sure where I'd even look, but yeah,” He said. I rolled my eyes and laughed. 

“There is that girl at the coffee shop, she used to eye fuck you,” i told him. 

“The barista? Shelby?” I nodded, recalling how irritated I used to get when her eyes were all over him. “Maybe I'll ask for her number, or something,” He laughed. “And you?” 

“Hmm?”

“Where will you look?” he asked. 

“For dating? Oh I don't know.” I said, which was a blatant lie. 

“Okay, well I should go,” he smiled before leaving my room and then the house.

 I moved the pictures that were scattered across my bed to my dresser, and laid in my bed. I regretted telling Harry we should date other people, I think seeing him with someone would crush me even worse. I knew it was for the best though, we needed to give ourselves this, the chance to move on, to be happy, without each other. We had spent so long together that I had forgotten how to do the dating thing. 

“I found my dress,” I teased as I climbed onto Harry's lap. “It accentuates all the best parts of my body,” I leaned in letting my lips brush his earlobe before whispering “Your favorite parts,” 

He grabbed my ass squeezing it hard. 

“Can't wait to see you in it baby, I'm sure I'll be blown away,” he smiled sweetly. 

I leaned in to let our lips devour each other, until we needed more. 

And he never saw the dress, and he probably never would.

Part 2 🥜

[scribbleb-red]

i like your face - a morning au

“I’ll get the drinks,” Neil says as soon as they walk into Eden’s.

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

“No one needs to get stabbed tonight,” Neil says. “It’s Hapless Sam on the bar.”

“Spoilsport,” Andrew mutters, but doesn’t move with Neil when he heads to the bar.

Hapless Sam is the new barman helping Roland, stepping in for a few months whilst Ebony, the usual yin to Roland’s yang, is off to have surgery.

Hapless Sam is also the bane of Andrew’s life. He never gets a drinks order right. He constantly peppers them with bad one liners. He also once tried to pick up both Neil and Nicky and Aaron in one night - only stopping when Aaron suddenly duplicated and Andrew stuck a blade under his chin. After that, Roland stepped in.

But the bar was overrun tonight and if Andrew had to so much as look at Hapless Sam - well, someone is going to prison and someone is leaving in a body bag. And you don't need to be a genius to figure out which.

So Neil goes to the bar and Andrew keeps an eye on him - on the red of his hair, the sway of his hips, a new quirk that he had to know drove Andrew crazy. It should be illegal for someone like Neil to have any kind of rhythm - but Neil wasn’t a bad dancer. He was sinuous and unreal, if a little self conscious, and Andrew really really needed a drink before that happened again.

Because it will, promised the voice in his head. Nicky will never rest until Neil dances again. Even if it killed Andrew. He suspected it was partly because Nicky wanted him to dance too.

Neil came back an achingly long time later. There was something odd about the way he looked at Andrew, half a question hovering right beneath his skin.

He set down the tray and Nicky chitters, Aaron glowers, Kevin reaches forward expectantly.

But there’s a yell from the bar and Andrew looks up to see Roland’s furious face, Hapless Sam’s horror.

He catches Roland’s eye and the frantic look there - the way he's turned to stare at Andrew tells him everything.

“Don’t fucking drink anything,” he says to his table.

Aaron puts his glass down. Kevin looks torn but relents under Andrew's stare. Nicky frowns and leans back.

Neil however sways on the spot. His eyes are blown wide, two black pools ringed with the finest circle of ice blue. Andrew reaches for him and Neil reaches back. He looks sad and confused.

"N'drew..." he slurs, "Did I do su'thin bad?" There's a tinge of British in there, a twirl of French.

Andrew tugs Neil down beside him, stomach hollowing because he doesn't know what Neil's taken but it's clear he's taken something. Rage pools in the empty cavern of his chest. He goes to push Neil at Nicky - Roland clearly knows something and he wants answers - but Neil makes a noise in his throat and catches hold of Andrew's sleeve. Even high he's not crossing lines. Andrew aches with that knowledge.

"What did I do?" Neil asks again. "I don' have none secrets."

It takes a moment for Andrew to realise Neil thinks this was his fault. That in some part of this idiot's head, he believes Andrew would drug him again.

"It wasn't me," Andrew says, voice low. "You're okay Neil."

"Stay with Nicky, I'll talk to Roland." And probably gut Hapless Sam, whose fault it inevitably is.

Neil makes that whining noise again and Andrew wishes they didn't have an audience. "Don't wanna kiss Nicky."

"Who said anything about kissing?"

"Not Nicky. Only you."

Nicky's guilty look sets Andrew's teeth on edge.

Andrew needs to talk to Roland but can't leave Neil with the Monsters. Fortunately, Roland comes to them bearing a new tray of drinks and a harried expression.

"Fucking hell guys, I'm sorry. None of you drank those, right?"

"Don't worry Sammy's been banished to the kitchen, he's not doing anything like this again and--"

Andrew is up and in his face within seconds - pinioning Roland against the wall, arm across his throat, knife pricking his side.

"What has he taken?"

Roland notices Neil, gulps.

"It's a new syrup - they call it Goblin Juice and it looks just like lime cordial - Sam thought it was lime for the soda. Fuck Andrew do you need the knife? Ow fuck fuck fuck okay stop, it's made using shrooms. Non addictive. Just meant to make you happy - kinda soft."

But of course Neil was the one who drank it. If it had been any of the others, perhaps no one would have even noticed - maybe even celebrated the free high.

But Neil...

Kevin and Aaron are helping themselves to the new drinks when he lets Roland go. Nicky looks pale and nervous and is holding a shot but not drinking. Neil has flopped back on their sofa and is staring at Andrew, a wide smile on his face that Andrew immediately hates.

"I really like your face," Neil says when his brain catches up and realises Andrew is paying attention again. "You have a good face."

Andrew shoots daggers with his eyes at Roland and the barman flees, promising free drinks for the night and the next, forever, whenever.

Neil smiles and reaches for Andrew again as he comes back.

Andrew is not drunk enough for this shit, especially when Nicky coos. "Oh he's so cute. He should have gotten high sooner."

Andrew wants to warn his cousin to back off but Neil has wriggled around and nuzzled his face against Andrew's shoulder. It's heedlessly distracting. It's dangerously adorable.

"Do yous like my face Nyandrew?" Neil says. "I really really like yours. Look at your face. Hey is my head still attached?"

Andrew sees the way Neil is teetering, wraps his hand across the back of Neil's neck and tugs him close. It's not a hug. It's for the idiot's own safety that's all. However, apparently for sky-high-Neil, silence and gestures isn't an answer.

"You don't like my face?"

The slight tremble in Neil's voice is what makes Andrew swallow his frustration and reply. He can't stand that tremble. "I like your fucking face." "I like yours too." And then Neil's finger boops Andrew's cheek.

"Nose," he says. "Good nose."

For. Fucks. Sake.

But it's kind of hilarious (and ruinously cute) as Neil - gentle as a moth wing - strokes over Andrew's cheek and along his temple, finds the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips.

"Good face."

Andrew contains himself by a miracle. He's fairly sure Aaron is filming this.

"If that footage goes anywhere but the trash, I'll fucking stab you."

"If you were going to stab me, you would have done it a long time ago brother."

"No stabbing," Neil says. "Too many witnesses. Oh hey, look at the fireflies."

Neil lifts one hand to the empty ceiling. There are no fireflies. This is Eden's. Andrew wants to take Neil home but doesn't think putting him in a car is going to do much good right about now.

"You like my face," Neil sighs and sits back. "Even all of this."

"Yes," Andrew says. "Because of all of this."

It's not the scars, it's because Neil survived. That he should have broken and yet still held himself together by tooth and claw.

"I didn't drug you," Andrew says, close to the shell of Neil's ear. "I promise."

"Okay," Neil says. "Good. I don't wanna kiss Nicky."

And there it is again, the second time Neil has mentioned this. Andrew looks at his cousin, who has escaped with Kevin onto the dancefloor.

They'll have a little chat later, when Neil isn't on another planet.

"You're the best," Neil says. "I'll kiss you."

"Not tonight."

Because even if Neil is warm and flush against him. Even if Neil is soft and pliant and willing. This is a man who has been drugged and cannot give consent. Hell, he's watching fireflies that don't exist and stroking Andrew's chin, like he's forgotten Andrew has teeth. Neil is not okay.

Aaron leans back in his chair. "If it's molly, he could be flying for hours."

"It's some kind of shroom shit."

"So even longer then."

Andrew's fingers tighten on Neil's shoulder. "So we can't wait this out?" He should have asked Roland that.

"Probably not, no. Take him home. I'll bring the others."

And for once Andrew decides to trust his brother. He gathers Neil and his loose limbs and leaves Aaron to manage Kevin and Nicky. It’s a one of the hardest things he’s ever done but Bee’s buzzing voice tells him it's time to let Aaron prove himself, standalone.

Neil is awful as they leave - smiling at everyone and everything, even things that aren’t there. His eyes shine and every time he looks at Andrew, there’s a draw of breathe like he’s never seen him before.

“You are,” Neil says, “the best thing. The abs’lute best thing. Hold me up and keep me sage, no safe. Mean safe. You me safe.”

And Neil cannot sing but his voice is sing song and full of wonder.

Andrew is going to gut Hapless Sam like a fish from chin to pelvis.

They drive home - slowly because Neil keeps getting distracted by things Andrew is doing, like blinking (your eyelashes are so white, like snow flakes Andrew) and breathing (but look how you move, so amazing). But Neil is so soft and happy and obsessed, it’s hard to be angry.

Columbia is dark, their house musty with absence. They’ve not visited for a while and Andrew had been hoping for something slightly different tonight.

Neil apparently had too. “Yes? Andrew? Yes?” He says.

“No,” Andrew says. And he never thought he’d hate seeing Neil obey - not with this - but there’s hurt and confusion and concern and a thousand layers of emotion on Neil’s face when he hears it this time. All the feelings Neil must usually keep tucked away when it isn’t always yes for Andrew.

Andrew relents, “Just this,” he says as he settles onto the sofa, guiding Neil down with him. Neil’s reaction is instant - dopey smile and arms that snake around Andrew in a loose but escapable hold.

“Warm,” he says. “Strong.”

The hours tick by in highs and lows - Neil is happy in phases, then almost crying in others. He tells Andrew things that cross his mind, about Andrew, about the Foxes and exy. He hides in Andrew’s hoody when he sees shadows crawling and is convinced they’re from his father.

Andrew does his best to soothe and protect - it’s all in Neil’s head and Andrew isn’t a soft man, but he keeps Neil close and lets him talk. A few years ago he couldn’t have done this. But a few years ago he and Neil were new and still cutting each other on their sharp edges.

Aaron herds an unhappy Nicky and an almost paralytic Kevin inside. Aaron seems sober but that could just be in comparison.

“Our cousin,” Aaron tells Andrew, “is a fool. But you care about him and shouldn’t kill him for doing what you asked.”

“What did he do?”

Aaron shrugs. “Just a kiss I believe. But might explain a bit more why your nut-job boyfriend knocked himself out that time.”

“That was cos imma liar,” Neil chimes with all the confidence of the truly seshed. “Liar liar liar.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah. Not with you.”

There's water and toast and Neil naps at one point but Andrew doesn't because he knows what's next - and he's right. Neil is sick for what feels like hours but isn't. Aaron brings more water. A small part of Andrew wonders if his twin actually likes seeing Neil so ridiculous.

Turns out he's right about that too.

Aaron tells him when Neil is hurling up his guts that seeing Neil like this, seeing Andrew with him like this, makes more sense than anything he's seen prior.

"You're everything to him." Aaron doesn't say that Neil is everything to Andrew but the implication is there.

And when Neil is finally in their bed, safe and asleep, Andrew calls Roland and leaves a warning. Hapless Sam had better be fired or there wouldn't be an Eden's Twilight.

He stays awake and stays awake. He falls asleep around 6am.

Neither of them stir until well into the afternoon and when Neil does, he buries his face in the pillows and groans.

"Oh my god. Andrew I'm so --"

"Shut up." Andrew doesn't want apologies for this. He sees the embarrassed pink of Neil's ears, the flush on his neck. "Stop."

Neil groans again and Andrew knows he must feel like shit right about now. That he's mortified. That he's worried. That Andrew has the power to make it right.

Something wicked flickers in his gut.

"Hey junkie," he says. "I like your face."

-The End-

Notes:

[anika-ann]

For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

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A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

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“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

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The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

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“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god’s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

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Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

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“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

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Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.  

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

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“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

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S.R. masterlist

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​

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Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Handshake

Sam Winchester x Harry Styles (Yes, really.) 

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: Nothing, really? Some suggestive dialogue?   

A/N: So a while ago @deanwanddamons​ requested a rockstar AU, and my brain ran the fuck off with that, leaving all the original details in the dust and giving me this cracktastic pairing instead. @fookinghelljensensthighs​ sent me a picture of Harry Styles in a collar and encouraged me, so I think this is mostly her fault. Idk. Rockstar AU! 

You can now read more in this ‘verse (with more coming soon!) right over HERE. 

The afterparty is in someone’s hotel suite, and as far as these parties go, it’s a little mellower than Sam expected. Not that there aren’t any dilated pupils in sight, obviously, but nobody’s dancing on a table yet, or anything. 

Sam feels high enough on the adrenaline of the show. He’s just been sitting on one of the couches talking drum equipment with one of the techs and he still feels giddy in that warm, floaty, really-good-Ecstasy way. Cas is listening to something Lindsey is saying, with rapt star-struck attention, and he doesn’t seem to notice his empty glass. Charlie’s flirting shamelessly with a pretty girl Sam hasn’t met, drinking water as usual. 

Dean’s pacing himself pretty well, too, sitting across the room playing acoustic duets and occasionally sipping on his whiskey. He’s wide-eyed and twitchy, but it’s just from excitement. Stevie hasn’t come in yet; Dean sneaks a glance at the door every few minutes, looking breathlessly excited, and it makes him look like a teenager again. 

Granted, they haven’t had the best luck with Christmases, but when the invitation came in to open for Fleetwood Mac at Madison Square Garden, Dean’s expression was everything Sam imagined a normal kid might look like on Christmas. Puppies and candy and Christmas, all over his face. 

Sam’s at the makeshift bar someone’s set up when the door opens, and there’s Stevie herself, sweeping through the door in a whirl of black fringe. She’s shepherding a younger guy who looks vaguely familiar, but Sam can’t place him; he’s half-hidden behind his long hair, slouching, head ducked like he’s trying to be inconspicuous. 

Stevie looks a little different from the poster of her that hung over Dean’s bed for a decade, but she’s still striking, and she’s the sort of person who lights up the entire room with her smile. She shakes hands with Cas and leans in to whisper something to a very overwhelmed Charlie, and then she heads for Dean. She kisses him on the cheek as he greets her, clearly complimenting him, and Sam’s slightly concerned Dean will pass out from happiness. 

He watches Dean for a minute before smiling to himself and turning back to the table, looking for the whiskey. Someone else reaches for the bottle at the same time, and Sam gets a glimpse of blue nail polish and chunky rings before a low, accented voice is apologizing. 

“No, go ahead,” Sam says bemusedly, looking down at the guy who’d come in with Stevie. He’s young enough to be her grandchild. Sam debates asking if that’s the case, for a second, before reminding himself of the cringeworthy time he’d asked a similar question to someone who turned out to be a Rolling Stone’s wife. 

“Here, then,” the guy says, with a little smile, and he fills Sam’s glass before grabbing his own. 

“Thanks.” 

Sam’s slightly distracted by his outfit; there’s lace involved, and a sturdy leather cuff on each of his wrists that bears the stamp of one of Sam’s favorite companies. It’s a company that makes bondage gear, to be specific. Sam’s torn between being a little bit turned on (he tells himself it’s just Pavlovian conditioning to the sight of those cuffs) and being even more curious (and mildly concerned) about how this kid knows the band.  

“Cheers,” the guy says, and lifts his glass in a quick toast. 

Sam clinks it with his own and takes a sip. “I’m Sam.” 

“Yeah, I know,” the guy says, looking up through his lashes and smiling. 

Sam’s more than a little taken aback, at both the smile and the recognition. He loves being able to hide behind the drum kit, not least of all because of the relative anonymity he enjoys from casual fans. 

Besides, those dimples are pretty startling. So are the eyelashes. Huh. 

“Good show,” he says thoughtfully. “I like what you guys did with ‘Woman In White,’ changing it up like that. Keeps the old stuff fresh.” 

“Thanks,” Sam says, grinning. Apparently the surprises are just going to keep on coming tonight; most of the sort of people who end up backstage at Madison Square Garden don’t actually listen to the opening band. He hesitates and asks, “How do you know her?” 

“Stevie? I was just a big fan,” he says, with a familiar hero-worship sort of smile evident on his face. “I brought her a carrot cake, we got to talking. She was nice enough to give me some advice. You know.” 

Sam doesn’t know, because that’s not the sort of thing that just happens to people.

“Cool,” he says. Sam doesn’t ask the biggest question on his mind, which is who the fuck are you? People who are that sort of famous tend to get huffy when they’re not recognized. 

This guy just looks amused. As if he knows exactly what Sam is thinking, he says, “I’m a musician. Well, I sing, mostly... and play guitar. Can’t drum, though. That’s probably obvious.” 

“Obvious?” 

“Soft hands.” It sounds like a secret in his quiet, husky voice. He holds one hand out between them, palm-up. “Can always recognize a drummer. It’s the calluses.” 

“Ah,” Sam says, and holds up his hand for comparison. 

“Speaking of, I don’t think I properly introduced myself.” He takes Sam’s hand, now, and shakes it slowly, holding eye contact in a way that makes it feel almost outrageously flirtatious. 

“No, you didn’t.”   

“Sorry, was excited to meet you, forgot my manners,” he says, without letting go of Sam’s hand. “Harry.” 

“Mind me asking if I’d recognize any of your music?” 

“I don’t mind, no,” Harry says. The sparkle in his eyes makes Sam feel like he’s missing a joke. “But… probably not.” 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” Sam asks, with a teasing smirk. “Nice cuffs, by the way.” 

Harry’s eyes light up delightedly for a split-second, but he just laughs, finally letting go of Sam’s hand to tuck his hair behind his ears. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam adds, and means it. 

.

Follow-up is here! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note here! 

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[captainamericasbeard]

How Do I Look

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, severe pining, fluffiness

Summary: You were injured on your last mission but even Bucky can’t stop you from going on your next one. 

A/N: This is my entry for @teamcap4bucky ‘s writing challenge. It’s different from what I usually write but I had a lot of fun with it. I’m glad I challenged myself to do something new and I hope you guys like it too! Please like, comment, and reblog. It gives me confidence.

The mission had gone badly. Really really badly. Nat broke 2 fingers. Sam’s wings were now in Tony’s shop. You’d been shot. Twice. You healed quicker than most people but not as quick as Steve and Bucky so it was three days post mission and here you were, still laid up in the med bay. You lay curled under a sheet, fast asleep and looking absolutely adorable, according to Bucky.

The solider stood frozen at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. His eyes wandered over you, from your cat like form, to your eyelashes laying softly on your cheeks, to your out-of-control hair up in a bun. His breath was stuck somewhere between his lungs and his lips. He swallowed with effort, the sight of you so peaceful was more than his battered heart could handle. He wanted desperately to not wake you but he knew what your reaction would be to being left behind with no explanation. He feared your wrath.

He cleared his throat softly. Your brow furrowed and one of your eyes crept open. Your eye roamed around searching for the source of the noise and finally fell on Bucky’s form at the foot of your bed. You smiled sweetly as you lifted your arms in a long, lazy stretch. Bucky’s knees almost gave out at the sight. Your knees shifted and the sheet was pulled down to your hips. Your shirt hitched up slightly exposing your soft skin and the edge of your bandage. You let out a squeak and the a groan as the tender young flesh at your wound protested the movement.

“Easy, Doll, you’ll pull your stitches,” Bucky cautioned, his voice was hoarse with the effort of keeping it steady. You glanced at him and shrugged.

“They're practically healed, I don’t know why Bruce is keeping me here. Here, look.” You lifted the edge of your shirt and peeled back the soft white gauze covering your wounds. Bucky took a steadying breath and moved around to the side of your bed to inspect your skin. Sure enough, there was no blood and no scars. Just baby fresh pink skin criss crossed with stitches waiting to be removed. Bucky’s hand twitched at the thought of reaching out and lightly grazing your stomach and he quickly clenched his fist. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by you but you were kind enough to ignore it.

“See! All better,” you quipped cheerfully as you replaced your bandages and lowered your shirt. “So, you wake me up for a reason Solider? If not, I'm gonna have to kick your ass.” Bucky was slow to answer, his eyes were locked on the spot where your skin had just been. He was promising himself that one day he’d get to brush his fingers over every inch of you.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah?” His eyes snapped back yours and his face was flushed with the embarrassment of being caught staring. He was so concerned with his own reaction he didn’t noticed the extra pink playing across your cheeks.

“Why are you here?” Bucky’s feet shifted as he came back to reality.

“Right. I’m here… because…” he shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “We found him! The target, we found him.”

“Dr. Wickman? Good! I have some feelings I’d like to express to him. Like how much I don’t like getting shot.” You slowly started sitting up, testing your body, searching for soreness.

“No! You’re not coming Y/N. I just wanted you to know what was going on. You need to stay here and rest.” Bucky gently pushed your shoulder back toward the bed. You grabbed his wrist to stop him. You couldn’t fail to notice how warm his skin was under your own.

“If you didn’t want me to come you shouldn’t have told me about the mission.” Your smile was coy. You’d fight for this one, and you were pretty sure you’d win. Bucky moved his hand from your shoulder and firmly crossed his arms across his broad chest. He planted his feet and scowled at you, assuming his best deadly-assassin-super-solider stance. You glanced him up and down taking note of the way his shoulders got broader and his chest stuck out and immediately burst out laughing. Bucky deflated like a balloon. “Oh, you’re so cute but I’m definitely still coming.”

His face flushed again. “Come on, Doll. I’m just tryin’ to keep you safe,” he muttered, eyes on the floor.

“I can take care of myself,” you answered, eyebrows arching dangerously.

“You got shot. Twice,” Bucky shot back, locking eyes with you.

“Yeah but did I die?” you asked. Bucky was silent for a beat.

“I’m losing this argument, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are. But if it helps, you never stood a chance.” You swung your legs over the bed and tentatively put your feet on the floor. Bucky reached out his hand again, this time to support your elbow and you smiled at the sweet gesture. Slowly you stood, making sure your legs could take your weight. You twisted and turned and even bent over searching for pain but there was none.

“Okay, I'm good to go! How do I look?”

Bucky gave you a once over, taking in your harried appearance. Barefoot, in your pajamas, bags under your eyes, and hair going every which way. Perfect, he thought. “Like hell,” he stated.

“Great! Let’s go! Bruce, I'm outta here!” The Doc peered from around the corner looking over the brim of his glasses.

“You sure about that, Y/N? What about your stitches?”

“I’ll take them out on the jet. I’ve got a mission.”

“This isn’t so much you asking me as it is you telling me, yeah?” Bruce sighed resignedly.

“Yup! See Bucky, the Doc gets it.” And with that you strode out of the room, head held high, Bucky following meekly in your wake.

“There’s no use fighting it pal,” Bruce called after Bucky. He knew it was true. There was no use fighting you, he was already yours.

[something-fanfiction-ie]

The Confession

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Hmm, you feel betrayed.

A/N: So, this came out a lot fast than Daughters To Wed because I was writing it in my head last night at work. Plus I dreamt about it so it’s out first. I’ve included a few Kissing Booth and To All the Boys references so if you don’t get them, I’m sorry. Although, I hope you get some of them??? Anyways, here is part two to The Contract. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for the comments and everything, they fill me with absolute joy. Keep it up! ♥️

| The Contract |

___

The whole house was quiet as you laid in bed. You were spread spread eagle across your mattress, staring at the ceiling and tracing patterns that weren’t really there with your eyes. 

A glance at the clock confirmed that you should most definitely be asleep, but to fall asleep, your brain would have to stop. Your brain would only stop if you’d had a much more normal day. Normal days consisted of school, Harry, a glance or two at Tom, dinner (sometimes with the Hollands, sometimes with your own family), homework, and then sleep.

Normal days did not consist of an agreement to fake a relationship with your best friend’s older brother to help him get his girlfriend back. Especially when you only agreed to fake date him because you’ve had a crush on him since you suggested that he be the daddy and you be the mommy while playing house at the ripe old ages of five and eight. 

Of course, the answer had been a firm, “No,” followed by the more popular suggestion of tag. You had been the only one to disagree.

You sat up in your bed, ditching the trip down memory lane so that you could glare at the picture of you and Harry sitting on your nightstand. In the picture, you’re both nine years old and wearing bathing suits. Both of you are drenched to the bone, framed by the evening lake sun, and missing teeth that you helped each other pull out just days prior to the summer holiday.

“Traitor.” You hiss at the ten year old Harry, narrowing your eyes before flopping back onto your back.

The moment Tom left the booth to head to his house, you grabbed for your phone and pulled up Harry’s contact information so fast that you should have had Guinness World Record Officials there to record it in history.

EMERGENCY! I NEED YOU NOW!

As an after thought you send,

Be discreet

Harry is in your booth within thirty minutes, assuring you that only Sam knows where he has truly gone to. Because whatever you tell Harry, you also tell Sam. They’re twins and all of the Holland siblings are close anyways. It’s an unspoken rule that, should you ask for Harry’s confidence, you are not including Sam into the group of those who must not be told.

Only one thing could keep Harry from telling Sam what was about to come out of your mouth and you mad sure it was the first thing you did before you said anything else.

“Tom doesn’t know you’re with me?” You whisper, glancing at the people around you.

“Tom- I- Tom? No. (Y/N), what is this about?” He furrows his brows and you make direct eye contact, never breaking your stare as you move your extended pinky to the middle of the table.

“No Sam?” Harry’s eyes widen. Of all the things you’ve told him over the years, this would only be the second time that you have invoked the pinky and excluded Sam from the fold.

The only other time you had used the pinky finger was when you were sixteen and accidentally ran over your neighbor’s cat. He died, you cried, and Harry promised to never tell Sam because Sam had a tendency to pick on you over things you were sensitive about.

Plus, you felt horrible about it. It was somewhat traumatizing. You still dropped to your hands and knees to check for animals under your car before you backed out of any driveway.

“Just you and I.” Harry loops his pinky around yours. He doesn’t let go as you tell him the story, rehashing every detail of your meeting with his brother. You even go so far as to pull your copy of the contract out of your pocket.

You insisted upon making a clean copy for your own possession.

“You’re dating Tom?” He looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes, using his unoccupied hand to hold the paper down. “My brother, Tom.”

“Fake dating.” You pause. “But yes.”

To your surprise, Harry looks deflated after you stress the ‘fake’ in the phrase ‘fake dating.’ He takes a sip of your drink, the one that has been refilled nearly twelve times within the last hour and a half. Poor waitress. You mentally remind yourself to leave her a really good tip for taking up one of her tables for so long to attend to your stupid drama.

“What?”

“I just,” Harry sighs, “I think you guys should actually date.” You purposefully squeeze your pinky around his as tight as you can, glaring.

“Don’t act like you don’t like him that way.” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t.” Again with the lies. Harry hums in response, an incredulous look on his face.

Just as you had said to Tom early, this is your best friend in the entire world.

“Love, listen to me. Tom needs someone like you. Tom deserves someone like you. He has been with Elle and has been taking her bullshit for far too long. He’s a good person-“

“He broke my arm.”

“He was an eleven year old boy being annoyed by his eight year old brother and his brother’s best friend. You deserved it at the time, plus Tom has repayed you ten times over ever since.” Harry waits for you to say something else, seeming very pleased when he has sufficiently quieted you.

“I love Tom. I love you. I am glad that you learned something from Elle Evans, keeping Noah from Lee was the worst decision she ever made. Poor life choices. I just wish you had learned something from Lara Jean.” With that, Harry unloops your fingers and stands from his spot.

You stare up at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish stuck on land. He says something about seeing you tomorrow, that he loves you and he’s glad you told him, and then he is gone.

“Traitor.” You his once more, climbing up to the top of your bed and burrowing into the blankets like they could protect you from the world. And for a while they do, you dream of nothing for a few short hours.

Then your brain turns back on.

Peering outside your bedroom window, which has somehow moved upstairs, you see a dark gray Jeep pull onto the curb of your house.

You only have to wonder who it is for a beat of a second before the driver door opens and Tom’s head pops over the roof.

He crosses his arms on the hardtop and flashes you a cocky smile that could explode ovaries all over the globe. Running out of your room, you rocket down the stares, catapulting yourself around the banister and exploding out of the front door with a wave to your dad.

“Good morning, girlfriend.” You can’t help the smile or the butterflies that follow that word from his lips.

“Good morning, Tom.” Except you don’t say Tom. You specifically think the name, can visualize the spelling and everything, but instead the name that you say is, ‘Peter.’

Your steps falter as you look up at him. It’s still Tom. Still the same brown eyes and chestnut curls, the same ears that poke out just a little, and the same misdirection of hair on his left eyebrow.

“Are you alright?” And then everything is different.

You’re under a tree, Tom sitting next to you on the table. He’s wearing a navy sweatshirt with yellow writing. It’s a giant ‘A’ with lacrosse sticks crossing through it, layered with the silhouette of a greyhound. ‘Adler High Lacrosse.’

“Just for like a month or two.” He shrugs, his hands buried deep into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Why?” The words are out of your mouth before you can think them. You sound like a recording being played from a tape.

“Well, I am glad you asked. You see, Elle and I, we kind of broke up and she was always pretty insecure about you so I thought that maybe you would pretend to date me so she would get all jealous and want to get back together with me...?” You don’t know why, but you knew he was going to say that.

Somehow, the moment you asked him for a reason why, you knew it was because of Elle.

“(Y/N)?” It’s like in the movies where the person is staring into space in some sort of daze, seeing one thing, and then when they are pulled back to reality everything is different.

One moment you’re at the picnic table under the tree, and the next you’re on a field. There is a piece of paper in your hand, or more specifically, a letter. The overwhelming feeling is determination, but underneath it, the real you is terrified. The you that isn’t dreaming is pulling at the back of dream you’s shirt and begging the dream you to give her the letter.

“Let me rewrite it! He doesn’t want to read the letter of a thirteen year old. Please!”

“Hey.” Tom calls, standing in front of a goal that he’s just pushed back.

“Hi. I have to tell you something.”

[tenecity]

zhangjun

was listening to the sam willows; for love and just suddenly had the urge to write so welp here you go.

for love, by the sam willows

masterlist

zikun: 1 2

cr.@aestheticninepercent for being an amazing BUB AGAIN

❝ too many nights spent home alone, with your laughter in the air ❞       

Zhangjing and Yanjun. Yanjun and Zhangjing. It always been like this. Yanjun and Zhangjing, Zhangjing and Yanjun. Inseparable.    

At first, they just bickered a lot.

“Zhangjing, what’s that you’re eating?”

“....” Zhangjing just glares at Yanjun. “Oh come on! You’re supposed to be my best friend. Don’t tell the staff about this, pretty please? I will give you half of the noodles, I promise.” Zhangjing says as he pleads, eyelashes fluttering ridiculously, hugging his cup noodles tightly to his chest. Yanjun rolls his eyes and pretends to brush him off, but in reality, the pumping of his heart at how long Zhangjing’s eyelashes are and how absolutely endearing the other boy is, causes a flush to spread across Yanjun’s pale cheeks.

Yanjun tells lame jokes, Zhangjing laughs at me. That’s how it works i don’t make the rules. Soon enough, things go the other way round, and Zhangjing becomes pretty much the only reason why Yanjun would laugh hard and high pitched, especially when Zhangjing does something really stupid. For example, walking into a pole.

“Yanjun, stop laughing! Come comfort me.” The elder pouts as he winces when his hand comes into contact with the bruised spot. Yanjun only chuckles and laughs, telling the rest of the Nine Percent members, and Banana trainees (by text) how idiotic the boy is.

Zhangjing, also finds himself generally happier and uncontrollably smiling when around the boy, as compared to when he was with the other members. The edges of his mouth twitch as he tries (but fails) to look at Yanjun sternly as the younger waves a Harry Potter wand at him. He ends up grinning, lips pulling into a cheshire grin, laughing till his voice changes pitch.

However, the closer they get, the more Zhangjing finds himself worrying.

“Yanjun, you were, and still are sick, you had a fever just this morning. Why do you have to over exert yourself and ask a bloody heavy child like Fan Chengcheng to sit on your back while you were doing push ups?” Zhangjing is practically glowering with anger right now, hands on his hips, eyes dark as they flash anger. His heart had ached so much, when he saw beads of cold sweat forming on Yanjun’s forehead as he did the push ups, looking significantly paler than he was 5 minutes before.

“I can’t give up my perfect, handsome image, all just because I’m sick!” Yanjun tries to lift up the atmosphere but to no avail. Zhangjing’s expression only darkens. “Are you kidding me right now Lin Yanjun? Don’t you know your limits?” The boy was so angry that he pushed Yanjun, causing the Taiwanese’s legs to hit against the bed and plop down on the soft mattress. Zhangjing points  his finger as he jabs at Yanjun’s muscular chest. “Know your limits. Stop hurting yourself. You come first.” The last parts come out as a whisper and colour paints Zhangjing’s cheeks as he realises what he just said. 

His chocolate brown eyes travel from his finger to Yanjun’s umber brown ones. They stare back at Zhangjing’s irises with such intensity, that Zhangjing almost reels back, but is stopped by a hand at his elbow. Yanjun’s lips form a smirk and his voice is low and smooth, sending shivers down Zhangjing’s spine. “Is You Zhangjing, who never cared about anything besides singing and food, concerned about me?” “Shut up, Lin Yanjun.”

Still smirking, Yanjun continues taunting. “So I come first?” His eyes challenge Zhangjing’s own eyes and the elder doesn’t back down.

“So you care-”

“Just shut up Lin Yanjun.”

Before he knows it, Zhangjing’s lips are on his, soft, sweet and biteable. A soft whimper escapes the elder’s mouth as Yanjun does just that. Sparks fly at every contact they make, at every corner of their mouths, at every swipe of a tongue. Yanjun feels light headed, whether from the fever or the expert mouth of Zhangjing’s, he doesn’t know. At that, he quickly pulls away.

“Zhangjing, are you stupid? You’re going to get sick like this.” Yanjun fusses as he quickly gets up and pours Zhangjing a glass of water and passes the flushed Malaysian vitamin Cs. A wicked smile makes it way to Zhangjing’s face. He pouts and shakes his head, refusing to eat the vitamin Cs. “Zhangjing, you’re not five. Hurry and eat it, my hand’s tired.”

“I’ll eat it if you feed it to me with your mouth.” Yanjun rolls his eyes as he blushes. He never thought Zhangjing can be so open about his thoughts.

That’s how the rest of Nine Percent found them, kissing, laughing, trying hard to not spit out the vitamin C.

That’s how it’s been like ever since. Late night kisses, midnight make out sessions, caresses, touches, physical contact. But Yanjun never said a single “I love you” or confirmed with Zhangjing that they were in a relationship. Zhangjing never spoke a word about it either, because he didn’t find it necessary. He was fine with how they were, somewhere in between best friends and lovers, with some strings attached. His heart lurches every time Yanjun brushes his fingers over his, every time he catches Yanjun staring at him, every time Yanjun’s dimples appear.

But it just wasn’t enough for Zhangjing. He is greedy. He admits it. He wants Yanjun, he wants the whole world know this beautiful boy was his, nobody else’s. He wanted to tell Yanjun how much he loved him, not just for his pretty face or perfect body, but for his upbeat, firm, solid personality. He longed to whisper love songs to Yanjun instead of sweet nothings that meant absolutely nothing.

But he knows Yanjun is a completely non committal person. He doesn’t commit to relationships. He likes the idea that he has someone, but there is no full commitment. “Burden” he had once told Zhangjing. That was how he felt about relationships. His girlfriends had never lasted more than a month. His incessant flirting was evidence for that. He would flirt with anyone, even a dustbin for god’s sake, and everyone flushes under his words, everyone wants Yanjun’s attention and the boy gives out his affections freely.

Zhangjing can’t help but feel a sour taste in his mouth as he sees Yanjun shamelessly flirt with Xukun, completely oblivious to a glowering Ziyi and a Zhangjing whose eyes are sending him daggers.

He can’t do this anymore. It is either he has all of Yanjun, or none of it. Having something that is half-hearted, incomplete, is too painful. This push and pull game, this constant insecure feeling, this fear; Zhangjing’s heart and mind can only take this much. This is too much. 

Maybe because he love Yanjun so much, maybe it is because he wants Yanjun to love him back equally, that his heart is at the verge of breaking, because he knows the possibility of that happening is a naught. He can’t afford an emotional breakdown. He is terrible at faking happiness; his fans would know something is wrong and create chaos about it.

No, he needs to break it off now. It’s now or never.

Zhangjing goes to bed early, his breath hitching when the bed finally dips down and a body is clinging onto his small frame. 

“Zhangjing…” the whispers causes Zhangjing to bite back a whimper. Hot breath fans across the nape of his neck and he shivers at that mere gesture. No, if Yanjun has so much control of him, even a single breath can send Zhangjing to his knees, then no, Zhangjing can’t continue this. He can’t lose control over himself, he can’t lose control to someone who is likely to be temporary.

Lips are sucking along his pale neck, the chapped texture grazing over the skin, causing the hairs to stand. Yanjun’s hands roam under Zhangjing’s t-shirt, like how they do every night. Only, tonight, it’s going to be different.

“Yanjun, stop.” His voice is too weak, Zhangjing mentally scolds himself. Yanjun misinterprets it as a silent plea for more, so his lips sink down on the milky white skin, marring the flesh.

“Yanjun, I said stop.” Tears almost choke him. But Yanjun doesn’t stop, completely misinterpreting anything and he shifts, allowing his lips to trace the obvious collarbones of Zhangjing’s.

It wasn’t until he want back to give Zhangjing’s lips a peck does he taste salty water droplets and realises Zhangjing’s silent cries.

“Zhangjing, what’s-”

“I said stop.” The elder pulls himself up to a sitting position, swinging his feet over the bed.

“Let’s stop this.”

Yanjun knows exactly what Zhangjing is talking about, and he’s confused. He refuses to believe it. So he asks softly, as if, perhaps, telling Zhangjing to stop joking around. “Stop what?”

Zhangjing’s eyes glisten with tears as he looks back at Yanjun, his brows furrowed and hurt, pain and anguish is spelt on his face.

Yanjun doesn’t receive an answer.

Zhangjing slept outside that night. All the members knew about it. But they daren’t ask about it, when they saw the pained expression on Zhangjing’s face and Yanjun’s lips set in a thin line during breakfast.

That’s why Nongnong had agreed immediately, without questioning, to move into Zhangjing’s previous room.

“What are you doing here?” The sharp words make Nongnong flinch. God, he hates being in between couples, but he sucks it up because his mother is sad, for tian’s sake.

“Zhangjing asked me to change rooms with him.”

“He doesn’t get to bloody choose.” Yanjun’s voice raises a notch and he stomps out of the room, pounding hard on Xiao Gui’s room’s door. “You Zhangjing! You don’t just get to change rooms like this.”

His hand is raised to send down another pound when the person he wants to see steps out. “Zhangjing-”

“Yanjun, go back to your room.” The boy is surprisingly calm and unfazed by the glare Yanjun is sending him.

“You Zhangjing-” Yanjun’s eyes are shining with warning but Zhangjing can see right through hin. He sees a boy, a child, tears running down his face. Why, why, why? Breathe, Zhangjing, breathe.

“Lin Yanjun, go back to your room.” The leader stands right behind Yanjun, pulling the upset boy away from the trembling Malaysian.

Zhangjing takes in a deep breath. No, don’t give in.

The room feels empty. Too empty. Nongnong’s things fill the space, but it is still empty. There is no Zhangjing’s laughter bouncing off the walls, no whimpers ringing in his ears, no one to cuddle with during the night, no one to tell lame jokes to, no one to scold, no one to tease, no one to whine to,

no one to love.

Yanjun is an oblivious idiot. He never knew that he loved Zhangjing. He thought the sweet, aching feeling at the pit of his stomach whenever his eyes traced the Malaysian’s soft features that were bathed in morning light, was just because he ate something wrong. He thought the hiccup he felt when Zhangjing brushed hands with him was because he was thirsty. He thought that having his eyes glued onto Zhangjing, noticing every single thing about him was normal amongst friends. Apparently not.

He never knew until it all became so damn obvious.

“Hi, may I take your order?”

“Yes, um, one caffe latte, one caffe mocha, one double shot espresso, um,” Yanjun squints at the list. “Ziyi, what’s this that you wrote?” Ziyi glances over and then, with a soft smile of his face, recites it like he learnt it by heart. “Iced hazelnut macchiato, more ice, double hazelnut syrup.” Yanjun raises his eyebrow. “It’s Xukun’s order.” Yanjun nods knowingly. Of course Ziyi would know Xukun’s order. “Any more, sirs?”

“Yes. One doppio espresso mocha, Grande, with extra chocolate and extra milk foam. That’s all. Thank you.” He takes the receipt and walks to the next counter to get his drinks. It’s Ziyi’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Didn’t know you were a specific kind of guy, Yanjun.” Yanjun shrugs, replying nonchalantly. “Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for-” The name dies on his lips. OH. Oh. oh.

Ziyi knows Xukun’s coffee order.

Only lovers would know each other’s coffee orders.

And Yanjun knows a certain someone’s coffee order.

The realisation is like a hit in the gut.

Yanjun tries to ignore the pain but it’s a bit hard to pretend that his heart is not being wrenched out of his chest when he sees Zhangjing throwing his head back in laughter; laughter not for his jokes, but for someone else’s.

Nights feel emptier and emptier. The soft snores of Nongnong don’t compare to the small puffs of breaths Zhangjing gives when he is in deep sleep. Yanjun stares at the moon lit ceiling. He used to stare at that ceiling with Zhangjing in his arms.

But the side of his bed that once belonged to Zhangjing is cold and empty.

Nothing seems fun anymore, nothing seems to have a purpose. He watches helplessly as Zhangjing gets carried bridal style by Nongnong. His heartstring are about to snap. He listlessly practices, listlessly answers interview questions, listlessly participate in group activities. It’s not just the pain, it’s the lack of sleep too. How many nights did he spend reminiscing how Zhangjing’s lips felt like? How many nights did he spend recalling all the times Zhangjing laughed and it was like the sweetest melody to his ears? How many nights did he spend thinking about the times he still had Zhangjing? Past tense, past tense, past tense.

And now he is left with nothing, because Zhangjing was avoiding him like the plague, barely sparing him a glance.

❝ how many nights has he spent alone, with Zhangjing’s laughter left in the air, 

like a fond distant memory?❞

❝ if it hurts bleed it out on this guitar ❞

Everyone in the group could feel the shift in dynamics. But no one said a word about it. That’s life isn’t it, people come and go, move and shift, constantly never in the same place.

But Zhangjing doesn’t want Yanjun to just come and go, move and shift, constantly never by his side. Yanjun is not a passerby, Yanjun was supposed to stay.

Why did he let go?

He had thought maybe, just maybe, Yanjun would come running to him, apologises spilling out from his mouth, kissing him, whispering “I love you”. But none of that happened. Yanjun just went on with life, the same nonchalant expression, as if unfazed by the recent events, like they didn’t matter at all.

Was he not worth something, for Yanjun to do something about the situation?

He poured his heart out to the ever listening leader and Xukun’s hands rub Zhangjing’s back as he sobs, waves of sadness crashing on his body. “Zhangjing, Zhangjing, hey, listen to me. Do you want Yanjun or not?”

Zhangjing looks at Xukun, slightly distorted. Of course he wants Yanjun.

“Then why did you let him go?”

Everyone in the group could feel the shift in dynamics. But no one said a word about it. That’s life isn’t it, people come and go, move and shift, constantly never in the same place.

But Yanjun doesn’t want Zhangjing to just come and go, move and shift, constantly never by his side. Zhangjing is not a passerby, Zhangjing was supposed to stay.

What happened?

Did he not give enough?

He poured his heart out to the ever listening leader and Xukun’s hands rub Yanjun’s back as he sobs, waves of sadness crashing on his body. “Yanjun, Yanjun, hey, listen to me. Do you want Zhangjing or not?”

Yanjun looks at Xukun, slightly distorted. Of course he wants Zhangjing.

“Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

So he’s going to do something about it. If he doesn’t do anything to get Zhangjing back, he will regret it, forever.

So he practicing, playing the guitar, strumming as he drowns himself in the lyrics of ‘You exist in my song’.

“你 就 这样 出现 在 我 的 世界 里，带给 我 惊喜，情不自已

(you appeared in my world as you did, bringing me a pleasant surprise, that I couldn’t resist.)

可是 你 偏 又 这样，在 我 不知不觉 中

(but you had to be like this, without me knowing,)

悄悄 的 消失， 从 我 的 世界 里，没有 音讯，剩下 的 只是 回忆” 

(you quietly disappeared, from my world, without a word leaving behind only my memories)

Muffled crying can be heard at the doorway and Yanjun whips around, only to see a glimpse of Zhangjing.

He runs after the smaller boy, like his life depends on it, hot tears evaporating as the cold wind cuts his face.

“Zhangjing, Zhangjing, wait.” Yanjun is almost breathless as he crashes into Zhangjing, spinning the Malaysian around, lips ghosting over the other’s, hot breath fanning the flushed cheeks of the elder.

“I love you.”

See, Yanjun. Was it that hard to say those three words?

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x20 “Unfinished Business”

mostly just my pansexual!Gabriel headcanons tbh

03:07

MEREDITH GLYNN YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

give me soft emotional supernatural drama yaaaaasss

directed by Richard Speight, Jr. himself!!! whee

-

03:09

oh my goooooooood sometimes i forget how pretty-faced dean was around season 5

not that he’s any less pretty now, he was just... sparkly before

now he’s more solid and faceted......idk how to explain this. like the philosopher’s stone in the first harry potter film??? as opposed to a disco ball

.........sorry jensen i mean well i swear

-

03:13

this recap is like.....a recap of EVERYTHING

did you mean: the entire show

-

03:15

the tune gabriel’s playing sounds kinda like the theme tune for the old tv show “agatha christie’s poirot”

and is also beautiful

and is also played on a kazoo apparently

(but the recording does not sound like a kazoo, i would like to know what instrument was actually used)

-

03:17

omfg the funky music

i can’t believe gabriel is a character let alone that he’s like this

this show ????

just

this show

thirteen, nearly fourteen years and this is the thing that’s happening

no complaints...... just sometimes i facepalm and smile fondly at the same time

-

03:19

dancing wizard professor gabriel out to steal your candy

-

03:21

this room looks very much like a refurbished version of the cowboy one in “tombstone”

i mean i know they’re basically always the same but it’s SO recognisable

-

03:22

it’s weird hearing dean talk about “mom and jack” being “hurt or worse” ‘cause i’ve just spent the last week immersed in my own 5k headcanon fic where Dean gets married to Cas, and then they go to rescue everyone (Prince of the Ether Realms)

what do you mEAN my fic isn’t canon

-

03:25

FUCK YEAH VIBRATING BED

I BET DEAN’S GONNA BE LIKE “I CLAIM THAT BED”

and then lie face-down and naked because of reasons

-

03:26

oh so NOW mary’s hair grows

six months alone and it never changed, then suddenly WHOOSH

must be jack, a magic hair-growing sprite

i knew he took after sam somehow

little team free will superbaby

also i totally typed “alex” instead of “jack” there

-

03:30

gabriel: “it’ll recharge eventually”

ahh so it DOES recharge

gabriel doing grace-recharging is giving me flashbacks to Hart of the Storm. wow i loved writing gabriel in that. like if you didn’t wanna read the whole fic at least read chapter 21 “Across the Universe”. i mean, suuuuuuuper spoilers for the rest of the fic but GABE

sorry tangent

BACK TO THE THING

-

i guess gabriel’s safeword is ~raspberries~

-

03:37

what a pretty horse man

why does he look irish???? is he irish???

maybe it’s just the green plaid suit and the hair

-

03:40

gabriel: “hi handsome, you ready to die?”

did i already have a pan!gabe headcanon? i forget

well anyway he’s pansexual now according to me

-

03:41

i just realised, as soon as dean, sam and cas burst into the alternate universe they’re gonna realise mary and jack have taken over the place, rallied an army, probably teamed up with charlie, ketch, and probably kevin by that time, and then all they gotta do is join forces and fight micheal, who will ultimately end up fighting lucifer in the original universe (probably killing him?)

but yeah there’s gonna be a moment where dean’s like “BUT WE JUST USED UP EVERYTHING WE HAVE TO GET HERE AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU’RE FINE?!?!!”

but in a nice, chill, relieved, mildly exasperated sort of way

-

03:45

i really fuckin hope jacob survives this

-

03:47

is it just me or did dean take his jacket off in front of gabriel a “hey sexy” kinda way

????????????

i swear i wasn’t looking for anything

-

03:50

“i thought this story had pornstars”

a dude with no shirt on in the room

definitely pansexual

(i mean, more the other guy than gabe, but GABE TOO OKAY let me have this)

-

03:51

DEAN.

OH MY GOD.

i feel like he’d be perfectly okay listening to gabriel talk about Having Sex With Women and then There’s A Dude As Well and dean’s still totally enthralled and into it

if they were in a high school au, gabe would be cas’ older brother and dean’s queer-ass role model who tells him dirty stories after school while they eat cereal from the box and watch cartoons, and cas does homework and rolls his eyes and makes affronted noises but is secretly imagining himself doing these things with dean

-

03:55

gabriel to sam: “don’t let anybody ever tell you you’re just a pretty face”

dean:

-

03:56

WAIT LOKI

AS IN GABRIEL

AS IN NOT GABRIEL BUT A DIFFERENT GOD?????????

-

04:02

the way sam talks dean into being nice to gabriel is so soft and precious

who allowed these eyelashes and lips in combination

ILLEGAL

(sign me up)

-

04:13

aw man did jacob and the others get hit by the blast?? :c

-

04:14

something about this shot and the whistling and the weird uncanny nature of it all reminds me desperately of “dirk gently’s holistic detective agency”

down to the norse gods and the “person being an animal and having a ghost animal face over their face” quite frankly

100% chance meredith glynn watched dirk gently and was inspired by it

god i love this woman and i want to meet her

there is absolutely NO chance we wouldn’t get along like a house on fire flourishing with flowers all around

-

04:22

EW WHY WOULD YOU PUT A LOLLIPOP BACK IN A BOX WITHOUT AT LEAST WASHING IT FIRST ASFDGAFJS

-

wait didn’t dean kill odin?? ages back? season 7? or was that zeus? the head of some ancient pantheon anyway

-

04:24

the box of lollipops is probably a weapon tbh

edit: a weapon of mass diSTRACTION. it was nothing, it was just a box of suckers

-

04:25

loki: “what would you do for your fath--”

dean: *STAB*

wow he does not want a daddy issues therapy session right now huh

-

04:28

gabriel just stabbed loki

that whistling music.......is almost IDENTICAL to the whistling theme in dirk gently

same notes, just a little slower and deeper

-

04:30

aw maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan

why are the people of colour always dead

actually why though. someone explain it to me. why are they expendable.

i am so GLUM about this

-

04:31

*red bull ad voice* being a nephilim gives you wiiiiiings~

-

04:32

“ophidian hotel”

noun 1. a reptile of the group Ophidia; a snake.

adjective 1. relating to or denoting snakes.

as in, the snake dripping venom into loki’s eye

jeeeez gabriel really picks his symbolic hotels well doesn’t he

-

04:36

sam: “cas is helping gabriel settle in, rowena’s boning up with the demon tablet”

again, why was cas not in this episode? besides budgeting i guess

also i immediately imagined cas fluffing gabriel’s pillows and telling him all about how his and dean’s relationship has developed over the last handful of years until gabriel interrupts with “hey kid, i meant what happened in general, not just to your lovesick little angel heart”

and then rowena shouts all sweet and scottish from the next room, “that’s really all that matters, pumpkin!”

-

04:42

dean: “i don’t care what happens to me. i never really have”

OUCH

-

04:43

sam: “and if we die? we’ll do that together too”

;A;

is it bad that i immediately thought of my sister

-

04:44

thank you sam for being ........how do i say this..... mature? but also the......... good kind of codependent??? if that’s even a thing

trying to be a team

i dunno, is this a step back or a step forward? maybe they’re just jogging on the spot, who knows

-

04:46

still waiting for the season finale where team free will all die and then they spend the next season in the afterlife trying to save people and hunt things there too

-

anyway this episode

i had no expectations but it was about as good as it should be

again, big issue with dead non-white people?????? who signs off on these things? WHY KILL KEVIN AGAIN??

and the one queer demigod also died

hmmm

but yeah this was fun...ish

and gabriel was great, dean was dean (i.e a total mess trying to do his thing regardless), sam was sensitive and good

9.5/10, could’ve been more enjoyable but i can’t quite put my finger on what was missing exactly.

i feel all quiet inside after watching that, unsure what to make of it

i just re-read this post and i still feel the same quietness, and am still not sure what my feelings are. maybe my feeling is Contemplative ?

sure let’s go with that

[islareeveswriting]

Fool's Gold | Chapter 3 | Harry Styles PT AU

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Story Page Here

Listen to Army Ellie Goulding Dark times, you could always find the bright side I’m amazed by the things that you would sacrifice Just to be there for me (P.S. It was so hard to choose lyrics, this whole song is Harry and Olivia to a tee) 

Word Count 4.6k

You were drinking whiskey the other night?’ She quizzed only half hoping he’d deny it. Part of her wanted him to say he had been so she could lay into him the way she’d been wanting to for the last three days, but had been putting off to spare his feelings.

‘I had one.’ Harry mumbled glancing up at her for a brief second. Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head running her tongue along the inside of her teeth. Harry on whiskey was an image she’d gladly forget but knew she never would. For as long as she’d known him Harry had always been a fun drunk, all he wanted to do was dance, and sing, and hold onto his friends. Sometimes he got emotional but he never got angry. She never wanted to see it again. The way his eyes glazed over and he became virtually unrecognisable.

‘You know what it does to you Harry why would you do that when you were already in a state?’

‘I’ve told you to stop mothering me.’ He stared at her then. His eyes lifted, they were dull and lifeless, but staring nonetheless.

‘Stop acting like a child then.’ She countered dragging her fingers across her temples, and wondering how he couldn’t see it.

‘I’ve just broken up with my fiance cut me some slack.’ Harry mumbled, dead, green-grey eyes falling back to the TV.

‘Right that’s it get up.’ Olivia reached for the controls and turned the TV off before Harry could even realise what she was doing, before he’d even processed her words properly.

Olivia didn’t get Harry’s sea bass the next evening, or the evening after that, in fact, nearly another week had passed and Harry hadn’t touched the oven. He hadn’t done much since Olivia had bought him home from the club a week previous. He’d traipsed out of his bedroom the following morning, ignored the weak smile Olivia gave him and ran himself a shower, though whether he actually washed or just let the water run over him Olivia didn’t know. He cancelled all of his sessions for that week, cleared his diary to sit on Olivia’s couch in front of sit-com reruns Olivia knew he’d seen too many times already. The only difference was he didn’t laugh where he was meant to. He was almost robotic and nothing seemed to animate him.

Even when she cooked her curry for him again, and suggested throwing in the sprouts he just shrugged and mumbled something she didn’t ask him to repeat. She didn’t throw the sprouts in and now they were in the fridge a little too soft to be useful for anything apart from composting. He ate the curry, but he didn’t make a witty remark about how many times he’d eaten it or even tell her it was good, the way he always did. She gave up on him for a little while, bored of trying when he could just about be bothered to turn the TV down when she went off to bed. She went out for dinner three nights in a row, leaving him home alone and not offering to bring anything back for him like she might have done if he’d showed any sign, other than breathing, of being human. She half hoped the fear of missing out, something that was very real for Harry, would coax him out of the shell he’d made for himself, but it didn’t.

When she’d got the text from Ella asking to meet her for coffee Olivia has sneered and started typing a snarky reply designed simply to try and annoy Ella, rile her as much as she was riling Olivia but just before she hit send she thought about it. She wanted to see Ella, even after what she’d done, was doing, to Harry. Olivia wanted to hear her excuses and tear them to shreds and watch her face fall like Harry’s had. Olivia wanted to see the look on Ella’s face when Olivia told her what she’d done to the brightest man she knew, but also when Olivia told her how he’d be brighter one day without her, than he’d ever been with her.

The sky was bright blue over London but there was a cold breeze whipping around Olivia and untucking her hair from behind her ears, no matter how many times she put it back there. She had her sunglasses on, the round frames with mirrored lenses, and a leather jacket with black jeans and a white t-shirt tucked in. She’d sat outside in the uncomfortable wicker chairs, trying not to shiver from the wind, so Ella couldn’t walk past the coffee shop unnoticed if she changed her mind last minute. Olivia couldn’t imagine that would happen but, just in case, she sat outside anyway.

She hadn’t told anyone she was meeting Ella for brunch, though she’d only ordered a coffee. She thought it would hurt Harry to know, she could guarantee Niall would talk her out of it, as would Sam, they knew how vicious she could be to someone who made her blood boil. They’d all seen that side of her when Sam had discovered the boy she was seeing at the start of second year wasn’t only seeing Sam. The morning he’d come to collect some things from the house Olivia hadn’t thought twice about cutting through him like a hot knife through butter in front of a room full of hungover, and even possibly still drunk, friends that included Niall and Harry and Sam’s future boyfriend, Tom. She believed in being nice to nice, but she also believed in being honest and if that meant saying things others were too scared to let leave their thoughts, so be it.

‘Hey.’ Ella’s voice came from behind Olivia, and she turned her head to see her. She had her hair in loose curls, styled that way every day Olivia knew. The first time Olivia had met Ella she’d thought she was stunning. Her skin was dark and exotic and her black hair, dark eyelashes, and thick but well maintained eyebrows told the same story. She looked good stood next to Harry, they worked, they were a beautiful couple. Now Olivia didn’t think that. She thought it funny how much personality effected what you saw in a person, but she didn’t look at Ella in that moment and think she was stunning. Instead the words callous and cold came to mind, despite the fact she looked just as she had the first time they’d met.

‘Hi.’ Olivia mumbled back as Ella sat down.

‘How are you?’

‘Not so bad.’ Olivia’s voice was monotonous as she stared at Ella and the light, lackadaisical smile she wore. Olivia wondered how was she wearing that so effortlessly when Harry was at home verging on grey.

‘Been up to much?’

‘This isn’t a cute little catch up between friends Ella.’ Olivia sniped with all the venom that had been festering for the past fifteen minutes as she thought about the things she wanted to say and the things she’d been thinking for the past week.

‘Right sorry.’ Ella’s smile fell, and Olivia tried to ignore the pride that made her feel. She knew exactly why she felt so bitter but she pretended like she didn’t. Olivia didn’t like that element of her personality and she would never own it the way she would the part of her that made her defend her friends like they were royalty. ‘Yeah just a skinny cap and glass of water please.’ Ella muttered to the waitress that stood beside the table.

‘Why didn’t you just tell him there was someone else?’ Olivia asked cutting no slack for either of them to fall into a false sense of security, or for either of them to forget why they were there.

‘I thought it would be easier if I didn’t.’ Ella shrugged as if it was obvious.

‘You didn’t think he’d find out?’

‘Not so soon.’ She admitted a little timidly, as if answering to a headteacher. ‘Who gave him the whiskey?’

‘What?’ Olivia spat not quite understanding the question and even if she had, not quite sure why Ella thought it relevant.

‘Well he only gets like that when he’s been drinking whiskey.’ Ella didn’t need to tell Olivia that. She was entirely all too familiar with how Harry got on whiskey but it hadn’t even been something that had crossed her mind when she looked at Harry’s bruised knuckles. Olivia had suggested they go to A&E and get it looked at in case something was broken but Harry shrugged it off and mumbled something that sounded like it would be fine as he tucked his hand into the pocket of his hoodie and tried to disguise a wince.

‘Oh so it would have nothing to do with the fact you were dancing all over another bloke a week after kicking him out.’ Olivia challenged with squinted eyes and crinkled nose. Her top lip curled and her fingers rubbed at her temple.

‘Liv-’

‘Olivia.’ It was petty but she didn’t care.

‘I’m not going to try and make you understand cause I don’t know how but I feel something I didn’t even know I missed with Rob, it’s so different it’s unbelieveable.’ Olivia hissed a spiteful, huff of laughter and looked down at the table shaking head.

‘Sorry Ella are you really telling this to your ex-fiance’s best friend?’ She asked with a sarcastic smile. ‘I think you should keep that to yourself don’t you. Harry loved you like nothing else and you’re sitting here telling me that wasn’t enough to keep you away from other men.’

‘He’ll find it someday too.’ Olivia just nodded and flared her nostrils at Ella’s words for a moment. She lifted her coffee cup and took the last mouthful before Ella’s had even arrived.

‘Oh he will don’t even doubt that for a second.’ Olivia said confidently with a smug look on her face. ‘He’ll find someone so much better than you that loves him the way he deserves to be loved and you know what you’ll be then?’ She didn’t give Ella a chance to respond but she moved a little closer to her as she spoke. ‘A stupid mistake, a blur of a memory in his past.’ Olivia stood and grabbed her bag from the floor, slinging it on her shoulder by the long strap before turning to Ella for a final time. ‘You never deserved him Ella, you never will.’

Olivia was still a little shaken from the adrenaline that had fuelled her words as she walked towards the front door of the block of flats that she’d lived in for just over a year. Her and Sam moved in together at the end of third year, but once Olivia got a job virtually on the other side of London, and things got more serious with Tom for Sam they decided it was time to face the facts that they couldn’t live together forever, and it was time to go their separate ways. For a while it was hard living alone. They’d always lived together since the first year of uni when their rooms were next door to one another in the university halls. Tabitha had joined them from Sam’s fashion and media course and Millie had joined from the netball team Olivia was part of for second year. It had been the four of them for the final two years of uni, in the same mid terrace house that was advertised as four bedroom, but was really three and a glorified store room. But it was in a good area and the best they were going to get for what they could afford.

Sam made friends with the neighbour Tom through a love for recreational smoking that the other girls insisted she did outside, and fairly soon after that their four turned into a five more often that not. Then their friendship group came to include the four young men Olivia bought into their lives after too many guinnesses on St Patrick’s night. Too many times Olivia would have to be quiet as she got dressed not to wake the sleeping Niall and Harry that thought they had a free pass to share her bed due to allowing her to sleep on Niall’s sofa that first night.

Olivia let out a heavy sigh as she dropped her bag to the floor and took in Harry. He didn’t seem to notice that she’d walked in, he didn’t even react to the door that she slammed behind her to get his attention. His hair was greasy, she could see that from the hallway, and scraped back into a bun. He had the same hoodie and tracksuit bottoms he’d had on for a week, and was wrapped up in the blanket that she kept tucked beside the sofa for cold nights. As she got closer she could see there was a bowl of half eaten Cornflakes on the coffee table in front of him, and a half drunk mug of black instant coffee. He still didn’t look up from the TV as she got closer to the lounge and she could it feel it all bubbling up inside her.

‘You were drinking whiskey the other night?’ She quizzed only half hoping he’d deny it. Part of her wanted him to say he had been so she could lay into him the way she’d been wanting to for the last three days, but had been putting off to spare his feelings.

‘I had one.’ Harry mumbled glancing up at her for a brief second. Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head running her tongue along the inside of her teeth. Harry on whiskey was an image she’d gladly forget but knew she never would. For as long as she’d known him Harry had always been a fun drunk, all he wanted to do was dance, and sing, and hold onto his friends. Sometimes he got emotional but he never got angry. She never wanted to see it again. The way his eyes glazed over and he became virtually unrecognisable.

‘You know what it does to you Harry why would you do that when you were already in a state?’

‘I’ve told you to stop mothering me.’ He stared at her then. His eyes lifted, they were dull and lifeless, but staring nonetheless.

‘Stop acting like a child then.’ She countered dragging her fingers across her temples, and wondering how he couldn’t see it.

‘I’ve just broken up with my fiance cut me some slack.’ Harry mumbled, dead, green-grey eyes falling back to the TV.

‘Right that’s it get up.’ Olivia reached for the controls and turned the TV off before Harry could even realise what she was doing, before he’d even processed her words properly.

‘What?’ Harry questioned sounding bored.

‘Get up.’ Olivia insisted, her words short and sharp.

‘Why?’

‘I’ve had enough we’re going out.’ She asserted pulling the blanket off him and dropping it on the floor in between their feet.

‘No I’m staying here.’ Harry argued reaching for the blanket. She kicked his hand away with a booted foot. He looked up to her through hooded eyes like he was holding something back, but she didn’t care, she’d push him until he got up and got dressed or roared at her with all the pent up anger he was feeling. Something had to give, she was just waiting to find out what it would be. She hoped it would be the former but she’d take the latter if that’s what it took.

‘No, you’re getting up, getting in that shower, getting dressed, getting in my car and we’re going to visit your sister in her new flat and you’re going to smile and tell her it’s lovely and tell her it’s really over between you and Ella and face it, you’re not going to get over it by sitting around moping about it.’ Harry stared at her, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing for a second. ‘Now.’

++

It was beautifully warm in Gemma’s garden. The sun was hitting Olivia’s face and she was basking in it, looking up to the sky with her sunglasses on revelling in the unprecedented warmth for the time of year. The garden had been the selling point on the ground floor flat for Gemma and Michal and Olivia could see why. Her small balcony was great, but the shade from the balcony above kept any real warmth from the sun getting to it. If she was ever up early enough though she did get a great view of the sunrise.

Olivia had met Gemma outside of her relationship with Harry. She’d found since moving to London that once you met someone you tended to find you’d been moving in the same circles all along - turns out the big smoke isn’t as big as people make out. Harry’s sister being best friends with Sam’s sister was definitely a spooky coincidence that Olivia didn’t like to dwell on too much, but it suited all of them fine. Gemma was a friend to Olivia in her own right something Harry wasn’t always sure he liked. His best friend had too many stories he didn’t need falling into the hands of sister, and following that his mother. Harry would just pray, upon finding out Gemma and Olivia would be hanging out, that Olivia would realise what information was sacred between them and what was ok to be shared. He trusted Olivia with his life, but he didn’t trust her with stories of his drunken third year self that had Olivia in stitches at the memory alone. He really didn’t want the story of the Christmas party, at which Harry had donned nothing but his Secret Santa joke gift of a Christmas themed willy warmer, in the hands of his sister. That was blackmail material.

‘So to what do I owe the pleasure?’ Gemma asked sitting down in the chair opposite Olivia and placing her own mug of tea on the table. She’d already bought Olivia and Harry’s out with a freshly baked Victoria Sponge, that Olivia was hoping someone would cut into soon.

‘Just thought we’d come round to see the flat, looks nice.’ Olivia smiled, dropping her face from the sun to look at Gemma. ‘You like it?’

‘Yeah love it.’ Gemma gushed, though it was already obvious from the enigmatic look on Gemma’s face when she’d been showing Olivia and Harry around the place.

‘I need to talk to you about something Gem.’ Harry interrupted suddenly and even Olivia was taken back by his outburst.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Olivia went to stand but Harry reached for her.

‘No stay.’ Harry practically begged, his eyes soft and full of something that wasn’t quite fear but was definitely something.

‘What’s going on?’ Gemma’s brow was creased as she looked from Harry to Olivia, and back again.

‘Ella’s split up with me.’ He sounded stronger than he had the first time he’d told Olivia and Niall, two weeks ago in the doorway of her flat. Even so, Olivia could tell he was terrified of going through it all again.

‘Fuck really?’ Gemma looked to Olivia as if she couldn’t believe what Harry was saying - she couldn’t believe it. Olivia didn’t say anything to confirm Harry’s words but simply twitched her mouth to one side. ‘When?’

‘Couple of weeks ago.’ Harry winced looking up at Gemma from where his gaze had fallen to his knees. His hands resting and rubbing at them through his jeans.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, does mum know?’ Harry shook his head. ‘You have to tell her.’

‘I know.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was when I got back from LA she kicked me out and told me she didn’t love me anymore.’ Harry shrugged like he was over it. Olivia knew he wasn’t. An hour previous he’d been sat in week old clothes, dirty and tired and nothing like the Harry anyone knew and nothing like the Harry sat in Gemma’s garden. His hair was freshly washed and in its trademark curls, but covered by a green beanie, aviators over his eyes, clean white t-shirt and black jeans adorning his body smelling of the Tom Ford aftershave he hadn’t been able to afford when Olivia first met him, but now he reached for nothing else.

‘What a twat.’

‘Gemma.’ Harry scalded.

‘Give over Harry, she’s a twat.’ Harry just sighed, if he was scared to argue with Olivia he was terrified to argue with Gemma. She’d always win, that was a fact he’d had to come to terms with from day dot and one Olivia wasn’t oblivious to either. ‘Well where are you staying?’

‘Liv’s.’

‘Couldn’t you have proposed to her instead.’

‘Gemma.’ Olivia scalded this time, even though it wasn’t something that hadn’t been said before. It didn’t feel like the easy to shrug off banter that it usually felt like though, not in the circumstances.

‘Sorry.’ Gemma shook her head as she apologised for the joke that wasn’t entirely a joke. ‘Maybe you should call mum now, I think I should be with you when you do it.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Go and call her Harry, you know what she gets like I’d rather be with you.’ Gemma urged with a motherly tone that Olivia could only recognise because it was the same one she’d been using with him.

‘Jesus, why do women always have to turn into mother’s when something fucks up.’ Gemma simply glared at her brother with one cocked eyebrow. ‘Alright I’m going.’ Harry sighed and rose from his chair padding back into the house barefoot having taken his boots and socks off whilst Gemma was making her tea.

‘How’s he really been about it all?’ Gemma asked turning her attention back to Olivia once Harry was safely inside and out of earshot. The question came so quickly that Olivia wondered if Gemma actually wanted to be there when Harry called their mother, or if she just wanted to get a clearer picture of her brother’s emotional state from Olivia.

‘Pretty shit.’ Olivia grimaced. ‘I thought he was doing ok for a bit after we went and picked up his things he seemed so much better, but then he saw her on a night out with another man and he went back to rock bottom.’

‘Another man?’

‘I met her for coffee this morning, she’s seeing someone else, that’s why she ended things.’ Olivia confessed for the first time. Gemma would be the only person she’d tell. She knew that from the second Ella had confirmed what Olivia had suspected once she got the full details of the night she’d had to go and rescue Harry from the cold kerb outside the club.

‘Are you joking?’ Gemma demanded in a pitch that Olivia didn’t think she’d heard her voice reach before. ‘Does he know?’ Olivia shook her head chewing on her bottom lip as she did so.

‘Thought it best not to tell him.’

‘I’ll kill her if I see her.’ Olivia didn’t doubt it for a second.

‘You have no idea how much I wanted to hit her.’

‘You’re stronger willed than me.’ Gemma commented with a slight laugh that only lightened the atmosphere enough to make Olivia think she could do the same. ‘Jesus what a fucking mess.’

‘I’m gonna take him away for a bit.’ Olivia disclosed suddenly. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ She questioned quickly, scratching the back of her neck just to prove she was as unsure as she sounded.

‘Where you gonna take him?’

‘Rome.’

‘Fuck, can you afford that?’ Gemma asked jutting her chin into her neck a little.

‘Why are you swearing so much today?’

‘Sorry, think I’m in shock.’ Olivia laughed again and shook her head. It must be something in the Styles blood that made them find a way to make light of anything. ‘So can you afford it?’

‘Yeah found a deal.’ Olivia informed Gemma thinking back to the previous night when she’d spent the evening scouring the internet for cheap, city breaks. She needed it as well as Harry, not as much, but if that helped her justify it she’d run with it. ‘Think it might help take his mind of things which might help him move on in the long run, I don’t know maybe not.’ Olivia was stumbling over her words. She didn’t really know why she thought it was a good idea it just came to her and she’d spent too long mulling it over at work to pass it off as nothing.

‘No I think you’re right make him realise life is just as good without her if not better.’ Gemma’s approval was all Olivia needed to convince her it was a good idea. Olivia heard his steps behind her. She thought it odd how she felt like she’d know it was him even if it could have been someone else. ‘How’d it go love?’ Olivia couldn’t help but notice how much Gemma sounded like her mother with those words, and she had to wonder if she’d sounded like her own mother when she’d found herself coddling Harry over the last few weeks.

‘Fine.’ Harry told them with a confidence that Olivia believed. ‘She was a bit upset but just wanted to make sure I’m ok, think she’s better knowing I’m staying with you.’ Harry looked to Olivia with a lopsided smile. Something was different about him, something had changed since he’d gone inside. He seemed lighter, brighter, more colourful. Olivia wasn’t sure Gemma noticed it but she did and it was contagious. ‘She wants to come down.’

‘Oh right well she can stay here, we’ll sort something, do dinner all here or something.’ Gemma suggested and Olivia saw that smile. That Harry smile that only he had. Everyone said he had the same smile as Gemma, as his mum. He didn’t. It was entirely different to Olivia, he was the only person who made her feel the way she felt when he smiled.

‘Yeah ok.’

++

Eight days had passed since Harry had promised Olivis his sea bass and tonight she was going to get it. She could smell the aromatic spices drifting through the flat towards her open bedroom door that took her back to the first time she’d eaten Harry’s sea bass. It was just him and her. Sam was away with Tom, Niall had gone home to Ireland for a week so Harry had suggested she come over for dinner. It hadn’t been just the two of them since the night they’d met, but that was the night they both realised they could do what they’d done and not feel the need to do it again. They could just be friends that had gone further than most friends one time, one Guinness filled time.

‘Dinner’s here Liv.’ Harry’s voice was loud but bright as he shouted down the hallway to her. Olivia had a mischievous grin on her face when she appeared in the kitchen and it made Harry nervous. He looked at her a little unsure, turning his head just an inch to one side away from her, his eyes narrowed, he knew that look. She handed him two pieces of paper, folded perfectly, very Olivia. ‘What’s this?’ He asked and she just nodded towards the paper encouraging him to unfold it. Harry had nothing to go on and he didn’t know what to expect but he didn’t expect what he saw. ‘Olivia, what is this?’

‘We’re going to Rome.’ She told him like it was nothing, no big deal, like obviously that’s what was happening, how could he not know?

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Harry laughed, rolling his eyes and turning to the food on the side.

‘I’m not being ridiculous.’ She countered a little offended. He turned back to her, she looked a little like a petulant child but entirely like his Olivia. Her brows were dropped and her lips slightly pouted but not enough to make him want to roll his eyes at her like he did sometimes.

‘Liv you can’t afford this.’ Harry proclaimed with an annoying air of arrogance that made Olivia’s nerve endings prickle.

‘You’ve been checking my bank balance?’ Her whole entirety was sarcastic but he deserved it and it wiped the smug look on his face, replaced with a deadpan one. ‘I wouldn’t have done it if I couldn’t afford it.’ She promised emphatically taking a step closer to him. ‘We need to get away from here for a bit, leave it behind.’ Olivia said we but she meant him. ‘I’m not saying it will fix anything and you’ll suddenly be over Ella like she never existed but it might help clear your mind a bit.’

‘Are you sure?’ Harry clearly wasn’t but she’d booked it so it didn’t matter. They were going.

‘100% sure H.’ She promised harder bobbing her head to the rhythm of her words.

‘You’re ridiculous I love you,’ Harry laughed and Olivia beamed at him. ‘Come here.’ Harry wrapped one arm around her shoulders pulling her in close before wrapping his other around her middle. ‘We are going to have the best time.’ 

PREVIOUS | NEXT

So they’re off to Rome, what do we all think might happen? Do you think Olivia was a bit harsh with Ella, or did she deserve it? Would love to hear all your thoughts. 

As per massive thanks to my top lads @cuddlemusclestyles and @harrysmeadow for being absolute babes and reading over all this again even thought you’ve been doing so for months already. Love you losers loads.

Hope you all enjoy, please message me with what you think I love getting your messages about this fic xx 

[samwinchestermarryme-blog]

The Party

Author: samwinchestermarryme

Pairing: Destiel

Genre: Birthday party, happiness, love

Fandom: Supernatural

Timeline: January 2017? I guess

Word Count: 2,146

Rating: PG-13

*****

Dean never really thought about his birthday every year until it started to get closer to it. He never wanted a party, nor did he expect one. And if he had to be honest, the thought of a birthday party made him sick. The planning, the constant attention, it was all so unnecessary. It was simply a day that he was born. He didn’t understand the big fuss. He also didn’t enjoy presents. People put so much pressure on themselves to get something the person liked and the person receiving the gift always had to pretend to like it if it wasn’t something they liked. The only good presents Dean usually got were from Sam, and maybe Cas. Sam would usually get him something like a Busty Asian Beauties magazine or some beer from a gas station near the bunker, but it was still as special every year.

Cas would usually get him pie, although it wasn’t even good pie. Dean liked every pie, but the brand that Cas bought just wasn’t good in any way. But he always looked so proud of himself and Dean just didn’t have the heart to ask him how he managed, every year, to get him his least favorite pie. Even in Dean’s head it sounded like something Cas probably didn’t want to hear.

They were the only ones who remembered Dean’s birthday, so the day usually started with opening the presents that were stuffed in a plastic bag. Dean would thank Sam for his magazines and Cas for the pie, and when Cas wasn’t looking, he would empty it in the bottom of the trash can, covering it in the bag from Sam’s gift. After, they would continue on with their normal activities, looking for cases for the next day because Sam would always say that Dean deserved a day off on his birthday.

But it was getting nearer to Dean’s birthday, and he had a feeling deep down that something was going to happen. They had found a case, and Sam had insisted that Dean go with Charlie instead of him and Cas, because according to Sam, he just needed to change it up a bit. Dean simply rolled his eyes and called Charlie asking if she wanted to go on a hunt. She seemed too fast to answer, but he ignored that and waited for her to get to the Bunker.

Sam and Cas seemed too antsy. Neither of them could sit still; Sam tapping his foot and Cas playing with his tie which was as always backwards, which made Dean smile, and always left him confused as to why he was smiling. Sometimes he would do little things that made Dean laugh or smile without him realizing.

No one talked either, which was even more odd. All that could be heard was the ticking of the clock against the wall. Sam and Cas shared a look and then broke off the stare, leaving Dean confused.

“Okay, whats going on, guys?” Deans eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Sam and Cas answered in unison, and again, too fast. They shared another look and Dean stared at them with confusion for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, but they were interrupted when Charlie knocked on the warded door. Dean grabbed his bag and waved goodbye to Sam and Cas, who both looked very happy, and made his way up the stairs to meet Charlie. He opened the door and said said hi to her while making his way to the Impala. While Charlie was on a rant about the new Harry Potter play, The Cursed Child, Dean shoved their stuff in the backseat where Cas usually sits, and Dean felt a quick flash of sadness before shoving it down and paying attention to her again. She was saying something about how she shipped Scorpius and Albus when Dean stopped paying attention and started thinking again about that backwards tie and that wrinkled trench coat.

*****

As soon as the door closed behind Dean, Sam jumped up and walked to the closet where bags and bags of stuff were shoved in the back.

“Sam, I’ve always wondered, why do humans get so excited about birthdays? Isn’t it just the day you exited your mother? It just doesn’t feel that special,” Cas wondered aloud as Sam grabbed the bags of party supplies.

“Cas, I really don’t know, but we are just going to go with it, because it’s Dean, and we all care very deeply for him. And don’t say you don’t, because I know you do.” Sam shoved a stack of cone shaped hats that said ‘Happy Birthday!’ in bright letters into Cas’s arms, walking away to start to set up various party foods and beverages that Cas didn’t think he would like to eat or drink if he still had to.

*****

Even before Dean opened the door to the bunker, he could tell something was up. The row of beat up cars that lined the street were a dead give away. He had been wondering about it for the past two days while Charlie and him were hunting down a massive nest of vamps, constantly thinking about the mischievous looks shared between his brother and best friend.

But what he wasn’t expecting was when he opened the heavy metal door, there was a full on birthday party waiting on the floor below him. Sam, Cas, Crowley, Rowena, Eileen, and so many more people were there, shouting happy birthdays at him. It was overwhelming, but it was nice. Dean did hate being at the center of attention, but this was different. He knew everyone there well enough that he wouldn’t have to deal with awkward family small-talk and hugs from people he didn’t even know the name of.

A genuine smile reached Dean’s eyes as he went to hug Sam to thank him for what he assumed he had planned. He looked over Sam’s shoulder to see Cas staring at him before awkwardly looking away. Sam whispered before he let go of Dean, “he helped plan it too.” Dean knew who he was talking about without hesitation and broke away from Sam’s embrace. He smiled at him before walking slowly over to Cas, who was filling a red cup with punch which was most likely spiked by this point.

“Cas,” Dean says, somehow scaring Cas, causing him to spill some of the drink on Dean’s shirt.

“Oh, Dean, I’m really sorry. Here, let me get you a napkin,” says Cas, turning away, but not before Dean can grab Cas and give him a hug (which he was not intending on doing, but he saw the opportunity and took it), making Cas’s white shirt instantly red too.

“Dean! This was my favorite shirt!” Cas shoves Dean off of him with a smile.

“You have like 20 of same shirts. Anyway, thanks for the party. I really appreciate it.” Dean thought he saw some emotion in Cas’s eyes, but it was gone soon enough. Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, smiled that beautiful smile, said happy birthday,  and walked away.

 *****

 The party was the most fun Dean had had in awhile. There was tequila that he got slightly tipsy off of and there was music. So much music, mostly Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi, and more classic rock that Dean couldn’t remember the names to. He caught Cas staring at him countless times throughout the party, and each time Cas would look away and blush. Since Dean was in that crowded bunker for who knows how long, he decided he needed some air.

He somehow ended up sitting in a pile of freezing snow on the hill by the bunker, looking at the full moon and stars. He heard the crunch of the shoes on the ice and snow and knew who it was before he sat down next to him. The smell of the familiar trench coat took over Dean’s senses and all he wanted to do was breathe in that smell for the rest of his life. They sat in silence, until Cas broke the quiet.

“Dean, what do you think your heaven would be like?.”

And maybe because it was the tequila, or maybe it was the smell of that god damned trench coat, but Dean said, “This is my heaven. Right here. With you. And maybe Sam.” A blush crept up Cas’s neck and up to his cheeks, but he cleared his throat and handed him a box. Dean looked at Cas, silently asking if he could open it. Cas nodded and watched as Dean’s shaking fingers pulled at the sloppily tied bow.

Inside the box was a gun, no,  the most beautiful gun Dean had ever seen. Its barrel shined in the moonlight and the wooden handle was carved with intricate designs that looked like it would take so many hours to do. Right at the bottom, almost too small to see, were the initials ‘SW’. Next to the gun in the box was a small pocket knife. Dean looked up to Cas with the biggest smile on his face. He carefully set the gun back into the box. He looked at Castiel, who was smiling so wide it was almost blinding.

“Cas, where did you get this? It must have cost a fortune.”

“Dean, please don’t worry about that. It’s your birthday. You’re my best friend,” Cas choked on the words ‘best friend’, but continued on. “And I would fight through hell again for you if it meant that you were here safe.”

Dean’s eyes were starting to fill with the smallest amount of tears, and so he leaned in and hugged Cas, bringing him closer. Small, fluffy snowflakes started to fall around them, one landing on Cas’s eyelash, melting with his body heat.

Dean could feel every touch through his leather jacket that Cas laid on his back, his neck, his hair, and he could only smell that stupid trench coat. Dean pulled back slightly, enough that he could see those shining eyes and those rose colored lips that belonged to the most beautiful angel. Cas glanced down at Dean’s lips and moved his hand to the back of his neck, bringing him closer. Their lips lightly brushed before Dean couldn’t take it any longer and crashed his lips onto his angel’s. As the kiss got deeper, they moved in sync, their breath coming as one and their lips exploring each other. Cas’s other hand made its way to his dirty blonde hair, gently tugging on the roots, earning a soft noise from Dean. Cas smiled against his lips, coming up for air, and immediately going back in, moving as close to Dean as physically possible.

He couldn’t stand the way Dean made him feel. It was like he was soaring through the air, breathing for the first time in so long, that feeling when you go over a hill on the road and you can feel your stomach drop. Dean made him feel all of these things all at once and it made him invincible. He could face the world with just one simple kiss from him. But he also made Cas want to pull out his hair from the teasing and he wanted to shout into the void his love for this human being and oh my Dad he was kissing Dean Winchester, something he had been waiting to do for ever since he laid a hand on him in Hell.

He could feel Dean’s heartbeat wild against his chest, his own heart at a dangerous rate as well. After what felt like hours, they pulled apart, heavily breathing, their swollen lips still millimeters from the others, both of them smiling like idiots.

“The gun,” Dean whispered against Cas’s lips, not wanting to move. “You should carve your initials.”

Dean reluctantly pulled away, but still left a hand in Cas’s, and reached behind him for the gun and knife. He quickly and carefully carved his initials into the gorgeous wood and then handed them to Cas. He looked at Dean, asking if he was really okay with it. Dean nodded with the biggest smile and watched as Cas carved a small ‘C’ into the handle. He handed it back to Dean, who set it carefully back into the box. He looked back up at the stars and sat down next to Cas, who wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long, I’ve just never realized it before now.”

Dean looked up at Cas through eyelashes covered in snowflakes. There was not shock, but love in Castiel’s eyes as he heard the words, and he said them back to Dean so calmly it was like they had been saying it for years.

“I love you, Dean.”