#thinkin about how he has to hum the second half of the song to the plant kids

[keithwinters]

emotionally kneecapped myself by remembering the song Baby Mine exists and I wanted to see if there was a male cover of it and ohhhhh

[neochan]

GENRE | smut, idolverse!

WARNINGS | smut

WC | 2.6k +

A.N | this is a repost of my older work. i hope you enjoy it <3

You could still hear the unintelligible screaming of thousands of fans as the boys filtered off the stage and into the greenroom. Another successful concert in the long string of tour stops. You couldn’t even remember what state you were in because the days of traveling, unpacking, setting up, and doing it all again the next day ran together.

The boys were dripping sweat, immediately grabbing bottles of water and towels to wipe themselves off. They had worked harder than normal today since during one of the sets the microphone cut out and they had to perform acapella. Someone was getting fired for that.

Taeyong flopped onto the leather couch dominating the center of the room, water in one hand, phone in the other. “People are already uploading photos.” He outstretches his arm so the others could view the pictures pulled up on his screen.

“Johnny you look ridiculous,” you point out, laughing as a fan had caught Johnny in the act of wildly waving his light stick.

“I was having a good time, okay?” He chuckles and walks into the dressing rooms to change out of his stage outfit. Half of the group filtered out to change and half stayed to peruse through the gifts left by venue staff and play on their phones until told otherwise.

You were wondering where Hyuck was when you heard his voice from the hallway. He saunters in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Enjoy the show?” His golden skin was tainted pink, hair matted to his forehead by the sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He grabbed his shirt and lifted it to swipe at his face, revealing his cute tummy. You had to resist the urge to poke it.

“I enjoyed hearing thousands of pretty fans scream your name” You give him a smirk knowing that he hates when you downplay your relationship.

He nudges you with his shoulder, “You know I meant the songs,” his doe eyes look into yours, his long lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinked “Besides, you know I love you and only you.”

Mark began to nervously giggle in the corner while Doyoung made fake gagging noises from the vanity he sat at. “Oh, shut up.” You say, throwing empty water bottles at the two, “And hurry up I wanna go swimming before it gets too late.”

The ride home was peaceful once the swarms of fans cleared a path for the bus. Per the managers request you slouched down in your seat so know one could see you through the window. It didn’t make much sense because the windows were tinted, but Haechan had to argue for his life to allow them to let you tag along on the tour, so you didn’t question them. Once you were on the road, you sat back up and snuggled close to Haechans side. He rested his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking you with his thumb. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, listening to music. It was so loud you could almost make out the words but you didn’t say anything – you let him stay in his post concert utopia for the whole trip.

The hotel was about an hour away from the venue so that no one would find them, and they’d be closer to their next destination. It was nicer than the others because it actually had a pool. You and Haechan made an agreement to go swimming after the concert, and you couldn’t wait. The staff also rented more rooms, so instead of four people to a bed, it was just you and Haechan.

After checking in everyone filtered off to their rooms leaving the both of you to freely do whatever you wanted - within reason of course. You both got changed, your gaze admiring the hard lines of Haechans back. “Don’t stare.” He blushed, wrapping a towel around his upper body.

You pulled on your bikini which made Haechan go silent. You specifically picked this one because it brought out your skin tone well, and cupped your features beautifully. “Now who’s staring?”

It never failed. The butterfly feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when Haechan watched you with loving eyes. You wrapped a towel around your waist, allowing Haechans eyes to roam the tops of your breasts, peeking out from the almost too small bathing suit.

His cheeks turned pink once he noticed he was caught, “Let’s go”.

The hallways were quiet since it was almost midnight, so you wordlessly made your way down the stairs and out into the night air. It had grown considerably cooler than when guys first arrived that morning, but the sky made up for it. Pretty stars pricked the vast expanse of dark blue and black infinity. You could see the moon peaking out from behind a single cloud, casting a shadowed glow on Haechans honey skin.

The gate was closed when you walked up to it so you stopped to read, “Aw man, the pool closed an hour ago,” You set your lips in a pout, “no wonder the lights weren’t on.”

“Hey it’s okay, no lights, no cameras, they probably wont even notice we’re here if we keep quiet.” He moves closer to you, eyebrows raised expectant for an answer.

You hesitated wondering if you really could pull it off, after all you’d been looking forward to this for the whole day, “I don’t wanna get in trouble..”

“You said you wanted to swim and I’m going to make sure that happens,” He gets down on one knee, “step on my leg, I'm gonna help you jump the fence.”

He boots you over, and grabs your arms to help lower you on the other side, but his hand slips and his nails dig into your shoulder. “Ow, fuck.” You wince rubbing the spot he scratched.

“Sorry, sorry” He says giggling, jumping the fence with such quietness and ease that it looked unreal. “Come on, dare you to do a canon ball!?”

He ran ahead throwing his towel on one of the pool chairs and jumping in the water. You cringe away from the loud slap his body hitting the water made. You walk slowly to the chair, deeply inhaling the addictive chlorine scent.

He finally stands up waist deep in the water and pushes his hair back. The blue water reflected against him, making his skin sparkle. “Come into the water y/n” he splashed some water into your general direction, but not enough to touch you.

“Okay, Okay.” You drop the towel and slip into the water. It was cold. Really cold. You gasp and recoil away, but not fast enough, because Haechan has wrapped his arms around you and started carrying you towards the deep end. You struggle a bit in his grip but his arms provide an iron cage that you can’t get out of. “Haechan let me go!”

He presses a warm kiss to the back on your neck but doesn’t comply with your wishes, instead making a curve and bringing you towards the underwater benches. He fixes his hold on you so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. You stare up at him, water droplets falling off his chin. His eyes were already red from the chlorine and you hoped that it cleared up by tomorrow nights concert. His plush lips sat in a pout, strong jaw set. He was so very pretty; and all yours. You smiled to yourself, deciding to keep that image locked away in your memory forever.

Once he gets to the benches he sets you down and glides in beside you. “You know It’s colder than I thought it was going to be.” He lifts a hand and sheepishly rubs the back of heck, “and you look way hotter in that bikini than I thought you would.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a dig or a compliment.” You scoot closer to him so that your thighs were pressed against each other. Finding his hand underwater, you intertwine your fingers with his own.

“A compliment babe.” He chuckles and slouches in the water so that only his head sat above it. You both sit there for a moment until it becomes too cold to sit still.

“Well I’m going to put it to use and go swim.” You push off from the cement and paddle around. The only way to stay slightly warm was to keep moving. Haechan watched you, eyes crinkled in a smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It was fun to watch you play in the water but the bathing suit was making him think of other things you two could be doing.

And that was how it stayed. Haechan watching while you performed for him.

A while had passed, the calm exterior of the pool getting to you, making you drowsy. The cold blue water washed over your hands while you gently skimmed the surface, making your way over to where Haechan was. You hummed a short tune under your breath, trying to keep yourself distracted. it was close to one in the morning now, but Haechan still sat on the bench, slightly shivering from the brisk air, hands gripping his thighs under the water while his mind wandered far away from the present.

“Watcha thinkin’ about” you ask, moving closer to him, hoping to catch some lingering body warmth.

“Fucking you ,” he moved off the seat and dove under the surface, only leaving small ripples in his wake. You stand there for a second wonder how he could be so blunt, so forward in his desires; he was never like this.

He swam a single circle around your body before popping up in front of you, giving you a mini heart attack. He pushes you back against the tiled walls, “I’ve spent the last hour thinking about fucking you. Thinking about how pretty you’d sound.” His head dips down to kiss along your collarbone, and your hands grab the back of neck, holding him there while his tongue sucked bruises into your tender skin. His hands grazed the bare skin of your arms, giving you goosebumps.

He moaned into the side of your neck, biting and sucking away, wanting you to yearn for him like he did for you. He lifted his head so that his mouth hung over yours, his small puffs of breath fanning over your face while he tests the waters. “Can I kiss you?”

Without giving him an answer you pull him closer by the roots of his hair. His kissing was messy and sweet, and while your tongues moved together, his hips began rubbing circles against you, trying to gain some friction in the cool water. Small heavy breaths were the only sound you could hear, aside from the occasional splash as Haechan moved restlessly.

Your hand wandered down his chest and below the surface to where you could feel him straining against his shorts. You began to stroke him over the fabric, his hips pushing against your touch. He broke the kiss to watch as you peeled down the elastic from his hips, his cock freed from the restricting material of his swim shorts. You watched him twitch slightly as the cold water met his length.

“You can’t make any noise.” You place a single finger against his lips.

“No promises.” He whispers, a devilish smirk breaking way on his face. His hands caress you thighs, pushing your bottoms to the side. The cold water hit you, making you gasp and push into Haechan who just whimpers against your touch.

He tried to stay quiet, only soft grunts between gritted teeth and muffled moans as his hips pushed into your own. The water created resistance but it just enhanced how good he was feeling. He hurriedly grabs at your legs, pulling them up so that they sat around his waist. Your back dragged up the tiled walls, scraping your tender skin, but you could only focus on Haechans cock thrusting deeply in and out of you. He stared longingly into your eyes, filling you up completely, wanting to savor the way they fluttered in the back of your head.

“You love the way I fill you up huh?” He groans into your ear, a hand falling forward to grip the cement ledge of the pool.

You couldn’t respond without fear of moaning so you nod your head wildly. He began to bite and suck at your collarbone, pushing you closer to the edge. Looking down he sees your nipples, erect, poking through the wet fabric of your bathing suit. His eyes grow wide, hips stuttering into you. Fuck you were hot.

“Haechannie, I think I’m going to come.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Not yet.” He growls, hands moving to pin your wrists against the cement ledge, “Hold it princess, I know you can.” The water began to slosh around faster as Haechan thrusted harder into you. The sound was so loud its no wonder you didn’t hear the keys jangling against the hip of the guard making his way towards you two.

“Hey!,” he shouts running towards you, “The pool is closed! Get out! Are you two-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you and Haechan spring up out of fear and take off. It was easy to push yourself up onto the pool deck. The guard made the mistake of following you two and leaving the gate unattended. You and Haechan ran out, giggling, making your way back into the hotel. You didn’t stop until you got into the room and slammed the door behind you.

With your heart hammering in your chest you lean against the dark cherry wood . “Holy fuck we could’ve gotten in serious trouble.” You gasp out, clutching a hand against your wet bathing suit top.

“Babe we’ll be gone by morning, no one is gonna know.” Haechan paces in front of you trying to catch his breath. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, it was miracle he got them up in time.

“We’re so banned from this hotel.” A knock on the door makes you jump away from it, the worst of punishment's filling your mind. What were they going to do? They couldn’t arrest you, could they?

Haechan walks forward and turns the knob slowly, revealing a sleepy Doyoung. His oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder showing off his gaunt collarbone. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What do you want Doie?” you ask softly.

“How was getting chased by the guard?” he gives a sleepy chuckle, still half in his dreams.

“How did you-,” A look of realization hits Haechan, “You reported us?” He whined, pushing Doyoungs bare shoulder so that he stumbled back.

“Sound travels over water dumbasses and you guys were loud, I was trying to sleep!” Protesting, he pushes Haechans wet shoulder back.

“Well, now we’re going to be twice as loud.” Haechan slams the door in Doyoungs face and grabs you, throwing you on the bed. You give a squeal, and hear Doyoungs fist hit the door.

“I swear I’ll make a noise complaint.” He sounded more irritated than sleepy now.

“Go ahead, you’re just mad I’m getting laid and you aren't.” You playfully slap Haechans arm, but he nips at your hand. The other side of the door grows silent, Doyoung either going to report you two, or going back to his room defeated.

“Shall we pick up where we left off princess?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

 You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry’s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

 When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

 Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[f0rever15elf]

Twin Souls

Summary: Soulmates. Twin souls. They’re the stuff of legends, right? They aren’t real...Or are they? And if they are...can they really span universes? 

Pairing: Pero/Whiskey/Oberyn/Din/Max/Maxwell/Dave/Catfish/Marcus/Ezra x fem!Reader  (yes, ALL of those Pedro boys are in this fic at some point. I’m overly indulgent)  Rating: M  Warning: Harsh language, sexual innuendo, death mentions, violence, injured reader, a little bit of angst (for the spice), way too many pedro characters in one fic, no beta reading. Soulmates!AU Word count: 9,649 (lord help me) 

a/n: This was inspired by a post that literally just mentioned our favorite soulmate trope that through any universe, two souls will find one another and I just think that’s really beautiful and NEEDED TO GET IT OUT OF MY BRAIN. So I hope you enjoy this! 

Masterlist |  Ao3

Twin Souls. Mirror souls. Soulmates. Twin flames. Almost every culture has their own rendition of this idea that each of us has another half that we are created with and separated from before we come into this life. Someone we are destined to find as surely as the river finds the sea. Some legends claim it was that we all originate with four arms, four legs, two heads, and one soul that shone brighter than the brightest of stars in the sky, and this drew jealousy from the gods who then wrent us in two. For others, it is destiny calling two individuals together, the universe declaring that two must become one. And even simpler still, some believe that it is no more than a chemical attraction. Something purely physical, biological, and nothing more. A perfect mate.

But what if? 

What if it was more than that. So much more. What if two souls were always destined to find one another? Across time and space and universes? What if...

Lightning cracks the sky, momentarily illuminating the face of the man on horseback. His scowl, as always, is firmly in place, his brow creased in a mix of irritation and exasperation. The rain has his dark, curled hair slicked down against his skull and his tunic under his armor is soaked through, drawing the warmth rapidly from his skin. He had told William they should make camp, that the smell of rain on the wind meant for foul weather, and soon, but William had ignored the grumpy Spaniard, electing to press on. Not twenty minutes later, the heavens opened, drenching the small caravan as they continued on. William rode silently in front of Pero, and he could feel the glare from his companion boring holes into the back of his head. If looks could kill, he would be dead several times over. 

"I see lights ahead!" Calls the lookout from up ahead, and a satisfied chatter rolls through the group of sellswords. Pero lifts his chin only slightly to look ahead, jaw clenched, eyes alert. He had seen enough in his days selling his sword to know what to look for, and a small village in the middle of nowhere was always a gamble. 

As the small group rides up to the edge of the village, a few of the village's men wait to greet them, lanterns out to welcome them to the town. The group of sellswords dismount as William goes to speak with the man Pero can only assume is the village leader. After a few words, William turns with a smile, moving through the group to tell them they would be making camp here tonight, bunking with members of the small community. The welcoming committee leads each man off to a different house, and had it not been for the rain still steadily downpouring, a dull chatter would have filled the air as the guests were welcomed with more hospitality than many of them were used to. 

"And you, my friend, will be staying with us!" The village leader approaches Pero with a smile. "Come, my daughter will help to get you dry. This cold will seep to your bones and you will fall ill. Come. Come." The friendly elder makes his way to a small, comfortable hut, a warm fire blazing in the center. The crackling of the logs is a welcome sound to Pero's ears, and the smell of something savory fills his nostrils. The men had been living on rations for days, and Pero Tovar was sick of the hardtack and salt pork he carried with him. The elder introduces him to his family; a wife, a young son, and you, his only daughter. As soon as his eyes land on you, Pero feels a warm sensation spread through his stomach, one he had never felt before, and he finds it difficult to tear his eyes from yours as the man of the house begins speaking again, telling him that their house is his for the night. He manages to utter out a word of gratitude before you approach him, taking his hand to lead him to get cleaned up. 

"It is not often our village has visitors," you murmur softly as you help him to doff his armor. "Most pass us by without so much as a second glance." Your smile causes that heat in his stomach to spread upwards through his chest, and up his neck. Such a foreign feeling... "Perhaps it is fate that brought you here, to us. I must thank fate, if that is the case, for bringing such a handsome man to my home." You laugh softly and it is a sweeter sound than any music the Spaniard has ever heard, light and gentle as the bluebird's song on the spring breeze. Pero's heart throbs in his chest at the sound. 

"Sí, señorita. A thanks to fate for bringing me here." His eyes never leave your face and the tips of your ears turn red from the attention. His gaze was steady, with a hard edge of a man who had seen too much. After finishing doffing his armor, you help to ease him out of his wet tunic, and your heart stutters in your chest. Your gaze drifts from his torso back to his face, and your hand moves as if with a mind of its own, lifting to rest on his face. The soft pads of your fingers gently trace the scar over his eye. There was...something so familiar about him, but you had no idea what it was.  Like you had seen this man before, someone who was him...yet not him. The thought confused you and you shook it from your head. That was impossible. 

---

Your eyes snap open from the strange dream and you sit up in bed, rubbing your face. A man who looked so much like your Jack had been haunting your dreams for days now, and you had absolutely no idea what it could mean. Jack stirs beside you, letting out a soft groan as he stretches. 

"Darlin'? You alright? It's awful early for you to be up." He glances over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:30 am, early was an understatement. His hand finds the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles against the skin there. You hum and nod your head. 

"Just...weird dreams Jack. That's all." You turn your head and smile down at him and he makes a concerned sound at the back of his throat. 

"Wanna talk about it, sweetheart?" Your heart melted at the concern, and you ease yourself back down, laying in his arms. 

"It doesn't make much sense, really. You'll probably think I'm crazy." His arm holds you a little closer to him and he chuckles. 

"Try me." A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you take a deep breath. 

"Well...if you say so. I've been dreaming of a person. It's...this guy. He looks so much like you, and he has a scar right here." You delicately trace the line of the scar from the mystery man in your dreams. "And his face is weathered and serious. He's always scowling. I have no idea but it's like it's you but it isn't you. But it's more like... a faded memory than a dream. It's crazy, I know." Jack is quiet as he listens to you, his fingers still tracing delicate patterns on your skin. 

"I...don't think you're crazy, sweetheart." You blink, honestly shocked as you look up at him. He's staring up at the ceiling, a contemplative look on his face. "I've had dreams like that too. Ones of you. Or, well, a girl who looks almost exactly like you." Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look down at him, that handsome, lopsided smile on his face.

"You're not pulling my leg to appease me, are you?" 

"Now darlin', when have I ever done that to you?" He had a point. His silver tongue worked magic in many ways, but spinning lies to appease you was not one of those ways. Your brow creases as you lose yourself in your thoughts of what this could mean until a whip-calloused finger smooths the lines between your brows. "You ever heard 'a soulmates, sweetness?" The question strikes you as rather odd, something out of a fairy tale, but you nod. "I'm thinkin' that may be our answer." His arm wraps around you and he pulls you back against him. "Lovers truly meant to be." Gentle lips press light kisses to your forehead, his moustache tickling the skin and drawing a giggle from you. 

"Do you really think that, Jack? That we've met before?" 

"Well it would explain how we fell in with one another quicker than a jackrabbit with a fox on its tail. Now, I know my charm is absolutely irresistible, but I don't think I can take all the credit here." He grins and you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat, smacking his chest lightly. You had to admit...it made sense. In some weird, metaphysical sense that you weren't quite sure you completely believed. But Jack believed it, and that was enough for you. It also meant you could stop feeling guilty about these dreams of this mysterious Spaniard. 

"So this dream girl. What's she like?" You ask, snuggling into Jack's embrace. He shakes his head and laughs. 

"What, you jealous of yourself, gorgeous? C'mon now, you get to ride this cowboy any time you like, ain't no need to be jealous of a dream of you." You gasp and smack his chest, cheeks flushing red as you hide against his chest. He chuckles and lavishes a few gentle kisses to the top of your head, snuggling down in bed with you. 

"Jack?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I love you." 

"I love you too, doll. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and get some sleep." 

And you did just that, slowly drifting off to dreamland. 

--- 

"Hellloooooo!" Cara snapped her fingers in front of your face and you jumped, coming back to reality. "You know, you really freak me out when you do that." She leans back in her chair, a cup of spotchka in one hand, her lopsided smirk on her face. You cough, and scratch at the back of your neck. 

"Yeah...sorry about that." She just shakes her head.

"Where do you go when you zone out like that? Takes me forever to bring you back around."  You just shrug, staring down at your bowl of soup. 

"Day dreams, I guess. I can't really describe them. I see faces though. Well, a couple of faces anyways. Two men who look shockingly similar and-" Cara cuts you off with a wave of her hand. 

"Sweets, I don't need to hear about your depraved day dreams." Her coy grin in your direction causes your face to flush a bright red at the insinuation and you make a move to reply when she goes rigid in her chair, setting her cup down with a little more force than necessary. Your brow creases in confusion, even more so when she stands and grabs your hand, quickly and quietly leading you out back. "Stay here," she hisses, moving slowly around front, leaving you confused and alone. And hungry. You had been so busy day dreaming you didn't even get the chance to finish your soup. A frown pulls at the corners of your lips as you hop up on a box out back, kicking your legs as you wait for your friend. 

The sounds of fighting reach your ears a few minutes later and you jump up, running towards the sound, skidding to a halt when you round the corner to see Cara fighting with a person decked out in some of the shiniest armor you had ever seen. You open your mouth to say something when a small green creature walks out of the cantina, a bowl of soup in his tiny hands. He looks up at you and tilts his head before turning to walk a little closer to your skirmishing friend. You follow as both the armored figure and Cara end up on the ground, a blaster pointed at Cara's head. You're about to run forward to try and yank the blaster away when the sound of slurping distracts you. Looking down, you see the little green thing slurping up his soup, watching with a borderline uninterested look. The helmeted figure and Cara turn to look at you both before looking back at each other. 

"...Want some soup?" The helmeted man says through what was clearly a modulator. 

That was your first encounter with Din Dajrin, and you had no clue that that one day would lead to you aboard the Razor Crest, babysitting the little green creature he had taken in, and fixing things around the ship as they broke. You had never seen his face, nor much of his skin save for when you were patching him up from a particularly rough hunt, but that was okay. Life on the Crest was comfortable, and even in the silence that Din preferred to keep, you felt at home. His presence was enough to calm you on your more anxious days. The two of you grew close quickly. Quicker than you or he had expected, and it wasn't long before he was gracing you with idle affections. Light caresses as he passes you, his hand lingering on yours for longer than necessary, gently tucking stray hairs back behind your ear as you talk to him. Each little thing never failed to bring heat to your cheeks. 

It was at the anniversary of your first cycle together that Din asked you to marry him. He had taken the three of you to a peaceful, lush planet to ask you. Some place safe and reclusive, a place where neither of you had to worry about anything. He wanted you as a part of his little clan, and your heart nearly burst with affection as you rapidly shook your head, wiping away the tears. The tradition was simple, a marriage a sacred vow between the Mandolorian and their spouse. It was a promise to bind the two as one. A few simple words was all it took, and he was yours. He brought your hands to his helmet to let you lift it off, the moment unable to be any more perfect than this. 

And that's when the blaster sounded. You freeze as your eyes go wide, slowly looking down to your chest where bright crimson starts to bleed through the material of your tunic. You look back up at him with glassy eyes and stumble forward into his grasp, only vaguely aware of more blaster fire, then total silence. Din lays you down on the soft grass, yanking his helmet off, and oh how you wish you could see his face clearly. You make out dark curls atop tan skin, dark eyes looking at you with such concern and fear, desperation...a look you couldn’t bring your eyes to focus enough to make out. Everything is fading so quickly. You can't hear his voice, only ringing. You were so sure he had a beautiful voice, it's a shame you wouldn't get to hear it free of modulation. Lifting your hand, you place it weakly against his cheek, sputtering out "I love you...find me in the next..." With that, the last of your strength leaves you, your hand dropping from his face as your head lolls to the side, eyes staring blankly off into the distance. 

Din lets out a cry of anguish as he pulls your lifeless form against him, sobbing into your hair. How could fate be so cruel? 

--

Ezra shoots up ramrod straight in bed, gasping for air like a man drowning. A cold sweat clings to his skin, an afterthought of the nightmare that disturbed his sleep once more. He rubs his face, taking a deep breath before looking over at his time keeper. Two standard hours before his alarm... The sigh that leaves his lips is deep and heavy as he swings his legs over the side of his cot. Might as well get an early start on the day. There was no going back after that awful dream, and he could use the couple extra hours anyways. Mining with only one hand, everything took twice as long and was done half as well, so the extra time would give him a little leg-up on the day. Heavens above, he could use another set of hands around here. With Cee off at school, he was all on his own, and it was getting damn lonely. Working his way into his suit with a little bit of difficulty, he made the resolution to put out an ad for help the next time he went to the Depot to drop off a shipment. 

And so he spent the day, mining and singing and talking to himself. Anyone else who saw him would surely think this one-armed man was crazy, but little did they know that talking to himself is exactly what kept him sane. He could move up the Depot visit. Yeah, that's what he would do. He'd need to go in the next week anyways, so why not just do it now? He resolved to head on the next day to the Depot, and he'd put out that add for some help. 

The next day's trek was blessedly uneventful. The cash-in post scoffed at what little aurelac he had accrued so far, and the tips of his ears turned pink in embarrassment. He mutters a thank you for the credits exchange, and makes his way to the bulletin board to put in his ad. A single figure is standing in front of the board, a pack slung over their shoulder, miner's tools hanging off their belt. 

"Pardon me," he says softly, scooting by them without looking at their face to pin up his ad. He turns to head back to his buggy to return to work, hopeful he would hear something over his coms soon. 

"Sir?" A gentle voice calls from behind him and he freezes in place, his heartbeat suddenly incredibly loud in his ears. He knew that voice. That was the voice that had been in his nightmares over and over again. Find me in the next... He slowly turns to look at who had called him to see you standing there, looking exactly as you did in his dreams. But alive...so much more alive.  You smile up at him, gentle and warm, with a light of concern in your eyes, and he has to resist the urge to run to you and pull you into his arms. "I say...you look like you've seen a ghost! Are you alright?" Ezra's mouth opens and closes a few times, not unlike a fish before he's able to find his words again. 

"Y..Yes, I'm alright. Not to worry, gem, it's just been a rather arduous day is all, and I'm beginning to feel the effects taking hold. Pardon my rudeness." A gentlemanly smile graces his lips as he extends his hand to you. "The name is Ezra. How might you be doing this fine day?" You chuckle and take his hand, shaking it firmly. What an odd fellow this was. 

"It's a pleasure, Ezra. And the answer to this next question will set my mood for the day, I'm sure. You're in need of a helper at your dig site?" He nods enthusiastically. 

"I most certainly am! What a matter of fortune that I happen to stumble upon someone ready and willing to assist me the very day I come to place my ad!" 

"Ready and willing is right! I just arrived on the surface. Took a gamble someone would be needing my help, and it appears I've come out on top!" Your smile is infectious, and Ezra returns it, just as brilliantly. It lights up his eyes, you notice. Warm, chocolate brown eyes that glimmer with a playfulness that excites you. 

"Perhaps you can impart some of that luck on to me as we begin this partnership." He leads you back to his buggy to take you back to camp, loading up on some extra supplies as well with his meager earnings that would be needed with an extra mouth to feed. "Might you be the lucky star that this poor man has been waiting for!" You can't help but chuckle at the eccentric miner. His manner of speaking was so strikingly different from anyone you had met before. Words rolled off his lips sweet as nectar, and the sound of his voice bordered on intoxicating. 

"Make a wish, and we'll see." You laugh, flashing him a wink. The two of you spend the rest of the ride talking, swapping stories of your previous adventures. Ezra's charm has you instantly at ease. It felt comfortable and familiar to be near him, and you couldn't quite explain it. 

As you return to his camp and make your way inside, helping to unload, you do your best to help ease some of Ezra's burden. It was clear he was trying to show that his lack of an arm was no deterrent for him, but you worried he would hurt himself in the process. 

"Here, I've got it," You say softly, taking an oxygen tank from him as he stumbled a bit, nearly dropping the canister. He looks up at you with those soulful brown eyes and your heart stutters in your chest. He nods and lets you take it inside as he grabs the last few small things from the buggy, following you in. His helmet hisses as he takes it off, slowly peeling himself out of his suit, and you do the same, folding yours up in the corner before standing awkwardly in the center of the hab until he's done. Dropping the offending article in the middle of the tent, he sighs and plops down on his cot, patting next to him for you to join. Happily, you do so, crossing your legs under you. 

"Forgive me, lucky star, for my lacking capabilities. I am not the man I once was..." He gestures to the stump of his right arm, a pained look in his eyes. You place your hand on his thigh and flash a reassuring smile. 

"Ezra, there is nothing to forgive. I'm here to help in whatever way you may need me to. We're partners, and partners help each other." He glances at you sideways, a smile gracing his lips at the pain fades in his eyes. 

"Lucky star, I feel you may be imparting some of your luck on to me already. What plans the universe may have for us is an adventure I'm eager to embark on." You laugh and nod, squeezing his thigh once before getting up to start making your side of the hab. 

And so the days go on. Long days spent mining as much aurelac as possible while the light provided, before getting cleaned up for the night. Evenings were usually spent listening to one of Ezra's fantastic tales, or listening to him read a book from his small collection. More and more you found yourself leaning against him, your eyelids heavy with sleep as his honey rich voice drawled on. It reverberated in his chest in a way that soothed you more than anything else had in the galaxy. But the good days were over too soon as mining season came to a close on the Green, and you found yourself facing Ezra in the Depot, the two of you ready to depart for your next jobs. The ache in your heart was unlike anything you had ever felt, having grown so fond of the loquacious miner. 

You opened your mouth to say goodbye, to just rip the band-aid off, when he spoke over you. 

"Come with me." The sentence was near a plea as he reached out to take your hand. Your eyes opened wide at his words, your mouth falling slightly open.

"W..what?" 

"Come with my, my lucky little star... I can't imagine a life without you at this point, the comfort you bring me is beyond anything even the most luxurious of lifestyles could bring me." He squeezes your hand again. "Come with me...please..." You knew you couldn't, you knew you needed to head to your next journey, but the thought of doing so felt so wrong, as though your heart might explode if you tried...so you nod, and Ezra's eyes light up with a joy the likes of which you had never seen. He tugs your hand and pulls you to him, embracing you as best he can with his one arm, and nuzzles into your hair. You wrap your own arms around him to return the hug, sinking into the embrace that could only be described as feeling...right. You almost missed it as he whispered against your hair, "I found you..." You lean back, confusion in your eyes as you look up at him. 

"...Found me?" You whisper and he smiles, dropping the embrace to take your hand and lead you toward his shuttle. 

"If you would indulge me in some time to tell you a story, I can explain everything, lucky little star." 

---

Your bare feet hit the pavement with loud slaps, legs propelling you forwards as fast as you could. Your lungs burned in your chest as you panted for air, not daring to look back over your shoulder for who you knew was following you. How had you managed to be so stupid, so careless? How could you have managed to get yourself involved in this? 

"Get back here!" He yelled, his deep voice causing another shot of adrenaline to course through your bloodstream. He was going to kill you. Oh God, he was going to kill you! Tears stream down your face as you run, ducking into every alleyway you could, trying to elude him, but he had been doing this too long. He was good at covering his tracks, and you were a loose end he couldn't afford. You being alive jeopardized his life with his family. 

You turn down another alley and your heart plummets when you are met with a stone wall, skidding to a halt in front of it. You hear his heavy footfalls behind you and you turn, falling to your knees. Maybe...maybe if you beg, he'll spare you? 

Dave rounds the corner, and you hear the soft click of the safety of his silenced handgun. He stalks forward like a lion stalks an antelope and you have never in your life felt so small. 

"You're a fast little she-devil, I'll give you that. It was a good chase." He stands in front of you as you begin to beg, pleading for your life. You'd move away, you'd forget everything. You'd change your name and cut contact with everyone, please just don't pull the trigger. "No can do, sweetheart. Can't risk it." He brings the gun up level with your forehead as you look up into his eyes, begging still, trembling with terror. For a moment, you see a light of recognition in his eyes, a light that looks so familiar it makes your heart ache. Visions of a space suit, an angry scar, a metal suit, and a cowboy hat all flash through your mind in rapid succession as the light registered somewhere deep in your subconscious. 

Then, with the sound of a gunshot, everything vanishes. 

--- 

"NO PLEASE STOP!" You shriek in your sleep, thrashing around in your shared bed, waking the man beside you. He startles, sitting up and pulling you upright, shaking you gently to try and wake you from your night terror. You had been having them more  and more recently, and he was starting to get really concerned. Terrified eyes snap open, tears starting to streak down your face as you caught his eyes and immediately begin trying to get away from him, your body still full of adrenaline. "Let me go!" You screamed, fighting to get away from those eyes. Those damn eyes were exactly the same. 

"Shhh shhh, cariña, calm down it was just a night terror, you're safe." That voice...that voice wasn't the same. That voice was so much kinder and softer than the one in your dream and you grow still in his arms, nervously looking back at the one holding you. Your terrified stare was met with the warmest chocolate eyes you had ever seen, full of nothing but love and concern for you as he held you. 

"F-Frankie...?" you ask, barely above a whisper, and he nods. You tremble in his hold as you choke out a sob, falling into his embrace. "I-I'm s-s-sorry Frank-kie! I-It was s-so b-bad this t-time," you managed to choke out between sobs. Frankie’s gentle fingers run through your hair in an attempt to soothe you as he coos gently to you, swaying back and forth with you. His sleep shirt was clutched in your fists as you sobbed against him. 

"It's alright cariña, I'm here, I've got you and you're safe. Nothing is going to get you, I promise." His voice is deep and rich, sleep still painting the edges of it as he holds you and whispers soothing words to you. How lucky could you be to have a man like Francisco Morales to call your own? He was so patient with you, even when these night terrors plagued you seemingly non-stop. 

As your sobs turn to sniffles, he carefully looks down at you. "Was it the same dream, amor?" he asks softly, nervous to startle you, and you nod weakly. 

"Being chased and cornered by a man with a gun...who looked like a sleazy businessman version of you... But his eyes were hard and angry and his voice was so cold." You look up at him with still watery eyes and he delicately wipes your cheek of any errant tears. "I hate this." 

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sorry, I would do anything to help those dreams stop." His hold tightens around you. He was angry. Angry he couldn't protect you from this. Angry that for some reason your mind was using his face to torture you. Angry that you could get no respite from these horrible visions in your mind. With closed eyes, he nuzzles into your hair, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes slip closed as you slowly relax into Frankie's hold, your heart rate slowing to a more normal rate as the flood of adrenaline clears your bloodstream, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Frankie coaxes you to bed again, holding you as close to him as he can, hoping his presence will somehow help to deter the nightmares. 

In the morning, you wake to the smell of bacon and the feeling of an empty bed. You sit up and stretch before rubbing your eyes and yawning. Damn, your head and eyes hurt from the crying last night. Stupid nightmare... With a shake of your head, you move to get up to go get some medicine when you notice two Tylenol and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, knowing Frankie had left them out for you, and you take them, deciding to stay in bed a few more minutes and wait for Frankie. Your decision pays off when the door opens and Frankie walks in, a bed tray with pancakes, bacon, and a tall glass of chocolate milk in his hands. 

"Morning amor. How are you feeling? I made your favorite blueberry pancakes." The smile that graces your lips he returns as he sets the tray across your lap before tucking a loose strand of hair back in place behind your ear, joining you on the bed. 

"I'm alright as I can be. Tired of these stupid night terrors...I feel like I haven't slept in days." Leaning over, you press a quick kiss to his cheek before picking up a fork, digging in. The moan that leaves your lips borders on sinful as you taste the pancakes. Frankie's cooking always did amaze you. He chuckles as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. 

"I'm glad you like the food." You nod with a smile and continue eating, content with the silence for now. That is, until a burning question bubbles to the forefront of your thoughts. "Frankie...have...have you ever had a dream...about a girl who looked like me?" The question comes softly from your lips, as if you are nervous to even ask it. It seemed so silly hearing it out loud. 

"No, I can't say I have...but the day I met you, I could have sworn I had met you before. But there was no possible way that could have been." His voice is contemplative, and when you turn to look at him He's looking off to nowhere, lost in thought. 

"What do you mean you could have sworn you've met me before?" He blinks a few times and looks back at you, shrugging. 

"Everything about you was familiar. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile. Hell, even the way you stood, one hip cocked and your hand resting on it...It was all just so familiar, like I had met you a long time ago. Weird, I know." 

"I'm the one having dreams about a guy who looks like a douche bag version of you trying to kill me, and you think familiarity is weird?" A pink tint creeps up his cheeks as he sputters out a reply. 

"W-well when you put it that way..." You chuckle and shake your head, chasing a blueberry around your plate with your fork. 

"Maybe...we have met before...just not...here." If he didn't think you were crazy before, he certainly would now. 

"What, like a soulmate? A past life?" You nod, not looking up. You didn't want to see him looking at you like you were crazy. "Now that's an idea...it would explain a lot, wouldn't it?" Another nod, and his hand reaches around to lift your chin, turning your face to him. A gentle smile graces his beautiful face and you can't help but return it. "If that's the case, then I'm glad I found you again, soulmate." The giggle that escapes your lips only helps to widen his smile before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 

==

You had heard great things of the Prince of Dorne. The Red Viper, Oberyn Martell. He was as fearsome as he was gentle. Ruthless as he was loving. His skills with poisons and fighting spears were unmatched, as was his sexual appetite. Or so you had heard. King's Landing was always full of whispers and rumors, so much so that it was hard to know just what was fact, and what was fiction. Not that it mattered, the rumors never affected you. You kept your head down, and did as you were told, assisting the Lanisters whenever need be. It was the best way to stay out of trouble, and to ensure your head stayed rightfully upon your shoulders. 

But why all of the hubbub about Prince Oberyn all of a sudden? Have you missed an announcement? Cersei would have your head on a pike before the candles melted through if you embarrassed her by forgetting to outfit a chamber. A cold sweat breaks out over your skin and your heart races in your chest at the thought, your feet carrying you swiftly down the halls in search of Tyrion. He would know what was going on. 

You find the man talking with his guard, and clear your throat softly as you approach, hands folded respectfully in front of you. Their conversation drops as Tyrion looks to you with a smile. 

"Forgive my interruption, but I have heard many more whispers today than usual of The Red Viper of Dorne... Have...Have I missed a notice to prepare an extra chamber...?" Tyrion shakes his head and comes over to place a hand over your folded ones. 

"Fear not, you've missed nothing. The chambers were already prepared for his visit." The tension melts from your shoulders and you nod, bowing your head before standing upright again. 

"Thank you for informing me. I shall return to my duties then. Good day." You turn quickly as Tyrion bids you farewell, resuming your duties as needed.

The fight was the only thing anyone in the halls discussed. Oberyn was to champion for Tyrion in trial by combat with The Mountain. The whole of King's Landing was to attend to spectate, including the workers through the castle. It had been a long time since the walls buzzed with such energy, and you followed along quietly to the viewing stand reserved for the chambermaids. Perhaps you would now see if the words of the great Red Viper of Dorne were true. You watch with baited breath as he strides into the arena, his armor light, a fighting spear in his grip that he twirls with such grace it takes your breath away. His smile is confident, bordering on cocky, and you feel a twinge of fear for him. He was so small...The Mountain would crush him.

The fight was certainly something to behold, and for a moment, it seemed as though Oberyn's dexterity would win him the match. Till the tables turned... It was a gruesome sight, The Mountain was known well for his utter brutality. The cries of pain from the prince under his grip tore at your heart, and when his skull finally gave, painting the arena red, something inside you broke. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your hand covering your gaping mouth as your heart ached in your chest. 

You had never met this man, and yet at the witnessing of his death, it felt as if you had lost a part of yourself.

--

"An intern? A FUCKING intern? What the fuck do I need with an intern?!" Maxwell stood from his desk, pacing behind it, a hand in his pocket while the other rubbed at his face. "I’m so close, SO CLOSE, to having the world in the palm of my hand, and you want me to take on AN INTERN?!" He snapped at the poor secretary who stood in the center of the room, trembling in her high heels. 

"M-Mr. Lord...A-appearances are everything, sir, and I believe taking on an intern would brighten your appearance in the public eye even more so. She would be none the wiser, and you could use her to take care of your less important operations, sir." The secretary quivered under Maxwell's gaze as he stopped to stare at her, eyes hard as flint. Slowly, so slowly, a predatory smile works its way across his face, and he stalks forward, lifting the secretary's chin. 

"You are an absolute genius, where would I be without you?" He shoves her head away and she stumbles back a step before catching herself. "Bring her on. Get her set up on payroll, benefits, whatever she needs, then send her here to talk with me." The secretary nods, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper before looking back up to her boss who has taken to looking out the window of his high rise office. "Well don't just stand there, chop chop!" She shoos her from the room and she leaves in a rush, heels clicking down the hall as she goes to find you.

The lobby of the Lord building was absolutely massive, and appropriately ornate for what you knew of Maxwell's image. Nervous fingers played across your pencil skirt, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in the material as you waited for the secretary you had met to return with her answer. The sound of heels clicking down the hallway draws your attention and a cordial smile graces your lips as the secretary returns. 

"Good news!" she claims in an overly excited tone. "Welcome to the company! Mr. Lord has agreed to take you on as his intern. I'll take your information and get you set up with payroll while you come to meet the man behind it all." You nod, fishing a manila envelope of all of your information out of your shoulder bag, handing it over. "Excellent. Now, follow me. A few pointers," she says matter of factly. "Speak only when spoken to and NEVER interrupt. Mr. Lord hates being interrupted. You'll refer to him as Mr. Lord or Sir unless instructed otherwise. Keep your answer short and to the point. Are we clear?" You swallow thickly, suddenly astronomically more nervous than you were just a moment ago. 

"Crystal." 

"Excellent." She takes you to a large set of double wooden doors, knocking with three quick raps before opening the door. "Mr. Lord, here she is." The secretary ushers you in, placing you in the center where she stood trembling only minutes before, stepping off to the side as Maxwell strides up to you, circling around you as he sizes you up. 

"Not bad," he muses. "Not bad at all." His gaze was searing, causing your blood to race in your veins. You were pretty, he had to admit, and that would definitely be a bonus if you were going to be around him every damn day. Something familiar tugged at the back of his mind. Your eyes or your jawline, maybe, but he quickly chased that thought away. "So, you're going to be my new intern!" He claps his hands together. "Your work starts now. Follow me." He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you to what you assumed was where you were going to be sitting for the rest of this internship.

--

You blink and stumble for a moment, a firm yet chilling grip catching you to right you. 

"Careful there doll. Can't have you ruining that pretty face of yours cause you tried to kiss the carpet." Max laughed that ultra-fake, condescending laugh he had, letting you go as you righted yourself. Adjusting your pencil skirt, you nod and take a deep breath. This was all way too familiar. The outfit, the internship, the guide through the office to a desk by your boss'. It was hands down the worst case of deja vu you have EVER had. 

"Mr. Phillips-"

"Call me Max, doll. You're my new intern, and I'd like to think of you and I more as friends than as boss and employee." He grins at you and you shiver at the sight of his fangs. 

"...Max. Uhm...does...does any of this seem a little too familiar to you? Like you've been here before?" His look back at you with a look that makes you wish you could just melt into the carpet and disappear. 

"I'm here every day, what are you talking about?" 

"N-no I mean like, do you ever get deja vu? Because I'm having it bad right now." That trademark grin spreads across Max's face again as he seats you at your desk, perching himself up on the front of it so he's looking down at you. 

"My whole unlife is deja vu, dollface. It's round two for me." That damn smile never leaves his lips as he watches you put your papers in the drawers of your desk. "Any other silly little questions, or should I just let you get started on your first day?" The tips of your ears were on fire and you shook your head. 

"Nothing else, Max. Thank you, I'll get to work." He claps and nods, hopping off your desk. 

"Alright, doll. You'll have a set of reports for editing in your inbox. Have them formatted, printed, and on my desk before you head out today." You nod, starting up your desktop as he makes his way from your now shared office. This...was going to be a long internship. 

Max makes his way down the hall, that fake, used car salesman smile falling from his lips as soon as he is out of eye-shot. He stalks down the hall to his own personal bathroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. 

"Fuck!" The acoustics of the tiled room cause his voice to reverberate, sharp in his ears. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He white knuckles the edge of the sink, the porcelain cracking under his hands. It was her. It was FUCKING her! Of all the people who could come to intern at this company, it had to be his soulmate. Because of course it did! Why would the universe decide anything else?! The frustrated vampire closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. She didn't know, everything was going to be fine. Can't have a soulmate when you don't have a soul. Checkmate, universe. Yeah, that was what he would do, he’d ignore it. Problems always went away when you ignored them, right? 

Wrong.

--

"I need to stop watching vamp movies before bed," Javier Peña groans, sitting up from his bed. "Fucking dreaming about them now.." He continues to grumble to himself as he gets ready for the day. It was going to be a long one. The DEA had caught a lead on Escobar, and were running a raid this afternoon. He needed to be on his game today, this could be the chance they needed to finally get that bastard. He slips his gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabs his leather jacket, and heads to work. 

Hostages. Of course they had fucking hostages. 

"This complicates things," Steve whispers from behind him. 

"No shit," the exasperated DEA agent snaps back, eyes scanning the entrance to the building. They had no idea how many Escobar's men had in there, and they needed to get them all out. Javier was tired of seeing innocents die, caught up in something because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. "I'm going around back," Javi hisses, ducking around Steve to find the back entrance. "You stay here with the team. First gunshot, you move. Be smart, clear every room, move fast." Steve nods, taking Javi’s place as Javi slinks along the back perimeter. 

He was right, there was a back entrance. He presses his ear to the door, trying to make out any sound and was met with only silence. Gun ready in one hand, he slowly opens the door, thanking whatever god existed that most of Escobar's men were idiots. They had forgotten to arm the back door. He moves along the wall to the hallway, noting two doors on the left, one on the right on the way to the main lobby. His heart pounds in his ears as he moves as quickly and quietly as possible, choosing the one door on the right first, seeing it open. He ducks in, gun sweeping over the room, but all he sees is you there, bound and gagged with duct tape. Your face was a mess, one eye blackened and dried blood from your nose crusted on the tape. Weary, broken eyes meet Javi's and his heart stutters. He had to get you out of here, and he was going to. 

As you look at him, your eyes widened at the shadow moving down the hall. Noticing, Javi presses himself just to the side of the doorway, waiting for the man to make his way into the room before firing off two quick shots to his head. The man slumped to the ground, lifeless as the house descended into chaos. Javi grabs you, dragging you gracelessly to the corner where he can better protect you. The action draws a soft whimper from you, fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Gunfire, screaming in both Spanish and English, crashing and banging...it was all too much for you and you began sobbing, quaking in absolute terror. Javier held you to him gently, his large hand holding your head against his chest. 

"Calma, calma. Estás segura. Soy aquí," he whispers softly against your hair, eyes trained on the door still. 

"Peña! It's clear! We got them all, where are you?" Steve. Thank god. 

"First room on your left. Bring me the first aid kit!" You look up at agent Peña with glassy eyes, bloodshot from crying and he starts to peel the duct tape away from your mouth as gently as he can. "It's alright, you're safe now." His voice is gruff, but he speaks so gently to you.  You can't stop the trembling in your limbs, the adrenaline running its course. 

"I got the ki- holy shit what did they do to her?!" Steve joins Javi by your side, helping to undo the tape binding your arms and legs.

"Beat the shit out of her it looks like," Javi pulls an alcohol swab from the kit, tearing it open to wipe off a nasty looking cut along your brow and you hiss, pulling back at the sting. "Easy, chica. I know it hurts, I'm sorry." The whimper that leaves your lips has Javi nearly seeing red. Those bastards...

"Let's get her out of here. We need to get her to a hospital." Steve is already standing up, pulling out his phone. 

"No! No, please no hospitals!" The words come out as a rasp, your throat feeling like sandpaper. 

"Lady, you're beat to hell, we need to get you some medical attention." He argues, but the look in your eyes is desperate as you turn your gaze back to the DEA agent who saved you. 

"Please, please no hospitals...I can't do it." 

"Peña..." Javier cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

"I'll take her back to my place and take care of her. She can stay there for now. Her place probably isn't safe right now anyways if they managed to get her." No hospitals...they weren't going to take you to the hospital. Relief washes over you and your limbs suddenly felt so heavy. 

"Thank you..." You barely make out before your body gives out and you slump against Javi. His arms wrap around you after checking for a pulse, and he stands, scooping you up bridal style in his arm. He carries you out to his car, sitting you in the front seat and strapping you in, Steve arguing the whole way. 

"Look, she said no hospitals, so we aren't going to the hospital. If things get worse, I'll take her, but for now, I'm taking her back to mine. You stay here and get the paperwork done. I'll call if anything changes." Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Javi was already in the truck, taking you to his little apartment on the quiet side of town. 

It was surely a strange sight, the DEA agent carrying in your battered body to his apartment, and it raises the eyebrow of Old Woman Angela who gracefully still decides to mind her own business. Safe within the confines of his home, Javi carries you to his bed, laying you down gently before ridding you of your shoes in an attempt to grant you at least a little comfort. 

"Let's get you cleaned up, querida." His words are soft and gentle, more so than he's used with anyone in a long time. Delicately, he wipes your face with a clean, damp cloth to rid you of the grime and blood that had built up, using caution around your deeply blackened eye. The sight of you so battered made his heart ache. He was used to violence, he was used to death. It followed him everywhere in this line of work. So why, then, was this hitting him so much harder than any of the others. Why did he feel this overwhelming need to protect you, to keep you safe from all the world's atrocities? He shakes his head and mutters to himself in Spanish as he moves to sanitizing and dressing your wounds. Once you were as cared for as he could make you, he sits, watching your sleeping form. The subtle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep gives him at least a little comfort. His hand moves as if of its own will, taking yours gently. They're so soft, and they fit so perfectly in his, almost like your hands were made to be held in his. It felt so right, so natural. And that was something Javier Peña had never felt before, not like this. In your sleep, so gently he almost thinks he imagined it, you squeeze his hand tighter.

Javier Peña didn't even know your name, but in his heart he knew one thing. 

You were home.

--

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you call from your place on the couch, head dangling off, your feet where your head should be. 

"Absolutely," came the gentle voice from the kitchen. 

"And what about soulmates?" 

"Those too. Why do you ask?" Marcus peeks his head out and chuckles when he sees you once again refusing to use furniture correctly. 

"I dunno, just a thought I've been having recently. Like, how do people know when they've found their soulmate? It's not like we have a countdown timer that tells us." 

"Well," your boyfriend comes to join you on the couch and you immediately right yourself to lay with your head in his lap, his fingers moving to play with your hair. "It's one of those things you just know. Like, they walk into the room and all you can see is them. Their voice and laugh makes you feel like you're floating, and every time you see them a warmth spreads through you from the tip of your head all the way to your toes. And the feel of their skin is the most right thing in the world, like anywhere you go, so long as you're with them, you're home." His gentle smile down at you does just that, filling you with that warmth it always does. "Some people even say they have dreams of past lives where they've met their soulmates before." 

"Have you?" 

"I have." His voice is so assured, it takes you by surprise, and you must have worn that look on your face because Marcus laughs before tapping your nose. 

"...Tell me about her. Or him, I guess." Curiosity was eating you alive. Who was Marcus' soulmate? Were you keeping him from them? Your heart sank at the thought that maybe...maybe he belonged to someone else through some greater proclaimed destiny.

"She's been so many things and been on so many adventures, love. She's flown through the expanses of space so many times, fought monsters and mined for rare jewels. She's aided weary warriors who were passing through her tiny village. She's survived terrifying experiences with drug lords and she's worked as a top agent in intelligence organizations. She's wept for a lover she never knew, and she's been mourned by more than she will ever know." You watch his face with a child-like wonder, and when he finishes he looks at you, that glimmer you love so much still present in his eyes. "Have you ever had similar dreams?" 

The question catches you by surprise and you find yourself contemplating. You had never really remembered dreams, but a few did stick out to you. "I remember...space. And the man I was with was cold and metal, but his voice was gentle. And I remember...I remember working in offices with men in suits I could never afford, but who bought me nice things to say the words they could never get to come out. And...a scar. I remember a scar." Wandering fingers reach up to trace over Marcus' eye. "I remember my first thought when I saw you was 'Didn't he have a scar?' But the thought was so out of place, I had no idea what to do with it. I had never met you before! So I...forgot it." All through your talking, Marcus' smile has just grown wider, as if he's waiting for you to catch one of his jokes. 

When it all clicks into place, you sit up, your mouth slightly open as memories flood your mind's eyes. A wet and weary warrior, a charming cowboy, a fearsome hunter covered in metal, a talkative gentleman whose every sentence was poetry, a ruthless killer, a soft pilot with a heat of gold, a grand prince gone too soon, a pompous billionaire, a sarcastic frat boy, and a gentle DEA agent all flashing through your mind in rapid succession. Your eyes tear up with the memories that are yours but at the same time aren't, and you reach up to cup his face. Words die on the tip of your tongue as you struggle to force them out. 

Marcus takes the burden from you, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It's heavy, full of so many memories, so many moments, so many lifetimes. It's so magnificent it sucks the air from your lungs and you break away to gasp for breath as Marcus presses his forehead to yours. 

"Y...You're my...soulmate..." The words are barely a breath, but he hears them all the same and nods, pecking your lips once more as he gathers you into his arms. You melt into the grasp, more comfortable here than anywhere else on earth. 

"Yes, my love. And no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, no matter the struggle...The forces that be will always bring me to you. Always wait for me." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list is open!

Requests are Open!

[vanchlo]

Gatsby (Green Eyes / 3)

Read the first part, here, and the second part, here! :-)

Blurb Synopsis: With a few months of teaching under your belt, at times you find yourself struggling. Luckily, your boyfriend and teaching colleague, Harry, is there to help you by offering advice or a comforting kiss. Although you’ve only been dating for a few months, you find that there's something special about this man.

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, and romance.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 10.4k words, whoops 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Happy Together by The Turtles (click to listen) 

Your mind is muddled with thoughts. Remember to send this email today. Make sure to put this in so-and-so’s mailbox. Don’t forget to send that birthday card in the mail. Can’t misplace that sheet you have to make copies of tomorrow for an assignment. Enter those grades. Grade those tests, and those papers. They weren’t wrong, you think, when they said the work of a teacher never ends. As you sit at your desk, the world war two novel you’ve been trying to read lately stares back at you from the sidelines, adding another stick to your pile. A rather massive pile, at that. You knead your temple as the blinking cursor awaits your words on the lit screen. Words that you don’t have yet, and aren’t sure when you will. You’ve found it more and more difficult to send the hard emails home to parents, and even after three and a half months under your belt of teaching, it hasn’t gotten any easier. 

“What’d I say ‘bout bitin’ yer nails?” 

Breaking your stare off with your computer, your eyes jump to your door where you find Harry standing there. 

Placing your chin in your propped hand, you sigh, “I’m sorry.”

“Here, ya look like ya need sumthin’ else t’ chew on,” he murmurs, taking a step into your classroom. Something leaves his hand to fly into the air, skidding to a stop in front of you on your desk. At the sight of the shiny gold wrapper marked by the words, Twix, you return to his eyes with a smile. “Now, wha’s got ya so nervous, bird?”

“I’m trying to write an email home, and not a happy one.”

“Ah, I hate havin’ t’ write t’ose meself, they’re neva easy. Can I help?” he inquires, taking slow steps into your classroom. When your laptop sounds with a chime!, the alert for a new email, your eyes leave his tall figure. 

His question goes unanswered on accident with the appearance of the email loading before your eyes. The words start to trickle into your mind, and with their absorption, the heaviness felt in your heart grows. 

“Hullo? Anybody home in there?” Harry laughs, his feet stopping in front of your desk. You don’t answer, and you barely see him lean to the side to look at you. “Hey, wha’s tha matta?” he questions, his tone suddenly changing. Gulping, no words come to you as the ones on your screen shoot icy fear into your veins. Your name falls from his mouth as he walks over to you, stopping behind you. 

“I have to be observed,” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “Later this week,” you finish with a whimper, your shoulders sagging. 

“Oh it’ll be okay, love. We all have it done once a year, ‘s only t’ benefit ya. ‘s fer feedback. Ya don’t gotta worry. Principal’s observation ‘s at tha end o’ tha year,” he tells you, his soothing voice turning irritating at the last part. You respond with a whine, but you find that you can’t remain upset with him when his arms come around you. “Ya’ll do great, bird. Don’t fret. I know things have been stressful lately fer ya, so try not t’ let it botha you.”

“But it does. I already feel like I’m not doing a good enough job, and then somebody has to observe me, ugh. I’m going to be so nervous that I’ll probably screw up even more,” you exhale, hiding away from your fears, but soon you feel your chair spin around. Tearing your hands away from your face, you open them to find Harry squatting in front of you. 

The mere sight of the dimples in his cheeks and the glint in his eye eases the tension felt throughout your body. A second later, you’re unsure of that when your sight graces the ebony dress shirt rolled up his taut arms, and the mustard slacks hugging his thighs. Yeah, there are a whole lot of reasons to make you feel tense around this man, and on the other hand he makes you feel at ease. Talk about confusing, when one thing has both effects on you. Ugh. 

“Yer too hard on yerself, birdy. Ya gotta stop it, I don’t like seein’ me girl feel so down,” he hums, his thumb painted in cracking hot pink nail polish tapping your nose. Even just the thought of how he’ll let you paint his nails the next time he comes over to your house makes you feel better. By now, he doesn’t even bat an eye when you ask him, and by the look of his battered nails, anticipation grows inside of you at the thought. “Now, why don’t ya try t’ forget ‘bout tha observation, and lemme help ya write tha email t’ tha parent? Then we can leave and ya can come ova t’ mine, and I can cook ya a nice dinna.” 

His lips split into a smile in front of you, sparking one on your own. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend in the world?”

“Hmmm, I dunno, maybe. I can’t recall, but I wouldn’t complain t’ hear dat a few more times,” Harry smiles, leaning forward to surround your lips with his. Yours curl into a smile as his fingers dance across your cheek and into your hair. 

“Harry, the email,” you begin after breaking the kiss. 

“Shh, lemme have a kiss first. ‘s been too long,” he almost laughs, pressing his lips back to yours.

“I saw you in sixth hour in the copier room and you got one then,” you interrupt, knowing that you’re getting on his nerves. 

“Too long,” is all he says impatiently, replacing his lips on top of yours. 

Relaxing, you move yours together with his and soon find your hands running along his cheeks prickly with facial hair. They run down the expanse of his warm neck, his tamed beard soon fading away. Pads of your fingers collide with the chain of his necklace hidden under his shirt, signaling you’re almost there. You let a grin slip, impeding the kiss, when you can feel his taut chest under his button up. Finally.

“Like what yer findin’?” he asks, laughing against your mouth. 

“Mmmhmm,” you answer slyly, peeking open your eyes to find his on yours, mere inches away. “Maybe we should write dat email now. Don’t wantcha gettin’ too carried away now,” Harry hums pulling away, much to your disappointment. “No, yer not gonna get me with tha pout again, so dontcha try it now.” He wags a finger at you as his words play on his face. Feeling risky, you reach forward and bite at the tip of it, smelling the cinnamon lotion he has a bottle of on his desk. 

“Ya betta watch it, bird!” Harry chuckles, the smile taking grasp of him now, as well as the laugh that sings to your ears. 

“Or else what?” you reply, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

“Open yer email befo’ ya convince me with that adorable face o’ yers.”

You ignore him and continue to stare at him, happiness and longing showing in your eyes. You’re certain that he sees it too, you’re just not sure what he’s going to decide to do with it. His bottom lip comes between his teeth as his green eyes stare into yours, him standing only a step away from you. Although it’s the slightest movement, his hands starts to trail from the back of your chair. 

“Birdy,” he begins with a warning, shaking his head at you, that song leaving his strawberry lips again. Suddenly, you wish he was wearing a tie today so you could grab a hold of it and pull him in by it, but alas he’s without one today. “Don’ test me.”

His words are hypocritical, meaning one thing as his face tells you another story entirely. Somehow, they have the opposite effect on you, egging you to go further with the teasing. You enjoy pushing his buttons, another thing that he knows far too well by now. Your fingers sitting limp on your legs itch to touch him, and roam his body. Those curls, his bearded cheeks, that muscular chest, or those thick arms. Maybe even all of him. 

“We can have a good snog at me house tha sooner we get dis done,” Harry cautions, only worsening the pout forming on your lips. He reacts to it promptly, with that lip-biting returning, and his fist coming to his mouth. As if he has to refrain from saying, or doing, something. 

“Why can’t I just have one more now? It won’t hurt,” you plead, letting your chin fall a tad, allowing you to look up at him through your lashes. 

“‘m in real trouble with ya, aren’t I, birdy? Go’mme wrapped ‘round yer li’l finga like there’s no t’morrow, dontcha?” Harry teases, slowly leaning in, his arms bending at his wrists where they lay planted to your chair’s armrests. 

“Yeah, just the way you like it,” you note aloud, the anticipation buzzing in your gut as he draws near. 

“Yer right ‘bout dat, darlin’. Couldn’t say no t’ ya if I tried, thinkin’ that might ge’mme in trouble one o’ these days,” Harry finishes with a snicker before the taste of oranges meets your lips, and his beard is tickling your skin. Just the way you like it. 

* 

“Ravioli or pasta?” you hear float from the kitchen. 

It’s a wonder you hear him as your thoughts are consumed by his bookshelves. Although you’ve been to his place several times now, you’re still enamored by trying to familiarize yourself with the items he chose to live with him. 

The acoustic Taylor sitting in the corner on a stand. The Monet prints dotting his walls, along with those of The Stones, The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, and Pink Floyd. The pink ukulele hung on his wall that he made you laugh with while playing a rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow the first time you came over. You swear that his blankets are the coziest and warmest. He also makes the best fires in the fireplace, even making s’mores for dessert the first time you came over, making quite the impression. The last time, you had devoured his record collection, flipping through it and playing the few that interested you at the time. You even like the silly napkins with sayings on them that he has in the kitchen. Now, you’ve returned to his book collection that seems to grow by a few each time you’re here. 

“Why do you have Shel Silverstein here, but not at school?” you call out to him, feeling the change in texture of the book spines, the tip of your finger ghosting over them. 

“‘Coz tha’s a copy from when I was li’l. Now, ya didn’t answer me question. Which d’ya want me t’ make, bird?” he replies gently, his deep voice carrying down the hall from the kitchen. 

Once again, his words drift by unnoticed as you carefully remove a copy of a novel that catches your eye, The House on Mango Street. You’ve found it before on his shelves at school, and the cover has always enraptured you, but you’ve never found the time to pick it up. Turning it over, your eyes flit over the description on the back of the thin book. 

“Hey, ‘m talkin’ t’ ya, birdy,” a voice murmurs, their words dancing across your neck with a tickle. “Tryin’ t’ figure out what t’ make us fer dinna.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just looking at this book. I’ve always meant to see what it’s about,” you comment, turning your head back ever so slightly, but you don’t need to do that to know he’s there. His arms have surrounded your waist and his beard tickles against your temple, lips soon dotting kisses along that space. 

“‘s okay. Ah, so this ‘s where yer always runnin’ off t’ when ya come ova. Got meself a book worm fer a girlfriend, I like it. Findin’ anythin’ good? Ya know ya can borrow whateva ya want, love. I know ya’ll take good care o’ it,” Harry coos in between feathery pecks he plants down the side of your face. “‘s a good one too, bird. I teach it every year. Tha students enjoy it too. Ya might come t’ teach it too, I think, since we’re both teachin’ American Lit. this semester,” Harry comments, soon his nose making an appearance tickling your cheek. The words on the back of the book were beginning to blur before your eyes, but they’re forgotten altogether when his fingers brush against your belly, clasping together there. 

“Thank you. I suppose I should read it already then.”

“Yeah, ‘m surprised ya haven’t already. Borrow it and take yer time with it, ya’ll enjoy it. ‘s a bit sad tho’ from what I rememba. Now, ravioli or pasta? Was thinkin’ a salad on tha side, marinated chicken, and sum berries,” he finishes, the safety his arms provide you with soon fleeting. Looking over your shoulder, he walks away and back to the kitchen, noting that he needs to get the pasta water boiling. 

As your eyes trail to his bum round in his gray jogging shorts, a cheeky answer begs at your lips instead. He pipes up again with an inquisitive ‘well’ and your response falls from your lips, “Ravioli, please.”

He hums a confirmation from his new perch down the hall, the sounds of cupboards opening and things being jostled around soon following. The rest of the book’s summary passes your eyes before you set it down on the arm of the brown sofa, forgotten as soon as he had walked in. Passing Harry’s favorite reading chair in the corner accompanied by a tall lamp, you tiptoe through the narrow hallway marked by framed pictures on the walls. You hear his soft singing as you round the corner, happening upon his towering figure to your left, standing at the stove. Taking a page from his book, you slide across the wooden floor in your socks, quickly capturing him with your arms. 

“Boo!” you whisper into his ear, feeling him jump in your arms. 

“Don’t scare me like that, coulda burned me hand,” he warns, but when you chance a look at the pot of water below him, you find him to be a fibber. 

“You don’t even have the gas on yet, silly,” you murmur in argument, dragging your nose along his freckled neck, paler from the winter months. 

“So? ‘m tryin’ t’ cook here,” he argues, although terribly, because a giggle escapes his candy-like lips. Ones you very much would like to kiss right now, and perhaps taste, and nibble. Nodding into his shoulder, your hands unravel to explore the toned expanse of his stomach under his shirt. “Bird,” he says firmly, the cracking sound of the salt grinder following his words. 

“I’m just helping you cook,” you explain feebly, brushing the pad of your thumb against his wispy happy trail. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember from the times at the beach where his tattoos are, because they don’t feel any different to the rest of his skin. The fern leaves, the butterfly, and then the swallows below his collarbone. 

“Yer pushin’ me buttons again. Ya know I don’ like it,” Harry grumbles, trapped within your grasp when he turns to grab the package of refrigerated ravioli from the counter. 

“I’m sorry, can’t I just hug my boyfriend?” you whine, feeling your voice catch at that last word, even after two months. 

“Don’t play that game with me, go read yer book or sumthin’. Catch up on sum gradin’, you’ll thank yerself later fer doin’ so, and me.”

“You’re no fun,” you whimper, hands stilling amongst his toned abdomen and soon returning to your body. Cheekily, you give in to your temptations and pinch his bum hastily, running off with a giggle. 

“Birdy!” Harry calls after you, trying to hide the laugh in his voice, but you’re doing enough laughing for the both of you. You don’t hear the sound of his booming footsteps following you, and so you plop onto his sofa with a relieving sigh. “Remind me not t’ give ya more than two glasses o’ wine, ya get all weird afta two.” 

“I do not!” you exclaim, pressing the power button on the remote for his tv. 

“Ya do too! Grabbin’ me bum and gettin’ all handsy unda me shirt,” he contends with a scoff that dissolves into a titter. You respond with a ‘hmmph’ loud enough for him to hear as your head hits the velvet pillow at one end of the sofa, body splaying out to cover the rest. 

“I’ll say it again, you’re no fun!”

“Oh, give it a rest!” is all Harry says disbelievingly, meanwhile you pout as you try to immerse yourself in an episode of The Simpsons. 

It’s one of those Halloween specials, you’re not sure which one as there were several, even though Halloween was very nearly two months ago. Turning up the volume, you try to drown out the sound of pots banging together, and packages crinkling. You even attempt to mask the sound of his voice, the wine buzz securing you in your own little bubble, and a lonely one at that. 

“Babeeee,” you finally hear, along with the soft padding of his slippers nearing you. “Don’ be a crab, y’know I don’ like bein’ botha’d when ‘m cookin’ sumthin’ hot. Don’ want t’ get eitha o’ us burnt. I’d do tha same if I had kids and they were ‘round,” he mumbles, his footsteps coming to a pause, and so does your heart at the sound of his words. 

“Me li’l birdy,” Harry coos in a sing-song voice, the whine of the ancient wood floors marking his arrival. His calloused fingertips along your forehead and through your hair are difficult to ignore, as are his sweet lips smelling of Roscato against your skin. “Don’ be upset with me please, ya know I can’t handle it. Ya wanna come help me cook? You can chop up tha salad if ya’d like, well as long as yer hands are okay afta those glasses o’ wine.”

“Nah-ah,” you deny, rubbing your face with your hand, growing sleepy from the alcohol. “You don’t want my help, and I’m all dizzy.”

“I do want yer help, that’s why I asked. Hmm, dizzy, are you?” he queries, drawing your attention upwards to where he kneels beside the sofa, head hanging over yours. “Does this make ya dizzy too?” he grins upside down for you, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth. A smile hints at yours after the kiss ends, him raising an eyebrow. 

You shake your head ‘no’ and he clucks his tongue, dipping in for another kiss, this one longer than the last. You’d choose to grow dizzy from his intoxicating lips over anything else, again and again. The bite of the alcohol follows the sweetness of the white wine he had poured you both glasses of, his still being nursed in the kitchen. The chill to his pillowy lips is shocking against your warm lips, but it’s forgotten when your fingers drift to his hair. You’ve only gotten a taste of his scrumptious top lip before he pulls away, having kissed you in an odd way, upside down. 

“Ya still upset with me?” he breathes against your lips, rubbing his nose against yours ever so slightly, a smirk edging at his lips. 

“I won’t be after one more kiss, and a cuddle,” you insist, testing your limits, but by now you’re fairly certain what you can get away with. Sometimes it surprises you how much, from stealing his favorite pen from his desk, grabbing his butt in the breakroom, knicking a sweater from his closet the last time you were over, or spamming him with texts of songs he wouldn’t ever listen to but he still does, for you. 

  “Alrighty then, c’mere, birdy,” he smiles before he melts against you in a kiss, once again. 

Soon, he’s scooping his arms under your legs and settling you on his lap, sinking into the sofa. Your head finds a home below his collarbone, legs draped across his lap and your bum hanging off the side of it. 

“I forgot ya get all tired on me afta alcohol. I gotta rememba t’ only dole it out when tha sun ‘s still up,” he giggles, the sound reverberating around in his broad chest under his Paul McCartney & Wings shirt. His fingers surround one of your hands, holding it to his chest as his other cups your waist where he holds you against him. 

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, trying to focus on the tv show, but it’s a lost cause. 

With his refreshing citrus smell enveloping you, the notes of the tangy orange he eats by sections every day clings to his skin somehow. Dreamily, you admire his neat beard for the hundredth time, smiling adoringly at the little patches he hates that don’t grow in all of the way. For some reason, you love them even more, wondering what his cheeks look like underneath all of the dark brunette hair. 

The show is forgotten at the recesses of your mind, and instead, your attention revolves around Harry, much to your surprise. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. The scattering of ink covering both arms, top to bottom. The dark curly hair donning his chest if you nudge the collar of his shirt down far enough. Even the steady beating of his heart grabs your focus, leading you to the slight pause and wake of it at the corner of his neck. Perhaps your most favorite of all is a hard tie between watching the execution of his facial features, or playing with his hands. One he minds quite more than the other, but you think he’s starting to get used to it. 

Your fingers that look puny in contrast to his run over the minuscule hairs peppered across his knuckles, yet another trait of his you adore. It’s rare there’s one you’ve found of his that you don’t enjoy immensely. They fall against his, feeling the lukewarm metal decorating his fingers, and he doesn’t even pause. Scooting your eyes away from his hands quickly, you try to forget the inviting veins bulging from his skin you so often like to get lost tracing. They flit now to the almost indiscernible dimples caving into his hairy cheeks, eyes gleaming as he titters at something on the tv. It all ends much too soon and you’re caught in the act, his gaze falling to yours. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at me fer?” he wonders aloud, the space between his brow creasing. You resist rubbing it free, finding you don’t have the time to when his lips press a kiss to your nose. “Water’s boilin’, I should go start tha chicken. Ya can help if ya want, but ya don’t hafta, love. Don’ want ya cuttin’ those pretty li’l fingas o’ yers.”

A nod suffices for your imaginary words, and so does the curling of your lips that part, “I like you,” you mumble, eyes glued to him, much like a puppy dog. 

“I like ya too, birdy. Quite arguably tha best thing that’s happened t’ me in a while, you are,” he rasps, voice dripping of honey at the arrival of his words. The look painting his face tells you that he knows it too, and you can taste the honey when he pecks you. “Like ya so much I can’t believe it sumtimes.” 

*

You both knew within the first week of school that having your prep hour during the same time in fifth hour, although coincidental, was perhaps not a good idea. It was uncertain whether the demons of the world or the angels of it had arranged this, seeing as you soon distracted each other from getting much prep done for that day’s lessons, grading, what have it. The both of you got on each other’s nerves regarding it at times, him more so than you, but you’re rest assured you both were grateful for it. 

Like today, you can’t stop jiggling your knee as you listen to Chopin while grading papers on the interpretable meanings of the scarlet A from The Scarlet Letter. Harry had gotten quickly upset with you yesterday when you had hogged too much of his prep hour with kissing and talking, noting that he had already been interrupted by another colleague. Today, you’re trying to give him his space to get his work done, but you find it exhausting staying away from him, much like you always do, and have to already. The temptation is even worse when he’s less than fifty steps away, and with those lips that should be downright illegal. His snap at you still stung, if only a little, and you can’t find your focus seeing that you’ve hardly seen him around today. 

Sometimes you feel pathetic and he’ll joke that you are too, melting into a puddle like The Wicked Witch of the West from not having seen him enough. You know that you are, but the realization doesn’t make you feel any better. Neither do you when a second later, speak of the devil, you hear his voice outside your ajar door. It mingles with another, and this one mentions your name, you’re rather sure. Harry shushes the other person with a laugh, and when the voices have paused, you return your gaze to the marked-up paper you’re grading. Turning up the music on your desktop, you sigh as you start reading the sentence over again, for the third time. 

*

Relief buds at the tips of your limbs as you gather your things from your desk around quarter to four, positive Harry’s after-school Poetry Club should be over by now. It’s stolen away as your fingers dangle on the handle of the door, his door closed with his nifty store-like sign turned to CLOSED. Sighing, your face creases into a messy line at the sight of it, your fingers soon composing a text to him that goes unanswered. 

Looking both ways down the hall, when the coast is clear, your heels click across the hall to place you at his door. Again, it’s unlocked to allow the custodial staff to come and clean soon. Bingo! Blanketed in darkness, few streams of light make their way in past the new snow blanketing the campus grounds. You don’t need much light anyways, and after setting your things down on a desk, you settle in his chair. The squeaks are almost all the way out of it, you notice, as you pull on the chain to the vintage green lamp at the corner of his desk. A new addition. Albeit a few scattered pens and lists, it looks much the same since the last time you were in his classroom. You quickly find a pad of Post-Its, green this time, and a pen that’s a fun color. Licking your lips with an excited smile, the sadness of missing Harry is abated by getting the chance to sneak a note onto his desk, which you’ve found is far harder to do these days. You leave with a smirk donning your lips, and a few Bit-O-Honeys to tide you over until the next time.

Harry,

Do you have any plans this Saturday? I might know a certain girl who is planning on making homemade pizza, and who thought you might enjoy it. If you’d like to, I can let her know and pass your name along. I’ve heard she’s a rather good chef, just don’t get too many glasses of wine into her, or else she turns into a real fruit loop. 

P.S. I wish there were words for how I feel about you, but being the English nerds we are, I think that gives you a little advantage to understand once I find those words. Have a great day, my love.

Your Birdy 

xoxoxo

*

Huffing, you stab at the button again, but you still receive the same error message from the copying machine. Forgetting it, you log out before turning around, which wasn’t a great idea either, you find. A quiet squeal leaves your lips when you find Harry standing in front of you, grinning at his success from scaring you. 

“A li’l jumpy this mornin’, are we?” he smirks, sliding his covered arms into the pockets of his gray slacks. 

“Yeah, you could say that, and the copier hates me this week,” you return, walking past him and over to the shelf of supplies in containers. 

“Oh, ya can use me code if that helps. Maybe it senses ya hate it,” he giggles, now behind you. Your nod suffices for a response as you drag your fingers through the sea of pens, searching for one color. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Ugh, there’s never any red pens when I need one,” you sigh, annoyed. 

“Ya know ya can take one from me stash anytime ya need,” he insists, humming a tune as he taps his foot. You mumble another small ‘thanks’ before moving onto another container. 

“Hey, why ya bein’ all shy?” he inquires, his gentle fingers soon encircling your wrist, turning you to face him. Again, you wonder how he can look more handsome every day, even in a dorky gray pull over vest with a cream button up underneath. 

“You said we can’t do PDA in school.”

“‘s tha copier room and nobody else ‘s here, bird. ‘s fine, y’know that by now,” he argues, pulling you into his arms easily, manipulating you like soft clay. Trying and failing to hide a frown, his brow knits together in confusion. “Why ya bein’ all weird, hmm? Gonna tell me?”

“You don’t let me come and bother you during our preps anymore. You got all mad at me,” you confess blearily, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Hastily, you remove it and leave his arms, sure somebody will walk in the door at the least convenient second. 

A laugh sings from his lips as he follows you, winding an arm around your waist. His lips are soft against your cheek, the stubble framing it becoming normal to you by now, although a scratchy nuisance. Now, he’s made his way to stand in front of you, blocking you from the packs of Crayola markers you were eyeing up for a project. 

“‘m sorry I got mad, okay? Jus’ had loads o’ stuff t’ get done, knew I shouldn’t have snapped at ya, tho.’ I regret it now . . . . Will ya forgive me?” he begs, sticking out his bottom lip, making him even more irresistible and delectable. Shiny curls fall over his forehead from his mousy hair that’s shorter on the sides after his recent cut. 

After checking the door, you surprise his lips with an all-forgiving smooch, welcomed by the bitter taste of black coffee on his lips. Like always, it draws to an end far too soon, and this time by the tinny ringing of the first bell. 

“Betta get goin’, bird. Don’ wanna be late,” he teases, brushing his nose against yours. A short yelp escapes your lips when his hand squeezes your ass before he saunters off after another kiss. 

“Harry,” you mutter, shaking your head, squeezing his hand briefly before you enter the halls together. 

Although you’ve become accustomed to it, it still feels strange to slide on another mask once you step into the halls. Sometimes even the school. You feel them and you know they’re there, the stares from the students. The rumors buzzed around the beginning of the year about you and Harry, but with his help, they never got to you. Neither of you have ever confirmed anything to anybody, and luckily you haven’t had to so far, even amidst the continuing rumors. 

Nonetheless, you still share with the other the stories of your students teasing the both of you about dating the other. You only fed the fire when you dressed up together for Halloween, or when your classes often combined together in the computer lab or library, or on the rare occasions, they have a large Jeopardy game or group project together. More often than you like to admit, you get carried away and entertain the freedom that would come with being able to say ‘yes’ to your students when they ask if you’re together. That would only call for one occasion, though. One that is quite far down the future road. As your eyes wander along Harry, a couple months in and you can’t deny that this isn’t just another boyfriend. No siree. 

“What d’ya got on tha agenda t’day, love? Ya startin’ anythin’ befo’ break?” he asks you, pulling you from your reverie, probably for the best. 

“No, we’re wrapping up the unit this week before testing next Monday on the last day. The Scarlet Letter, Frankenstein, Grammar Do’s and Don’ts, and the Transcendentalist Writers,” you explain, folding your hands together and letting them fall to the waist of your long wine-colored dress. Dark tights hug your legs, but the spotty heating inside of the school makes you miss the black cardigan sitting at your desk. 

“Mmm, same here. ‘s a good day t’ do it, can’t really introduce anythin’ befo’ Christmas Break. They’ll all forget it by tha time they return in two weeks. We jus’ have a chapta left in most classes: Hemingway, To Kill A Mockingbird, Huck. Finn, and Robert Frost,” he comments, hands hidden away in his slacks. Often you’re grateful for it, the removal of the temptation for you. Then again, it tempts your eyes that like to dance across the tightness of his slacks, but you quickly avert them.

“That’s good, only three more school days counting today, and one more until my observation,” you huff, finding it arduous to keep the nerves surrounding the event at bay. 

“You’ll do fine, love, I keep tellin’ ya that. Ya gotta believe me one o’ these times,” Harry coos, coming to a stop when you round the corner, your classrooms only a few steps away. To your surprise, his long fingers spread warmth across your skin with a pat to your arm, a rare one at that. “Have a good day, don’ let tha kids get t’ ya yet. Only a few days left. ‘ll talk t’ ya later.”

“Thanks, I hope you have a good day too,” you echo, containing the smile you send him halfheartedly, always careful about how you act towards each other around students. He winks at you quickly before turning away with that delightful smile playing around his lips, making you wonder how long again until you can kiss them. 

*

His luscious curls make your fingers itch to touch them, but as you linger in your doorway watching him, you know that you’ll have to wait. After biding your time for a few seconds for the students to leave him after receiving help, with a mental shrug you decide you’ll wait. Soon, you find yourself in the office. Colleagues meander around the room, the secretary speaks on the phone, and a parent or two or waits for them. After a few smiles and greetings, you arrive at your mailbox. First, you pluck the bag of Bit-O-Honeys from your pocket, sticking them in his box with a note already taped to them. After fishing out the few papers sitting in there, your hand brushes against something on the bottom, but you don’t see anything when you look again. With a quirked brow, you stand on your tippy toes, spotting a lime green Post-It note stuck to the bottom piece of wood. A smile quickly consumes your face as you pluck it from there, sticking it to the first paper on top of your pile, not wanting to raise any kind of suspicion. You and Harry do your best to be extra careful, not wanting to give anybody a reason to pry, and by now you’re both positive nobody has any true reason to doubt your story. 

Your heels dig into the sides of your feet after your long day, making you quicken your pace back to your classroom. The frown creasing your features is soon replaced with that grin from before when you turn into your classroom, finally taking a peek at the note. 

Birdy- 

You’re not very good at this whole Christmas list thing, are you? I’m still wondering what you’d like. Mind helping a silly old man out before the holiday rolls around? I hope your day is going swell. Don’t hesitate to come and say hi during prep, you know you’re always welcome. You’re the best kind of distraction, you’re just a little too good at it sometimes ;) You’re looking too gorgeous in that dress today, and so I’ll need you to stop by so I can give you a proper snog in private, pronto. 

Harry xxxx

P.S. - Homemade pizza sounds lovely, I can’t wait. You spoil me (: 

P.P.S - You have no idea how much you mean to me, bird xo

“Verdict on tha possibility o’ that snog?” somebody murmurs, their voice followed by the soft whoosh of your door closing. To no surprise, Harry leans against the door unable to hold back the happiness showing on his face. 

“I think it’s a yes,” you answer slowly, placing the stack of things on your desk, but not moving an inch. You want to toy with him and make him work for it, but as always, you can’t resist him. 

“How was yer day?” he mumbles once your arms come around his middle, brushing against the knit sweater vest. Sometimes he dresses like older colleagues and other days like his young age, but nonetheless you can’t help but think he’s the best dressed of any male teachers here at the school. He’s just too goddamn handsome that he can pull off anything.

“Good, we finished all of our readings in my classes. I get to be observed doing review tomorrow, so I hope the observer likes my Jeopardy games,” you comment, slipping your hands under the fabric, feeling the warmth projected from his body. 

“‘m sure they will, love, ‘s a good idea ya came up with. I know it took loads o’ work doin’ four o’ ‘em fer tha four different classes ya have throughout tha day. What time ‘s yer observation, ya neva said?”

“It’s during my fourth hour, before lunch,” you answer, him humming a short reply. “You really think I look that nice in this dress? I thought I looked frumpy and too tall,” you question, pursing your lips as you take a look at your long plain dress. 

“Yes, think ya look amazin’, bird. Couldn’t keep my eyes off o’ ya all day wheneva I saw ya. Yer gonna make me slip up one o’ these times, and make me blow our cover,” Harry snickers, stepping forward to sink his fingers into your hair, a thumb falling to address your cheek. A knowing smirk tempts your lips, and it only worsens when his tongue comes out to run over his. “Think ya know that already, tho’ - y’know what ya do t’ me, dontcha?” 

You silently shake your head, but the smile makes an appearance, and your lie is free to the air. His breathy laugh mingles with it before he takes them away, scooping your top lip between his. His kisses fill you with a warm giddiness, one that leads your hands to leave his strong back, and wander down him. Juice from the orange he must have just eaten trickles onto your lips, meanwhile your fingers dip into his pants, just brushing the top of his clothed bum. 

Harry breaks the kiss suddenly, but you’re already giggling. So far, all you receive is an eyebrow raise from him, but his toasty hands don’t leave your cheeks. His gleaming rose lips part, “What’d I say ‘bout those hands o’ yers? Lookie here, they’re gettin’ you in trouble ‘gain,” he tuts, your left cheek soon cold as he wags a finger at you. 

“You never said I couldn’t, and your bum just looks so nice today- well, every day,” you counter, feeling cheeky. His eyes dart from yours as blush rises to his cheeks, pulling up the corners of his mouth along with it. 

“Bird,” he giggles, eyes soon returning to yours. “I dunno what ‘m gonna do with you,” he coos gently, cupping your cheek once more with his long fingers, returning his lips to yours for a kiss. His smile is felt upon yours and you find out why when his tongue prods at your lips, begging for entrance. As your hand slides down to caress his bum, your lips part to let him in. 

Day after day, you wonder just when it was that you let him into your heart, seeing how he’s made a home in there. You just hope he’ll never want to leave. More and more often lately, you keep thinking that you’d like him to stay there, perhaps for forever. 

* 

With chattering teeth and a frozen nose, you only start to warm up once you unlock the door to your room, grateful to get to spend the upcoming weekend inside your cozy home. Thoughts of the cute knit hats Harry wears and how he finds you adorable with your rosy cheeks and button nose pull your eyes to his door. Sighing, you unwrap your scarf, discovering he hasn’t came in yet this morning. Yet another thing to add to his list of acting odd lately at times. Even though you spoke to him through a few texts this morning, you long to hear his voice comfort you about your dreaded observation later today. Unbeknownst to you, he has this magical quality to him that never fails to calm you down, or to make things better. Yet another thing you love about him, you think with a smile, unloading your messenger bag of the materials you bring back and forth from school. 

Once that’s all unpacked and you remember to turn on the lights, as well as the blinking Christmas lights strewn around your room, you get an idea. Pushing his door open, you pull on the gold metal chain of his lamp, your hands drifting to the green Post-Its. The pen slides from your fingers when somebody surprises you with a loud ‘boo!’

“Harry, stop,” you giggle, briefly glancing to the doorway to find him in his puffy black coat. 

“Would ya look at that, I caught ya in tha act. It won’t be much o’ a surprise now,” he titters, softly closing the door behind himself, the hallways beginning to abate their previous silence. 

Shrugging, you pick the pen back up and start to scribble down a note while you still have a few precious seconds left. Smirking, you release your lip you bite on to speak, “I got here before you today, that’s a point for me. I think we’re three-two now for this week,” you tease him, listening to the slushy scuffle of his leather boots along the floor. 

“Ya, I hadda busy mornin’, had sumthin’ important t’ do. Can ya guess what it was?” he murmurs, appearing behind you suddenly, his cheek rubbing against yours softly. A long ‘sure’ falls from your lips, but it comes up short when you think about the sensation of his cheek against your face. It’s smooth and warm, and not hairy. 

“Wait a minute,” you announce, pulling away from him and turning around in his chair to look at him. Seconds after your jaw dropped to your chest, your hand flies to your mouth at the sight of him freshly shaven. “Harry, your face!” For the first time, you finally get to see his dimples on full display, collapsing into his round smiling cheeks. A long giggle escapes them as he runs a hand over them. 

“What d’ya think o’ me all clean shaven? Haven’t seen me without a beard, have ya, bird?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow as a cocky smirk creases his pink cheeks. Within seconds, you’re on your feet and feeling his satiny cheeks under your palms. 

“They’re so smooth, I like them. You look so nice, well I liked you before with a beard too. You’re so handsome either way,” you croon, leaning in to kiss him, tasting the spearmint toothpaste he uses. Your lips wander to his cupid’s bow, the slope below his bottom lip, and across the expanses of his grinning cheeks. 

“Stop,” he giggles, his hands finding a home on your waist, but he’s hard to believe as he leans into your lips. “Don’t think I look weird or less handsome without a beard, d’ya now?”

“No, you never could. Mmmm, I like kissing all over your cheeks,” you hum in between kisses, the musky smell of his shaving cream tickling at your nose. 

“Thanks, bird, ‘m glad t’ hear that. Now, lemme read dis note ya left, ‘m curious now.”

Much to your disappointment, his face soon leaves the clutches of your kisses, him trailing to his desk. Although whining at his absence, you let him, and instead you admire his adorable cheeks. It takes everything inside of you to hold yourself back from pinching them and kissing them. Hints of denial and shock come over you again, unsure of what you’re seeing at times. Never in the last seven-ish months since you truly met Harry, have you seen him without his beard. It’s kind of startling, but you know that he has you wrapped around his finger as well, because it unmistakingly makes you love him even more. Sometimes you wonder how that’s possible, even if you’ve only been official for a few months. 

“Why the change?” you wonder aloud, eyes glued to him as his scan over the note you didn’t get to finish. Lifting his glowing eyes to you, those greens stare back at you, and again you’re knocked off your feet by him. 

“Why not,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders, holding up the note. “Ya didn’t finish, y’know. Ya started t’ declare yer love fer me and all that jazz, and it ended in tha middle o’ a sentence. Not very proper fer an English teacher, y’know,” he pouts, dragging his feet over to you after his sarcastic words. 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish,” you reply, surrounding his middle once he’s in reach. 

“D’ya care t’?” he whispers against your mouth, his lips ghosting over yours. This man really does know what he’s doing. 

“No thanks, I’m not a ‘put me on the spot’ type of gal.”

“Ah, you aren’t, are ya? Tha’s a new one,” he grins, laying kisses to your cold cheeks, spreading warmth in his trail. 

“Maybe you could tell me something, though.”

“Hmm?” he hums, the feeling of his smooth skin rubbing against yours entirely new to you, but you think you could get used to it. 

“Could you tell me that I’m worrying about my observation for nothing?”

His kisses come to an unnecessary end, but in the end you’re grateful to see his green eyes again, and all of the love they hold. 

“Ya are worryin’ ‘bout it fer nuthin’, bird. Promise ya yer gonna do great, ‘m so proud o’ you and tha great teacher ya’ve become,” he coos above you, tapping his finger to your nose. The words settle inside of you and begin to sink in. “And ‘m not jus’ sayin’ that, hope ya know how much I mean it.” 

*

You tried, and failed, to keep Harry’s words at the front of your mind throughout your day. When the worries would bubble up, you’d try to make them go away with his reassuring voice saying them. At times, it was strenuous, and quickly the idea of eating lunch after your observation seemed ridiculous. That word seemed to align with your day soon, seeing as the powerpoint for Jeopardy wouldn’t work at first, but you blamed the projector. Then as the minutes ticked by and brought you closer and closer to eleven o’clock, shakes started to radiate throughout your body. Your hands grew clammy and you wish it was over with before it even started. 

Your students for British Literature soon shuffled in, dropping backpacks on the floor with groans, itching for Christmas Break to come as well. You can’t help but agree with them, reminding them of this once they’re all seated and the last bell has rung. Inside your chest, your heart feels like it’s trying to break free from its cage as you anticipate a random colleague walking through your door. 

“Hello, everybody. We finished reading Frankenstein yesterday, and to prepare for our test on Monday, we’re going to do some review. I know you all have come to enjoy my Jeopardy games, so I made one for Frank and-,” your introduction to your class is cut off by a knock on your classroom door, making your heart jump inside your chest. “Excuse me, let me just get that first.” With a deep breath, you hurry to get the door, and that breath goes flying out the window when you see who’s on the other side. His name falls from your lips at the sight of him, a clipboard hugged to his chest. 

“Hi, ‘m here t’ observe you fer tha duration o’ yer lesson,” Harry announces, a professionalism coming over his voice, yet a cheekiness is heard at the edge of it. 

“You’re observing me?” you ask breathlessly, earning a proud nod from him. “O-okay.”

“Yer gonna do great, don’ worry ‘bout me. Jus’ ignore me sittin’ in tha back,” he whispers, his warm smile holding more words than the both of you know he can say right now. After a squeeze to your arm, he slips past you into the classroom, flared maroon pants billowing behind him. “Hullo, e’rybody. ‘m Mr. Styles from across tha hall, I also teach English here. Don’ mind me, ‘m jus’ observin’ yer lovely teacher fer a colleague review t’day. Carry on,” Harry says, addressing your class. Swallowing, the butterflies take a peek from their safety inside your chest, soon taking flight to rid you of your worries. 

“As I was saying, I made a Jeopardy game for Frank that we’ll play to review for the test on Monday,” you continue, folding your hands together to sit below your waist. You smile when the class erupts in applause, and even more so when your eyes flit to Harry whose found an empty desk at the back of the room. His head of curls lifts from being bent over the clipboard he writes on, sending you an encouraging wink. “So let’s take attendance to see how many there are of all of you, and I’ll split you up into teams. Then we can get started,” you finish, feeling his eyes on you. Although the pressure is still there, you feel at home in his presence and you don’t even mess up once during your lesson. 

Even if you had, you’re sure he could’ve fixed it with the winks, thumbs ups, and heart wrenching smiles he sends you from across the room.  

*

“So how did you manage observing me when you had a class during fourth, too? And how’d I do by the way?” you begin, wandering into Harry’s open classroom, the hallways almost empty after the end of the school day. Stopping in your tracks, confusion washes over you when the seat at his desk is empty. It would seem likely he had only stepped out, but it only gets weirder when his long coat isn’t found draped over his chair. “Okay then,” you mumble, returning to your classroom with questions blooming inside of you.

Thoughts are recalled in your mind about how odd Harry’s acted on a few occasions lately, namely his unusual disappearances after school. It’s hard to ignore as you work on the last few questions for the test for sophomore American Lit. You’re trying to think of questions from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, switching tracks after just focusing on Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance. Although not news to you, you steal a glance across the hall at his classroom that still lays undisturbed, longing for his help with a good Whitman question. Soon, you find your phone in your hands, typing up a text to him asking him where he is, because you need his help. Before exiting your messages, the gray thought bubble appears with an ellipsis, indicating his typing. You wait for a response, but after close to a minute, you forget your phone on your desk nearby.

Giving up, your attention wanders to your staff email. You occupy your time answering a few parent emails, then some staff emails, and reading the important ones from the principal regarding Christmas Break. Your eyes grow far more tired at the sight of one from him about upcoming final exams in January, a time that seems far off from now. As a teacher now, you know that’s not true, and you always have to be ahead of the game. It’s yet another thing you want to rack Harry’s brain about, unsure of how to even create a final, and what to include on it. All you can think of is how much you despised final exams in high school and university, finding little worth in them. You know that you don’t want to be hard on your students, because a cumulative exam is difficult, and a regular exam already is as well. While your desktop plays Disney and Pixar piano instrumentals, your thoughts drift to the few teachers you had who made their final exam less intimidating. Whether it was a test on just the most recent unit you learned, the last book you read as a class, or something silly like throwing wadded up paper balls into the recycling from ten feet away. 

Quickly, they’re disturbed by the twinkling of your cell phone, buzzing along your desk. A budding warmth trickles into your limbs when you see on it the goofy picture of Harry from a day at the beach last summer. New freckles covering his tanned skin, and all pink sunglasses donning his eyes. 

“Hey, where’d you escape to?” you answer casually, dragging your mouse over to pause your music, coming across a song from the movie Up. 

“Oh erm, had t’ run a quick errand. ‘m on me way back tho’, so what’re ya doin’?” Harry replies, clearing his throat which he never does, only when he’s nervous. You try to listen into his voice closer, but you don’t hear anything else besides that, so you try to push it away. 

“Finishing up my Transcidentalism Writers test. I was wondering what would be a good question, in your opinion, from Whitman’s Song of Myself?” you pose to him, your other hand falling from your computer mouse to prop your chin up. 

“Hmmm, tha’s a good question,” he titters, another sound echoing his words, but you can’t make out what it is in the background. “Ya could do a question ‘bout tha theme o’ tha poem, examples o’ figurative language, or ya could have a short response question where they summarize tha poem in their own thoughts, I s’pose. Ya could even- Shhh,” he finishes. He only makes you grow more and more curious as to what’s going on, and why you hear a whine in response. 

“Who are you talking to?” you laugh, narrowing your eyes at the wall you stare at lazily while talking to him. 

“Oh nobody, nobody. Do those erm questions help? Ya like ‘em, bird?” he responds hastily, brushing the strange occurrence away. 

“Okay, whatever you say, and yeah they help. Thank you.”

“Welcome. ‘m almost t’ me classroom, so ‘ll see ya soon, kay?”

“Okay,” you tell him before he hangs up. 

Yawning, you turn back to your computer and quickly write down those ideas in a Notepad document before you forget them. You’re in the middle of typing up the idea for a short response question when there’s a knock at your classroom door. Turning your head, you don’t see anybody at first, so you revert your attention back to your typing. 

“Yeah, who’s there? Harry, is that you?” you reply, your fingers dancing along the keyboard swiftly. 

“No, ‘s me,” Harry’s voice replies, but it’s distorted to sound different from his. It’s more high-pitched, very near to that of a child. Giggling, you look back over to your doorway to find a surprise. “Hi, ‘m a puppy. ‘m a Golden Retriever mix. I jus’ got adopted by me new daddy, Harry.”

“Oh my goodness!” you exclaim, hands flying to your mouth at the most adorable sight indeed. Held in Harry’s two hands, a tan Golden puppy is suspended in the air in your doorway. His tiny furry body squirms in your boyfriend’s hands, a short yip leaving his little mouth. “Harry!” you cry, rooted to your spot. Another exclamation leaves your lips when a yawn leaves the little puppy’s mouth, and then again when his long wagging tail enters your view. 

“‘m only eight weeks and daddy jus’ go’mme, so I don’ have a name yet, but ‘s nice t’ meet you. Me daddy ‘s thinkin’ o’ namin’ me Gatsby afta his favourite book. Whoops, I wasn’t s’posed t’ tell ya that, daddy says ya were s’posed t’ guess that on yer own. Anyways, my daddy and I wanted t’ ask you if ya’ll be my new mummy? He was also wonderin’ if ya wanted t’ come an’ live with us, since daddy told me yer lease ‘s up soon. I dunno what dat ‘s, but what d’ya say? I know we’d have loads o’ fun togetha, and ‘m jus’ so darn cute!” Harry continues in his child-like voice, speaking for the new puppy. Tears soon blur your eyes, but you blink them away quickly so as to not lose sight of the irresistible puppy. 

“Harry!” you cry, getting to your feet and dashing in your heels to the doorway, finding him bringing the puppy to his chest. 

“Hi, birdy. I see ya’ve met me new puppy, or . . our new puppy,” he smirks before you, hitting you with another wave of emotions at his darling words. “Sorry, I didn’t tell ya ‘bout him sooner. This ‘s what’s been takin’ up all me time dis week, and it all happened so fast. Wanted t’ surprise ya, and I think ‘s safe t’ say I have,” he chuckles, removing a hand from around the puppy’s pink belly to wipe the tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s okay. Oh my goodness, look at him,” you almost whine in that voice you use around babies, bringing your hands to his fluffy fur. He turns his head towards you and his tiny black nose wiggles as he sniffs at the air around you. “Hi, little guy. Can I be your new mummy, is that okay with you?”

“‘Course it ‘s, was kinda bettin’ on it. Knew ya’d be a good mummy . . . Wish I could bring him t’ school on Monday, but my sista said she’d take him fer tha day,” Harry coos, lifting your head with his voice. One of those big crinkly-eye smiles claims his face, disappearing from view when he presses a kiss to your lips. Your lips move with his, fingers getting lost in his hair, but it’s over quickly when you start to hear barking below you. “Heeeeey, ‘s okay, li’l guy. I can kiss mummy, if I want t’. What d’ya think, Gatbsy, hmmm? Mummy said she’d make us pizzas t’morrow. Already turnin’ out t’ be a good mummy, isn’t she now?” 

Laughs coat the both of your lips as he lifts the puppy into the air for the both of you to look at. They echo throughout the room when Gatsby wiggles in his arms, moving his gangly legs wildly as if trying to swim through the air. 

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, encircling his middle with your arms. The puppy returns to his side, and his left arm wanders to around your shoulders. His lips are cold against your forehead when they press a smooch there. You can’t help but to laugh again when the puppy inches over to you, sniffing all over you, long arms dangling over Harry’s. He reaches your face and begins to lick kisses along your cheeks, soon crawling into your arms with Harry’s help. 

“I think he likes his new mummy, I can’t blame him.”

“Oh I love him already,” you confess, losing your fingers in his long fur around his face, ears flopping all over the place. “And his daddy,” you blurt out, widening your wet eyes once the words escape your lips. Glancing over to Harry, somehow that smile has grown even larger, adorned by a fresh wash of pink along his cheeks. 

“You love me?” he murmurs slowly, hand soft against your shoulder, pressing you to his chest. You pause, unsure of how to read his reaction, but the sudden doubt falls away. You’re nodding before the words come, and you already see the effect they have on him. 

“Yeah, I know it’s only been a few months, but I do . . I love you, Harry,” you divulge, clutching the puppy to your chest who still spills kisses along your face and neck, licking up the tears that run down your cheeks. 

“I think he’s gonna hafta contain himself and gimme a turn kissing his mum . . ‘coz I love ya too, birdy, so much,” Harry hums, the smile leaking into his voice. You can even taste it on your lips when his touch yours, massaging yours gently, the smooth feeling of his skin still a surprise to you. 

“And, Harry?” you whisper, his eyes falling to yours, mumbling a question in response. “I’d love to move in with the two of you . . my boys,” you finally answer, watching the smile hike further up his cheeks. His delightful giggle surrounds you and soon a sweet yipping followed by puppy kisses to the both of your happy faces. 

Yeah, you could get used to this, all of it. 

[mrs-hollandstan]

Behind His Back || Mobster! Harrison Osterfield {6}

•A New Business Partner•

Pairing: Mobster Tom Holland Sister! Reader x Mobster! Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: smut (18+) in the beginning, sexual references in the end, language, talk of mob business (weapon and other illegal shipments), an intro to an LGBT character :)

Word Count: 7,515

Author’s Note: Here’s part six after yet another delay. The business partner in the second half mentions Lorenzo from the Italian!mob wife thing so if you’re a fan of that, you can read this and learn more about that situation. :)

Previous || Series Masterlist || My Masterlist

Harrison is definitely pushing his luck when it comes to Tom and the restrictions he's ever so slightly letting up on. But the second Harrison turns from your nearly nude figure to start a handmade 'Do Not Disturb' sign and connect his half charged phone to his speaker, you know he's up to no good. His sex playlist from Spotify thumps from the bass deepened portable speaker as he slaps the makeshift sign on his door and locks it behind him. You smile as he nears you, his own cocky smile covering his beautiful features. 

He presses you back against the bed in a kiss, fists pressed into the bed beside you momentarily before he sits back on his shins to draw your panties down your legs. Tossing them over his shoulder, he licks his lips, reaching down to palm himself over his boxers. You lick your lips, watching him descend again, lips on the soft skin of your stomach. Your back arches again, hands buried beneath his pillow as the small hairs at his upper lip, and the circle of his chin that he has yet to shave tickle your skin. He spreads your thighs a little wider, slotting himself between them again as he nips at the skin of your belly button. He chuckles low in his throat as your body quivers beneath him, the anticipation, thick in the room as he reaches for the box of condoms in his bedside drawer, hard cock pressed to the inside of your thigh. Maneuvering himself into the perfect spot between your legs, he bows down to kiss the corner of your mouth, sitting up straight a moment later to unwrap the foil packet, tossing the rubbish aside. 

You caress the sharp curve of his jaw, feeling the sting of stubble along it as he kisses you soundly, lips fitting against yours perfectly. Fitting the condom around himself in gentle, ghostly strokes, he holds himself up, kissing down your neck. Placing your hands at his shoulder blades, you turn your head to capture his lips, his hands pressed into the bed at your shoulders. He smiles at the cold metal of your ring pressed to his jaw, heart hammering in his chest that matches the beat of the song playing, but Harrison can't decipher which is which. He smiles, a huff of a chuckle slipping from his lips, 

"You okay?" You nod, slipping your hand down to his shoulder and bicep in each of your hands. He leans in once more, lips just barely grazing yours. He sighs against you, breath warm as it fans over your face. When he draws back, the few rays of light cast a shadow over his face, his eyes dark in lust, and face dark,

"I love you." You bite your lip, trying to control your excitement as you raise your head and kiss the corner of his mouth. You both giggle when you squeeze his hips with your knees, egging him on to make a move. He nods, reaching down between you to guide his cock to your entrance. His tip presses between your folds, hands coming up to support him again as he gently moves his hips forward to enter you. Your lower back raises from the bed as he fills you deliciously, your walls fluttering around his until he comes to rest, deep inside you. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, groaning as your body squeezes him. He lifts his head, wild strands of blonde hair falling in his lust filled eyes. 

"I just need you." He murmurs. You nod, reaching up in an attempt to contain the dusty locks, 

"I'm yours. Use me." You mumble back. He nods, licking his lips before he draws your knee up to his hip tighter, moving his hips softly just to stretch you out further. It's not that he's afraid of what's happened with Martinez tonight, he's just unsure where the future will take him and Tom when it comes to Nolan Simpson and how Tom's old partner will react to his new one. But your body, your presence below him comforts him in ways only you can understand. Just the feeling of your skin has him feeling ten times better. 

Once he's thoroughly convinced you can take it, Harrison moves his hips a little faster, his skin meeting yours just loud enough for the both of you to hear over the music. You moan in his ear, feeling the sting of his necklace rested on your own heated chest. His chest rumbles, lips pressed against your jaw as he moves into you your legs binding around his waist to hold him closer. He grunts, letting you hold his shoulders with one arm, the other, the hand is threaded in his hair, holding his body against your own. It's not too long until his skin is damp with sweat, pants tumbling from his lips against your sweet smelling neck. You grasp his bicep tight in one hand, his neck in the other as your back arches and you cry out, hair making a mess on the pillow below you with each shift of your body. Harrison raises himself to his forearm, watching your face contort in pleasure. 

You cry out and moan, eyes fluttering shut and open every few seconds as Harrison pounds into you, the both of you covered in sweat, room already reeking of sex. His skin slaps yours louder and harder with each brutal thrust, your fingernails digging into his bicep. When your back arches, Harrison leans in to take a hardened nipple of yours into his mouth, sucking on it until it's dark and tender before he switches to the other. He ruts up into you, your nails dragging raised marks all over his shoulders and back. He'll definitely have to hide from Tom. 

He leans back, holding your thighs apart, slipping his hands down to toe crease of your hips, rubbing a thumb over your clit. His eyes scan your body when your back arches, breasts bouncing with each jut of his hips. You cry out and purr, Harrison's mouth hanging open, eyes locked on you, 

"God you're gorgeous." He pants, your eyes finding his after a moment. He holds your thigh, feeling his high fast approach. He pauses, turning into your hands as you caress his cheeks and he leans in to kiss you. His hands find your hips and after just a moment longer, he's pulling you over him, the both of you moaning as you land in his lap, pressing his cock deep into you. He shifts to lay his head over his pillow,

"Get me to cum pretty girl. Ride me." He pulls your hips, head raising from the bed for a moment before it falls back against the bed when you rotate your hips. You yelp before bouncing, 

"Sorry... you've got stubble. It scratched my clit and scared me." You explain, blushing. He snorts below you, his pecs tensing when you rest your hands on them, 

"I know, I've gotta shave again. My face, my pubic hair-"

"Ya know," you pause, his cock rested deep inside you, "I kinda wanna see you with a little bit of hair down here. See this blond hair I love so much down here. You know this little strip below your bellybutton drives me wild baby." Harrison let's out a little throaty gasp when you start to bounce over him, a hand falling to your hip,

"Baby girl," he growls through grit teeth, "did you just get wetter thinkin about me? All over you talking about my body. You're so fuckin naughty."  You giggle, letting it turn into a moan when Harrison reaches that spot inside you, your hips angled to hit it over again and again. You moan, head falling back after a moment. Harrison reaches down to hold your hips firm as his bed creaks softly below him. Slipping your hand down, you rub your clit, Harrison's eyes darkening the longer he watches the action. He licks his lips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth,

"Fuck you're so god damn sexy. Love the way you look bouncin on my cock pretty girl." You moan, throwing your head back again. He squeezes your hips before running his hands up to grip your breasts, giving a gentle squeeze. He runs his thumbs over your nipples before he growls again, head laid back against his pillow, 

"Baby," you whine, "'m gonna cum Haz. Fuck... I'm gonna cum." Harrison chuckles darkly, 

"Cum for me angel. Scream my name." 

"Harrison-" You warn lowly. He hums,

"Fuck 'im. I want you to scream for me love. Wanna fuckin know you're mine." 

"You know I'm yours." You reply. You gasp as he leans up just the slightest to swat at your ass, a loud smack ringing through the room that brings a new round of goosebumps to your skin,

"I want everyone to know you're mine." He growls low in his chest, eyes narrowed in pure, unadulterated lust that looks almost deadly, angry. You blink down at him, feeling yourself grow closer and closer as the pace of a new song matches your movements. His back arches just the slightest, pecs shifting beneath your palms. His own hands slide back down to your hips, holding tight as you bounce just that little bit faster, legs already starting to shake as your orgasm claws it's way from deep in your belly. 

Soon enough, Harrison is biting his lip hard as you cum above him, your body clenching down around him as you continue, quivering and digging your nails into his skin. You gasp and just as you hit the peak of your high, you let out a strangled holler of his name, your eyes rolling back in your head as you let it consume you. His hips raise from the bed, face scrunched up in pure bliss as he spills his load into the condom wrapped around him, grunting again. 

He settles beneath you, hips relaxed and lip released as you pant and try to calm your pounding heart. When your eyes close, you collapse against Harrison, one of his hands coming to rest at your hip, the other reaching up to stroke your hair down your spine. He pants beneath you, eyes closed and chest heaving below your own as he fights to bring air into his lungs, 

"That was fuckin good. Shit..." He trails off, smiling when you hum in response. He leans in to kiss your forehead softly, swallowing thickly now that his mouth is suddenly dry. He sighs, shifting as you sit up. He places his hands just above your knees, rubbing his thumbs across the skin until you lift yourself from him, his soft cock slapping against his stomach. He tucks a hand behind his head, staring down at the tip of the condom for a moment before he catches a glimpse of you walking to the bathroom, his neck tilting to see more of you. He sighs when you completely disappear, reaching down to peel the condom from his skin and tie it off, tossing it into the wastebasket beside his bed. 

When you return, he's checking his phone, blanket pulled up to cover his legs and waist, one arm tucked back behind his head. You lick your lips at the sight of his tensed bicep cushioning his head of unruly blonde locks. He sets the device aside when you approach the bed, looking up and admiring you as you crawl beneath the grey material of his bedspread, laying your head over his opposite bicep. He smiles down at you almost sleepily, kissing your forehead again when you lean into him. You close your eyes, resting your head over his shoulder. You both take deep breaths, feeling the other all around you. Harrison's fingers trace up the crease where your spine aligns, eyes fixed on the ceiling, 

"Tom said goodnight by the way." You open your eyes, staring at the profile of his perfectly half triangular nose. The corners of his lips twitch before his eyes dare to find your face, looking over the beautiful features he's fallen so desperately in love with, 

"What?" You scoff, smiling as you press your lips to his shoulder,

"I think the last thing I want to hear, laying over my boyfriend naked, having just had the fuck of a lifetime is that my older brother said goodnight." The corners of Haz's eyes crinkle as he laughs, placing his hand at the dip in your lower back. He licks his perfect, plump lips, 

"Sorry... my bad, I'm sorry." Shaking your head, you lay it back down, pressing your palm flat to his chest, just over his heart. He sighs, reaching up to place his hand over yours. He sighs, cheering the inside of his cheek. You lay in silence for a moment before you raise your head, propping it up on your hand, 

"So... how was the meeting?" He sighs, reaching up to run his thumb and index finger over his closed eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, 

"Crazy son of a bitch pulled out." He says with a chuckle. Your eyebrows knit together, 

"That sleazy son of a bitch or my idiot brother?" Harrison smiles,

"Your brother." Sitting up just the smallest bit taller, hair falls against your arm as you frown, 

"Why? Why didn't I know about this? You guys do realize how fucking dangerous this is right?" Harrison clicks his tongue, holding the hand not trapped beneath you up, the other pressing to the middle of your back,

"I don't know what goes through that man's mind. He's fucking insane. But I guess he's gonna see if Nolan Simpson wants the deal. He's offering a good ass deal and Martinez wouldn't budge. Either way, if we were still with Tony or Nolan, this opens new doors like you wouldn't believe." 

"Yeah, assuming that stupid asshole doesn't kill you both." Harrison smiles, itching the back of his head. He sighs, rubbing up your back. Laying over him, you shake your head as you nuzzle your face in his shoulder, 

"He's always done this. Since we were kids." 

"He- I stepped in front of him when Tony drew his gun. He was surprised. He couldn't even fathom me doing something like that when I have you." Harrison says, eyes darting all over the ceiling as he speaks. Sitting up completely, you pinch the bridge of your own nose, drawing yourself to the edge of the bed, 

"Baby-" He starts in again,

"I can't- I can't keep doing this. One of you is gonna get hurt or end up dead and I can't- I can't do this. I can't stand around and wait for it to happen because you're both reckless and I can't-" Harrison follows you in standing from the bed, rushing around to the other side of the bed to take you in his arms,

"Baby, baby, stop... you're okay, I'm okay, Tom is okay." You stare up at him and he can see the tears in your eyes. He knows how scared you are. He knows that after your parents, the death of the last living member of your family, the death of the love of your life will kill you. Just like all the older couples, all the animals who lose their owners, you'll die of a broken heart and he wants so badly to just get out. He wants the three of you to get out and hide so you don't have to go through it. But he knows that'll never work. He knows something will go wrong because that's how life is. That's how your life is. 

Throwing yourself forward, your arms wrap around Harrison's shoulders, the tears that line your eyes slipping out and into Harrison's skin. He holds you, hands placed at the middle of your back and lips pressed into your shoulder. Your body shakes in his arms as you cry, his body slacking to support you completely. You sniffle as Harrison strokes your hair, 

"I-I don't... wanna lose you." You heave, chest arching into Harrison as you fight to suck in a breath. You pull back, tears still running down your face in mascara streaks as you look between his eyes with your own fear instilled ones, 

"I can't... lose... him." Harrison clicks his tongue and reaches up to swipe his thumbs under your eyes, cradling your face in his rough, calloused hands,

"I know. I know baby and I'm gonna do everything to make sure that nothing happens, but this... this is what we signed up for. You know that." He informs with his eyes darting between yours. Moving your shoulder forward, you push into his arms, forcing him to hold you which he quickly obliges to. He sighs, 

"I love you more than anything and I would never do anything to hurt you." Holding his arm, he reaches up to stroke your hair. Standing in the same place for a moment, you pull back again, staring up at him. He gives a soft smile, 

"Let's get you showered and in bed, yeah?" You nod, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. He leans in, pressing his chest to yours as he captures you in a searing kiss, hands holding your sides. He gives a gentle squeeze that finally brings a smile to your face, Harrison humming into your mouth before he leans 

"There's my girl. See... we're fine. I've got ya." Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he gives a wide smile and drags you off to his bathroom where he has you giggling in seconds until you're collapsing into his bed in a shirt of his, snuggling into his side when he crawls in beside you, and you're out like a light, Harrison holding you close as you snore softly. 

                                                      --- 

Tom had come to an agreement in the next few weeks with Nolan Simpson to meet at your home. As you had walked past the front door, there was a knock, confusing you to no end. And upon opening it, you didn't have to ask who the hulk of a man on your doorstep was. But nonetheless, he introduced himself as your brother's new partner in a deep Australian accent. 

"God babes, you don't talk much do ya?" He asks when you gesture him inside. You shrug, standing at the foot of the stairs to call up to your brother as he and a few other burley filter in your front door,

"I try not to associate myself with my brother's friends? Business partners? Whatever you wanna call yourself. I just... some of them creep me out." Nolan smiles, taking a step closer, the squeak of his shoes on the tile floor drawing you to turn, staring up at his freckled face that you can't deny is beautiful. He's cuter and less creepy than Tony Martinez, but he's not cuter than your Harrison. His smile doesn't fade, 

"You don't really look like your brother. I feel like that's a good thing." You cock your head, 

"And why is that Mr. Simpson?" He chuckles, bowing his head, 

"You can call me Nolan... Nole if you prefer. But... you're cute. Your brother has that scowl but you... you've got a cute little resting face that could attract a lot of men." Your nose turns up and he laughs louder, 

"I don't care for attracting men. I've already got one." He raises an unruly eyebrow, 

"Oh? Who's that now?" Glancing over your shoulder when Tom's hand is placed at your lower back, you find the soft, olive green eyes of Nolan, before Tom speaks up, 

"She uhh- she's with him." He gestures over your other shoulder to Harrison who steps up beside you, Nolan's eyes leaving yours to meet the crystal blue of Haz's. You follow, staring up at the profile of your boyfriend. When you look back at Nolan, he gives Harrison one look over before he nods, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks, 

"Beautiful people for beautiful people I suppose." When your eyebrows furrow, his eyes meet yours again and his smile widens,

"Its 2019 darling. Yes, I swing both ways." When you open your mouth, nothing but a strangled sound escaping, Nolan gives a soft chuckle, reaching up to rub his cheek,

"Don't worry, I came here for business not pleasure. Let's uhm, let's get it to it then, yes Holland?" Tom nods, one corner of his mouth quirking before he pivots on a foot to gesture up the stairs. Nolan steps past you side-eyeing you and smiling just the smallest bit before walking up the stairs with Tom. You and Harrison are closed to follow, your eyes finding his face again before you reach out to take his hand. Only then does he look at you, giving you a soft smile. You smile back up at him, giving his hand a squeeze before leaning in to hold his bicep as the two of you follow Tom and Nolan. Tom opens his office door, watching Nolan walk in and Harrison pull free from you to enter, his eyebrows knitting together when you take a step forward to follow the two men,

"What? The last time I left this shit up to you you almost got him shot." He frowns, cocking his head,

"Excuse you, I almost got shot." 

"He stepped in front of you dipshit. Besides... I'm always invited to meetings." You brush past him, glancing over your shoulder at him as he sighs, closing the door and locking it before walking towards you and Harriaon standing behind his desk, against his cabinet and bookcase. He sits in the chair beside you, turning to Nolan who's leaned back in his own chair, hands rested over the cotton polo that matches his eyes. He licks his lips, cocking his head when Tom sighs again, through his nose this time, placing his palm flat over an open file. Looking it over, his dark eyes find Nolan's,

"Martinez tried to fuck me over. He asked way too much for an arms shipment and I figured... the saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend comes into play right now. The sound of your name is like nails on a chalkboard to him. So... let's start with a little introduction shall we?" Nolan chuckles, eyes diminished down to slits and head tilting the opposite way. Moving his feet farther from his body his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, 

"What is this, middle school? What kind of introduction do you want, my full name, birthday, height and weight, social security number?" Tom waves his hand between the two of them, 

"No. Why the hell are YOU Tony Martinez's kryptonite? You're luke the fucking sun in his vampire story and I wanna know why." Nolan's smile fades and the two stare at each other for a moment. You glance up at Harrison when he crosses his arms, jaw tensing. Looking back to Nolan, his eyes are lingering on your brother for a moment more before he eyes Harrison and then with the blink of an eye, his colorful irises, his pupils are fixated on you, reacting to the split second change of light. They linger on the different shadows your hair casts over your cheeks and jaw, your soft eyes staring back at him for a moment more before he looks back to Tom,

"He helped me get my feet on the ground when I came here. But he's a piece of shit. We all know that. After I was successful enough in my own, I stopped being a partner of his. He's sensitive about that now. So... like Superman's kryptonite, I'm Tony's because I fucked HIM over." Nolan's shoulders are set as if in defense. He and Tom stare at each other for a moment, before Tom nods, 

"I actually like that answer." The corners of Nolan's lips twitch up, his eyes following Tom's finger along the inside of the file sat flat on his desk. Tom sighs, leaning back and chewing the inside of his cheek, 

"Martinez wanted twenty thousand for two shipments. Now obviously... I know he paid fifty each for em but-"

"Nah... that's too much." Tom looks up. He nods,

"I know. So, with you saying that, what do you charge? I'm hoping to get the same two shipments from you and maybe one shipment of the sort of miscellaneous shipments. The ammunition, booze, other weapons. I'm very curious to see this shipment." Nolan chuckles,

"Well, depending on what you think is too much I charge anywhere from ten to fifteen for my troubles. But I'll refer you to my own business partner for the misc stuff. I've been with him for a little while. But uhh... he's not here. He's in Italy. I'm actually headed back there in a few weeks, you're more than welcome to join." Tom nods, 

"Italy? Interesting. What's his name?" Nolan straightens up a little bit,

"Lorenzo Casini. He's got a pretty hot little sister too. I'm sensing a theme." He practically purrs, eyes cutting to you again. You smile, a blush rising to your cheeks. Turning to look at you, Tom looks to Harrison who's practically fuming. He doesn't like Tom's business partners in general, but now that he's experiencing first hand, Nolan hitting on you, he's overwhelmed in anger. It doesn't go unnoticed to Nolan who chuckles, 

"Don't worry-"

"Mr. Osterfield," you interject, Nolan's mouth hanging open, "its Mr. Osterfield to you." His mouth closes and he gives a sultry smile,

"Okay, don't worry Mr. Osterfield. I'm not taking your girl. She doesn't have eyes for me." Harrison crosses his arms, licking his lips as you lean into him, 

"Harrison is fine. You can just call me Harrison." Nolan nods,

"Okay Harrison... I'm not here to offend you. We all have a mutual hatred for Tony Martinez. I hope that doesn't pass onto me." Tom snaps between Harrison and Nolan,

"Hello, I'm still here. You should be apologizing to me. That's my little sister that my best friend and right hand man has corrupted and now you, are admitting to want to do the same." 

"Technically she should be the one taking the apology but-" There's white noise between all four of you before Tom turns to face you and Harrison, 

"Stop! We're in a fucking meeting, not a pub." Tom swivels in his chair, facing you and Harrison and then looking at Nolan. Despite the crucial attempt to quiet the three of you, it was nice to have someone you didn't despise as a business partner. Your body language, the playful nature, it was all in comfort. Nolan wasn't a threat, he didn't scare you, he seemed to already be like family. Nolan nods, holding his hands up,

"Right... my bad. Uhm... I'll refer you to Casini. Maybe if things go well there, you can get one of the premium packages." Nolan winks and Tom's eyebrows furrow, 

"What exactly is that?" Nolan sighs, relaxing again, 

"A lot of us more... experienced bosses get a strain of diamonds from Belgium, India, rubies from Australia or Namibia, emeralds from Columbia, maybe Egypt, gold from China, Russia, all from Lorenzo-"

"Wait-" You try to interrupt but Tom interjects just as quick, 

"What? What do you mean... all that? Y-you're seriously getting semi-precious and precious stones from this- this Casini?" Nolan nods, crossing his arms smugly,

"I do, a few others do. He specializes in it. He gets shipments straight from the source, puts them in new crates and sends em out. The jewelry industry laps that shit up. It's all about business and if they can get cheap resources, rake the prices up to unsuspecting customers, they sit pretty." Harrison stands from his position leaned against the counter,

"Wait, so you're telling me that the ring I bought her... with rubies AND diamonds in it is probably part of some weird mob deal?" Nolan looks up at Harrison and then down at your hand, adorned in your promise ring. He cocks his head before looking to Tom again,

"Lemme ask you something Holland. Did you... allow them to be together or did they do it behind your back?" You can feel the tension rise in the room, intense seeing that seconds ago the air was light, bubbly. Tom doesn't turn this time, he stays facing Nolan, eyes burning through Nolan's,

"At first it was behind my back. Now its... in good faith. They've got my blessing." Nolan nods, running his index finger over his lip, 

"That's good. But you," he points at Harrison, "you're lucky your half-assed brother-in-law here is has a willingness to forgive. I know men that have killed the men married into their families for a lot less." Tom turns to look at Harrison then, his eyes finding yours for a brief second before he purses his lips and you know what he's thinking. He turns back to Nolan with a sigh through his nose,

"He's been through a lot with the two of us. He's my brother. He's been family for a long time." The topic is dropped after that. Harrison feels respected, like after everything, the both of you have finally got through to Tom. And he's accepting it. Harrison holds your hand tight in his when you worm it down into his. Glancing down at you with barely a turn of his head, the corner of his mouth that you can see twitches up into a half smirk. 

"Anyways," Nolan says in a sigh, leaning in, "yes Harrison, that's exactly what I'm saying. The rubies, the diamonds from her ring could easily be from Lorenzo. He specializes in this kinda stuff. But... he's got a temper. Typical Italian man, drinks too much, runs his mouth too much, offends everyone." Nolan laughs, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He sighs again and looks to his side at the wall illuminated by the small lamp,

"To he fair, he's a nightmare. He's kinda got a thing against British partners because his grandfather was killed by one in World War II which is... fascinating to me, but if you can be the resolve, you're a force to he reckoned with Holland. Everyone is gonna know about it and you'll be like fucking invinsible mate." The way Nolan sits up straight and runs a hand through his hair has all three of you laughing. He paused, frozen in time, 

"What?" Tom shakes his head, 

"Nothing, you're like a dog. Why are you so nervous talking about him like he's a fucking piranha?" Nolan fixes the collar of his polo, biceps flexing so deliciously that you can't help but almost drool over. He pauses, looking down and then shrugging, 

"Not far off actually. He uhh... he doesn't like your type." 

"My type? What type?" 

"British." Nolan answers quickly with a wide smile. You frown,

"Is he up to date on history? He does realize that Australia and New Zealand were started under British Dominion right?" Nolan shrugs, 

"Sure... he's up on history. That's why he doesn't like you." You, Tom, and Harrison all share a similar look of confusion which sets Nolan into laughter,

"He's Italian. His great-grandfather was involved in the Greco-Italian War during 1940. Before that though, at seventeen he was doing this. He's made people disappear that they still haven't found. But... if I'm not mistaken, Britain invaded and allowed the Greeks enough time to destroy the Italians in the area. But of course the British got their licks in there. Casini's great-grandfather was killed in 1940 by British troops. Left grandpa bitter towards the Allies. He passed it onto his son, and then onto little Lo. Eleanora though... she's real quiet. Doesn't really like her brother's business, doesn't like the deep-seeded hatred of the other countries, talks to whoever... if she takes a liking to you, you might just be able to get through to Lorenzo." The furrowing of Tom's eyebrows goes deeper, 

"Wow... way to avoid being the bad guy in the matter. Typical Axis Power descendants." Nolan chuckles, 

"Typical Allied Power descendant to be so prideful." Ouch. You can't help but smile as Nolan and Tom stay staring at each other for a moment. Tom sighs, his jaw clenching,

"I wanna try with him. I want in on the big business, get myself out there." Nolan nods,

"I'll set it up so you can go with me this next time I go. I'm not guaranteeing anything, but maybe if I'm with you he'll let up a little bit." Tom nods back, 

"Hopefully." There's another round of silence, 

"So I'll test out our business with fifteen for now. Two shipments, miscellaneous, and a trip with you. Just a show of my partnership." Nolan nods,

"I'm all for it." Tom nods in return again,

"Good. I'll have the money transferred on Monday." 

"As soon as the money's transferred, I'll make the call to get you the shipments. I've got a strategic play where you can pull out at any time if you feel you're being ripped off. Except until after you get your shipments. The window closes. So I don't get ripped off." Tom nods, closing the file in front of him, 

"Fair. But I trust you. Those mutually in favor of hating Tony Martinez are fine by me." Nolan reaches across the table to take hold of Tom's hand. They give one quick shake before Tom turns to you and Harrison, 

"Y/N... why don't you take Mr. Simpson here out into the hall while Harrison and I discuss some things." You look up at Harrison and then back down at Tom again. What could they possibly have to talk about when he'd already made the deal? Harrison glances down at you and nods, leaning in to peck your cheek gently,

"'S alright. We'll be right behind you." You give one curt nod then, walking from under his arm and past Tom, opening the door for Nolan to walk through. He does after a silent moment, watching as you close the door behind you before he smiles down at you, tucking his hands in his pockets, 

"I like the three of you. Business meetings I've been in have always been so serious. Too serious. I like the little bit of humor, fun we got out of that." You walk towards the stairs at the end of the hall,

"My brother's a mobster, not dead." His smile widens again, following you. You turn once standing at the banister, staring down at the men on the polished ground floor below, silence reverberating between you and Nolan who stands a short distance from you, minding your personal space,

"You're bisexual." His eyebrows disappear beneath the sand blonde hair hanging over his forehead before he catches up to you,

"Oh... yeah. Yeah, I am." He smiles proudly. You nod,

"How'd you discover that?" He shrugs after a moment, 

"I've always been into women. Can't go wrong with a cutie in a short little dress, but... I met a man in France when I was nineteen. I'd always thought, ya know, maybe I was into men but... he really solidified it for me. He was twenty one and i spent a few weeks with him and he changed my life. People thought he was my mentor but he and I, his mum, we knew it was more than a little apprenticeship." You watch him, cocking your head as you listen. The way he speaks of the mystery man from France brings a twinkle to his eye. He cares about this man. He even misses him a little. But it's been years. Closer to ten. Swallowing, you reach up to tuck hair behind your ear, 

"Are you a top or a bottom?" The question makes Nolan laugh again, the corners of your lips turning up as you watch his beautiful face contort. He presses a hand to his stomach as if to stop the laughter, opening his eyes to look down at you, 

"Back then, at the start I was a bottom but this," he gestures around the open area around you, "this has made me a top. Hardcore." You nod, smiling up at him, 

"Nice." He nods, licking his lips and leaning onto the banister. He stares out of the windows above the doors, 

"You three are adorable. I mean... you and Tom are the best of siblings and you and Harrison, you two are meant to be together. The way the two of you look at each other, react to each other, its uhm, it's cute. I reckon there'll be a really nice wedding not too far in the future that I might attend." He glances back at you playfully. You smile, 

"Maybe. We'll see how things go with my brother before you get a formal invitation to my wedding Mr. Simpson." He clicks his tongue, standing straight,

"Don't call me that please. Mr. Simpson was most definitely my father. And now my stupid ass CEO brother." He rolls his eyes and you giggle, glancing over your shoulder at Harrison as he and Tom exit the office. They both look up, Tom fixing the button on his suit jacket as he and Harrison approach you both, Nolan standing straight and shaking Tom's hand when he holds it out, 

"We'll be in touch then Nolan." Nolan nods and extends his hand to Harrison who glances down at the ringed hand for a moment before he pulls his own from his pocket and shakes it,

"Harrison." Harrison nods, tight lips raising just the slightest in a half-attempted smile, 

"Nice meeting you Nolan." Nolan nods in return, pulling back. Looking to you, your cheeks burn again as he lifts your hand in his, kissing the back of it, dark green eyes locked in yours as he does so. He smiles when he pulls back, 

"Hopefully my invitation will be seen in the mail. I'll ensure business is good between men Tom here." You nod, following him down the stairs. One of his men opens the front door, letting him walk out and turn in the steps up to the door, the other men following him as you lean against the heavy oak, 

"Goodbye Nolan." He scoffs, looking down at his feet,

"Goodbye Y/N." He turns on his heels, headed for the Escalades sat on the gravel outside, Harrison stepping up behind you, hand pressed on the door above yours, 

"What invitation is he talking about?" The jealousy and seething that rolls off Harrison and crashes into you in waves. You giggle softly, turning your head to look up at him. Hos jaw clenches and he avoids your eyes for a few moments before they flicker down to you, the sheer hatred coursing through him, powerful in his baby blues. You tsk, turning and reaching up to poke the tip of his nose, 

"Our wedding invitation silly. He hopes he'll be invited to our wedding soon." Pressing your palm to his chest, he flicks the door closed, finally smiling down at you with a smug smirk, 

"You gonna marry me?" He quizzes, leaning in to kiss you softly as you giggle again. You nod, holding his chest, 

"I want to. I really do. You're everything to me Harrison." He stares down into your eyes, 

"I want you to be mine. Our kids'll be beautiful." You reach up to hold the back of his neck, 

"There is no reason, absolutely zero reason to be jealous of Nolan. I'm yours. Always." He glances down at his chest when you press your hand over his heart, ring shining in the light. He smiles, leaning down to peck your lips again, 

"I'm gonna try not to be. Just... the way you blush around him-"

"I'm yours. Sure, he's attractive but he's not you. If anything, I'd see him like a best friend, maybe another older brother. But he's not you. And I'm not his." Harrison hums, letting your hands wander the crisp white button up he wears, his eyes wandering you,

"I love you." Smiling wider, you lean up to kiss him, 

"I love you more Mr. Osterfield. You're everything to me." 

"Oh my god, will you two get a damn room? We get it, you're in love. Get over it." Tom sighs, approaching the both of you. When one corner of his mouth quirks playfully, you let go of Harrison and he holds his arms up to  hug you, pulling you into his side. He lays his head over yours,

"I love you too you know." You nod, pressing your cheek to his side, 

"Yeah, I know. I love you too." He sighs, kissing your temple, 

"No talking about marriage yet please. I just got used to the idea of you just being together, doing your own thing." Harrison smiles, reaching out ti stroke your hair down, 

"I mean... if we were behind your back in the beginning, it'b be just like old times to get married after it was off limits." Tom is silent and when you look up, his face is unamused. When you giggle, he finally blinks, 

"You're an asshole. I can't believe I let you do this with my sister. My own flesh and blood and I've saddled her with you." Laughing fully, the two men standing before you start in, the first warm, friendly interaction in what feels like years. Squeezing Tom's middle, he sighs,

"If- if that's how its gonna be... I'll give you my blessing now so when that time comes I don't have my guard up only for you to fucking walk around it. But I mean it Osterfield, if you hurt her, I'll kill you." You click your tongue, reaching up to smack his stomach, 

"He hasn't hurt me yet, he won't." Tom nods, eyes still locked in Harrison's,

"He better not." Harrison sighs and shakes his head, tucking both hands in his pockets again, 

"Tom, you're overprotective. She's fine with me. You know that." Tom nods, letting you pull away from him to slip your hand into Harrison's elbow, 

"I know, I know, I'm just saying. I don't want to have to kill you." He says lowly, 

"Stop," You impede, holding Harrison's bicep, "we get it. But I'm fine, and I know that he's the one I want. You don't have to worry about anything Tom. Just... focus on the business right now. We've got this figured out and there's no proposal, engagement thing for now." You all nod in agreement, Tom glancing down at you, 

"How are you feeling about Nolan?" You nod, 

"He seems good for us. Good for the business. He just gives off really good vibes straight off the bat. I like him." Tom nods again, chewing the inside of his cheek, 

"I'm thinking that too. He's definitely a step up from Martinez. I'm interested to find out more about this Casini guy. He seems like an interesting person." You sigh, laying your head against Harrison's arm,

"I just... I NEED you to be careful if you go with Nolan out to Italy. I really don't care if you hook up with girls or get drunk off your ass, but until you can get a feel for Casini, don't fuck it up." He hums, rubbing his hands together, 

"No, I know, I got it. I'm good Y/N. I know what to do." He glances up at you, eyes flickering to Haz for a moment before he takes a step forward and kisses your forehead, turning on his heels, 

"I have some calls to make. I'll catch you guys later." Both you and Harrison say your goodbyes to him before you watch him walk back to his office. When you let out a shaky breath, Harrison rubs your back, letting the hand slip up to dangle around your neck, 

"We'll be alright. All three of us, all of us in this house, we're gonna be alright." You nod, laying your head back against his elbow, 

"I know, I've just got this weird feeling in my gut. It feels gross, i don't like it." You shake your head of any wild thoughts, trying to avoid overthinking it. Harrison clicks his tongue and leans in to press his lips to your temple,

"Maybe you're pregnant." His distraction is effective, working to get you to tsk and smack his chest while he chuckles, 

"I'm on the pill Mr." He shrugs, 

"It could be screwing up. You can get pregnant on the pill." 

"I'm not pregnant Harrison." Taking your hands in his, he swings them before sliding them down your legs and lifting you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you squeal, legs binding around his waist, 

"Let's go try again then." Tipping your head back and cackling, Harrison joins you in laughter, carrying you up to his room and dropping you onto his bed with a solid thud again.

Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998 @musiclover1263

Series Taglist: @h-natale @yourmum95 @the-great-advenure-of-marvel @giuls-394 @tomhollandthing @hbmoore1986 @justkeepdreaminganddreaming @xeniarocks @abunchofsemicoherentwords @spideylovin

[ragewerthers]

Funny Bone

This was a small fluff filled story I wrote to compensate for a rather angsty one I caught myself up in!

Summary:  The boys realize that they’ve never heard Ignis laugh.  They wonder if perhaps they can help him find his funny bone once again!

Words: 3704

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“Have you ever noticed that like…. Ignis never laughs?” Prompto asked from his perch atop a rather large boulder near the dock Noctis was currently fishing from.  He had been skimming through a few of his most recent pics on his camera, cataloging their adventure, when the idea had struck him due to a particular photo.

Turning his head slightly at the comment from his friend, Noct kept his eyes on the water, reeling in his line a little bit more.  He himself was sat on the edge of the dock, boots and tackle box beside him as his feet dangled above the water.

“Specs?  Of course he laughs,” the Prince said simply, blue eyes scanning the lake for any ripples in the water to alert him to his intended targets.

“Really?  Name one time you’ve honestly heard him laugh... chuckle… giggle!” Prompto shot back, looking down at his friend and daring him to try.

“Uhh… well…,” Noct paused as he reeled his line back entirely, setting the pole over his lap so he could change out his lure.  “I don’t know.  I don’t chronicle when each one of you does something human.”

“Yeah, well… I do.  And I’m tellin’ ya, Iggy doesn’t laugh!” Prompto said, pointing to his camera and nearly teetering off the rock in the process.

“Easy there, Prom,” Noct chuckled as he watched his friend flailing his arms to try and steady himself.  “What made you think of this anyway?”

Finally sitting back a little further from the edge of his outlook, Prompto took a breath, skimming back through his photos to get to the one that had started this whole thing.

“Remember a couple nights ago when Gladio fell through his old camp chair?” he asked, a smile instantly breaking out over his features as he found the exact photo he was looking for.

The picture was only slightly blurred as Prompto had been laughing so hard he couldn’t keep his hands steady.  In it the only things visible of the Shield of Lucis were his arms and legs as they dangled over the crumpled frame of his chair, the rest of his body sucked in toward the center with his backside firmly planted on the rocky surface of the haven.  In the background, Noct was visibly bent over, arms wrapped around his middle as he laughed so hard he couldn’t stand properly.

Currently, said Prince was once again laughing at the memory as he finished tying on the new cactuar lure.

“That was… the best night of my life,” he chuckled, remembered the holler the man had given, sounding like a surprised Chocobo before ending up stuck in his mangled chair.  The memory sent him off snickering again and Prompto giggled as well as he slid from his perch to join Noct on the dock.

“Funny right?  Heck, even the big guy was laughing about it.  But look,” he said as he knelt beside his friend, holding the camera out for him to see.

Noct squinted a little to see the picture, smirking as he focused first on Gladio, then chuckling as he saw his own reaction.  Finally his eyes came to rest on the third figure in the picture.  There was Iggy, but where Noct was all but collapsed over in a laughing fit, Ignis was stood with a light smile, one hand slightly covering his mouth as he watched the events unfolding.

“Huh..,”

“See?!  I told you!  That was hilarious, dude, but Iggy barely cracked a smile!  And then I started thinking… I have never heard him laugh for as long as I’ve known you guys.  Ever… forever, never, ever in forever, never!”

Noct chuckled and gave the blondes shoulder a slight nudge as he rambled, making the other squeak a little as he fell back onto his butt, camera clutched to his chest.

“Okay, okay.  I get what you’re saying, but… I… I don’t know?  Maybe he really just didn’t find it funny?”

“Dude,” Prompto said flatly.

“What?”

Prompto shook his head.  “This is bigger than just not finding something funny!  Do you think Iggy doesn’t know how to laugh?”  He gasped a second later and covered his mouth with one of his hands.  “Maybe his brains so full of Ignis stuff he’s forgotten how to!”

Noct rolled his eyes, waving his hand to dismiss his fishing rod and tackle, realizing there was going to be no peaceful fishing now that Prompto was working on some sort of Ignis conspiracy theory.

“Just because I can’t think of a time Ignis laughed doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.  Lets go ask Gladio.  I’m sure he’ll remember something for you,” he said simply as he scooted back from the edge of the dock, tugging his boots back on.

-------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later, the pair had started to make their way back to the haven, both spotting Gladio a little ways away working on a few exercises with his greatsword.

Watching them approach, the Shield dismissed his weapon, ducking down to grab one of his towels and a bottle of water he’d placed nearby.

“I thought you two were fishin’?” he asked, wiping some of the sweat off his brow.

“Detective Prompto, here, is on the case of the missing giggles,” Noct teased as Prompto huffed beside him.

Gladio paused looking between the two for a long second, eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

“....... what?”

Prompto sighed and fiddled with the bracelets on his wrist.  “I realized that Iggy doesn’t laugh.  Like… not once in my entire existence with you guys have I ever heard him even chuckle!”

“But I told Prompto that just because I couldn’t come up with a time Specs laughed doesn’t mean it’s never happened.  So go ahead.  Tell him that Ignis laughs.”

There was another long pause where Gladio looked between the two younger men, something contemplative crossing his features before he finally spoke.

“He doesn’t.”

“AH HA!”

“WHAT?!”

Noctis looked at his Shield in complete disbelief while Prompto stood smugly beside him.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.  He has to have laughed at some point!” he stated simply as Gladio finished taking a drink of his water and shook his head.

“Nope.  As far as I can remember Iggy has never actually, honest to gods laughed at anything,” he said simply as he gave a little half shrug.  “He’s a pun master, and I know he’s gotta sense of humour, but… I don’t know.  He’s always been that way.”

“How come I never noticed before?” Noct mumbled a bit to himself, wondering how he could’ve missed something that came so naturally.  If he really thought hard on it he also couldn’t recall seeing Ignis laugh when they were kids either.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, buddy,” Prompto said, sidling up beside his friend and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  “Remember when I almost had a heart attack when he started humming the Chocobo song?  Iggy is just… superhuman apparently.  Though… I do wonder if there’s anything that can make him laugh.”

“Doubt it.  I’ve tried,” Gladio said offhandedly with a little chuckle of his own.  “You aren’t the only one whose noticed.  I’ve tried jokes… both clean and lewd, obviously.  The first made him roll his eyes, the second earned me a lecture on why we shouldn’t reference particular parts of the human anatomy in such a way.  I’ve also tried puns and it got me nothin’!  You think the guy would’ve cracked under one of his favourite forms of word play, but nope.  I got a smile and then he got me back with some of his own.”

Noct sighed where he stood, still leaning slightly against Prompto’s side.  “Maybe Prompto’s right?  Maybe he has so many things in his head because of me that he forgot how to just laugh and have fun?”

Hearing this, Prompto instantly frowned and gave his friend a slight squeeze around his shoulders.

“I was only jokin’, buddy.  I’m sure that’s not it.  Maybe… maybe he was just born without a funny bone?”

“A what?” Noct asked, looking over at the blond who instantly sent him a beaming smile.

“You know… a funny bone!  Like this one, or this one!” he stated, sending a few pokes with his free hand into Nocts ribs, instantly making the Prince chuckle and try to shimmy away.

“O-Okay!  Okay!  I get it!” he laughed as Prompto ceased his attack and let his friend scurry away.  However, the sunshine childs beaming smile turned into one of mischief and mayhem.

“Hey… you guys thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he asked, glancing at his friends.

Noct, who was busy rubbing his side found himself starting to smile as well as he caught on to the idea.  

“That we should see if we can’t help Specs find his funny bone?” he asked, a little glee slipping into his voice.  If he was the cause of Ignis not laughing then he wanted to be part of the remedy to bring it back.

“You realize if you fail Iggy will break all your bones and not just the funny ones, right?” Gladio asked with a smirk of his own as he watched the plot unfolding before him.

“Well… you’re an accessory to this now so even if you don’t help Iggy is still gonna come after you,” Noct said with a smug smile as the Shield gaped at him.

“What?!”

“You heard the man!  You know our plan.  So either you can help us find Iggy’s missing funny bone or… you can wait for him to murder us and then come looking for you next.  Your choice,” Prompto said lightly.

Groaning slightly, Gladio threw his sweaty towel at Prompto’s head, the photographer laughing and swatting it away.

“Fine.  Then how do you wanna do this?”

---------------------------------------

Standing at the campstove, Ignis had just added a bit of fried Anak meat to the stew he’d been working on the better part of the afternoon.  He stirred the contents of the pot, making sure everything looked perfectly mixed together before placing the lid on top to let it cook down for their dinner this evening.  If he was lucky, the vegetables had been diced and chopped thin enough that most of them would simply become a thickening agent, tricking the Prince into getting in at least a small dose of something healthy.

Stepping back now he glanced around the haven at the lush green grass that surrounded it.  It was a beautiful spot really and a nice reprieve from the hunts they’d been going on recently.  Just a good area all around to relax and take a bit of a breather for a moment.

Though picturesque he was still surprised at how peaceful the day had been so far.  Prompto and Noct had run off to go fishing, Gladio was away getting in a little extra training with the new greatsword they’d been able to purchase from the weaponry vendor.  All in all the day couldn’t have been more pleasant.  Maybe he’d even be able to do a little something for himself later, though to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t quite sure what that would entail.

Sadly he wouldn’t be given much time to think on it either.

As Ignis stood looking out over the scenery he felt something hit his shoulder before it dropped to the ground at his feet.  Looking down he noticed a red chocobo fishing lure and instantly his heart filled with dread.

“WARP STRIKE!”

In a flash of blue, Noctis was colliding with him, sending the Advisor reeling and falling back onto the haven floor, a smiling Prince all but wrapped around him.

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?!” he shouted as he tried to extricate himself from under his Highness, only to be pinned down more securely.

“So, Prompto brought up something interesting today that I never realized before,” Noct said nonchalantly as he sat on the man’s stomach, Ignis’s wrists trapped under his knees.

“Oh?  And what, pray tell, might that be?  And why did it lead you to attack me?” Ignis grumbled, still shifting under the younger man, biding his time as he waited to see what all this was about.

“Well… you see..,” Noct rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before continuing.  “None of us have ever heard you laugh, Specs.”

Ignis instantly stopped his struggling and narrowed his eyes at the Prince, a few pieces of this ridiculous puzzle easily coming into focus now.

“Noct… I’m warning you here and now.  Don’t even think about it,” he growled, trying to put as much sternness into his voice as he could while lying vulnerable on what had to be the least comfortable haven they’d ever found.

The warning was a good sign to Noctis, his smile growing from awkward to teasing in a nanosecond.

“What?  We were just wondering if maybe you misplaced your funny bone or something.  And what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help you find it, right?”

Nocts hands instantly rose up, fingers wiggling menacingly over the Advisors torso, making him twitch and struggle that much more.

“Noct!  Noct stop this this instant or I swear to Shiva herself you will be eating vegetables for the rest of this trip!” Ignis warned, watching as those fingers started to descend toward his stomach.

“Not until I find your funny bone, Specs!” Noct shot back, closing in on his target when suddenly he found his world upended.

In a burst of adrenaline, Ignis had managed to pry one of his wrists free from under Nocts knees.  Then using it to gain momentum he rolled over quickly, sending the Prince onto the glowing rocks, before springing up and running out toward the grassy field and toward a small gathering of trees he felt he could hide relatively easy in.

“We gotta runner!  Team Beta move out!” Noct called, springing up and starting to give chase.

“Read you loud and clear, Noct!” Prompto called from farther ahead.

Between the haven and the small forest, Prompto had been lying in wait in a little rock outcropping should Ignis break away from Noct.

Honestly, Ignis would’ve been a little proud of their foresight and planning if he wasn’t currently running from the mini-manhunt party.

Prompto jumped out in front of him as he got closer, arms wide as if he was simply going to catch the Advisor in some sort of warm embrace.

Rolling his eyes, Ignis instantly took his advantage.  Running full tilt toward Prompto he feigned left before pushing off quickly with his left foot to jump up against one of the taller rocks.  Then, using it as a solid springboard he kicked off, somersaulting mid-air over Prompto to keep from kicking him and to give him a little extra spin and distance…… only to be captured upon landing as he collided with the solid chest of Gladio.

“Woo!!!  Well done Team Delta!” Prompto cheered as Gladio held a squirming and flailing Ignis to his chest.

The Advisor only stopped a moment when he heard the team name and looked up at the Shield.

“Team Delta?  What happened to Team Charlie?” he asked, even caught up in this ridiculousness he couldn’t help but be bothered by the missing rank.

Gladio grumbled and narrowed his eyes as Noct drew closer.

“Got demoted after tellin’ Noct his idea was stupid,” he groused as the Prince finally caught up with them, a victorious smile on his lips.

“Yeah… and look how well the plan worked!” he said smugly as he caught his breath.  “Now… we’re doing this for your own good, Iggy.  Honest.”

Caught up in the worlds biggest and burliest bear hug, Ignis found his fate drawing closer and  clamped his mouth shut before closing his eyes to steel his resolve.

It was a futile effort.

With Gladio’s arms locked around his upper arms, it left a good portion of Ignis’s sides, stomach and ribs available for the Prince to take advantage of… and take advantage he did.

His fingers quickly latched onto Ignis’s sides, squeezing and spidering up to his lower ribs as the Advisor jumped in Gladio’s hold and a small squeak escaped.

“Look!  Look it’s working!” Prompto cheered from the sidelines as Ignis shook his head, a smile starting to form over his lips.

“Come on, Specs!  You gotta have a funny bone somewhere,” Noct teased as his fingers reached a little lower to drill against the taller mans hips.

“N-Noct!” the Advisor yelped, though no discernible laughter had escaped yet, his face was already turning a lovely shade of red as he continued to fight against the ticklish sensations.

Narrowing his eyes, Noct let his fingers wander, one hand moving to claw right in the center of Ignis’s stomach while the other slowly started to wander back up his side.

“I think we’re getting close to that missing funny bone, Iggy.  Don’t you think?  I think it’s right here?  Here?  Or maybe riiiiight… here!”

With the final exclamation he moved both hands up to tickle and vibrate against his lower ribs and Ignis finally broke.

Loud, wild laughter escaped the bespectacled man as he struggled against Gladio’s hold and the horribly ticklish sensations coursing through his body.  Noct was absolutely merciless, finding the spaces right between the bones and tickling with an evil precision he didn’t realize the Prince had.  Ignis felt his knees going weak and was soon being fully supported by the Shield when suddenly it happened.  A rather unbecoming and horrendously loud snort erupted from him and everything stilled in an instant.

Ignis’s cheeks were positively crimson now as he hung his head, trying to catch his breath and unwilling to look any of them in the eye.  This was exactly why he never laughed in polite company!  Because he sounded like an absolute buffoon and many people had made it quite clear that it was something he should hide and be ashamed of.

“Woah…,”

“Did he just…,”

Gladio and Noctis were both stunned at hearing the normally stoic man sounding so completely unrefined.

Prompto, however, seemed to be sensing the absolutely miserable mind frame that Ignis was spiraling down and stepped forward.

Ignis heard the footsteps drawing near and wondered if perhaps Prompto was going to take a picture of this horrifyingly embarrassing moment so they could all laugh about it later.  Such would be his luck.

What he wasn’t expecting was to feel fingers tickling at the back of his neck, instantly making him squeak and scrunch his shoulders up as a few giggles inadvertently slipped out, followed by another snort.

“See?  I knew we’d find his funny bone!” Prompto offered with a kind smile as he continued the light tickling, making Ignis both relax and laugh a bit more.  Where he’d been expecting ridicule he found none.  Only the smile of someone he considered an honest and true friend.  He was being silly thinking that they would tear him down for something like this.  But the mind has a funny of way of warping your insecurities into something bigger that what they really are.

“I was getting worried there!  I thought you might actually not have it in ya, but you have one of the best laughs in the world, Iggy!  There’s no way we’re gonna let you hide it now,” he gunner said lightly as Noct seemed to come out of his reverie, realize what was happening and smile as well.

“Yeah, Specs.  Why you been holding out on us?” he asked, fingers starting to squeeze around the man’s sensitive lower ribs again and getting another wild laugh out of him, quickly followed by, what would become, his trademark snort.

“I-I s-sahahaound sihihilly!” he tried to reply, shaking his head and trying to wriggle away from the group.

“Not even close, Iggy,” Gladio rumbled from behind him, giving him a little squeeze around the middle and letting his own fingers lightly tickle where they were pressed against his upper ribs.  “It’s a laugh.  It’s not silly, it’s carefree, and it’s honest.  Nothing fake about it which makes it better.”

Ignis wished he could take these compliments to heart, but right now, with his ribs and neck being tickled as they were all he could do was giggle, snort and laugh like he hadn’t done in ages.

A few minutes later the attack ceased, Gladio loosening his hold though he kept his arms around him as the Ignis seemed a little unsteady on his legs right now.

“I… I thought… you’d find me ridiculous,” he admitted, cheeks dusted pink and a smile still on his lips as he leaned against Gladio.  “Thank you… for… not teasing me.  And for… finding my funny bone.”

Noct smiled brightly at that and nodded, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Of course, Specs!  I’m just sorry that I had to lure it out of you,” he said, holding up the fishing lure he’d used in his warp strike on the poor man.

Ignis instantly snorted again, covering his mouth and shaking his head.

“Okay, okay.  Enough.  You may actually break him if you don’t let him get a breather in,” Gladio warned with a fond smile.  “So… you gonna stop hiding your laugh from us then, Iggy?”

As Ignis got himself back under control he nodded, bringing a hand up to adjust his glasses.  “Yes.  I fear what repercussions may happen if I do-HIC!”

Ignis’s eyes grew wide as he brought his hands up to clamp over his mouth, staring around at all of them in turn.

Prompto instantly started giggling, a look of pure glee spreading all over his freckled face.

“You also get hiccups when you laugh?!  Oh my gods that is the most precious thing I’ve ever heard!”

Ignis groaned as he lowered his hands, looking up to the heavens.

“Oh bollu-HICS!”

Gladio and Noctis were soon to follow in Prompto’s laughter, earning them all a fond glare from the man.  However, there was no way he could actually be mad at these ridiculous men he was lucky enough to consider his friends.

How many people would go through such lengths to help find your funny bone?

[troubledinkbeing]

Batim: Hunter’s Tale

Chapter one “New employee, new job, new friends!!”

Joey Drew Studios, January thirty first, 1932. Hunter walked into Joey Drew Studios, famous for their Bendy the dancing demon cartoons, and, her first job since her last one. “Hello?” Hunter called. Hunter had been taking in the studio’s interior and wasn’t looking where she was going when she bumped into someone. “Oops! Sorry!” Hunter apologized. “WATCH IT!” He snapped. “Sorry!” Hunter apologized. “Ya better be!!” He snapped. “TOM! BACK OFF, WOULDJA?!” Someone with a brooklyn accent shouted. So this must be Tom. “Wally. Late, as usual.” Tom growled. “I ain’t ever late! I arrive precisely when I desire!” Wally said. “So yer late.” Tom said. “That’s fair. Anyway, leave the newbie alone. She just got here and she’s new so she doesn’t know the layout yet.” Wally said. “Fine.” Tom said stalking off. “You okay, kid?” Wally asked. “You’re fine…..” Hunter said absentmindedly. “What?!” Wally gasped. “I-I-I-I-I mean I’m fine!” Hunter chuckled, hiding the lower half of her face to hide that she was blushing. “Well, okay then!” Wally said. Wally walked away, whistling a tune that Hunter had recognized.

The music department. One of the larger departments of Joey Drew Studios, but still somewhat small. Hunter was admiring the large space when she bumped into someone who was taller than her. (About 7 foot 7.) “Watch it, pal.” He grumbled. “Oh, sorry!” Hunter apologized. “Whatever.” He said, picking up the sheets of music he dropped. “Here, lemme help.” Hunter said, picking one up. “ ‘Untitled monument’ Wait-that’s the song composed by Samuel Lawrence!” Hunter gasped. “Of COURSE I AM, YOU FLAT B CHORD!” Sammy scowled. “Go easy on her, Sammers, she’s new.” A gruff voice said. “Fine.” Sammy grumbled. “Thanks…?” Hunter started. “Jack. Jack Fain!” Jack smiled. “Nice to meet you two!” Hunter smiled. “My sheet music please.” Sammy asked. “Oh! Right!” Hunter said handing them back. “Thanks.” Sammy said taking them back. “I was told to find Norman Polk?” Hunter asked. “Norman. Right. Follow me.” Sammy said walking to the projector room. “Okay!” Hunter said, following Sammy.

“No, no! Peter, yer flat! Ya gotta B sharp!” Norman said. “Wow. Like they haven’t heard that joke a bajillion times.” Sammy groaned. “Sammy. What’re ya doin’ back here?” Norman asked. “I have someone who was instructed to find you.” Sammy said. “Oh? Who?” Norman asked. “The newbie.” Sammy said. “Oh! The newbie! I thought they arrived tomorrow!” Norman said. “Sadly, no.” Sammy sighed. “Oh come on, Sammy! Ya gotta lighten up!” Norman smiled. “You’re very funny. Ha. Ha.” Sammy groaned. “Anyways, why’d they need to see me?” Norman asked. “Joey sent me to find something to do, Mr Polk, sir.” Hunter said respectfully. “Please! All my friends call me Norman! And what might your name be?” Norman asked. “Hunter. Hunter Cruz!” Hunter smiled. “Nice to meet ya, Hunter!” Norman smiled. Sammy walked out. “So, we’ve got a small issue here, we’re givin’ the toons some voices, and we have one for Alice and one for Boris, but we don’t have one for Bendy.” Norman said. “Want me to try?” Hunter asked. “Ya can try!” Norman shrugged. “Okie doki loki!” Hunter hopped down into the recording booth and started practicing a voice for Bendy. Joey walked into the recording studio and was caught off guard by how good Hunter was at the voice. “She could fit the role!” Joey gasped. “I think so, too! She’s a professional!” Norman mused. A few hours later, Hunter finished and walked out on Joey and Norman talking. “Oh! Sorry! Am I interrupting anything?” Hunter asked shyly. “Of course not!” Joey beamed. “So…..How’d I do?” Hunter asked. Norman and Joey looked at each other and nodded. “We’ll have to take it up with the head of the voice acting department, but ya did really well!” Joey praised. “Can’t imagine the little devil himself bein’ played by anyone else!” Norman smiled. “And if ya don’t get it, that’s fine! You can be the ‘mold’ of the studio!” Joey proclaimed. “Neat! What’s that?” Hunter asked. “Basically, we can’t think of a job for ya, so you’ll do whatever we need!” Joey smiled. “Oooooh! I get it now!” Hunter gasped. “Yep! Super easy!” Joey said. “Unless Wally dumps his responsibilities on ya.” Norman chuckled. “Wait-what?” Hunter asked. “What?” Norman asked. “What?” Hunter asked. “What?” Norman asked. “What?” Hunter asked. “Wha-I see what you’re doin’!” Norman said. “Be mindful of corners, though! Wally’s QUITE the prankster!” Norman warned. “Oh. Okay!” Hunter said. After excusing herself, Hunter left.

As Hunter was rounding a corner, she got lost in her thoughts. “Okay guys! Here she comes!” Wally grinned. “Don’t you think this is mean, Wally?” Henry asked. “Henry, listen; sometimes, ya gotta put standers aside and just have fun! Oh- here she comes!” Wally said grabbing the cardboard cutout. Hunter got close to the end of the corridor before a Bendy cutout leaned out from behind the wall. “AAAHHHH!!!!!!!” Hunter screamed. (Elsewhere) “*Sigh* There goes Wally again.” Norman sighed, shaking his head. (With Hunter) “WALLY WHAT THE EVERLIVING SAM HELL WAS THAT FOR?!?” Hunter snapped. “I’m sorry-I couldn’t resist!!” Wally cackled. “Sorry about that-it’s Hunter, right?” Henry asked. “Y-Yeah, and you are?” Hunter asked. “Henry. Henry Stein.” Henry said, shaking Hunter’s hand. “(HIS HANDS ARE SO SOFT OH MY WORD.)” Hunter thought. “Hello?” Henry asked. “Oh! Sorry! Got lost in my thoughts!” Hunter chuckled nervously. “Yeah, Joey does that a lot!” Henry smiled. After saying goodbyes, Hunter went off to work on something Joey instructed her to do; come up with new character designs. Should be easy, right?

After Hunter finished, she brought the designs down to the animation department. “So we’ve got a Bunny and a��…?” Mike asked. “A dragon, sir.” Hunter said. “Huh……they ARE adorable….Lemme talk about it with Joey, okay?” Mike asked. “Okay!” Hunter said. Hunter walked out and sat down in the break room, spacing out. “Sorry ‘bout earlier, I was bored and wanted to spook ya! Hope yain’t mad!” Wally apologized. “Oh! It’s fine!” Hunter assured. “So, I heard ya auditioned for Bendy?” Wally asked. “Yeah, I think I did good! Why?” Hunter asked. “Well, I got Boris, so I was thinkin’ maybe we could be friends?” Wally asked nervously. “Sure thing!” Hunter said. “Wait-really?” Wally asked. “Yeah, did I stutter?” Hunter joked. “I don’t think so…” Wally hummed. “It-It was a joke.” Hunter said. “Oooooooh!” Wally said. “Sammy likes jokes!” Wally said. “Really?!” Hunter gasped. “Totally!” Wally said. “Let’s go! I have a BUNCH to tell!” Hunter said. Hunter bounced off. Norman leaned in, scowling. “It’s only her first day here, Wally. Her first day. Her first day, and ya kill her.” Norman scowled. “She’ll be fine, Norm!” Wally scoffed.

“Office of Samuel Lawrence.” A sign above the room boasted. Hunter shifted her hold on the report she was supposed to give to him, and shakily got ready to knock. She noticed her hand was shaking and that her vision was going blurry. She blinked and shook her head. She had to knock. This report wasn’t gonna deliver itself. She lifted her hand again, ready to knock, but…..She didn’t. This was NOT that hard!!! He’s just seven foot seven! A full two feet and five inches taller than her!! And she was significantly weaker than him……..And he could probably break her like a twig if he so desired……..This doesn’t seem like such a good idea after all. She turned around to walk away, but as soon as she stepped one foot away, she heard the door click open. “It doesn’t take that many muscles to knock, you know.” Sammy said sarcastically. “R-Right!” Hunter stuttered. Sammy gestured for Hunter to follow him inside and she shakily followed. Once inside, Hunter shakily handed Sammy the report. “There’s no need to be so afraid of me, you know.” Sammy said, reading over the report. “I know, I just have a fear of tall people is all.” Hunter chuckled nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sammy asked, glaring up from the report. “We-Well, I-I m-mean tall people a-are v-very i-intimidating-!” Hunter started before Sammy held up a finger to silence her. “Not ALL tall people are violent, you know. That’s just stereotyping. I use my height for CONstructive work. Not DEstructive.” Sammy snapped. “I know, I’m sorry-!” Hunter was cut off again. “I would NEVER use my height for anything bad, but if you think I would, I’ll show you what I CAN do with my height!!!” Sammy snapped. Hunter backed up nervously. “I-I’m sorry, I-I shoulda b-been m-more c-careful w-with m-my wording…!” Hunter whimpered. “Are you now? Golly, I should accept your apology! NOT.” Sammy frowned. “You’re afraid of me for no reason?” Sammy chuckled. “I’ll give you a gosh dang reason to be afraid of me.” Sammy said. Before Hunter could say anything, she felt a fist come into contact with her face, sending her launching into the back wall. “S-Sammy, I-“ Hunter started. “You what?” Sammy growled. “I-I’m sorry!!” Hunter whimpered. “Well, that’s a start.” Sammy sighed. “But, just to be sure that this won’t happen again-“ Sammy said picking Hunter up by the neck. Hunter struggled weakly. “Let’s show ya what my fists can REALLY do~!” Sammy smirked. Before Hunter could object, she felt some punches get thrown at her face, and her arm hurt abnormally. “Ouchie!!” Hunter whimpered, cradling her arm. Sammy dropped Hunter and walked off. A few seconds later, Hunter felt Sammy grab her arm. “Ow-!” Hunter started. “If you whimper in pain I will stuff this down your throat.” Sammy snapped. Hunter remained silent. Sammy made a makeshift cast for Hunter’s arm since it had accidentally broken. “Just keep it like that until you can schedule an appointment with your doctor.” Sammy said. Hunter nodded weakly. “I didn’t rough you up too much, did I?” Sammy asked. Hunter shook her head no. “Alright.” Sammy said. “S-Sorry again, Mr Lawrence, sir.” Hunter apologized. “Oh, it’s quite alright! I’ve done that with everyone at one point or another!” Sammy chuckled. “Except for Susie?” Hunter asked half-heartedly. A bright crimson blush dusted Sammy’s face. “W-Wait a second!!!” Sammy snapped. “Yeah?” Hunter asked carefully. “W-Well, she’s a girl-!” Sammy started. “As am I.” Hunter said flatly. “WHAT?!? But ya sound like a guy and look like one, too!!!” Sammy gasped. “O-Oh…..Th-Thanks for that…..” Hunter said sadly. “I did NOT mean to call you flat-chested!! Not at all!!” Sammy stuttered. “N-No no, i-it’s fine.” Hunter said, slowly getting up. “I-I’m sorry-!” Sammy started. “It’s FINE, Sammy!” Hunter accidentally snapped. “I’m sorry.” Sammy apologized. Hunter limped out. Shawn and Allison were chatting in the break room when Hunter limped in. “Hecking Ifreann. What happened to YOU?!” Shawn asked. “Sammy.” Hunter grumbled. Allison rushed over to Hunter and gave her an ice pack for her eye. “Thanks…” Hunter said icing her eye. “What didja do to get Sammy so mad at you, anyway?” Allison asked. “Just called him out for being tall.” Hunter said. “AN BHOIR MHÓIRÍ.” Shawn grumbled. “SHAWN!!! Language!” Allison said. “Jerk?” Shawn asked. “Better.” Allison said. “What did he say before?” Hunter asked. “Well-“ Shawn started. “Nothing you need to know, dearie.” Allison said. “GACH SPOILSPORT!” Shawn grumbled. “What’s he saying?” Hunter asked. “He’s just calling me a spoilsport.” Allison said. After getting fixed up, Hunter went back upstairs and finished up getting her office set up. After Hunter finished her shift, she started heading to the door. “Hey, Hunter? Can I talk to ya for a sec?” Susie asked. “Oh, uh, sure!” Hunter said. Hunter walked over. “What’d ya nee-“ Hunter started. “I saw you getting close to Sammy. Lemme say this, if you try to take him away from me, you’ll regret it.” Susie snapped. “I’d never do that to ya! It was JUST an accidental run-in! Nothing more!” Hunter explained. “Sure. Just watch your back.” Susie said. Hunter sped home, noticing the time.

[slutty-mcree]

!!!! @shoeswithoutsocks

listen, buddy, thank you so much for this request omg.

I really hope you don't mind my song choice! Ring of fire absolutely screams Jesse Mcree and i love it so much, but the song  ‘big bad handsome man’ by Imelda May was introduced into my life a few weeks ago, and I haven't been able to stop associating it with Mchanzo since hearing it adsk. You've handed me a golden opportunity i cant pass up. (Seriously if you haven't heard that song please listen and tell me it doesn’t absolutely fucking  radiate Mcree energy...)

Anyways! I hope you enjoy <3

—

“You are telling me you can sing..? Seems...unlikely.”

Hanzo could remember just how offended Mcree had looked when he said that; hand clutched over his heart, mouth slightly agape as though someone had suddenly struck him.

“Darlin..sweetheart...my huckleberry pie..you sayin’ you don’t think I got talent?”

“Obviously I believe you have talent, Mcree. Overwatch would not have recruited you otherwise. I am just unsure as to how much of that talent is...musical.”

In hindsight, Hanzo supposed he should have known better. Jesse Mcree, by nature, was never one to withdraw from a challenge. It was proven time and time again—whether it was showcasing a dauntless, unnecessary act on the field or following through on an unsuspecting fool who was not expecting to be taken up on their dare. The cowboy was, without a doubt, the very definition of ostentatious--and evidently, Hanzo’s comment made him feel like he needed to prove something.

Hanzo Shimada had provoked the southern, gun-slinging bear and now he was now going to pay the price for it.

“I cannot believe you helped orchestrate such a ridiculous charade.” The archer scoffs with a tinge of annoyance coloring his tone. He eyes over the homemade flyer in his hand; decorated in obscenely glittery drawings of music notes and tiny cartoon versions of cowboy hats. Big, bold letters spelled out ‘karaoke night: featuring the musical talents of Jesse Mcree’, and Hanzo glances from the piece of paper to the Korean woman in front of him warily.

“Don’t look at me like that, Han! Lucio made the flyers and did the audio set up stuff, all I did was set up the chairs.”  Hana defends herself, though the mirthful smile that’s present indicates that wasn’t completely true. “Besides, karaoke is awesome! Look you have a front-row seat and everything!” She gestures to a folding chair that sat front and center to the boxing ring in the training area watchpoint offered (which was now made out to be like some kind of stage.)There were a few more rows of chairs just like it, though that one in particular quite literally had his name written on it. In messy, sparkly blue lettering...

A long, albeit dramatic sigh rolls from Hanzo's chest as he takes a seat, arms firmly crossed. He can practically sense the Meka pilots ever widening  smile from beside him, and he vaguely hears her utter something along the lines of ‘mission dragon strike is a go!’ before running off somewhere.

It isn’t long before other agents trickle in, among the small crowd being Genji himself. His brother takes a seat next to him, and Hanzo attempts to probe for any type of information he can about what’s to be expected out of this aside from the obvious. Though, much to his chagrin,  Genji offers nothing; the other man just sits there and has the audacity to shush Hanzo all while somehow being able to radiate utter smugness behind his impassive faceplate.

The archer narrows his eyes in return, a quiet huff leaving him as he turns his attention back to the stage with a glower etched on his face. It felt as though everyone was aware of something he wasn’t, which caused an infuriating mixture of concern and panic to flutter in the lower part of his stomach. One would hope his words days prior wouldn't of offended Jesse to the point he was willing to organize an entire ordeal just to embarrass himself or his own lover.

Then again… this was Jesse “once went streaking through the streets during a category five storm because someone told him he wouldn’t do it” Mcree.

Hanzo shrinks at the onslaught of other ridiculous possibilities the cowboys could be subjecting him to tonight; Images of Jesse in nothing but underwear, howling out a song that’s far too high pitched for him is the first thing that comes to mind…

The man sighs, although before his concern could get the better of him the lights of the gym suddenly dim just as a tall silhouette makes its way on stage, causing the soft chatter of the crowd to dwindle into silence. Hanzo makes another huff when forced to squint in the lack of lighting, unable to make out a familiar hat but not much else. A moment passes, then the lights above the makeshift stage suddenly alight brightly once again, illuminating the cowboy now occupying the space with a glow that could almost be called ethereal.

Hanzo blinks, and he finds himself swallowing against the sudden thickness that gathers at the back of his throat.

Mcree, void of his usual gear, is instead embellished in a form-fitting vest with a tasteful dress shirt underneath; which, in Hanzo opinion, was unfairly  left unbuttoned a few notches lower than probably necessary. Mcree then smiles, toothy and suave as he gives an experimental strum against the guitar strapped to his torso, dark eyes immediately meeting Hanzo’s own.

The archer fights back the urge to swallow again.

“Howdy, everybody~” The southerner greets in a way that’s somehow so damn provocative it elects a series of whistles and cheers from the crowd.  Honeyed laughter echoes through the standing mic, grin never forsaking him. “I’d like to thank everyone for comin’. Got a real special song for a real special person tonight.”

Mcree winks in his lover's direction, and suddenly Hanzo is aware of a dozen cheeky gazes and smiles on him from every damn direction. Despite being able to remain relatively straight-faced, heat burns the tips of the archer's ears.

Much to his own displeasure.

Mcree grins a little wider, before counting down from three. A pre-recorded tune of saxophone and base notes then begin to play from a pair of speakers from behind him, and along with it Mcree begins steady beat with his guitar; the symphony creates a type of rhythm that immediately reminds Hanzo of the old American style songs from the 1950’s his father would occasionally listen to. It's amazing, really; Mcree’s fingers strum against the strings of his guitar with such fluid ease it renders Hanzo shocked at first. Though really what is more surprising than the skillful use of the instrument is the actual sound of Mcree’s voice.

‘The man is tall, mad, mean, and good-lookin', And he's got me his eye. When he looks at me, I go weak at the knees, He's got me going like no other guy. Cause he's my big, bad, handsome man, He's got me in the palm of his hand. He's the Devil Divine, I'm so glad that he's mine, Cause he's my big, bad, handsome man~”

It held a gruff yet ever seductive timbre that resonated Hanzo through his core and sent small bumps prickling the surface of his skin. His jaw drops ever slightly, though he’s only made aware when the icy, metallic touch of Genji's hand pushes his chin up to forcibly close the gap.

“May I get you a something to drink, brother? You are looking extremely thirsty.” The cyborg snickers from beside him. Red rises over ivory skin, and Hanzo turns his head to with a look sharp enough to cut the man in half where he sits--though it’s not a half second later before his attention is brought back to the stage.

‘With his rugged good looks yeah he's got me hooked

Got me where he wants me to be

With his arms so wide, he pulls me in by his side

He's the kind of guy that does it for me’

Cause he's my big bad handsome man yeah

He's got me in the palm of his hand

He's the devil divine, I'm so glad that he's mine

Cause he's my big bad handsome man

Ooh

My big bad handsome man, yea

He's got me in the palm of his hand

He's the devil divine, I'm so glad that he's mine

Cause he's my big bad handsome man

Mcree is staring at him with a wide, far too charming smile as he finishes up the rest of the song. It ends with a long, soulful hum—and the group of ten to fifteen sounds more like a crowd of hundreds with amount of clapping and cheering that goes on. He chuckles, bowing with a polite tip of his hat and signature “thank you kindly” before he exits the stage to allow those next in line (Reinhardt) to showcase their talents. As the boisterous German takes center stage, Hanzo manages to shake away the astonished look of his face and swiftly disperses to the water fountain in the far corner he watched Mcree strut off too.

“I must say that...was impressive,” Hanzo compliments as he approaches. He eyes Mcree as he smiles and leans away from the water fountain to wipe the thin layer of sweat across his forehead with the back of his hand. “Why thank you, darlin.’ Mighty kind of you to say. Gotta admit it’s nice to know I can still surprise ya.” His smile curls into a coquettish smirk, as if being able to read Hanzo’s thoughts the entire duration of his performance. The archer was not always as impassive as he thought he was, that’s for certain.

“Mm…” a subtle smirk of its own tugs at the corner of Hanzo’s lips. He leans forward, adjusting Mcree’s slightly askew collar. “Indeed. Actually, I am so surprised I wanted to ask if you would care to favor me an encore.”

Mcree blinks, chuckling softly and scratching the back of his head. “Encore, eh? Why I don’t mind, but I take it Reinhardt is gonna be a while—“

“I am referring to an encore of a more private sort. In my quarters...” Hanzo interrupts.

“Oh? Oh…” The southern gunslinger grins, clearing his throat as he wraps a well-sculpted arm around his lover's shoulder. “Well sweetheart, I’m thinkin’ that can be arranged.”

[rfsak2]

Cactus, Part X

I hope you like this next installment guys! Also I’m so freakin’ obsessed with the Paolo Sebastian SS Couture collection. Couldn’t help myself!

Also to be clear. I have nothing against Taylor Swift and made an effort to be fair in this rendition of her. I hope no one is offended!

Cactus, Part X Summary: Permanence Harry/Jamie Warnings: None!

“I’m goin’ to get another drink, love. D’ye want another?”

“Just water, I think.”

She ran a hand over the gunmetal grey jacquard of his smoking jacket. He looked good tonight, not that it was unusual, but there was just something about a man in evening wear. Though he had stubbornly refused to wear a tie, to the absolute consternation of Gucci’s atelier, opting for a black silk shirt open underneath the jacket.

“It’s black tie, Mr. Styles!”

He looked good and worse, he knew it. He pressed a soft kiss to her rouged lips, careful not to smudge. “Can y’spare me a second, monster? Or should I find us somewhere more private?”

She grinned and pinched him. “Cheeky.”

He fluffed her embroidered tulle skirt. “You look like a princess.”

She twisted her hips and her skirt swished about her calves like a dream. “I feel like one.”

Kissing her cheek, he grinned and took a couple backward steps. “Be right back.”

“Don’t be long. I only agreed to spare you a second.”

He winked. “Yeh keep lookin’ at me like tha’, love, and we’re gonna miss a good party.”

She smiled innocently, enjoying watching his eyes drift down to her lips. She blew him a kiss. “Hurry.”

He rushed off, glancing back at her and running his fingers over his bottom lip as he reached the bar.

She waved, before looking down and adjusting the sleeves of her dress. She really did feel like a princess, but the kind of princess that Harry hadn’t taken his eyes off all night. The corset pressed her breasts up against the neckline of the dress, in a way that harkened to barmaids and tavern wenches, but the sheer chiffon that covered her shoulders and arms made her feel demure, almost modest and definitely not over-exposed. Paolo Sebastian’s atelier had said that the sheer fabric over her tattoos made a sweet dress look coy and sexy.

She felt that.

“You look very pretty.”

Jamie jumped, but didn’t need to look to know who was speaking to her. Her eyes skipped to where Harry was now frowning, eyes worried.

She smiled and mouthed ‘it’s fine,’ waving her hand in a half-hearted wave. She took a deep breath and turned to the tall, statuesque woman at her side. “Thank you. You wear red really well. You look beautiful.”

Taylor smiled, an awkward little twist of the lips that made her feel instantly more comfortable. She nodded. “Thanks. He.. uh, he looks happy.”

Jamie hummed and smiled through the crowd at Harry, whose eyes were trained on the two women. “Yeah, he does.”

“I heard you’re a guitarist?” Taylor drummed her thumbs on her clutch. “That you worked on his album?”

She nodded, vaguely wary, she wouldn’t judge someone that she didn’t know but it didn’t do to navigate a minefield with her eyes closed. “Yes. That’s how we met.”

“The album is fantastic. Good work.”

“Thanks.” Jamie smiled. “Thank you. He worked really hard,” she glanced back at Harry and saw him moving toward them. “He’ll be pleased to know you liked it.”

“I’ve heard you’re one of Columbia’s hidden talents.”

Jamie chuckled. “Not so hidden anymore, I guess… Thank you for that though.”

“The paparazzi have been rough, yeah?”

Jamie nodded. “I expected it but still…”

“It doesn’t get any easier.”

The taller woman was eyeing her with something close to pity and Jamie sighed. “No I don’t expect it will… but he’s worth it.”

Taylor smiled. “You love him.”

“So much.” Jamie found Harry in the crowd.

It got quiet and Jamie sighed��� what next? “I quite liked the feel of your album. It’s edgier.” Probably shouldn’t have been that. Shit.

Taylor snorted. “Did you really?”

Jamie shuffled, uncomfortable. “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t mind that one of my songs is supposed to be about your boyfriend… or that one of his songs is supposed to be about me?” Taylor trained hard eyes on her but Jamie could swear she saw vulnerability there as well.

She shrugged. “I don’t listen to rumors… or pick apart other people’s music. I’ve worked in the industry too long to take anything at face value. Especially if I wasn’t involved in the situation.”

“He’s never talked about me?”

Jamie sighed. “We’ve talked about it, of course we have.”

“And you don’t hate me?” Taylor stared her down. “Wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t hate anyone.” Shrugging, she looked down at her clutch. “Look I won’t lie and tell you that I approve or agree to everything you’ve ever done, not that you need or want my approval anyways…” 

She sighed. “But I love Harry… so much. I don’t like seeing him hurt. So yeah some of it bothers me. But what bothers me is what I’ve heard from Harry’s mouth, what he has told me. I trust that and it bothers me because I know that it bothered him. I don’t care what the media says one way or another. I try to take people on their own merits.”

“That’s good of you.”

Harry was getting closer and Jamie wasn’t sure if that last statement was sarcastic or not. She fidgeted. “Thanks?”

“He looks really worried.”

Jamie nodded and opted for silence, smiling at Harry as he pushed through the last little group of people in his way. He looked between the two of them and then his eyes caught hers, silently asking if she was okay.

She nodded slightly and accepted her water from him.

“Taylor.” His now free hand cupped her waist, his thumb rubbing soothingly at the chiffon-covered skin just above her corset. “How are yeh?”

Taylor smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you. You?”

Harry nodded. “Good.. Good.”

Taylor’s thumbs tapped on her clutch again. “Your album was fantastic.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Your’s as well.”

“Thanks.” She smiled awkwardly. “I’ve been talking with your girl here. She’s quite smitten with you.”

Harry made a face. “A year and a half almost and all I get is smitten?”

Jamie chuckled. “Well you do hog the bed.”

Kissing her forehead, he pulled her yet closer. “Always tellin’ all my secrets.”

Taylor sighed. “So I’m gonna go… I have some people to talk to.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Jamie extended her hand.

“You’re very sweet. It was nice to meet you as well.” Taylor chuckled and shook Jamie’s hand almost ironically. “She really is perfect for you, H.”

Harry smiled. “I’m aware.”

When Taylor had left, Jamie turned to Harry and breathed deep. “I feel like I just ran a marathon. Hell.”

“Yeh did well though, monster.” He smiled down at her. “Was she rude or anything?”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t think she was trying to be mean or anything. I think she wanted to know if you were angry… over the album.”

He nodded. “What did you tell her?” 

“That I didn’t believe rumors.” Jamie shrugged. “It’s whatever, I guess.”

Harry pulled her in closer and laid a kiss on her cheek. “The Dunkirk boys are over there. They want to meet you.”

She nodded. “Lead the way, mi corazón.”

He led her to a small group of boys around their age and held his arms out to them. “Boys!”

The group of men turned and each one smiled. “Harry!”

A tall blonde man drew him into a hug and then stuck his hand out to her. “‘Ello, ye must be th’lass he was texting all the bloody time. Jack Lowden. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell lies, mate.”

“He isn’t. You did text me all the time and then you’d call at the weirdest times. ‘Hey… just wanted to make sure yeh were still thinkin’ about Jamaica.’ ‘Hey… what are yer opinions on platypi?’ ‘Hey… Yeh liked my photo on instagram… I know yer awake.’ Don’t worry though… it was cute.”

Harry pouted at her and she stuck her tongue out at him, before shaking Jack’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Traitor.”

**

So I want a new tattoo, Freddy...

Yeah? What do you want?

A lantern… like a super traditional one.

That I can do. Color? Don’t answer that… stupid question. :P

I wish there was a middle finger emoji

Well, then. Fuck right off and find a new tattoo artist

Love ya, Frederico! Eres mi favorito hermano. Te amo más.

Yeah.. yeah. Kiss my ass some other time. Where is this lantern going?

Right forearm. Inside.

All of your forearm?

Sure why the hell not?

That’s sound tattoo logic there…

:P Also one last thing…

Yep?

…

Tell me if this is weird or not…

Spill it, chiquita.

I want Harry’s initials in there somewhere.

First, middle and last? What’s his middle name?

Uh… yes. Edward.

This isn’t weird?

Like I’m not rushing it?

…

Freddy!!

I need some fuckin’ reassurance, big bro!

Jesucristo. Calm down and give me a second to reply.

Okay

If you’re worried. Then don’t get it. That’s the rule.

Right

HOWEVER… you’ve been with the kid for a year plus now?

A year and eight months…

…

But who’s countin’ amiright?

You are going to marry that kid. I hope you see that.

And I hope you see that he’s as serious about this as you are.

You told me once that you were all-in from that first all night conversation. Has that changed?

Of course not.

Then stop stressing about it. I knew Angus was the one like five minutes into the first conversation. When you know you know.

You’re right.

I know. So no, none of this is weird, none of this is too fast. You live with the kid and you love him. 

Also you survived touring with him for what ten months? If something what going to happen, if you were going to find out something that would change your mind, it would’ve happened then. 

This is normal.

Okay.

You still want to get it?

Definitely.

You coming to SA soon then?

In early August. Harry and I will be spending about a week after tour.

Okay. I’ll start working on designs then I’ll dig around and see if I still have that tracing of your forearm from when we did your sleeve.

Perfect. Thanks. I love you.

Love you too, princess.

**

“Hey kid. What’s up?”

Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Hey… I was hoping you would have time-”

“Kid, you’re part of the family now. You don’t have to be nervous to talk to me. I’m not Leo. I don’t plan on threatening you for shits and giggles. Now what’s up?”

He smiled. This is why Freddy was his favorite. “We’re goin’ t’be in town in August. I was wondering if I could get a tattoo then.”

“Yeah! I could definitely do that, bro. What’re you thinkin’?”

Harry swallowed. “An…” Deep Breath. “An angel.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line and then a noise like a muffled chuckle. “Sorry, coughed. Do you mind me asking why? Just for my own personal gratification?”

Harry squirmed. “I’m sure that yeh know that-”

“That you wrote a song about my sister being a devil in the sheets… Yeah I know that.” There was another muffled ‘cough’. “Sorry, bro. Somethin’ stuck in my teeth.”

Harry let his head hang loose. “Yes, tha’.”

“Relax, kid. It’s fine. I don’t think my sister is a virgin. It’s fine. Though we haven’t let my dad listen to it… You’re still his hero for writing a song called ‘Only Angel’ for his princess. I think he’s convinced it’s a ballad. Mom’s heard it… she laughed. I think she likes it.”

“That’s good. I don’t wan’ yer dad te hate me.”

“He wouldn’t hate you, bro. Just be very confused.” Freddy laughed. “I’m pretty sure that if you ever get her pregnant, Dad will assume it was immaculate conception.”

Harry laughed. “That’s good.”

“So an angel for my sister. I’m guessing black and grey?”

“Yeah. Traditional as far as artwork goes.”

“Traditional is my forte, no worries there. Where at?”

“Inside of my right bicep.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see you guys at the Dallas show. I’ll get a tracing then yeah? I’ll send you some artwork.”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” Harry smiled. “See yeh then. Who all is comin’?”

“Mom, Dad, and all of the brothers and spouses.I think it’s gonna be a bit of a date night. Dante’s said he’s gonna bring a girl too.”

“Very cool. I’ll sort out backstage passes.”

“That’d be great. Thanks, bro. Talk to ya later? My next client is in.”

“Yeah. Talk to yeh later. Thanks again.”

**

She’d been gone when he returned to her parents’ house, arm held out so the raw skin didn’t touch his shirt. He frowned at Dante, sat on the couch watching soaps.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He shrugged, taking another bite of cereal. “Went out just a bit ago. Took my car. You probably passed her on the road.”

Harry nodded and sat on the couch next to him. Dante grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded through the commercials. “What’ve you been up to?” He glanced at Harry, who winced, trying to get comfortable and settled for just lifting his arm over his head.

Dante grinned at the paper towel taped to his bicep. “New tattoo?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Went to Freddy?”

“‘Course.”

Dante smirked. “What did y’get?”

Harry shifted. “An angel.”

Dante grinned widely. “You got tattooed for my sister.”

Harry blushed and nodded, Dante looked at the TV. “Good. I like knowing that you’re serious about her, bro. You’re good for her and the family loves you.”

Harry smiled.

“Does she know?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope.”

Dante chuckled. “That’s why you’re so nervous. Don’t worry, she’ll like it.”

Three hours and only a handful of texts later and Harry was legitimately starting to worry.

He had assumed that she’d gone for a bit of shopping, so he’d sent a text.

Where did you go, love?

Sorry, baby. My hands are too small to text with one hand. :P I’m at an appointment. Talk to you later. Love you!

An appointment? An appointment for what? And why did she only have one hand?

The alarm system chirped and the front door opened.

“I’m home.” He could hear her set Dante’s keys on the table in the foyer. “It’s fuckin’ roastin’ out there.”

She rounded the corner into the living room, smiling, one arm around her back. She perched herself on the arm of the couch next to Harry, folding her hands in her lap. “What ha-”

Harry’s eyes were on her paper-towel-wrapped forearm. “You were getting a new tattoo. That makes sense.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yep.”

Dante suddenly threw his head back and laughed. “You two are truly a matched set, aren’t you?”

Jamie made a face. “What?”

Harry blushed and lifted his arm, revealing the very fresh, recently washed tattoo. She gasped and slid into his lap, gently pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt up. “That’s what you were doing this morning!” She studied the angel, fingers just barely not touching the still sensitive skin and smiled.

He nodded.

She looked at him, eyes maybe a little watery. “Baby, it’s an angel… for me?”

He smiled. “Yeah it is.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. Dante made a gagging noise. “I’m going for a run if you’re doing this here.”

She pulled away from Harry. “Bye, hermano querido.”

Dante flicked her off. “Bye, lovebirds.”

He smiled at her. “So you like it, then?”

“I love it.”

He pointed at her arm, pinned awkwardly between them. “Can I see?”

“Don’t tell Freddy I pulled the bandage off early.” She smiled and pulled gingerly at the tape, revealing the lantern in brilliant color etched forever into her skin. The removal of the last bit of tape revealed the small banner at the bottom of the tattoo.

HES

He grinned and kissed her. “For me huh?”

She nodded. “We really are a matched set.”

“Why a lantern, love?”

She grinned. “Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.”

Part IX Up Next: Part XI

[doctor--idiot]

Tell Me Some Bad News

Wincest Writing Challenge: August | @doctor--idiot vs. @caffeinechesters Prompt: Behind Blue Eyes by The Who Rating: Teen | Wordcount: 1094 | AO3 Warnings: None

(I don’t really know if I met the prompt, I just sort of played the song over and over and wrote the first thing that came to my mind.)

“You know, I just thought of somethin’ funny.”

Sam puts down his coffee mug with a clank. “What’s that?”

He is reading the morning newspaper, like he always is these days when Dean enters the kitchen first thing. His glasses are half-way down his nose, never staying put when he tilts his eyes down to read the articles at the bottom.

“Just…” Dean makes a half-hearted gesture with his hand, unsure of where he’s going with this. Sam unglues his gaze from the print and looks up.

Dean scratches his nose, too much scrutiny for him all of a sudden. He pours himself his morning coffee. “I never thought I’d find someone, y’know?”

“Find someone for what?”

“Everything.” Dean shrugs. “Life.”

Sam’s got his head cocked to the side when Dean turns back around to face him. Dean leans back against the counter, tipping his mug to his mouth. The boiling-hot liquid scalds his lips but the smell alone is enough to make him feel more awake and aware.

Sam asks, “How’s that funny?”

Typical Sam question. Dean half-smirks. “That’s not what’s funny. Funny’s who it turned out to be.”

At that Sam suddenly looks down and for a second Dean thinks he’s put his foot in his mouth – again – but once he sits down at the table to join his brother he can see the slight flush that’s appeared in Sam’s cheeks.

His grin widens as Sam looks back up, just in time to roll his eyes at Dean.

“What’s’a matter, Sammy? You gone mute all of a sudden?”

That gets him another, more exaggerated eye-roll. It causes Sam’s glasses to slip again and he pushes them back up with his middle finger, fully aware of the simultaneous bonus of flipping Dean the bird.

“You’re an idiot,” he mutters around a bite of his bagel.

Dean holds up his left hand, wiggles his ring finger with the white-gold band around it. “Sure. But you married this idiot.”

Sam chokes on a crumb before he recovers, takes a sip of his coffee. The pinkish hue around his nose deepens. “Guess I did,” he says, eyes flicking from his plate to Dean, over the rim of his glasses, and back down.

Dean gaze automatically falls to the identically simple band around Sam’s own finger that’s wrapped loosely around the curve of his mug as he’s skimming the paper’s section with the obituaries. A morbid habit and one that seems to dying hard.

Technically, it makes sense to stay up to date with the hunting world, who’s killing whom whatnot, but Dean found it easier to sever with it completely after his knee injury put him out of commission once and for all ten years ago.

Some days it feels like it’s been forever, every ache and pain making itself known and reminding him brutally that his time is slowly ticking away, just like everyone else’s – no more Superman delusions for you, Winchester. And some days, days like today where he’s sitting opposite his brother who’s still just as beautiful as he was ten, fifteen, hell, twenty years ago, and they’ve both had a good night’s sleep and a glorious round of slow morning sex, it seems like it’s been no time at all.

“Something on your mind?” Sam asks him but he sounds somewhat distracted.

Dean makes a negating humming sound. “Thinkin’ about way back. When I got hurt.” Saying it comes easier now.

Sam looks up then, instantly more aware. “Your leg giving you trouble?”

Dean shakes his head, barely feeling a twinge. There was a time where the pain from his knee was mostly psychosomatic, paired with the despair over what he understood himself to be and the knowledge of what he would no longer be. A hunter.

I really thought we’d be in this until we die, y’know, for good, he said to Sam back then, more than a little bitter. He remembers the anger – the grief stage most prominent in his mind still. He raged and ruined but no wrath in the world was able to sway Sam in one direction – letting Dean hunt anyway – or the other – hunting alone or with a different partner – and eventually, he accepted.

Looking back now, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, even if anything more than a limping walk is and forever will be out of question. And looking at Sam, the graying hair at his temple, and their matching rings, it was accompanied by something that might just have been worth getting hurt for.

“No,” he says belatedly, instinctively reaching down to rub his kneecap, “I’s just thinkin’ that one of the best things came outta one of the worst. Guess ’s kinda how it goes, huh?”

Sam smiles lopsidedly. He folds the paper and shoves it aside, then rises from the table to put this empty plate and mug in the sink and rinse them.

Dean leans back in his chair, reveling in his own rare elated morning mood, as he waits for Sam to sit back down. He always does when Dean hasn’t finished with breakfast yet and it’s one of those endearing gestures that Dean barely had time to notice back when their lives were much more eventful. He’s gotten used to – and grown to like – uneventful.

He says, “I was an idiot for thinkin’ I could ever find someone else,” realizing immediately how that could be taken the wrong way, “I mean, it should’a been clear to me right from the beginning that there would never be anyone other than you.”

Sam is staring at him and Dean has to fight the urge to fidget. He isn’t sure why he’s saying all this now and at all but he can’t seem to stop the words once they’ve formed in his head.

“All–” He clears his throat. “I guess all I’m sayin’ is that I’m sorry it took me so long to buy a clue.”

Sam stays silent, neither making fun of him nor berating him on how it’s been ten years and it’s a moot point – both of which would be preferable to Dean because it’s safer ground. He steels himself for something sappy like a thank-you or, god forbid, one of those confessions of love that Sam is so fond of.

Finally, Sam says, “Are you gonna have breakfast or do you plan on sitting here all day?”

Dean exhales, hiding his relief behind his coffee mug, as he watches the corner of Sam’s mouth curl in amusement.

Tags: @cupcaketimelord @ghivasheluh @runtosleepdreamer @princessmoonspunky @moonlightrat @jem-carstairs-is-perfection

[buttercreamroyalty]

Conor imagine; the reader is a famous actress and Conor has to do a interview wiv her or something. And he finds her extremely attractive, tho he's to shy to ask her on a date. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Since you could remember, you always managed to be the center of attention without you realizing, maybe it was your warm aura that brought everyone's eyes on you, at first getting all that kind of attention was a little weird but given the fact you had many different talents you guessed it was something common. It was a surprise to no one when you became a singer once you auditioned in America's Got Talent, you sang "Mamma Knows Best" by "Jessie J" and the judges were so impressed by your performance that Simon Cowell himself pressed the golden button. A year and a half later you had also expanded your labor opportunities by try acting, it was rather challenging at first but with the help of your cast mates you could do an amazing performance when doing your character. You were the main female character in the movie that was an adaptation to the book series "Crewel" and your character's name was Adeline Lewys. But even though your career was really successful in the acting field you and your manager agreed that you needed to focus on singing since the filming had been over a few months ago. Now you were working on your newest project and EP called "Red" and for a song your manager had booked you a collaboration with another independent singer called Conor Maynard, turns out he was a Youtuber that made his way to the top. It was something you definitely respected that, and being honest his music was actually great, he hadn't got an album since 2012 but the singles he came out with were amazing in your personal opinion. You were off to the studio located on California where your manager had told you Conor was already waiting for you, it wasn't as far as you thought it would be, still you couldn't help but feel nervous as you entered the place. Theoretically you were still new in this music industry, but he had been used to this kind of things for the last 5 years, nevertheless you tried to stay positive as you entered the place pushing the cristal door aside. Michael, the guy that did the cords arrangements was the first one to notice you, smiling in your direction as he greeted you by pulling you into his embrace, behind him was Conor Maynard. So when the both of you pulled away, Michael introduced you "Conor this is Y/N, Y/N this is Conor" he said as you took your hand in his greeting him with one of your typical smiles. As most had imagined it would be, Conor was drawn to you, even with that simple handshake and warm smile, you had still managed to wake up his curiosity. "Nice to meet you" you replied kindly. Your voice was almost like a song itself, the soft tone of it, grabbed around a faint hint of sweetness nor innocence.. he wasn't sure what it was yet, but god were you beautiful. The funny thing was that it wasn't your physical appearance which he thought was actually beautiful, but what he could see about your personality. You seemed so fragile and yet strong, and that obvious sweet treatment you had towards people reflected in how people always seemed to welcome you with open arms, just like now. "Ready to make some music?" Conor asked and you nodded, he smiled as he opened the door for you, of course you thanked him before entering the room. There were two microphones on top of your heads, the obvious headphones along with the sheet music, Michael had instructed that you weren't using the headphones since you already knew the beats. "Dammit, I can't cover my Dumbo ears then?" He whined making you scoff and Michael laugh "No, Conor, you cannot" he chuckled "I guess my forehead will do" he shrugged making you laugh inevitably "Your mole could do the trick too" you winked making him arch a brow thoughtful "Now that I think about it, I guess my whole face makes you forget the familiar size ears, thanks mom and dad" this time you couldn't help but laugh louder, you didn't actually knew why, since it wasn't actually that funny but maybe it was the mixture of your nervousness with Conor's eloquence. There was this point were you started to blush as you laughed and the tone of your laugh had died off since the air on your lungs was running off, and every time you tried to stop yourself from laughing, your eyes found Conor's and you laughed again. Conor found your situation quite fun so he chuckled at your reaction to his stupid jokes "Okay, okay, that's enough" you huffed trying to get as much air in your lungs as you could trying to make the ache in your stomach disappear. Finally the beat started and so did your singing. Late night, drivin', thinkin', where are we going? Don't doubt, don't ask Go fast, headed straight for the past My house, my room, too soon, what are we doing? Why does this feel so good? It was time for the pre-chorus which meant Conor entrace. Dim the light, close your eyes Here again to test the water Always fight what we find But we search a little longer The the chorus both of you harmonized and sang that part together but the bridges and were Conor's, then again the other verse would be sang by the both of you, Conor's ease to get into the song was quite intriguing in your opinion. He was easily driven by the lyrics as if he had already lived this in his own flesh, the little dance moves and hand manners he did while singing were just as if his body and soul were connected to everything that the song involved. The chorus that popped in your ears, the beat, everything. There's no truth we're second guessing There's no use in not confessing Never right, but tonight Think we might be getting warmer (Get on, we can keep it on the low) (Get off, we can keep it on the low) (Get on, we can keep it on the low) (Get off, we can keep it on the low) Heartbeat's racin', tracin' what it's been craving I can't help but want it, don't know how to admit No right time or place to open my mouth and say Why does this feel so good? After that session Conor was mesmerized by you in every way, he wanted to ask you out but didn't actually got the courage to do so until you were finally all alone in the elevator "Hey, Y/N?" He said scratching the back of his neck, you hummed questioningly as your eyes timidly found his "I hope this isn't too weird or anything but, would you like to go out sometime?" For a few seconds you only blinked, processing his invitation until your eyes glittered complementing the soft smile that appeared from the corners of your mouth. "I'll love that" you ensured making the blue eyed boy feel a little bit more confident. The soft ringing of the elevator brought you back to reality, both of you stepping aside but still walking close "Here, have my number" you said grabbing a pen from your bag and writing your phone number down in his arm carefully. When you left Conor was still dumbfounded, he couldn't believe it was actually that easy and also that you had agreed to going out with him, but you had, and he couldn't be happier.