#was happily surprised with Better Life a couple songs into my shuffle

[fanfic-inator795]

Literally me this morning (still feeling pretty tired/dealing with a random low mood, but music from one of my current hyperfixations certainly helps)

[stayfortwominutes]

💭 reaction | lee know & changbin (part one)

prompt; "what do you need?" "... a kiss"

disclaimers; written in second person perspective, very amateur descriptions of kissing, no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing; SKZ members x gender neutral reader

content; fluff, comfort, slightly suggestive*, established relationships | total word count; 1.1 k

related; part two ー hyunjin & seungmin

member; lee know (minho) | wc. 490+

a spirit of festivity kindled to life as the delightful aroma of cinnamon, ginger and honey wafted through the kitchen of your cosy apartment. basking in the serenity of each other’s presence was the perfect way to spend your weekend after a stressful week at your work.

perched upon the counter, you read the recipe as minho precisely measured each portion of flour, butter, sugar, and the necessary spices. he asked you to help combine the dry ingredients, knowing the mindless task would help reduce your mind’s unyielding chatter, diverting your attention to the task at hand. minho had developed a wondrous sixth sense about you, pinpointing the precise moments when you were need of respite before you would ever admit it.

as the two of you shaped the biscuits, you conversed through your respective weeks: you were inundated with more work than you were being paid for, whilst minho delved into details from his new dance routines and funny stories between him and the boys.

carefully placing the tray into the oven, minho took to cleaning the dishes. he insisted on an impromptu karaoke session, which you happily obliged, using a spare spatula as a makeshift microphone, and spontaneously pointing it in his direction as you rearranged your favourite songs into a couple’s duet. the sounds of laughter, music and the hint of spices danced in the air to create a blissfully domestic atmosphere that deliquesced your week’s worries.

ding.

the oven timer signalling its end snaps the two of you from your blithe bubble.

“oh, i forgot the most important thing…” minho muses aloud.

“what do you need?” you move to shuffle yourself off the counter, but minho is quick to hinder your path. he stands in between your knees, hands resting on the marble surface below, at either side of your thighs.

“…a kiss,” he breathes, before interlocking his lips with yours.

his hands come up, one placed behind your neck, and the other finding itself comfortably in the small of your back under your shirt.

the kiss begins slowly, the initial contact feathery, as he takes in your surprise. you immediately melt into his touch, your hands encircle his waist, pulling him closer and pressing your chest to his. you sigh in euphoria, and minho tenderly captures your lips again with his. his warm hands lovingly draw soothing patterns against your skin.

you reluctantly let minho pull back. he rests his forehead against yours.

“love, that's my secret ingredient,” he whispers. his plump reddened lips forming into a coy smile.

“i better take the biscuits out to rest.” the tips of minho's ears flushed red as splashes of pink burnt your cheeks.

now invested in minho’s mischief, you hook a finger in his collar to lure him back into your hold.

“forget the biscuits,” you mutter against his lips, feeling him smile into the kiss.

the two of you were soon lost indulging in the sweet, decadent taste of one another.

member; changbin | wc. 620+

you sit on your couch, observing your boyfriend as he paces back and forth, up the hall and then down to the entryway.

“i didn’t want to be alone today,” changbin whines. his gym session was cut vexingly short after chan and han had been summoned back to the company for a last-minute schedule. although not entirely a fan of exercising yourself, you sympathise and endeavour to offer him some motivation.

“how about we do some exercise together? you can do some sit-ups and i’ll hold onto your legs!” you chirp, conjuring up a cheeky method to motive him. he steadfastly moves the coffee table to the side of the room, and rolls out a thick, cushioned yoga mat.

“won’t be a moment!” you call, sauntering to the bedroom, to don a sweatband, before quickly slathering on a generous layer of changbin’s favourite lip balm: strawberry.

you briskly return and settle yourself with him on the mat in the centre of your living room floor.

“alright,” you begin, lacing your arms together underneath his calves, “before we start, i need you to do something for me.”

“what do you need?” he queries with slight perplexity.

“a kiss.”

“for every five sit ups, i’ll grant one kiss.” the apples of your cheeks round proudly. changbin holds your gaze, as the edges of his mouth begin to turn upwards in favour of your proposition, his demeanour brightening.

“deal!” he exclaims with refound vigour.

the kisses are simple, soft pecks. changbin was still engrossed in fulfilling his quotidian routine, but once he grazed your bottom lip, and recognised the familiar strawberry balm, his mind short circuited.

the next couple of kisses, he grew impatient, hastily pulling up and leaning even impossibly closer to you; lingering to enjoy a moment’s longer taste. you ease back, swatting kittenishly at a rogue hand that comes to cup your cheek.

“play nice,” you facetiously scold.

several more sets of sit-ups pass by, and changbin sheepishly obeys, his lips practically ghosting over yours.

you became crescively enamoured by the scene before you. changbin’s biceps flexed in complete glory as he continued his routine. the plump, porcelain skin an inviting site for just one small bite.

you plunge forward as he comes up; a resounding yelp emits from him. his arms no longer bent at the sides of his head, as he rubs at the glistening, red-tinged indent of your teeth that imprint just below his shoulder.

“what did you just do?” changbin stares back at you, a look of disbelief growing on his face as his mouth hangs agape and his brows start to furrow.

you stumble back, stifling a chuckle of satisfaction. “they looked so biteable.”

“you’ve got biteable biceps, baby.” you croon nonsensically.

“mmm, yummy." you hold your hands up in front of you as you curl your fingers in to mimic claws. a deviously glint twinkles in your eyes.

changbin reciprocates your sprightly behaviour, and nimbly tackles you down onto the mat. his fingers tickling mercilessly at the sides of your torso causing you to writhe underneath him in a fit of giggles. with his elated mood, he peppers kisses from your temples to your cheeks, and along your jaw.

then, a light bulb switches on in his mind, and he halts. continuing to hover over you, the look in his eyes slightly darkens; he licks his lip in a sultry manner.

with a few swift moves, changbin effortlessly hoists you up from the mat, into his arms, and walks the two of you in the direction of your bedroom. a smirk mysteriously graces his features. you study his face, your wide eyes brimming with anticipation.

“it’s time i get a proper reward for all my hard work.”  

consider reading more: masterlist

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა note; as per the poll, i wrote this in second person, and i hope there was enough variation between each member's storyline that it wasn't repetitive! the prompt list i stumbled upon sparked a bunch of different ideas but i couldn't confidently write for all members so i chose the "best" ideas out of all eight that i roughly plotted. as usual, please enjoy, and reblog if you liked it, thank you 💖 please check out the original post from @/scealaiscoite for the prompt! © stayfortwominutes ; september 02, 2023.

[aiiwa]

BEAUTIFUL IN BLUE — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff / smut

⤷ warnings: cursing, mature content and themes. smut: fingering (vaginal and anal), unprotected sex. kind of proof read but if you see a typo...no you didn’t.

⤷ word count: 6.4k

— a/n: set in the “FRESHMAN YEAR” universe, and is a continuation of “PRETTY IN PINK” - which i suggest reading before this. for those who wanted some real action after pretty in pink, this is for you <3.

a couple of weeks had passed since the incident. at least that’s what you had been addressing the day you had sent photos of you modelling your new lingerie to iwa, as. things had seemingly returned back to normal, photo unmentioned, and still your steady friendship continued with the oblivious brunette.

and now november had announced its arrival, with your boots beginning to disappear under crunchy oceans of cherry, merigold and bronze, and the potent, musky-sweet smell of browning leaves swirling around the air. it was the tell tale sign that fall was well and truly here, and what better of a time to drive out of town for the day, and celebrate momijigari.

at least that’s what you had told yourself before, what was meant to be a two hour drive, turned into over three hours spent in a car with the oversized toddlers know as your best friends.

“i’m hungry~!” whined toddler number one from behind you.

mattsun outstretched his long arms, reaching around the passenger seat you sat in, in an attempt to steal more of your snacks. you had made sure everyone knew to bring their own food and water, double- no, triple checked everyone was on the same page. but of course it was no surprise that mattsun was the only one to turn up empty handed. so when his grabby hands slapped against your cheeks for the nth time, you angled your face and snapped your jaw right on his thumb.

mattsun shrieks, jolting back away from you. “fucking hell, y/n!”

twisting around in your seat, you smirk, watching as he checked over the distinct bite mark on his red thumb.

“ha, serves you right.” pipes the figure slouched next to mattsun in the back seat. “ugh i need to take a leak.”

the peach-haired, number two toddler was none other than makki. he’d woken up cranky that morning, and it only seemed to worsen when he’d been shoved into the back with the chatty mattsun. within the first ten minutes he had tried to suffocate the latter with his pillow, and when that didn’t work, he took to blasting music in his headphones and facing himself towards the window for majority of the ride. only engaging with everyone when you began snacking, and he had decided to drink all of his juice just to spite mattsun.

“oi, iwa! control your gremlin!”

“shut up.”

“no, you shut up! you didn’t even want to share your juice with me!”

“i will literally piss on you right now.”

losing interest in the bickering duo behind you, your attention diverted to the third, brooding toddler beside you in the driver’s seat. you had spent majority of the drive admiring the way iwa handled himself behind the wheel; the flex of his arms under the fitted cotton of his blue long sleeve as he turned the wheel, and how the pads of his long fingers would tap against the worn leather to the beat of whatever tune began playing on shuffle. yet out of everything, it was when iwa took to mumbling the lyrics of whichever cheesy love song you were belting out to, that you found yourself falling even deeper into the pit of your affections for him.

throughout the drive, iwa had mostly managed to ignore the others’ antics - with your intervention of course. but with how tight his grip on the steering wheel had become from the squabbling in the backseat, and the dark look brewing under his cap; it was clear how close he was to losing his cool.

extending your arm out in front of him, you offer the hershey bar in your hand, brushing it against the pout of his bottom lip. iwa’s olive eyes glance questioningly at you from the side, to which you only offer a small grin.

“take a bite.” you order. the, ‘you look like you need it,’ is silent, but obvious in the way you prod the treat at his closed mouth.

“mmph-”

his eyes returned to the road before him as he parted his lips, pink tongue making a brief appearance before he took a small bite of your chocolate. you attempt to retract your arm, until iwa moves one hand to grab your wrist; bringing you back to him to take a bigger bite of the sweet, thumb rubbing against the inner side of your palm.

the corner of his mouth tugs upwards, as he mumbles a small, “thank you.”

heat floods your cheeks, and you catch yourself before you drop the chocolate on his lap. distracted by the deafening beat of your heart pounding in your ears, you don’t notice the silence that fills the car, or the not-so subtle click of mattsun snapping a photo of the two of you in the front and sending it to the group chat. you’re pulled out of your slight trance, by a flash of peach entering your field of view.

“that was disgusting...ly sweet. and now i suddenly need to puke, so hurry it up would you.”

as makki leans back, mattsun is quick to replace him, popping his head between you and iwa.

“don’t just ignore me, y/n, feed me chocolate too!”

rolling your eyes, you shove the bar in his mouth; the rest of you three laugh as he falls back into his seat, all the while he happily munches on the treat.

a little time passes before iwa’s flicking his indicator, signalling his turn into the free parking space outside the nature reserve. he shifts the gear into park before everyone piles out - makki walking over to wrap his thick, fossil grey scarf around your neck, the cashmere soft against your skin; while mattsun offers to carry your little backpack, only sending you a sly smile when you question his reasoning for taking the bag from you. you hug iwa’s offered arm to your chest, as the four of you start trekking along the uneven pathways leading towards lake kawaguchi. the walk isn’t necessarily long, but none of you are in a rush - strolling leisurely and enjoying the atmosphere.

and when you finally reach the end of your walk, you still yourself, awestruck by the beauty surrounding you. the glassy lake shimmering under the afternoon rays, crisp maple leaves painted red, swaying to the breezy flow of the cool wind, and the tinkling laughter from young children running about on the golden fields - filled your chest with warmth.

“it’s so beautiful here.”

your voice comes out as a whisper for only iwa’s ears to hear; with makki off to relieve himself and mattsun trailing after him, acting as if you didn’t see him rummaging through your snacks. iwa only hums in agreement, missing the way he hasn’t even acknowledged the view, his gaze set solely on you.

this is what the tradition of momijigari meant; taking time away from your busy schedule to spend a moment to enjoy this small piece of life. and of course, capturing the moment with some of your favourite people on camera. so when you busied yourself with taking photos with the towering men, it really shouldn’t have surprised you when your phone began to buzz with an incoming facetime call.

sliding your thumb across the screen to answer the call, you’re greeted by the sight of oikawa’s toothy grin; illuminated by a bright light you knew had to be artificial, since it was nearing two a.m. in argentina.

“yahoo, y/n-chan! you didn’t think i’d miss out on a photoshoot did you? i already missed out on you feeding me chocolate!” you shoot an embarrassed glanced at iwa, noticing the slight furrow between his brows and the faint dust of pink across his cheeks.

“photoshoot…?” a confused makki mumbles behind you.

mattsun leans over your shoulder, shoving his face in the camera. “oi, isn’t it late for you?”

you raise a single shaped brow as oikawa scoffs, brushing his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. “the pretty face of this group has finally blessed you, and that’s all you have to say?” mattsun scrunches his face in offence, as oikawa continues. “besides, i may be in a different country but i refuse to miss out!”

and it was because of his soft pout that you found yourself posing with your phone by your face, making sure to catch oikawa’s best angles; having long given up on questioning the setter and his antics. the so-called photoshoot came to an abrupt end later on when a tired and cranky oikawa yawned, apparently ruining another photo according to him, and iwa’s finger just so happened to slip and disconnect the video call.

“he’s stubborn.” was all he had said when you, makki and mattsun side eyed him. “we should head back home before it gets late.”

the drive back to tokyo seemed relatively faster than the journey to fujikawaguchiko. it was as if your body went into autopilot as you sat behind the wheel, this time taking responsibility as the driver while the boys napped; only coming to when you were parking iwa’s truck into their apartment’s parking lot, moments after the sun had set.

it was a silent and unanimous decision to order take out for dinner, the four of you seated around the black walnut dining table to dig in. meal times with the boys were hectic, and competitive for the most part - it was survival of the fittest. you were often being challenged by mattsun - tonight having lost the last few gyoza to him.

though it became obvious who the real loser was when mattsun flopped his head onto your lap, while you were lounging out on the settee.

“y/n~” mattsun drawled out. “rub my belly, it hurts!”

“no.”

“please, y/n~! my one and only best friend, the moon to my stars, the curry to my rice-”

he releases a satisfied sigh once you reach a hand out to press your palm against his stomach, rubbing soothing circles to stop his whining; and you catch makki roll his beady eyes at the two of you, as he flicks through suggested films to watch on netflix. iwa strolls into the living room, pillows and a comforter stacked in his arms; laying them neatly on the couch he shares with you on movie nights.

“oh, iwa, could you send me the photos please?” he nods his head once, barely glancing over at you and mattsun; pulling out his phone and dropping himself unceremoniously across the adjacent sofa. “thank you.” you call out once your phone pings with several notifications.

still rubbing mattsun’s stomach, your free hand casually scrolls through the pictures from today.

you snicker to yourself at the first series of chaotic images. a selfie with smushed faces pressed together and a phone-sized oikawa tucked right under your jaw, a blurry pic of the boys throwing vermillion leaves at each other, and even a timed snapshot where you, mattsun and makki had leapt on iwa’s back - your legs wrapped around his torso, while makki squished you from behind, and mattsun had flopped himself on top of the pile. there was even a shot of the aftermath, your phone and oikawa somehow surviving the tumble, and a deadpanned iwa staring straight at the camera as the three of you behind him cackled with your heads thrown back.

at least a few wholesome pictures had been captured. a sweet group photo with all of you huddled by each other in front of a vibrant maple tree; you and iwa were flanked by mattsun and makki respectively, as oikawa was held between you and iwa like a prized trophy. even a rare moment where makki and mattsun had their arms hooked around each other, with easy going grins on both of their faces, had been caught.

butterflies erupted in your tummy, fluttering about once you swiped to the next photo. it was a candid shot of you and iwa standing by the brilliant blue lake front. you were leaning into his side, holding two leaves at the top of your head to mimic cat ears, face tilted upwards. giggling, your eyes were shut, and only now can you see that you missed the soft smile iwa donned looking down at you.

it was almost painful to admit that together you looked like a couple, and it didn’t help that most times you even acted as such. sneaking a glance at the man in question, you watch him chatting quietly to makki, gripping your phone tightly in your grasp at the sound of him laughing at whatever snide comment escaped your peach-haired friend. you couldn’t help but sigh, being in love with one of your best friends only got harder each day.

unknowingly you had already swiped to the last photo iwa had sent, so when you return your gaze the screen, you shriek; dropping your phone flat on mattsun’s face.

“um, what the fuck, ow.”

iwa’s sharp eyes shoot towards you instantly. “what’s wrong?”

you only shake your head, warmth filling your cheeks and an itch you just can’t scratch prickling under your skin. makki only shrugs, shifting his attention back to the television. iwa is more hesitant, the feeling of his olive eyes giving you a once over does nothing to calm your nerves from being sent into overdrive. when he finally turns away, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“ugh, what even had you going even more crazy than usual all of a sudden?” mattsun groans from your lap. as he reaches to lift your phone off of his face, you’re quick to snatch the device away.

“n-nothing!” he only raises a thick brow at your defensive tone, before grabbing your hand to continue your ministrations.

glancing around the room, you pull the screen close to your face; taking in the photo, you felt your mouth run dry. 

there was no way this could have been sent to you on purpose - because the sight of a shirtless iwa at his second home, the gym, was definitely not taken at lake kawaguchi. anyone with eyes could tell how ripped iwa was under his fitted shirts. but over the past few months you had noticed that he’d run off to the gym more often; and it was obvious in the way his clothes struggled to stretch over his bulked up build these days.

it was a mid work out, mirror selfie; iwa’s dark, mocha coloured hair plastered to his forehead, bare chest glistening from the sweat dripping down from his neck. he was seated on the rubber floor, one long, tanned leg stretched out in front of him with the other bent at the knee, elbow resting loosely against his leg. your eyes greedily took in the defined dips of his toned stomach, dark snail trail leading downwards to the evident bulge of his grey shorts; the hem cutting into the flexed muscles of his thighs.

the heat pooling between your thighs as your imagination ran wild was just about to peak when-

“oi, y/n.” you almost jump, locking your screen, and blinking away the dazed look in your eyes. when your vision cleared, you found makki standing in front of you. “we’re gonna watch the movie now.”

“oh, right.”

mattsun rolls off your lap with a groan, complaining to makki about who is gonna rub his belly now, while you stand up. shuffling over to iwa, he stretches before shifting and making room for you to squeeze in next to him.

“c’mere.” he mumbles, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side.

the beat of your pounding heart is almost deafening in your ears, you’re near to hyperventilating, as your mind is sent into overdrive. the two of you were always cuddling platonically during movies, ever since the one time you had complained about being cold in their apartment. but this time was different. ‘is this how he felt when you had sent a picture of your new lingerie?’ you think to yourself. you spend the next hour deep in your thoughts, completely lost to whatever is happening in the sci-fi film makki had chosen, and when the end credits start rolling on the screen - iwa announces he’ll drop you off back to your dorm.

it’s close to midnight; so makki wishes you a goodnight, as a sleepy mattsun rests against his shoulder, making grabby hands for you not to go. you wave as you leave, following after iwa who opens the passenger side door of his truck, helping you jump up into the seat, before closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side.

your dorm isn’t too far from their apartment complex, so you’re not surprised at how quick the ride is. the street is unusually busy, yet completely void of any roaming students. and with no private parking for students, iwa’s forced to pull up near a secluded cluster of tall trees, a bit away from the dorm entrance.

“i’ll walk you in.” iwa says, leaving no room for argument. he reaches for his phone, as a message flashes across his screen. “oh, oikawa asked why you’ve been ignoring his messages.”

“huh?” you flip your own phone in your hand, watching as the facial recognition unlocks and suddenly iwa’s gym selfie is on full display for the both of you. it takes a moment for you to process the situation, and all you can manage is a simple, “oh,” as you resist the urge to fling your phone out of the window.

“nice photo.” iwa pipes up, you don’t even try to look at him, but the smirk in his tone is evident. “where’d you get it?”

his question throws you off, and you’re quick to turn your head to narrow your eyes at him. “what do you mean? iwa, you literally sent it to me?!”

“really? shit i must have done it by accident.”

“an accident?”

“yeah, like what you did to me. remember?”

you gasp, moving back almost as if you’ve been struck, while iwa simply laughs at your expression. a full on belly laugh that has him throwing his head back, illuminated by the glow emitting through his open moon roof. you should’ve been dwelling in the embarrassment that came with him turning your own words back on you - yet you found your own laughter mixing in with his. only when both of you had calmed down a bit, did an electrified silence fill the car.

fiddling with your phone in your lap, the strands of hair curtaining the sides of your face, is brushed aside and tucked behind the cuff of your ear. glancing at iwa, the corner of his mouth is pulled up into a fond smile as his thumb caresses the shell of your ear.

“sorry for teasing you, pretty lady. couldn’t help myself after you sent me that picture looking all pretty in pink.”

“i…” words escape you as his large hand trails down the side of your cheek. you’re suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to do something - it’s almost at the tip of your tongue, before you grab at his wrist and whisper a, “fuck it.”

leaning over the middle, you reach a hand to hold the back of his head as your lips press against his own. lips even softer than they appeared, the lingering taste of his wild cherry lip balm, the same one you owned, tasted sweeter than you remembered. after a moment, of the kiss not being reciprocated, you pull back.

“just had to do it once.” you murmur, lips still tingling.

iwa’s minty breath fans across your face as he releases an airy sigh. “then let’s do it a second time.”

this time his hand wraps loosely around your neck, pulling you towards him, and slanting his mouth over yours. you moan into the kiss as his tongue darts out to tease your lower lip. leaning into him, you almost keel forward as this time he pulls away. slightly breathless, you open your eyes to take in the barely restrained lust and adoration in his handsome features, mimicking you’re own.

“third time’s a charm, right?”

the devilish grin iwa gives you in response to your innocently posed question, has you climbing over the centre console. at the same time he’s rolling the chair back away from the leather steering wheel, making space for you to slide onto his lap and straddle him. molding your lips to his, the feeling of your tongue exploring his mouth and you grinding into him slowly; has him release a hiss as his hands grab at the fullness of your ass.

tugging at his collar, your words are muffled against his mouth. “take this off, now.”

he chuckles at your demand, pulling the hem of his shirt past the bulk of his shoulders and over his head - blindly throwing it to the backseat. you drag your eyes over the sight of his broad chest, taking in every delicious dip of his stomach; leaning forward, your tongue licks a tentative stripe along his neck, that has iwa’s breath hitch before peppering wet kisses along his skin. your hands roam around his toned body, while his own larger ones slide under your top; a searing hot trail following his exploration of your body. he draws small circles at your hips, leading up to hold your waist and bring your even closer against him.

“your turn, baby.” he whispers to you, fisting the bottom half of your top. “be fair to me, i wanna see more of you.”

sitting up straight in his lap, you slip the thin top over your head; following his suit in flinging it to the backseat. your hair brushed past your bare shoulders, exposed skin feeling the chill of the autumn night; but the look in iwa’s olive eyes, irradiated by the moonlight streaming in from the uncovered moonroof, was scorching hot. rough palms, flat against your smooth skin, slid over your tummy, teasing the sheer mesh of your bra, before playing with the baby blue ribbons on the straps.

“y/n.” iwa groans out, tracing the floral stitching and feeling the hardened nubs of your nipples under the fabric. with the moon haloing behind you, the way he stares up at you is so raw and intense, it has you frozen in anticipation. “you look so fucking beautiful in blue.”

he doesn’t wait for your response as he reaches behind you to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts from its confines. iwa’s quick to take a pebbled nub into his hot mouth, suckling as his fingers tweak the other. your fingers thread through his dark locks, when he moves and switches his focus; a lewd string of saliva dragging from your nipple to his pink tongue. stuttered grinding from his mouth distracting you, had you reaching a hand between each other to palm his erection - wanting to ease some of the tension. but iwa’s quick to snatch your hand away.

“iwa...let me touch you?”

releasing you from his mouth, he kisses the pout from your lips. “no, baby, don’t worry about me.”

“why not?” you whine.

“i wanna make you feel real good, gotta prep you for me first. is that okay with you, baby?” he only smiles softly as you start to relax against him. “i need to know if you’re okay with this. care about you so much, i just want you to be comfortable. let me know if you wanna stop right now.”

“no, h-haji...please, i don’t want to stop. i want you so bad. i need you, ah-”

your consent was all he needed before he pulls you back into him, kissing you so slow you feel dizzy; his hands travel low on your body, working the button of your jeans, as your fingers dig into his shoulders. when he breaks away from you, he helps you slip out of the dark denim, tugging each pant leg off until all you wearing is the stringy, baby blue panties that leaves little to the imagination.

“fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” iwa groans out, rubbing a hand across his face as you giggle lightly. while you hover over him, he quickly strips off his pants, kicking them off onto the floor before grabbing onto your hips. “flip around on me, baby. that’s right, face the front.”

settling down onto his lap, the thin cotton of his briefs does nothing to hide the print of his hard-on he’s sporting underneath. and with your back pressed to his warm chest, you roll your hips teasingly into him.

“come on, haji...let me help you.” you huff, continuing to grind against him.

“oi, cut it out.”

his grip on your hips tighten in warning, and you gasp as he manhandles you easily. shifting you around so that the heel of your left foot digs into his thigh, the other secured at the edge of the leather wheel; he has your legs wide open. before you can even think about any stragglers catching you so vulnerable; iwa hooks his arm under your thigh, pads of his fingers brushing over your clothed pussy.

“haaaa~” you breathe out, hips jerking into his touch.

“fuck baby, your panties are soaked.” he continues to tease you over the drenched crotch of your panties. iwa rubs lazy circles, casually sliding under the material to play with your silk folds. his touches have you yearning for more, as you feel yourself slowly going insane as he starts to coat his fingers in your slick.

“mmm...touch me, haji...properly.”

wriggling around in his embrace, you keen once he pulls his hand away from you; holding his fingers before you, showing off how they glisten so prettily in under the moon. and then you watch over your shoulder as he leads his hand to his mouth, and licks his fingers clean.

“you taste so fucking sweet.” he’s quick to bring his fingers back to your drooling pussy, coating his fingers once again, but this time bringing them to your own lips. “here, have a taste for yourself.”

opening your mouth, iwa wastes no time pressing his long digits flat against your tongue. sucking on his fingers, you savour the saccharine essence of your pussy; moaning at your own flavour sending your tastebuds into overdrive. iwa hums, heated gaze taking in the way you take his fingers in your mouth; he slowly pulls them back out with a pop - smiling softly at the way you stare at him, all wide-eyed and wanton.

“should we get you out of these messy panties now, baby?”

at your eager nods, iwa presses a kiss to your shoulder as he has you lift your hips up; slipping your soaked panties off, and placing them on the passenger seat side the two of you. sitting you back down against him, he hooks both arms around the undersides of your thighs, grabbing at your soft flesh and spreading you wide open for him. you whimper when a big hand cups your sex, rough palm brushing against your throbbing clit.

“shh.” iwa coos, entranced with how you’re rolling your hips to grind against his hand. “i got you.”

he presses his thumb against your clit, circling the sensitive bud peaking past your puffy lips; as his middle finger teases your slit. slowly he pushes his finger inside you, a heavy, relieved moan escapes your throat, as he easily slides in and out of you. through heavy lidded eyes you watch as fog clouds the windows of iwa’s truck, the glass steamy; while perspiration collects between your bodies. you’re brought back to focus on iwa, when he teases a second finger against your slit, dipping inside you and stretching you out even more. hissing, you clench around him; the lewd squelches as he fucks you with his thick fingers, has you digging your heels into his thigh and the steering wheel.

the way iwa’s fingers reaches deeper inside than you could ever on your own, and the added stimulation to your clit, has the tightening coil in your belly snap as you cum all over his hand.

“oh baby, feels good doesn’t it?”

“yeshhh...h-haji, mmph-”

he doesn’t stop pumping you with his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm to the end. even when you feel the high descend, twitching at the slight overstim, you expect him to stop. but all he does is bury his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin as the hand not occupied with your pussy, fondles your ass. you lean into him, mewling at his touches when your breath hitches at a new sensation.

“haji, no! it’s dirty!”

the hand at your ass had moved to pet at your puckered hole - completely drenched in your cum, he was sure he could slide a single finger in with ease. and he was right. the feeling of your tight hole being prodded, stretched by the tip of his forefinger, before sucking the entire digit inside - had you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“f-ah-uck! oh shit, nghhh!”

“you gonna cum again for me, baby?”

the feeling of both your ass and pussy being stuffed full of iwa’s fingers is overwhelming. you’re a panting and moaning mess, writhing on top of him. and when the back of your head is thrown back into iwa’s shoulder, all you can see is hazy stars in the sky as you stare up, completely intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers moving inside you - brushing against the thin barrier of skin between your two holes. the familiar pressure in your tummy has you bucking your hips and crying out.

“you’re squeezing my fingers so tight.” he maintains the same steady pace, fucking his fingers into you nice and deep, while working your sensitive clit. its only a few seconds later he hits a particular spot that has you jolting forward, crying out at your sudden release. “shit, that’s right, i can feel you cumming all over my hands again, baby.”

you can barely think straight as your body trembles from the aftershocks of your second orgasm. still in a daze, iwa eases his fingers out of your twitching holes, and you groan at the empty feeling.

“you okay?” iwa asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. you nod, chest heaving as you attempt to steady your breathing. “you think you can cum one more time from my fingers-”

“no!” you grab at his wrists when he moves to play with you again. “i need you inside me, haji. please.”

whatever calm iwa had possessed while pleasuring you had vanished at your words. sticky hands lifted you up by your waist, turning you around to straddle him - while he slightly lowered the back of his seat. lip locked, your hands find themselves wrapped around the nape of his neck, while iwa’s hands grab at your body - stilling your wriggling form as he grinds up into you.

without breaking the kiss, you reach down and ease your fingers under the elastic waistband of his briefs; hand brushing against the tip of iwa’s cock. that earns you a muffled groan as he allows you to hover over him and slide the boxer briefs down his muscled thighs. your mouth salivates at the sight of his cock slapping against his toned stomach. he was easily the biggest you’d ever seen, with a thick vein on the underside, and a red, angry tip leaking pre-cum.

“fuck, you’re so big haji.”

he hisses when your hand touches him, you can barely wrap your fingers around him; and you start to question if he could even fit inside you. iwa notices the slight hesitation in your movements.

“we don’t have to.” he reassures, brushing the hair out of your lust filled eyes. “i can play with you some more, or i can eat you out in the back seat-”

“-haji.” you cut him off, stroke him before lining him at your dripping entrance, grinding the leaking tip across your slit. “i’ve wanted this for so long.” lowering yourself, you gasp at the delicious stretch of his tip entering you. “i’ve wanted you for so long. don’t hold back, give me everything.” and with that, you completely impale yourself on his cock.

“fuck, y/n, i can feel you clamping down on me- shit baby, you gotta move.”

lifting one leg at a time, you shift around off of your knees, steadying yourself on your tip toes; before grabbing onto iwa’s shoulders and starting to slowly ride him. his hands roam across your body freely, loving squeezes trailed in their path, as praise after praise is whispered out to you.

“you take my cock so well, fuck.”

your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as you quicken your pace. bouncing yourself faster on his fat cock, iwa’s attention is drawn to to the way your breasts move in front of him; massaging the soft flesh, and then leaning forward to smush his face between them.

“could stay right here forever.” his muffled voice croons. 

you whimper at the feeling of his hot tongue dragging a wet trail down the valley between your breasts, and you’re certain plum love bites will have bloomed across your chest by sunrise. your arms shoot up to press against the foggy glass of the moon roof above you, palms pressed flat against the steamy window, handprints painted on the transparent screen - as you bounce harder and faster. the lewd sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and of your pussy sucking him in with each stroke; shows how desperate you are to cum again.

“you’ll cum on my cock, won’t you baby? i can feel how close you are, shit, you’re so close aren’t you?”

the way you ride him gradually becomes sloppier the closer you are to cumming, so when he holds your waist and helps you bounce on him, you cry out in relief.

“f-fuck, feels s’g-good, haji! nghh, yes, yes, yes-!”

only as he reaches a hand down to roll your sensitive clit between his index and thumb, do you fall apart on his cock. your velvety walls spasm around him as he continues to fuck you through your high in chase of his own, overstimming you even more as you cream all over him, tongue lolling out. the sheer intensity of your orgasm has you collapsing forward onto his heaving chest, a babbling mess, while he holds you to him.

“you made such a mess on me, baby.” he huffs out.

“h-haji.” you whimper into his neck, arms looped around his. “s’too sensitive, haaa~”

your knees are by his hips, the tops of your feet pressed against his inner thighs, as he rolls his hips into you. large hands slide down your spine, over the curve of your ass to knead the smooth flesh in his palms.

“just hold on to me baby. you got one last one for me, don’t you?” all you can do is nod, releasing an onslaught of mewls and moans. “that’s a good girl, fuck.”

iwa is relentless in pursuit of his own orgasm - fucking into you at a punishing pace that has your mouth jar open in a silent cry, his truck jolting with each snap of his hips. your juices completely drench his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease, and you’re sure by now your pussy has been shaped out by the imprint of his cock. you can feel him throbbing inside of you, close to his climax; while his fingers dig into your ass shoving you down on his cock, and hitting your sweet spot over and over that you can’t help but gush all over him yet again.

“h-ah-ji, hnghh!” you sob, your body spent and thighs slick with your cum.

iwa only lasts a little longer with the way you were clenching down on him; pulling out of your fucked out pussy, and setting you on his thighs. he fists his cock in his hand, jerking himself a few times before thick, white cum spurts out - coating his entire hand and painting his stomach.

“mmm baby, that was fucking amazing.” he growls out, leaning back into the seat to catch his breath. “d’you feel okay?”

you only hum, entranced by how much cum he spilled. or wasted, you thought to yourself.

“can you reach over to the back and grab the towel in my gym bag, gotta clean us up…” your lack of focus has iwa trailing off. “y/n?”

“we don’t need the towel.”

reaching for the hand covered in his seed, you bring it to your mouth. iwa tries to question what you meant by that, though he’s cut off when you lick a tentative strip across his palm. gathering his cum on your tongue, you swirl his essence around in your mouth, before swallowing. you make a show of taking each finger in your mouth, sucking his cum clean. once his hand is licked clean, you slide down his lap; ready to do the same over his abs.

“you’re so good to me, y/n.” iwa runs his fingers through your hair, and then pats your head. “y/n?” he calls out again, still petting your head just as your about to trace the dips of his stomach with your tongue.

“hmm?”

“y/n? y/n?”

you move back away from him. “what?”

“y/n? oi, y/n? wake up!”

iwa watches as you jolt up from where you had fallen asleep on his lap. makki, who had been hovering over you, moves away as you try to swat at him - a confused look on your face.

“huh?”

“you fell asleep.” makki informs her. “you were interrupting the movie. if you’re that tired, just sleep in one of our rooms.”

lazed out on the other couch, mattsun pipes up; “yeah, you were making these ugly noises and then iwa said you licked his hand, what a weirdo.”

he only clears his throat awkwardly, finding a sudden interest in the beige walls of their living room. he misses the horrified expression on your pretty face, scrunched up in utter embarrassment, before you turn to start arguing with mattsun.

iwa was grateful for the pillow resting over lap, hiding the evident hard-on he was sporting. he wanted to argue with mattsun too, because the sounds you made were definitely far from ugly.

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[misslilli]

Whelp, with yesterday we're back at school. Teaching first grade is hard, man 😂 Thank you guys, again, for going on this adventure with me :)

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 17 - The Mulder Boys's Birthday Bash

[ DS ]

The Saturday of the Mulder Boys’s Birthday Bash, I find myself standing in front of my closet with the girls, frowning at my selection of dresses. “What about this one?” Holly fingers a yellow sundress.

“Nah, it’s pretty but she looks like she’s going to church in that one.” Sarah tugs on a dress with a daisy print on it.

“Are you joking? That one’s even more Virgin Mary than the yellow one!”

Alex reaches into my closet and pulls out a navy two-piece dress I bought on a whim a few years back, but have never worn since then. “How about this one?”

“A, that’s perfect! It’s classy, yet sexy, just what we’re going for!” Sarah shoves me towards my bathroom. “Go try it on, D! And wear those nude heels with it.” I take the dress out of Alex’s arms and the shoes from Sarah and change into the outfit quickly. The straps drape across my arms just below my shoulders and it’s low cut just enough for my comfort. My cross necklace gleams against my skin and I decide to keep it on for tonight. Since it’s a two-piece, there’s just a sliver of skin visible between the top and the skirt, which flares out and swishes around my knees.

Slipping on my heels I step outside and the girls gasp in unison. “Yes, that’s the one! How does it feel D?” Holly pulls me over and I twirl in front of the full-length mirror, smiling as the skirt billows out around my legs.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. Thanks, girls!”

“The Mulder boys won’t know what hit ‘em when you show up wearing that!” Sarah winks at me suggestively and I roll my eyes at her.

“You know exactly that that’s not why I’m wearing it!”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah sure, just keep telling yourself that…”

“Come on guys, we’re already unfashionably late. I’ll just call us a cab, are you ready?”

I grab a shawl against the cold and my purse before we make our way downstairs to wait for the cab. When we arrive at the house, we can already hear faint party noises from the backyard and my heart’s beating hard against my chest when we walk up the front walkway to ring the doorbell. My gaze wanders around the front of the house, the glass veranda on the right catching my eye. It’s completely different from our beach house, but it’s beautiful all the same.

The door opens to reveal Principal Skinner with a glass of whiskey in his hand and he holds the door open for us. “Hello ladies, come on in! You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight! Follow me, the party’s out back in the yard.”

He leads us through the house and I notice that it’s got polished hardwood floors and is furnished with antiques, giving it a cozy feel. We walk past the glass veranda which houses the dining room on the right and the living room with a massive couch to the left, which opens into the kitchen. The wooden staircase to the first floor is tucked away in the back. Skinner points us to the bathroom as we walk past it before we step outside onto the back porch and my breath catches in my chest.

They really went all out on this party, there’s string lights twinkling all around the hedge and in the trees, catered food and a bar in one corner, round tables in the middle and a massive dancefloor with a DJ in the other corner. Holly whistles through her teeth. “Man, they sure know how to live it up. Why are our parties never this nice? Jesus, I think they invited half the town for this.”

“Well, that’s on me I guess, they don’t know many people around here yet so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances,” Principal Skinner admits but I’m only half listening because my eyes are too busy scanning the crowd. Sarah nudges my hip and tilts her head over to the bar and I’m embarrassed that she knows exactly who I was looking for. There he is, deep in conversation with Skinner’s wife, laughing at something she said.

He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and a crimson tie and while the sight of him in a plain t-shirt with jeans are enough to make my heart skip a beat, him in that suit is going to give me a heart attack.

“Would you look at that D, you color coordinated, matchsiiiesss.” Holly whispers in my ear and I give her a pointed look.

“Shut up, Holly!” I hiss at her.

Just then, he looks over at us standing on the elevated porch and I can practically feel the slight burn his eyes leave as they travel up and down my body, giving me the once over. I hope he has a defibrillator. He flashes us a smile and raises his hand in a small wave, then continues his conversation with Arlene Skinner.

“Come on, girls, let’s put the presents on the gift table and get something to eat and drink.” ‘Eat, drink and be merry for today you may die.’

At the bar we sidestep the wine for now, since we haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting tipsy and stumbling over my heels. With my luck, I’ll just faceplant at a certain someone’s feet. ‘Huh, maybe he’ll catch me in those strong arms of his, though, if you’re really lucky…‘

When he spots our little circle, Felix comes over to us wearing a boy version of his dad’s suit, only with short dress pants and sneakers better suited for running around with the other kids. He’s tugging a tall woman along, with wavy brown hair and a kind face that seems somewhat familiar, but I’m not sure where to place her. His face is flushed and he beams at us happily.

“You came!”

“Of course we came, happy birthday Felix!” Sarah raises her glass to him and we all chime in with our Happy birthdays. The woman he came over with also raises her glass and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“This is my teacher Miss Anderson, and Miss Carter and Miss Spencer and Miss Scully,” he introduces us while the woman takes her turn shaking our hands. She regards me curiously and her lips curve into a smile.

“I’m Sam, Fox’s sister and Felix’s favorite aunt!” His sister, that’s why her face seemed so familiar. “So you’re the enigmatic Miss Scully I’ve heard so much about. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She notices the surprised look on my face. “Only good things, I promise. Felix won’t shut up about you when we talk on the phone.” I laugh, mostly because of the exasperated look Felix gives his aunt at revealing his secret.

“Glad to hear it, we’re having a lot of fun with him during recess! Nice to meet you, Sam. I really like your dress, did you get it around here?”

“Thanks, but no, I got it back in LA, I’m only visiting for a couple of days, I just couldn’t miss my two handsome boys’s birthday bash!”

“Handsome, huh? You spoil me sis!” Her brother has snuck up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Hi ladies, thanks for coming, you look very lovely today!” We raise our glasses to him as well, wishing him a happy birthday and my drink spills over a little in my shaky hand. I pray that no one notices.

“Sam I’m so sorry to drag you away, but can you help me out and check if everything’s alright with the caterers?” They excuse themselves and we decide it’s time for us to check out what said caterers have prepared, our stomachs already rumbling. Hopefully, the butterflies in my stomach will make room.

----------

[ Sam ]

After checking with the caterers inside, I return to the party, standing on the back porch to watch everyone have a good time and I’m secretly a little proud of myself. Planning the party from all the way across the country had been stressful to say the least, but it turned out great. My gaze wanders around the tables and it catches on the tiny red-head and her three friends, who seem to be having a great time, laughing and chatting at their table.

I’ve heard many stories from Felix over the last few weeks but what surprised me the most was the way my brother looks at her. When I saw the way his whole face lit up when she walked in, I realized that Felix was not the only one taken with Miss Scully. She’s not his usual type - not that she’s not pretty, she is, very much so - but she’s actually nice. A vast improvement from the piece of work that’s his ex-wife, let me tell you. I wonder if he’s thought about asking her out yet.

----------

[ DS ]

After dinner, we’re treated to another visit from the little Mulder, who’s breathless from the game of tag with his friends. “Hey Felix! Are you having a good time?” He nods enthusiastically, trying hard to catch his breath.

“Yeah, auntie Sam did a really good job! I can’t wait for my cake, she said it’s really huuuge! And the DJ is playing aaaall my favorite songs, too!”

Suddenly shy, he shuffles his feet a bit and then, gathering all his courage, he looks up at me and holds out a tiny hand. “Miss Scully, will you dance with me?”

“Of course, birthday boy, come on.”

----------

[ Sam ]

Once I’m finished making another round of checking that everything’s running smoothly, I spot my brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the party. Stopping on the last step, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, you did a pretty good job sis. And Skinner’s managed to gather up quite a crowd. Almost everyone’s here tonight!”

“You know what I think? You’d be just as happy if it were only you and one other special guest here tonight.” He turns his head a little, frowning.

“What?” I motion my head to the woman who’s currently talking to Felix at her table. “Aah. Is it that obvious?” I snort derisively

“Are you kidding me, bro? I’ve known you all my life, I can see the hearts in your eyes from a mile down the road. Have you asked her out yet?”

“No… I’m so nervous around her I can barely string more than a few coherent words together. She probably thinks I’m a huge idiot. I asked her if she believes in aliens, Sam!” We watch as Felix holds his hand out to her, asking her to dance with him. He’s so cute I can barely stand it.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You should take a page out of your son’s book though, boy’s got game!” My brother laughs as the somewhat mismatched pair sways on the dancefloor.

I release him from my embrace, an idea popping into my head. “You should go and cut in.” Now he fully turns to me and looks at me like I’m crazy.

“What? No…” He’s making his panic face.

“What yes! Carpe diem, right now!” I give him a gentle shove in the direction of the dancefloor. “Go! I’ll handle the music.”

----------

[ DS ]

Of course, I can’t say no to the little charmer and we make our way to the dancefloor and I sway with Felix in time to the music, twirling him around until he giggles.

“You look really handsome tonight, Felix!”

He smiles shyly and narrowly avoids stepping on my shoes. “Thank you! You look really beautiful too.”

“You’re absolutely right, son. Mind if I cut in?” A tingle shoots up my spine at the sound of his voice and Felix nods, stepping back. His dad holds out his hand to me. “A dance for the other birthday boy?”

“Well technically, it’s not your birthday for a few days.” I tease him, but I slip my hand into his and he spins me against him, wrapping his right arm around my waist, clasping my left hand in his tightly. The DJ fades into a new song and I groan inwardly as Sonny and Cher’s “I got you babe!” starts droning from the speakers. We sway for a few beats before he whips me across the dancefloor in a quick waltz. Over his shoulder I can see countless pairs of eyes following us but for once, tonight, I don’t care because all I can feel is the burn of his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin of my waist and the tickle of the hair at the back of his neck against my hand. God, this guy can waltz.

On the last few notes, he twirls me out with a grin on his face, tugging on my hand to bring me back in and then he dips me back for the grand finale. Dips me. The move takes me by surprise and I laugh, breathless when he brings me upright again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to dip your lady in a waltz!” I realize my Freudian slip a fraction of a second too late. ‘Your lady? What the heck, Dana.’

He just shrugs nonchalantly, still grinning. “If I fancy to dip my lady, I will dip my lady! Thank you for this dance, Miss Scully!” He bows his head and I chuckle, curtsying. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Mulder!” ‘Who ARE you?’

We step off the dancefloor and I return to our table, sitting down still a little bit out of breath, only to be met with three incredulous stares. ‘Here we go, 3, 2, 1…’

“What was that, D?” Holly.

“Oh my God, the two of you on the dancefloor!” Sarah.

“That was incredible!” Alex.

I shrug, picking up my glass, but I can’t hide the blush on my face and smile around my straw. “Mr. Mulder can waltz.” I’ll never live this down.

Sometime after the birthday cakes came out, Felix appears at my side again and leans against me heavily. I can tell he’s coming down from his sugar-high. “Miss Scully, remember how I told you about the encyclopedia on butterflies?”

“Yeah I do, what about it?”

“Would you like to see it?” He looks up at me hopefully and I agree, glad to get away from the action for a while.

“Okay, come on!” Together we climb the steps to the back porch and he tugs me inside into the living room where we sit down on the couch. I can finally slip off my heels while Felix runs to get the encyclopedia and after returning, places it on my lap curling up into my side. He opens the heavy book and shows me his favorite butterflies, explaining in great detail what’s so special about it.

His voice gets more and more quiet with each new butterfly until he stops talking altogether and looking down I realize that he fell asleep, completely wiped. Coming off my own sugar high, I scoot down lower into the cushions and lean my head back against the back, closing my eyes. Just for a second.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[spideymarvelws]

Hey could I get #33 + 34 if you do two from your Promot list? Or something like that honestly you can choose for Harrison ? Congrats on the followers

Promises

Mob!Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Reader

Main Masterlist / 300 Follower Sleepover

A/n : I may have gone a little over board with this one but i hope you enjoy! I might to a part two with the second prompt but ig it depends how this is received.

Prompt(s) : 33. “Do you not trust me?” 34. “I never thought I’d hate someone as much as I do you,”

Warnings :  fluffy, angsty, eluding to smut but nothing happens really, a few curse words, reader is pregnant

Word Count : 1.0k

...

You and Harrison cuddled closely on the couch, your arms wrapped around his torso while his rested around your shoulder, keeping you pressed against his body. Your lips lazily made contact with his, moving in sync with each other, dancing a song you’ve both listened to many times before.

His hands moved slowly down to your waist, grabbing at your (his) hoodie. You pulled back, breathing heavily as a string of spit connected your lips. You pulled up the hoodie, shivering as your bare skin made contact with the cold air.

Harrison licked his lips, his hands pulling has your hips to straddle his waist. You wobbled a little, holding on to his shoulders for support. 

“You alright angel?” Harrison asked worryingly, loosening his grip on your waist as he looked up at you with soft eyes.

“I’m alright Hazzy,” you shuffled a little in his lap, trying to get comfortable, “I’m not as flexible as i use to be you know,”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he bit his lip, trying to contain his smile as he passed his hand over your stomach, “How’s she been doing?”

“He’s has been doing just fine,” you rested your forehead against his, smiling widely, “You’re really that convinced aren't you?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, rubbing his thumb over the bump, “Is it that bad to want another mini you running around?”

“Yes, it is,” you nodded, laughing quietly, “concerning really, why would you want another one of me?”

Harrison paused for a second, mocking a thinking face as he twisted his mouth side to side, “You know now that i think about it, I am the better person in this relationship. Maybe i do want a boy,”

You slapped him on the arm, gasping as his laughter, “Bitch!”

“Hey, language!” he giggled, resting his face on your covered breasts, “we don’t want them to learn such language at this young age,”

You quirked your eyebrow at him, passing you fingers through his hair, “Ah yes, because your not the one who use to be in the field shouting curses in my ears,”

It fell silent after your comment, Harrison nudging himself further into your body. You stilled at his action, tugging at his hair to look up at you, “Harrison?” you asked calmly, looking down at him concerned, “Is everything alright,”

He sighed, mumbling something into your skin as he continually made circles around your stomach. You knew his body language, after years of dating you knew the signs when he was hiding something from you, especially something he didn't want to say.

“Harrison,” you said more sternly, “Tell me whats going on?”

He raised his head, avoiding your eye contact as he took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth.

“Tom called for a meeting tomorrow, theres a big deal being made down south. I’ll be gone for a couple of days,” he said, playing with his fingers on your tummy.

“What!” you said softly, but Harrison knew you were trying to contain your anger, “Harrison i thought-”

“I know, i know,” he sighed, finally looking up at you.

“You agreed,” you said shakily, “You agreed to stay home Harrison, “You climbed off of his lap, walking to the other side of the living room with your hands on your face.

“Angel,” he whispered, standing up as well to walk over to you, but you held your hand out, signalling him to stay were he was.

“Don’t call me that right now Harrison!” you turned around to face him, eyes already filled with tears making the guilt eat him up even more, “We- we have a fucking baby on the way! A fucking child Harrison! In one month hell maybe even less we’re about to birth a fucking life into this world! A dangerous fucking world at that!”

You started hyperventilating, resting your hand on your bump, “How am i suppose to tell out child that they won’t have a father if you don’t make it back?”

“Y/n,” he carefully approached you, testing the waters by touching your shoulder. Once he didn't see any sign of visible discomfort, he pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back gently.

“Do you not trust me?” he whispered, tilting your head up.

“I trust you with my life,” you responded, playing with the buttons of his shirt, “Doesn’t mean i don’t fear for yours,”

“Y/n, I’m not going to leave you behind, I’m not going to leave you both behind ever,” he said, placing a gently kiss on your forehead, “But Tom needs me. this is my job i have no other choice,”

You sniffled, nodding quickly, “I know, I know,”

Harrison sighed, taking your hands in his, “Well, this was suppose to be surprise for after the birth but,” he reached in his pocket pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and sliding it into your hand.

You looked at him confused, hesitantly opening the sheet.

“An, address?” you whispered, looking up at him dazed.

“A safe house,” he took both of your hands in his, “Up in the hills, far away from here. It’s lovely, small and cozy, enough space to start out own little family,” he sighed, “To start over,”

“But- but Tom,”

“Helped me set up everything yeah!” he said happily, chuckling at the light starting to spread across your face once more, “I promise angel, after this deal, you’ll have me, we’ll be together, safe from everything,”

“That’s-” you choked on a sob, “That’s amazing Haz i-”

You grabbed his face, pulling him for a kiss, poring in all your emotions that you couldn't seem to express into words. It was just like the one that begin the cozy night, just with the dry tears coating both your faces, adding a salty taste.

He pushed your gently against the wall, trapping your body with his. You hands tangled back with his hair, fantasising about the months to come.

“Promise you’ll come back,” you whispered, letting out a small whimper as he bit the skin of your neck, “Promise you’ll come back for us,”

“I promise angel,” he whispered back, trailing his fingers up and down your stomach, “I’ll always come back for you, for you both,”

...

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated🥰

[dirt-cup-draco]

Sirius x Reader- Mistakes

Sirius was left stumped as you spun on your heel, tears filling your eyes as you brushed past Remus and James with a quiet, “excuse me”. He hadn’t see the tears however, so he assumed you were mad at him. Maybe you weren’t feeling well? Maybe it was that time of the month? How was he supposed to know? 

James’ frowned, sitting beside Sirius on the couch as Remus shook his head. “What did you say to her that made her cry?” 

“She wasn’t cryin’ Moony, she’s just mad at me,” Sirius shrugged, but he paused. Had you been crying? Why would you cry over something so silly?  Worry filled his veins but he played it off, pretending like the thought of you crying didn’t make him want to beat whoever was the cause to a pulp. And it seemed he had been the cause. 

“No, she was definitely crying,” James added and Sirius rolled his eyes, swatting the back of his friend’s head. 

“Her back was to me, how was I supposed to know turning her down would make her cry?” 

Remus and James went pale, heads snapping to their idiotic best friend. “What do you mean you turned her down? What was she saying to you?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, standing. He felt like he was in the wrong now but didn’t understand why. He’d been nice! Or at least he’d been trying to be. 

“I didn’t mean to upset her!” He defended, “She asked if I wanted to be her date to the yule ball and I said she should go with someone better, who wasn’t just a friend, what’s so wrong about that?”

“Merlin, you are dense!” Remus groaned.

As James sighed, “You really messed up this time. Y/N doesn’t want to go as just friends,”

You sniffled into your pillow but quieted once one of your housemates came in. You felt pretty pathetic at the moment. Of course Sirius wouldn’t want to go with you. You must be like a little sister to him. You knew quite a few girls had already asked and he had politely turned them down, what made you different? You scoffed and sat up, rubbing at your eyes. You had been so excited after talking to Remus, he had reassured you that Sirius would love to go with you and it had given you the courage to ask but now you were dreading even going. 

You peered at the dress that was hung up neatly. It was so pretty, your parents had sent it not too long ago and it made you feel like a different person. It made you feel beautiful and interesting. You couldn’t let it hang and collect dust! You would find another date, and you would wear the dress and it would still be a great night, you decided. 

The next day you were in potions, fiddling nervously with your robes. You wanted to have this done before Sirius came in. Otherwise you would lose your nerve. Thankfully, he was almost always late. You slid out of your seat and made your way across the room to the handsome hufflepuff, Edgar Bones, that you had been friends with all year. “Do you mind if I sit here?” You asked and with a grin and a nod he was clearing a space for you.

“So, are you excited for the yule ball?” You questioned, trying to be sly but probably coming across very obvious. Your cheeks were already stained pink. After just being rejected, you were very worried that Edgar would say no as well, making you the least wanted girl in Hogwarts quite possibly.

“Um, I don’t actually have a date,” Edgar admitted, a shrug to his shoulders. “Besides, it seems a bit stuffy.” You deflated a bit. “Are you going with anyone?”

“Not yet, S-sirius turned me down, so no date either,” You stumbled over his name, head hung low in embarrassment. 

There was a commotion at the front of the class as Sirius scrambled in just moments before class started and you had to look away to keep your self sabotaging thoughts to a minimum. You had to be at least a little confident to get Edgar to go with you. 

Edgar noticed the sudden tension in your shoulders and flung his arm over your shoulders. He kissed the side of your head and then his lips were close to your ear, hot air tickling your neck as he said in a low voice, “Don’t worry I’ll be your rebound for the night,” You looked at him in surprise. He winked and focused back on the teacher. You wanted to correct him but he wasn’t completely wrong. You hadn’t thought to ask him before Sirius had said no. 

Sirius Black was pouting. He had been pouting since he arrived in potions and say stupid Edgar with his arm around your shoulder. You’d just asked Sirius to the ball why were you flirting with that hufflepuff anyway? Sirius liked Edgar, they were friends but why had he been so close to you? You liked Sirius. Or, thats what James had told him a couple of days ago. 

Right. He had turned you down. He had fucked up and missed his chance, as his friends had been more than happy to enlighten him about. How was he supposed to know you’d fancied him since first year? You were nice to everyone for Merlin’s sake! You’d had those big, starry doe eyes since you two met, he had no clue that to everyone else it was clear you had it bad. Sirius released a grumpy sigh and flung himself down on his bed. 

“Regretting all your life decisions?” Remus asked, strolling in with a smug look on his face. 

“Oh fuck off,” Sirius seethed, aiming a pillow right for his friends head. He ducked right in time and James released an “oof” as the pillow hit him square in the face instead. 

Peter scrambled around them and sat on his bed, silent for a moment but piping up eventually. “I saw Edgar and Y/N walking around by the black lake during lunch today, they looked like they were having a good time. Lily told Marlene who told me that they are going to the Yule ball together,” 

“She told Evans and didn’t tell us?” James scoffed but he hadn’t really been paying attention to Peter until Lily was mentioned. 

“I-I guess it just happened earlier today when they had class together,” Peter squeaked. 

“Who bloody cares who Y/N is going with!” Sirius finally exploded, leaving the dorm room with a whirl of his robes. 

The Yule Ball approached much sooner than you had anticipated but you had renewed your excitement. You and Edgar had been spending more time together, just so that it wouldn’t be awkward when you two had to dance. You’d been friends before but not as close. Now you could happily say that he was as close of a friend as the marauders are. 

You touched up your hair as your friends shuffled out of your dorm, giggling and smiling. Everyone was so excited. You met up with Edgar and couldn’t fight the smile that lit up your face. “You look great!” 

“And you look even better than that,” Edgar complimented, placing a kiss to your cheek. You had learned he was a very affectionate person. It didn’t bother you, you knew he was just being friendly. He led you into the great hall and another compliment and you were beaming. This was how tonight was supposed to go, all smiles and wonder.

It was much later in the night, a slow song was playing. Edgar’s hand was warm against your back, the other one gripping your free hand gently, as you swayed to the music. “He’s staring,” He said, lips close to your ear once again. “Sirius, I mean,” 

Your heart jumped in your throat, “He is?” You croaked. Edgar nodded. 

“I don’t think he has a date, he’s been looking at you all night though. Hell, half the people here have been,” Your cheeks burned at the compliment. And Edgar laughed softly. 

“Have more faith in yourself, love. You’re stunning,” His fingers fell away from yours and tilted your chin up. You weren’t able to meet his eyes but you nodded, knowing he was being honest. Edgar was truly kind. You almost wished you had feelings for him. 

You were startled when Edgar let out a bark of laughter and you looked up to him in confusion. “I don’t think Sirius likes me being so close to you, he looks like he wants to rip my head off,” 

You felt some anger surge through you. If he was jealous it was his own fault! You had asked him to come with you and he’d said no. It was his loss. “Well, I don’t care what he thinks,” You said, stepping closer to Edgar so you were hip to hip, chest to chest. You let your nails slide down the back of his neck as you leaned up to kiss him. Edgar kissed back but after a moment pulled away, hands sturdy on your hips. 

“Y/N... You don’t want me, love. Lets not do anything you’ll regret just because youre mad at Black, yeah? You’re....very attractive and I hate myself for stopping you but I know your heart isnt in it.” 

You were ashamed of yourself. He was right. “I’m so sorry Edgar, I really like you,” 

“And I like you too, you’re an amazing friend, now go get him before he hexes some poor kid out of spite,” You laughed softly and kissed Edgar’s cheek, stepping away as you saw Sirius bolt out of the great hall. Taking off your heels you chased after him. 

“Sirius wait!” You hollered as he sped off down the corridor. Damn his long legs. He spun around and an unreadable look passed over his eyes. 

“Y/N...” He spoke softly, not giving away anything except for the tense position of his jaw. He was certainly wound up about something. Edgar had given you some hope it was you. “Why aren’t you back in there with what’s-his-face?” 

Sirius knew Edgar, he really liked the kid but he was feeling petty. He was surprised that you had even noticed he’d left. You’d seemed to enjoy snogging Edgar just moments early. Your lips were still slightly plump and red. Your dress was amazing, that couldn’t be denied. But the dress wasn’t what made you beautiful. You always had been and Sirius was cursing himself for not saying yes.

You rolled your eyes at him and some anger sparked in him. “I wanted to talk to you, is that alright?” You said with a surprising amount of sass. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It just seems like you’d rather be anywhere else right now,” 

“Well, wouldn’t you rather be snogging Edgar? Maybe if you ask nice you’ll get laid and loosen up a bit!” 

“What is your problem!?” You seethed. “Where did that even come from? And who I’m with is no concern of yours whether we are kissing or more or doing nothing at all, you prick!” 

“Well Prongs and Moony told me you fancy me, but now your attached to the hip with some other guy! You’re more fickle than I thought,” He sneered. 

Angry tears were already beginning to spill. You had wanted to talk to him but he was being impossible. How could he say those things about you? You’d done nothing to him. 

“Fine you bastard! I don’t need you anyway, maybe I will go back to Edgar. At least he cares! I was going to tell you that I hadn’t wanted to go to the yule ball together as just friends but now I don’t even want to be your friend...” You sniffled, all your anger gone.

Before Sirius could say anything you were gone. With a frustrated groan, and tears of his own fighting to be released he sagged against the stone wall of the corridor. He really had messed up big time.  

[n0rthern-litez]

Wild Enough - Elina

Dean Winchester X Fem Reader  Warnings: Slight cussing and thoughts of self hate Word Count:4195

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a song-fic and I really hope you all enjoy. I spent way to much time on it lol. Feedback is always wanted, so feel free to share any tips and advice!♥️♥️

To your palette I’m translucent At least when I’m looking at myself

At eighteen years old you stood in front of the mirror staring at yourself. Your eyes slowly raked over your body, pointing out things that you needed to change. Physically and just who you were as a person. You met him for the first time at sixteen, and the second your eyes laid on him, you knew you weren’t his idea of attractive. But there was a tiny part inside you that thought, maybe if he got to know you, maybe he’d see something he liked.

You were always the shy one of the group. Never really talking, just listening to the gossip. You were never one to make lots of friends or go out to parties. You preferred staying in bed and reading or laying on the couch and binging Netflix. And being the way you were never bothered you in the slightest, not until you met him.

(Y/n 16, Dean 17)

“Bobby, how are you?” The familiar voice of John Winchester greeted your father. It might surprise a lot of people, but John was one of your favorite people to ever walk the earth. He treated you differently, almost like a daughter. He would take you places when he would visit, and if you got lucky he even let you drive his car. He was always there for you when you’d call upset and if you ever needed him, he wouldn’t hesitate to drive all night to get to you.

Throwing your book aside, not bothering to save your place. You rushed to the front door, where you jumped in the arms of your favorite man. He hadn’t been able to visit for well over six months and you missed him. But this visit was different, he was bringing his sons and it was going to be your first time meeting them. Every other time they came, your father had sent you off to your Aunt Jody’s to have a taste of ‘normal’ as he calls it.

“You’ve grown so much.” John laughed, setting you back on the ground. “I’d like you to meet Sam and Dean, boys this is Y/n.”

Looking behind John, you got ready to greet your future best friends and you couldn’t describe the feeling that came over you. It was something you had never felt before. As you made eye contact with his sparkling emeralds, butterflies began fluttering chaotically in your stomach and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Hi.”

You’re that coltsfoot Breaking Pavement All I seem to do is break these things

You always had hope that maybe if you tried hard enough, just maybe he’d find something in you that he liked. Something that made him want to be with you. So you tried everything to get his attention. You would show off the skills you got from your fathers training. You would play his favorite music when you did your chores, knowing that he’d be there to hear. And you lost count of the amount of pies you baked him. But none of that ever worked. Sometimes you’d get some harmless flirting, but to him you were just his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

(Six months after meeting)

You had gotten up extra early that day to make sure you had time to go to the grocery store and get back before Dean ever woke up. You had everything planned out, he would wake up, come downstairs, see his favorite pie baked just for him and then fall madly in love with you. Yeah, maybe you were a bit delusional, but you could always hope right?

You were too busy making sure the crust was perfectly crisp to hear Dean walk into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Dean asked, chest pressed up against your back. To flustered to answer right away, you moved to the side so he could peak over your shoulder.

“I’m um-I’m making you something.” Watching his eyes light as he saw what you made was enough to make your day.

“All for me?”

“Well yeah, I just got bored. Not a big deal really.” You tried to play it off like you didn’t just spend five hours slaving over a damn pie. “You like cherry right?” You asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

“It’s my favorite, you’re amazing sweetheart.” Dean smiled placing a small kiss on your temple before rushing to get a plate. Most would think that was progress that he was beginning to like you. But no, that’s just Dean and his natural charm.  

I might be a faded Polaroid Trying to be something that I have never been

As years went on, you became less and less involved in Dean’s life. Usually he would visit every couple months with John and Sam, but even that didn’t happen anymore. John started sending him on cases by himself, so you only got to see him two, maybe three times a year. Sometimes you’d talk to him though, on the off chance you got the courage to call him. If you did it at just the right time, you would talk for hours about anything you could think of. But you didn’t always get that lucky.

(Y/n 18, Dean 19)

You and your father had just gotten home from dinner. Bobby thought it would be a good idea to try the new diner that had just opened up in town. You knew from the second you tried their bacon cheeseburger that you had to tell Dean all about. As soon as you got home, you rushed up to your room, grabbing the phone on the way.

Plopping down on the bed, you looked over checking the time. It was almost 8pm where Dean was. It was late enough that he wouldn’t be busy with the case, but there was a high possibility he was busy with his...for the lack of a better word, ‘friends’.

Sighing, you decided to try anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Hello?” Dean answered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey Dean!” You answered excited. Expecting his voicemail, you were happily surprised.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m kind of busy right now.” He grunted through the phone, clearly shuffling around.

“Oh, well this will be quick. I wanted to tell you about that diner we saw last time you were here.” You hoped maybe he’d stop for a minute to talk, but it was then you heard what he was busy with.

“Are you almost done?” A female voice giggled in the background. Your heart immediately dropped. You knew there was a chance this would happen, calling him so late. But you didn’t think it really would.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Before he couple say anything, you hung up. As tears started to run down your face, you came to a realization. If you ever wanted him to love you, you needed to change. To become the kind of girl he likes.

If I was dancing on the tables Buying rounds ‘til the dawn Is that wild enough, wild enough Wild enough for you? Talking dirty in the bedroom Be the one to start a fight Would that be wild enough Wild enough for you?

The next time Dean came around, saying you got his attention was an understatement. You were acting different. You were dressing different. You were trying to dress like the girls you always saw Dean ogling at. Tight shirts, short shorts, even shorter dresses. You had never felt so uncomfortable in your life, but when you saw the way Dean looked at you, it made it worth it. His gaze stayed on you a little longer than usual, he didn’t hide the fact that he was trying to be around you more. One of the nights he was there, he even invited you out to the local bar.

(Y/n 19, Dean 20)

“I thought this was supposed to be a challenge?” You asked Dean with a smirk after slamming down what felt like the hundredth shot that night. You weren’t going to lie, you were drunk and you hated the taste every single thing he bought you, but you’d be damned if you showed that.

“Damn, you’ve been holding back on me.” Dean laughed taking a small sip of his drink.

“Something like that.” You grumbled to yourself peaking over at the dance floor. You couldn’t dance, but you were drunk so that gave you a pass, right? “We should dance!”

Dean looked at you like you were crazy, “Come again?”

“Let’s dance!” You jumped up grabbing his arm. “Please Dean, it’ll be fun!”

“Sorry to break it to ya sweetheart, but I don’t dance.”

Rolling your eyes, you began to get mad. You did not go through all this just for him to say no. “So you’re just going to let me go out there alone, dressed like this, surrounded by all those guys?” You motioned to your outfit as you spoke. Sadly a small black sundress was the only revealing thing you owned, but it did its job.

“You’re evil you know that?” Dean smirked at you as he got up and followed you to the dance floor. You spent a good twenty minutes swaying your hips to the music before Dean left you to go to the restroom. He was worried about leaving you out there, he had been watching all the men around watching you. But he was not about to piss himself over a little paranoia.

Dean didn’t plan on taking as long as he did, but the bartender had other plans for him. As he walked back out of the bathroom and towards where you were, he saw the last thing he ever wanted to see.

There you stood, drunk off your ass dancing away. And although that didn’t bother him, it was the men around you and their greedy little hands that set him over the edge. Rushing over to you, he carefully grabbed you off the table before anyone else could touch you.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you.” Dean growled as he began dragging you out of the bar. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You were taking too long and it looked fun.” You giggled as he pushed you into the impala.

“That’s fun to you? Acting like some whore?” He snapped as he started off down the road towards your house.

“A whore? Are you serious?” You were beyond pissed now, you were his perfect girl and it still wasn’t good enough. “I’m doing all of this for you!”

Dean scoffed ignoring you. He thought you were just drunk, saying stupid things because you were out of it. You didn’t say another word the entire way home. You just wanted to go lay in your bed and pretend like none of it ever happened.

“Dean please just calm down.” You said softly as he grabbed you out of the impala again, but this time in his arms.

“All of this was a bad idea.” He grumbled, “The drinking, the dancing, taking you to the bar in the first place.”

“It wasn’t a bad idea!” You exclaimed, “We had fun, it was fun!” It was almost like you were trying to convince yourself. It was awful, you hated almost everything about tonight.

“I get what you were trying to do, but you got to stop.” Dean laid you down on your bed and sat down next you.

“Why?” You didn’t even try to hide to desperation in your voice, you didn’t care to.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t think I have, but I’ve noticed what you’ve been doing.” Dean started, staring down at you. You could see the pity in his eyes and that just made you feel worse. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been changing, all the things you’ve been doing to get my attention.”

“It was working! Come on just give me another chance! I can be like them Dean, I can do what they do.” You attempted to get up, but he pushed you lightly back down. Looking down at you sadly, he ran a hand through your hair.

“I don’t want you to be like them. I want you to be you.” The two of you stared at each other for a while before the tears in your eyes finally started to fall.

“Why won’t you love me?” You whispered as you slowly dozed off staring at him.

“You have no idea sweetheart.”

To your major I’m minor Breaking every single chord you play I’m sweet wine but you want whiskey I wish I could be strong enough

That was the last time you saw Dean for another year and a half. He never visited and he made sure to never call and you didn’t even know why. When you woke up after that night you didn’t remember anything that happened. Which to be honest, was probably a good thing. Deep down you knew he was avoiding you, but you kept telling yourself that he was busy, that his dad was just sending him on more cases than usual.

(Y/n 20, Dean 21)

“Y/n, Come here!” Your father, Bobby called from the kitchen. “The boys are here honey, why don’t you go help them bring their things in.”

The Winchester’s had come to visit a couple times this year, but this time was important to you. Dean was coming with, you hadn’t seen him in almost two years. Something always got in the way, whether it was a case or another hunter needed help and John sent him. This time though you made John promise that Dean would be there.

“Hey Sammy.” You greeted the giant seventeen year old. Sam Winchester was your best friend. In the beginning, it didn’t take long to realize that you were two were going to get along. You both enjoyed the same things and had all the same interests. Whether it was a book series or games or movies. He was the person you always went to with your problems, he was the only one you told about your feelings for Dean.

“Hey Y/n/n.” The boy gave you a quick hug and a sad smile before walking to grab his bag. That confused you, he was always excited when he came to visit. Blowing it off, you went to greet John, who wore the same sad smile. Looking around, your heart dropped as your realized what was wrong. Dean wasn’t there.

“Hey kiddo.” John came over wrapping you up in his arms. The man knew your feelings for his eldest son. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to Dean. You only ever asked about him, if he was okay, was he coming to visit, where he was.

“He working a case?” You asked as John let you go and walked to unpack the truck.

“Yeah right,” Sam growled under his breath. “He bailed to go see some chick in Illinois.”

“Samuel!” John scolded his son. He knew you were already sad enough, there was no need to make it worse.

“It’s alright John.” You faked a smile to make him feel better. You could tell he felt bad. “Sammy and I can have just as much fun without him, right Sam?”

“Of course.”

Hours later, after a very interesting dinner and some board games with Sam, you found yourself lying in bed staring at the ceiling. The night was fun, more fun than you had in a long time. Dinner was hilarious and the board games were even more so, but you couldn’t help but feel…sad? You weren’t sure what you were feeling. A mix of everything. Sadness, guilt, disappointment. You had been waiting so long to see Dean, you didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t.

Dean really didn’t want anything to do with you. The longer you sat and thought, the more you began to realize that. He never tried to contact you, ever. And it wasn’t like he just didn’t want to talk to anyone. You could hear him talking to Bobby at least once a week.

The sound of your phone ringing was what finally brought you out of your thoughts. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at whoever thought it was a good idea to call at two in the morning.

“Hello?” You grumbled falling back on your pillow.

“Hey sweetheart, heard you missed me?” The sound of his voice sent a feeling of panic through you. You had been waiting to talk to him for a long time. Planning everything you wanted to say and yell. And now that the time was here, it was like you forgot everything you wanted to say.

“D-Dean?”

“Now before you get mad, I need you to liste-“

It didn’t take long before you got your voice back, and began interrogating him. “I’m not mad, I just want to know what’s been going on. Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?! Dean why haven’t you been answering my calls or my texts? What happened?” You began to get angry, your voice rising with each word you spoke.

“You don’t remember.” Dean muttered to himself. You tried to calm down, there was no reason to get angry.

“You’re talking about the night at the bar? What happened that night?” You were practically begging to know.

“Um, nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Dean Winchester, I swear to god…what the hell happened that night?”

“Nothing Y/n, honestly. It was just a funny night.” You knew Dean was lying. You knew something happened that night, but it wasn’t worth causing more drama by calling him out on it. “I just called to say I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

Dean was silent, he could tell by your tone that someone had told you where he was. Knowing it was probably Sam trying to get back at him, he cursed to himself. “I’m sorry Y/n, I just thought you wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer to see me.”

“Yeah Dean, its fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Deep down, you wanted to yell and scream at him and tell him how much he hurt you, but you couldn’t. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t risk losing him.

Yeah, I bet you fantasize about somebody else  Someone that would fulfill your needs

After that phone call, you and Dean called and talked all night, every night until he came to visit again. It was the best week you had in a long time. Happiest you’ve been in a long time and you were pretty sure Dean could tell. But you couldn’t help but think about the girl from Illinois. As far as you knew, you were the only girl Dean had ever went out of the way to see and knowing he did it for someone else, made you feel funny. You knew what jealousy felt like, but this was different. You felt…defeated. Broken.

(Y/n 20, Dean 21)

You genuinely thought that the night you called Dean and he was with someone would be the worst night of your life, you were wrong. After an hour of laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling listing to Dean go on and on about Lisa, this was officially the worst time of your life.

“She’s amazing. Y/n you don’t understand, she perfect in like every way, and don’t even get me started on the sex.” Dean smirked, thinking back to the two weeks he spent with Lisa. You genuinely didn’t think that anything could hurt worse than past situations involving Dean, but god were you wrong. Every time he would rant and rave about something else about her, you would realize it was something that you did or something you had. And somehow, during the hour that you had laid and listened to him, you couldn’t figure out, if you have everything she does, why was she so much better than you. Why did he like her more, “You just don’t understand Y/n, you’ve never been in love.”

And that’s when you lost it.

“Oh shut the hell up! I’ve been in love.” You yelled, shooting up off the couch ready to take his head off if it came to it.

“Oh yea, who?” Dean challenged you with a smirk. He knew exactly who it was, he just wanted to hear what bull you came up with this time.

“You! I’m in love with you!” You couldn’t hold it in anymore and as terrifying as it was to finally say it, it was so relieving. It felt like a thousand pounds had finally been lifted off your shoulders.

Dean froze. He thought you’d never say it, sure he knew it. He’s known it since almost the very beginning, but to actually hear you say it…it was different.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen years old and I am done!” Taking a step closer to him you could feel all the anger and all the sadness from everything you’ve put yourself through because of him start to surface. “I am done waiting for you. I am done sitting around and waiting for you to love me back. For four years, I have sat in this house thinking of every possible way to make you love me. I have changed myself in the worse ways possible, I have made me HATE myself just so I could be the kind of girl you would love. And you know what I got? I got hours of listening to you rant and rave about a different girl every other day. I got months of just wishing and crying that maybe this time he’ll call me, maybe this time he’ll want to see me, but no. You only call and you only come to visit when you’re lonely or you’re bored and can’t find some girl pathetic enough to spend time with you.”

“Y/n…”

“NO!” You yelled finally done with his shit. “I am done. I am done being the girl that waits for you. I am done being the girl that changes herself for someone else. It might be hard, but I don’t care. I am better than this, I deserve better. I deserve someone who will love me back, someone who will love me for who I am.”

“Y/n I do love you…I didn’t want you in this life. I wanted to keep you safe.” Dean tried to speak, tried to make you understand, and although it shocked the hell out of you, you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“You could have told me that. But instead you left me alone, you made the decision to not say anything. I know it’s going to be hard, but I deserve better. I might be in love with you, but I am done Dean Winchester.”

But I bet it’s never been this good with anyone else  There is so much you haven’t seen in me

 Ever since you were younger, you knew your life was different from everyone around you. You weren’t allowed to go play at parks, or have sleepovers, and you definitely were allowed to have friends over to your house. You knew that since your mother passed, your dad had always been scared of something. You didn’t know what that something was until you were fourteen and a demon tried to take you from your dad. You still don’t know why he wanted you, what he was going to do to you, but from then on, part of you understood why you were hardly allowed to leave the house.

But something changed after your argument with Dean. You didn’t want the life that everyone around you had. You wanted to be able to make friends, go to school, get a real job! All the things your dad kept you from doing for your “safety”. You no longer had anything holding you back. You knew your dad would be here whenever you wanted to come back, whether that was for a visit or to stay forever.

And although your dad was terrified, he wanted you to have the most “normal” life you could. He didn’t want to see you sulking on his living room couch anymore. He was ready for the end of the day phone calls he always got from the boys, he was ready for the Sunday dinners, and even the boyfriends, and hopefully one day, a family of your own. He wanted all that for you.

It only took six months for you to get on your feet. You got a small apartment in the heart of Sioux Falls, a decent paying job at the diner in town. You were even registered for classes at the local college. You didn’t know what you wanted to do entirely, but you knew you wanted to help people. And so more or less, you were ready for whatever life had in store for you next. You were ready to move on…no matter how much you missed him.

[midnight-hotel]

Scenario of how would Alastor react to his crush singing Tape Five - Bad Boy Good Man? (I really like this song!) Like, they're happily singing and stop immediately when they saw Alastor just watching them. Is it ok? Good luck on your new blog :3

A maid of the Happy Hotel, that is all you really were around these parts. You weren’t anyone special, not very powerful and hardly worth a second glance. You were attractive, no doubt about that, but so were a lot of others down in hell, so it hardly made you different from anyone else walking down the street. It was with this knowledge that you found comfort in being able to roam around Hell without too much trouble. There was no reason for any demon to go out of their way to give you trouble- most of the time. The most attention you received these days was within the Happy Hotel, better known around hell as the Hazbin Hotel. A cruel name, started by the Radio Demon himself, but continued on by the citizens of hell, even after he changed the sign back to how it was supposed to be.

As a maid, you were busy almost every day, cleaning up messes made by the few patrons the hotel now had, or simply dusting rooms that weren’t currently in use. It was a drag doing the same thing every day, but at the same time, you found an odd sense of peace in the routine you had developed. You would hook your small speaker to your belt and connect your phone to the device to listen to music as you worked. People like Husk and Angel complained every now and then at first, but as you refused to stop, everyone came to accept that they’ll be bound to hear some music whenever you were nearby. It was a fantastic way to locating you within the hotel, that’s for sure. An excellent cover to sneak up on you too, many getting away with scaring the life out of you whenever you’re cleaning. Well- scare the hell out of you maybe? Life and hell both don’t sound right but you get the idea.

A soft cough rattled your chest as you inhaled some dust, lowering your head to prevent yourself from inhaling anymore too easily. You allowed yourself to cough a few times, trying to clear your throat of the unfortunate irritation and momentarily blocking your hearing off from the music coming from the speaker resting on your hip. Your lungs ached for a moment as you let out a slightly harsher cough, before you righted yourself and took in a breath to make up for what you had lost during your little fit.

“Damn old hotel. There’s too much dust- too much to clean- probably gonna give me some weird ass condition or disease,” you huffed, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to cover another short cough.

It was as you finally gained some kind of relief from the uncomfortable sensation in your throat, that you focused back on your music, the song you had previously been humming, slowly came to an end. The soft melody towards the end stopped bouncing off the walls of the hotel room you were cleaning before the room itself was filled with nothing but your soft breaths, unsteady from your moment of wheeziness. It was in that silence, as you stood straight and raised your duster once more, that the next song on your shuffled playlist came on, a familiar tune filled the air that sent a rush of excitement through your veins. You liked- no- you loved this song. This song never failed to bring a smile to your face and a swing to your hips. You could never sit still when the beat met your ears, simply ordering you to cave and bend to its will.

You dropped a hand down to the little speaker attached to your belt and turned it right up, the music bouncing off the walls before the first verse pelted from the small device. At first, you simply swayed your hips as you hummed along, continuing to work away, dusting off the bedside tables and the curtains before putting your duster away and pulling the sheets off the bed so you could replace them. You were expecting a guest in this room soon apparently. Couldn’t have them sleeping on a bed covered in dust and who knows what else. You’re pretty sure you saw Angel come into this room at some stage for whatever reason so you were sure not even Lucifer wanted to know what could be on those sheets.

Old sheets thrown out into the hallway, in your trolly, and new ones sitting on the chest that was stationed down at the end of the bed, a plush cushion protecting its wooden surface from any threats to it’s shiny finish. You grabbed the fitted sheet and began to make the bed, the lyrics beginning to spill from your lips.

“Bebop sliding down my back, never alone when I hit the sack. Swings a thing with a ringa-ding-ding, I get wings when I sing – Ragtime reason and rhyme, I’m the reason you’re divine. Rhumba mambo Latin samba.” You knew the lyrics like the back of your hand, not needing to pay attention to the singer, just the tune itself. “I’m a bad boy…” you would continue to sing, sliding the remaining corner of the sheet over the mattress before spinning back over to the pile of bedding left on the chest, picking up the next sheet to set it on the mattress.

With your attention so lost in the music, the lyrics and your movements, of course you didn’t notice the tall figure standing in the doorway, watching your every move like a predator watching its prey. He had been with Charlie, discussing ideas for the hotel while sipping at some coffee in the kitchen. His red eyes were focused on the blonde sitting across from him, who was happily explaining one of her bright ideas to him and clearly subconsciously tapping her fingers against the tabletop. At first it was completely mindless, just tapping, but once he had started talking, his sharp ears caught onto a pattern in the tapping that had suddenly appeared. At first, he figured she had some sort of song stuck in her head, maybe one she had come up with herself, but then he heard the music.

His ears perked up at the music that had suddenly become louder, clearly coming from upstairs. It was swing, he recognised it instantly, but the song itself was foreign to him. It wasn’t surprising he didn’t recognise it; he did die a very long time ago. He knew exactly who was playing it too. It had to have been you. You were the only one who paraded around with your music playing aloud.

“Do excuse me my dear, I have just remembered there is something I must do,” he excused himself from Charlie, finishing the last mouthful of his coffee before standing and leaving the kitchen. He rounded the corner and then vanished into the shadows, reappearing upstairs to find not only the music, but now your lovely voice that had suddenly joined the tune coming from the device usually attached to your hip. And now here he was, standing in the doorway of an unused hotel room, watching as you swayed your hips from side to side and sung along to the song, he could only raise a brow at. An interesting choice of music indeed, but catchy, nonetheless.

You twirled around, giggling softly to yourself as you reached out and grabbed a pillowcase to snuggly wrap around one of the plush pillows. Watching as your skirt flared out around you as you spun and listening to that innocent giggle, Alastor hadn’t realised that his usually intimidating smile had softened, his cold hard warming- all because of you. The demon was besotted with you, completely and utterly so and it was such an unfamiliar feeling to the overlord that he didn’t now what to do with that feeling. Millions of demons overpopulated the depts of hell and no one but you managed to make his heart do things it rarely did even when he was alive. Had he ever felt this way in the past? Was there a southern bell in his past that made his heart swell with warmth and adoration like you have since meeting mere months ago? No- he doubted it, because this feeling was far too foreign to him. Foreign, but not completely unknown.

Lost in his own thoughts, just like you were lost in your own little world, he didn’t notice you turn around to grab something from your trolley, finally noticing him and letting out a squeal of surprise and embarrassment. Just how long had he been standing there? He snapped to attention- though to you it just looked as if your reaction made his smile widen.

“Alastor, don’t sneak up on me like that,” you scolded, turning your music down, the song coming to an end as you did. You took in a deep breath, brushing down your skirt before gazing back up at him, figuring he had a reason for suddenly appearing before you. You could only hope he had only just arrived and hadn’t seen you singing and dancing for more than a couple seconds.

“My apologies darling, but I couldn’t help but become curious over the stunning voice coming from upstairs,” Alastor claimed in his usual charming way, of course smiling down at you as he always did. “To find it was you singing though, my dear- you’re quite the canary if I do say so myself!”

You flushed lightly at his compliment, embarrassed at the confirmation that he had indeed heard her singing, but flattered all the same.

“Thank you, Al, that’s very kind of you to say,” you thanked him, biting your lip lightly and looking down at the floor for a moment. Has the carpet always been this stained? This would surely drive Niffty insane.

“I was going to ask if you would happen to be free for a dance, though unfortunately, that sing you had there has unfortunately come to an end,” he hummed, faking disappointment, but there was no way he didn’t have something up his sleeve.

“If it’s all the same to you however, darling, perhaps we could settle for another song instead.” Offering a gloved hand to you, swing music played seemed to play out of nowhere and your own quite music was now nowhere to be heard. Letting out a soft laugh, and brushing yourself down one more time, you accepted his hand, being pulled in close almost instantly.

“I suppose I could spare the time for a dance.”

[bangtancentricsblog]

○werewolf in the suburbs○

➣ just your friendly neighborhood werewolf trying to keep his secret, well a secret

❒ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

❒ genre: angst, fluff, slight humor, slight crack (maybe)

❒ alternative universe: werewolf

❒ rating: NC 17

❒ word count: 4.8k +

warnings/disclosures: no edit we die like men, angst but like mild angst, werewolves Jimin and Jungkook, mc is human, cameos from yoongi, Jimin is a dick, self deprecating thoughts, connected universe, Easter eggs keke, old people, fluff is at the end, I’m sorry this is such a mess, there’s nothing too bad in the one, can you spot the song references? clearly namu is my favorite

monster mash ml • main ml • AO3

The trees look beautiful today, Namjoon thinks as he sips his morning tea, but he can’t enjoy it as you bore holes into his head from across the street. He’s lived here for more than two years now and he’s familiar with everyone but you are a complete stranger. A new face in his safe suburban community, and it was a community when the only people who lived here were elderly couples. He didn't mind them after all he was friendly with all of them, hell he did a lot of work for them. Like Norman who owned the farm down the road, he helped with whatever he could and in return Norman would let him have fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lilian from the flower shop let him have his pick of seedlings from the nursery when he helped unload deliveries. Jack the local butcher let him have his pick of meats and cheeses for cheap, while their town's mayor offered his niece’s hand in marriage for becoming a positive member in the community. Youngest member of the community would be more accurate, Namjoon had nothing but time on his hands and so he helped where he could when he could. He liked his quiet life, that is until you showed up with your paint splattered overalls and messy hair. He won't even mention the cute oversized glasses and that infectious laughter of yours because he hated it.

What's more, you ruined his perfect little routine, the house you now lived in used to belong to a woman named Alice, a woman who had nothing but harsh words to say but was sweet even with her glare. He liked Alice, she reminded him of his own grandmother back home and she hadn’t mentioned leaving the last time he’d been over tending to her garden. So he wondered just what exactly you’re doing in her house. There were exactly four houses on the street, all decently sized with dense forest to their surroundings. Namjoon liked his home, the wrap around porch was something his friend Jimin had loved when he’d bought it. Most importantly he liked that the forest behind his home was a direct path to his pack's land 40 miles away.

Somehow when you’d introduced yourself you’d shown a little too much interest in him, and it creeped him out. Since then you’d come around so often he was alway ready to receive you, he’d offer you tea and sometimes you’d accept happily and other times you’d decline a stuttery mess of words slipping past your lips as you’d hurried away from him. Today however you’d just been staring at him from across the street beneath the shade of an old oak tree. The leaves long since changed color to a vibrant goldenrod. The air held a chill as it swept past bringing with it the soft scent that he knew came off you. It was like fresh mint, refreshing but tainted with the lingering of chocolate that always made him shudder. What a weird mix, he thought.

He’s tired of waiting though, so he stands making his way over to you ready to offer you tea. Though he’s surprised to see you fast asleep, your head tilted towards his direction. It’s cute, the way your brows furrow the slightest and the pout to your lips, but there’s something more. The scent of salt on you is strong, more so than usual and it worries him slightly as he drops down to crouch in front of you. He takes a deep breath catching something else, he’s not sure what though. Humans were such complicated beings, scents were easy to tell apart in his kind but with humans there were too many scents that lingered. To many possibilities, and unfortunately Namjoon hadn’t been around humans for long enough to really know.

His wolf whines at him, as he moves closer nuzzling your hair to really get an idea of what's wrong. You sigh eyelids fluttering slightly, leaning closer to him with a shiver. Closer, his wolf hums, but Namjoon moves away, hand going to press against your forehead. You’re warm, warmer than he thinks is normal for humans. Almost as warm as he is, and he’s a wholly different species, it worries him. He’s quick to haul you into his arms and towards his house, to his surprise you snuggle closer to his body, he pays no mind to how his wolf purrs at the contact.

*

The following day and a half he spends taking care of you, to the best of his abilities that is. Luckily enough for him your fever broke the following night (something he had to look up) and went into town to get human medicine. Delia from the pharmacy smiled politely and had laughed when he stumbled through his explanation for buying so much over the counter medicines. It had been mortifying for him to call you his girlfriend, but he’d rather not tell them it was you he was taking care of. If he’s being completely transparent he has no idea how exactly you’d gotten better but you had and he's happy for it.

“Hey.” he greets over the rim of his coffee mug as he sits at his kitchen island. You look better, even your scent smells better, more minty than chocolatey today it washes over him in an oddly refreshing way.

“Hi, thanks for taking care of me.” you laugh softly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes are squinted, in the early morning light and the strawberry skys are just now giving way to the mango and blueberry that come after the near crack of dawn.

“You’re welcome, would you like some coffee, maybe tea?” he asks.

“No, I’m okay. I should probably head home and shower. I already put the sheets to wash. I hope you don't mind, thank you again.”

“I’ll walk you home then.” he makes to move out of his seat, meeting your gaze at the slight muffle squeak that comes tumbling from your lips.

“No, that’s okay you’ve done enough.” you quickly mutter shuffling your feet before giving him one last thank you and excusing yourself. That’s cute, he thinks leaning his cheek into his palm. The smile that tugs at his lips, is soft, dreamy even but Namjoon is none the wiser. He feels a bit woozy all of a sudden groaning slightly at the way the light irritates his eyes. It isn't often that he falls ill but he hasn't been feeling all too well for the last couple of days since he’s brought you into his home. He hopes it’s pre-rut symptoms but he’s not too sure after all there’s something different about this.

“Maybe I should go home for a bit.” he mutters to no one in particular, as he stands moving to rinse his mug before making his way to his bedroom.

The sun hangs high in the sky by the time you have showered and fed your poor cat Castiel. Who hasn't left your side since you’ve come home, which is odd in itself considering he’s a dick most days. He’s purring on your chest pawing at your face every few minutes to get you to kiss his head, and you do with a soft giggle. His fur is soft as silk as you run your finger through it absentmindedly. Your mind is elsewhere, sifting through the hazy memories of the last two days that you’d been away from home. Namjoon was very kind to you, and sure he was tall, broad, an absolute tree of a man that had your poor simple heart falling for him in an instant.

It’s too bad you couldn't be calm and confident like your cousin sometimes, she would know what to do. Though, you doubt he’d be interested in you either way, he seemed like the type who liked booksmart, ambitious girls. Girls who wore clothes of the latest season, with long legs and big brains, the put together type which was everything you weren’t. Who wanted a bubbly overly clumsy failed artist living off an inheritance in the middle of nowhere? You sigh heavily, heart aching as you realize the little crush you had has probably withered with the little bit of self deprecating thoughts. Well it was a nice little fantasy you supposed, but you really should do something to thank him. You briefly wonder if your cousin has time to help you bake Namjoon something.

To your surprise, your cousin does indeed have time to come help you. She’s at your house a few days later, her best friend in tow, Yoongi’s been a constant in both your lives you’d long since started treating him like family. Though you’re a little sad to not see Suga, her super cute and cuddly black cat, he’s nothing like your Castiel. She mutters something about him being a little too sick for the travels.

“So, what do you want to make?” she asks, tying her long hair up into a ponytail. You do the same though your hair is much shorter than hers. Yoongi goes through your cabinets pulling bowls and the hand mixer to help prep. You smile at him gratefully moving to pull aprons off the hooks in the pantry.

“Smells like a dog in here.” Yoongi says after knotting his apron, and you wince taking deep breaths to catch the scent he speaks of. You don’t find anything out of the usual, just the lingering scent of pineapple from the candle that sits on your coffee table.

“Maybe I should close the windows.” You offer, missing the shared look between your cousin and Yoongi.

“____, sweetie, what do you want to make?” Your cousin asks again as you fiddle with the windows.

“I don’t really know, maybe muffins, how about chocolatechip?” You say, tilting your head slightly, not entirely sure if he’ll even like them. Truth be told you're not sure Namjoon even eats carbs not with the way he was built, not that you were looking. I mean sure you looked, but like respectfully! It was hard to miss anyways especially when his boobs were just as big if not bigger than your own! Again, you had looked, respectfully! She hums in thought and Yoongi moves to stand behind her wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

“How about we make a little of everything, I know you like muffins so we’ll make enough so that you can enjoy them too.” She offers swaying slightly along with Yoongi who seems to have grown bored rather quickly. You smile, moving to wrap your own arms around her to squish her between you and Yoongi. She groans, muttering her discomfort but you know she loves it as cold as she may pretend to be.

*

Jimin and Jungkook are pulling on some shorts before walking out of the forest, beads of sweat shine in the low light of the evening as they move past the foliage and onto Namjoon’s property. They’d come looking for Namjoon who hadn’t answered when Jin had called to check in with the younger wolf, and had yet to return the call. Jimin still loves this wrap around porch, he thinks he could get used to this if he really wanted out of pack life but he doesn't, not yet anyways. They’re coming around the side when they spot you standing at the door a basket in hand, the glasses you wear are comically big on your face slipping down your nose as you mutter to yourself. Jimin takes you in, the chunky cable knit sweater dwarfs you significantly making your look so small, but the whole outfit you wear reminds him of a child.

The pale blue of your sweater adds just a touch of color to your outfit, the tights and booties you wear are black. He’s most drawn to the half pigtails that sit atop your head, cute he thinks. He watches you for a bit longer before your gaze darts up as Jungkook steps closer peeking over your shoulder like some overgrown pup. He sighs internally because of course the pup of their group would step closer at the scent of food.

“Hi, oh my god you’re naked!” you yell dropping your gaze again to avoid looking at their half naked forms. He stifles a chuckle so as not to offend you, humans were so very amusing.

“We’re not naked.” Jimin says watching as you try and shrink away from his gaze, however Jungkook still stands behind you. It’s almost funny how you look like a caged mouse between the two of them ready to be devoured.

“Your boobs are out.” You mumble bringing the basket you hold in front of your face to further hide behind. Jimin pauses, d-did you just say boobs? Jungkook’s eyes grow in size as he meets Jimin’s gaze he can see the way the other man’s body trembles with concealed laughter.

“Who are you again?” Jimin asks, noticing the peculiar way Jungkook has not so subtly taken to sniffing you. Not the basket in your hand but you.

“I’m a friend of Namjoon’s, ____, I live down the street.” you say cheerily.

“A friend you say? I don't think he’s ever mentioned you before.” Jimin quirks his head slightly stepping closer.

“Oh, that’s okay we uh, we aren't that close?” you murmur gaze falling to your feet once more.

“Then are you really friends? You’re kinda plain looking, you aren't too tall, I’d say you’re very average at best.” you flinch back from him after what he’s said. You gnaw on your lip to keep quiet because you know. You offer him a tight smile, eyes glazed over and Jungkook is the one to glare at Jimin, because the pleasant mix of chocolate and mint with a hint of something oh so familiar has soured.

“I should go, please give this to Namjoon.” you thrust the basket into Jimin’s chest, he fumbles with it almost dropping it altogether as you turn on your heel almost tripping down the stairs in your rush to get away from the two. You’re out of sight in an instant, Jimin looks a little smug as Jungkook stares at the space you once occupied.

“That was really mean of you.” Jungkook spits.

“Who cares, she’s human.” Jimin scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the taller boy. He shoves the basket at Jungkook moving to take the spare key from where it’s wedged above the door frame. There’s a soft click before the two make their way inside, the house smells almost the same a little stale but mostly the same. It’s unnaturally quiet as they move further into the house which is unsettling. Jungkook sets the basket down in the kitchen moving towards the lone bedroom on the first floor before something is darting past him. The giant taupe mass that zips past has his lips quirking slightly.

“Namjoon you had us scared!” he laughs as the elder buries his muzzle in Jungkook’s abdomen.

“Why didn't you check in?” Jimin asks as he enters the room, the growl that rips through the room is brief as the giant wolf’s ears flick to the side before he’s bolting out the open front door. The two yell after him running out to follow him but the elder is gone, and for the first time since Namjoon has moved out of pack territory Jimin and Jungkook are worried.

*

Yoongi stretches out on your rooftop yawning a bit as he watches the giant mutt sprint into your yard. A quirk to his head as he sits quietly and watches as it goes sniffing around the area, well that’s interesting he thinks as a single corner of his lips tilt up.

*

Your cheeks itch, you think as you rub at them with the back of your hands; your nose is runny and unfortunately you don't have any tissues. It’s not like you to cry over something like that, especially when it came from a virtual stranger, a really good looking one at that. You hate that he was so quick to see the things you didn't like about yourself almost as if he knew. It’s stupid really because you had worked past this, had gone all your life being ridiculed and compared to your near perfect cousin. The one who went to a private school, who’d won the gene pool lottery because she was gorgeous, she’d beg to differ but despite all that you don't resent her. Not when she cared about you as much as she did, she doted on you as much as she could.

Still you can't help but wonder what it would've been like to be a little more like her, it’s silly because you don't really want her life necessarily. You just wanted something to call your own, you sigh letting your eyes fall closed as you try your hardest not to fall deeper into those nasty thoughts. Somehow you’d ended up sitting in the forest behind your house back against a tree in hiding. Mostly because your cousin is fiercely protective of you, but also because you don't want her to see the tear tracks that stick to your cheeks. The leaves crunch not far from you, and you whip your head in that direction, heart racing. You shriek as a furry mass collides into your body knocking you over. It whines loudly nuzzling into you and you glance down to see a giant dog?

He’s beautiful, shiny coat of taupe fur shines in the low light filtering through the treetops, big beautiful eyes that literally shimmer as he blinks at you. This dog has stolen your heart and you wonder just where the hell he came from. He’s yipping, bumping his head to your chest, before dropping his weight to lay beside you, head happily nestled between your boobs. He huffs a breath, blowing it into your face and you giggle. The whine he lets out is low almost like he’s crying, it breaks your heart a little.

“It’s okay, big guy please don't cry.” you coo running your fingers through his fur, his rumbles happily almost like a purr but slightly different. The laugh you let out is involuntary as his tongue swipes at your cheeks, you push at his massive head in an attempt to get him to stop but he just won't. He really is beautiful you think as he growls playfully at you pulling at your hair before nuzzling close, but he’s a little too big for you.

“-onie!” you hear and the dog goes stiff, turning and growling at whoever has approached you two. You peek around the dog's massive body to see Namjoon’s friend, the mean one standing there hands out. His eyes dart towards you pulling more growls from the dog as he does so, the other boy comes to stand beside his friend.

“Is this your dog?” you ask shuffling to your feet with a curious stare.

“Yes, he’s very viscous so he isn't usually let out.” Jimin says watching as both you and Namjoon quirk your heads at him at the blatant lie.

“He seems friendly enough to me.” you say running a hand through the dogs fur again.

“He must like you!” Jungkook supplies quickly as if to cover for the elders poor lie.

“Monie, come here.” Jimin says motioning to Namjoon who just stands beside you, as he lets out a sad little whine. He doesn't move, you kneel beside him scratching behind his ears and planting a soft little kiss to his nose.

“Go, thank you.” you smile, and he bumps his head against your face for one more kiss before he walks over, turning to glance at you and sprinting past Jimin and Jungkook. Jimin curses turning on his heel and rushing after him. Jungkook however stays stock still staring at something over your shoulder.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m sure Namjoon will be happy to see you.” he smiles before turning and sprinting in the direction he’d come.

*

Your cousin stands at your back door, a frown marring her features as she watches Jungkook run off. What was that mutt doing here, better yet what the hell were you doing hanging out with a pack of wolves in the forest no less. This was interesting, she thinks heading back inside before you can see.

*

“What did you say to her?” Namjoon asks after he’s shifted back to his human form tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

“Why are you assuming I said anything, Jungkook could’ve been the one to say something.” Jimin huffs crossing his arms at his chest.

“I said nuffing.” Jungkook offers around a mouthful of muffin. Namjoon stares at the younger long and hard, because he didn’t have muffins.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Your neighbor brought them over earlier. She’s super cute by the way.” He says, watching amusedly as Namjoon growls at him. It surprises Jimin because Namjoon had never growled at anyone least of all his favorite!

“D-do you like her?” Jimin gags more than a little scandalized at the idea. A human, Namjoon liked a human. Maybe he needed to move back to pack territory, yeah that seemed like a good idea.

“I don't know. She’s different, she smells nice I mean. Like mint and chocolate which is weird already but like in a good way. My wolf likes her too and y’know that's good, maybe?” Jungkook is smiling extra wide, looking almost manic, while Jimin looks like he’ll be sick.

“Maybe you should come back home, Jin would love the help y'know. I’m sure you’re tired of the stench of denture cream and prunes.” Jimin sniffs.

“Not really, I like it here.” he murmurs rubbing at the back of his head.

“Jungkook stop eating and say something!” Jimin shouts almost hysterically.

“These muffins are really good, Namjoon you should have some since your cute neighbor brought them over. Jimin please eat something you can be melodramatic when you’re hungry.” He says waving the baked goodness at the two of them. Jimin is reluctant to take one from him while Namjoon is more than happy to load up on carbs after being stuck in his wolf form for almost a week. He bites into it groaning because this had to be the best muffin he’d ever had, his insides warm at the thought of you baking them and bringing them over.

“I think she might be your mate.” Jungkook offers, biting into a blueberry muffin, it’s his fourth of the batch.

“What?” Namjoon sputters, choking on the bit he has in his mouth.

“Why would you say that?” Jimin says, sounding appalled but still stuffs his cheeks full of muffin.

“I’m just saying, as someone who already has their mate I would know.” he says with an air of arrogance.

“Just because your mate is human doesn’t mean Namjoon’s is.” Jimin huffs with a pout.

“She’s a witch, not a human, and I mean he’s acting a lot like I did when I first met her.”

“Doesn’t her familiar hate you?”

“That's besides the point, what I’m saying is he’s acting like a wolf with a non-wolf mate would.” Jungkook glares at Jimin, for such a small man he sure likes to go toe to toe with someone much bigger than him in every aspect.

“Do you really think so?” Namjoon asks eyes wide in wonder. There’s a glimmer to them, a shine he didn't have before. His wolfs yips happily, the smile that splits Namjoon’s lips is very telling. Jimin groans because of course another one of his close pack mates would have a human mate, it only made sense.

*

You’re gnawing on your lip when your cousin walks into the kitchen the next morning. She looks slightly disheveled, a scowl on her lips at the way the shine literally blinds her. Yoongi comes in after her, looking no less awake than she does a pout to his lips that tilts your own upwards.

“Morning, coffee?” you ask as both of them nod their head once before sitting at the island.

“Why does the sun have to be up everyday, why can't it be cold and gloomy all the time.” your cousin groans into her palms as she drags them across her face in an attempt to wake up a little more.

“It can’t be that bad.” you laugh hugging her as you put a mug of the caffeine in front of her and repeating the process with Yoongi who whines when you move away from him. You’re quickly plating a light breakfast, nothing that requires a lot because truth be told you’re feeling a little frazzled today. The butterflies in your tummy have yet to settle, you almost feel nauseous, but in a good way. Toasted bagels with cream cheese, and fruit will have to do you suppose, you’re also a little sad that your cousin and Yoongi have to go home soon, because you really liked having them over, it beats living in a house as big as this all on your lonesome.

“What’s going on over there rainbow bright?” Yoongi asks, a hint of concern lacing his tone.

“Nothing, I’m just gonna miss you two.” you smile sadly at them.

“Why? It’s not like we can’t come visit or vice versa.”

“I don't know, I like having you around.” your cousin gags muttering about how it’s too early for all this sweetness.

“Your teeth will rot if you stay this sweet, but I don't think you’ll be alone for long.” she smirks into her coffee cup. You’re about to ask why when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurriedly wipe your hands to see who it could be. You pull the door open, and to your surprise Namjoon stands there a small bouquet of daisies in hand.

“Namjoon, hi.” you say a little too breathlessly.

“Hi, um can we talk?” he asks, scratching at his neck sheepishly. You nod, casting a glance over your shoulder and stepping onto your porch.

“What’s up?” you ask, heart fluttering in your chest as he hesitantly raises the flowers in hand.

“These are for you. I’m sorry if Jimin offended you, he has a way with words.” he winces because Jimin truly was a menace and the main reason a lot of she-wolves steered clear of him.

“Thank you, he was a little harsh but I’m a big girl and I can handle it.” His heart breaks a little and his anger simmers, he swears he’ll make Jimin regret hurting you.

“Still, he didn't have a right to, and thank you for the muffins they were really good.” he smiles a dimple winking out, that makes you internally sigh because gosh darnit he was super cute.

“I’m glad you liked them, it was a thank you for taking care of me.” you mutter warmth rushing to your cheeks.

“I, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out sometime?” he asks, skin flushed gaze glued to the floor. Your skin heats further, you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I’m, s-sorry?” you stutter.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” he asks again feeling embarrassed, maybe Jungkook had been wrong after all.

“Like, a, a, d-date?” you squeak, almost certain you’re about to faint.

“Yeah, like a date, I, I’m sorry maybe I should just -”

“NO! I mean yes of course I’d love to go on a date!” you scream, embarrassment washing over you at the sheer volume you’d used legs suddenly feeling like jelly.

“Great, how does Saturday sound? Seven okay?” he asks, excitement leaking into his tone as you stutter out a confirmation. His smile widens turning on his heel and tripping down your steps, barely catching himself before throwing a smile you way once more, saturday can’t come quick enough.

Jimin and Jungkook laugh in the bushes nearby having watched the whole ordeal. Similarly Yoongi and your cousin muffle their laughter belly aching at just how awkwardly comical the two of you were.

*

Six months later ~

“I can’t believe Jimin made me think Monie was a dog.” you laugh wrapping your arms around Namjoon.

“Please don't remind me, I will never live that down.” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s holding you close, the wall of his kitchen are painted the early morning strawberry of the sky, giving way to the mango and blueberry that come after the near crack of dawn, and everything feels perfect. You’re wearing his shirt, all warm, sleep still clouding your eyes but no less love drunk than yesterday. He takes a deep breath swaying the two of you to a silent tune, you smell of mint and chocolate, a weird mix but also of home.

[ayla-221bee]

Mystade Shades of Purple Chapter 2

  Link to chapter one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24986056/chapters/60493702#workskin  and https://hogwartsjaguar97.tumblr.com/post/622435736610914304/mystrade-pride-fic-shades-of-purple-aka-the

   Soho 1989  

 It had been about a year since he had that wonderful kiss in a sidestreet in Soho with a stranger and Greg had not been able to get it out of his head.

   Greg had kissed other people in the past six or so months since that evening, both men and women,  but they felt rather empty compared to the kiss he had with Mycroft.  He liked the kisses that they had with those strangers in clubs but they weren’t the same, there wasn’t the same spark between him and the person who he kissed.

 The kisses that he had exchanged with old girlfriends and strangers before Mycroft didn’t feel that exciting. Greg spent hours thinking about that kiss in Soho and he often wondered why it could never leave his mind. He knew that it was somewhat juvenile to think of a kiss as special...but it was.

 Greg wasn’t sure if it was because it was his first kiss with a man or it was the alcohol that made it so thrilling. It might have been the fact that he had been so nervous even stepping into that bar in Soho and he had the feeling that he was doing something rather rebellious, going against the norm. It was half the reason why Greg considered his bisexuality to be somewhat ‘cool,’ other than the fact that he was in the same club as Bowie and Freddy Mercury.

 Greg found it somewhat impossible to move on from that kiss, no matter how many times he tried. He knew that he did tend to fall quickly and hard, and he had not been able to shake off the fragility of his teenage years when it came to matters of the heart.

 He had moped for days after his date with Mycroft had gotten cancelled last minute. He had been so excited and incredibly nervous to go out with Mycroft. He had spent ages picking something to wear, the best way to style his hair, and he spent far too long debating about the best way to greet Mycroft and if he was meant to bring flowers or not.

 It was through a phone call from Mycroft the evening before their date that had put an end to Greg’s plans. He usually loved his phone calls with Mycroft, they had at least two of them a week since they had met. They were often the highlight of Greg’s week when the two of them talked about everything and nothing.  

 Greg hadn’t been that keen on phone calls after the last one that he had exchanged with Mycroft. He tended to associate them with disappointment after the date had been cancelled.

 Mycroft sounded positively upset, almost disappointed as he spoke on the phone, he tried to hide it and put on a bit of a ‘telephone voice,’ that sounded posher than how he normally talked.  He could tell that Mycroft was heavily burdened with something, he tried to ask what was wrong and Mycroft changed the subject, furiously denying that something was wrong before apologising once more about changing the plans.

         He hung up the phone shortly with the vague promise that they would arrange another day. Putting down the phone felt a bit too final for Greg’s liking and the goodbye that they shared felt a bit too permanent for Greg’s liking.

 He had only known Mycroft for a few weeks through one kiss and countless hours on the phone and  somehow Mycroft had managed to leave a permanent imprint on Greg that seemed impossible to move on from.

 Greg smoked two cigarettes to build up the courage to walk into the club in Soho.

         He could hardly understand why he felt so nervous, it wasn’t as if it was his first time in the club these days. It had been the first time he had been in months, his girlfriend didn’t like it when he went out to clubs and he had stopped going to keep her happy.

           Kate didn’t like the idea of him looking at other women and Greg didn’t think that she would be exactly thrilled to catch him looking at a bloke.  He hadn’t told her that he liked men and he kept it hidden deep like an old jacket in the back of the wardrobe.

 It wasn’t as if he was ashamed of being bisexual, he found the fact so unimportant. He never went around telling people who he fancied what hand he wrote with and he didn’t tell people that he was bisexual. It was a pointless bit of information that only mattered to him and no one else.

 At one point in the five months of his relationship with Kate, Greg wondered if his bisexuality was a phase. He felt as if he had forgotten that he liked men at one point in his efforts of fitting in with other couples and pretending to be straight.  He felt as if he didn’t really fit in with them, almost as if he was an outsider as he had been with men right before his relationship with Kate.

 He put the thought out of his head as quickly as it arrived once a good looking bartender caught his eye.

 Greg scuffed his cigarette out with his boot and sauntered into the club with great ease despite not being there for months.  

 He couldn’t even understand why he felt so nervous, it wasn’t as if the security by the door would ask him about his dating history before they let him, or the bar staff would refuse to serve him once they found out that he had not long ended a relationship with his girlfriend.

 Greg ordered himself a drink, stood by the edge of the bar and allowed himself to enjoy the music.  He knew that after a drink or two, he would be on the dance floor amongst the large group of men dancing to Dead or Alive and Culture Club, it would be the perfect way to recover after a disastrous breakup.

 Greg made his way to the dance floor and allowed himself to get lost in the music. The Smiths had never been his favourite thing to dance but Greg did not care, he needed to dance and escape the real world for a bit.  This song and being in this club were the only things that mattered.

 After dancing to two songs, someone across the bar caught his eye.  It had been about a year since he had last seen Mycroft and months since their date was cancelled the day before, but  Greg was thrilled to see him regardless. Greg wasn’t too sure if it was the alcohol that was talking but honestly couldn’t care.

 Mycroft nodded in acknowledgement and shot him a shy grin across the bar once he had caught his eye.

 He tried to give Mycroft his best inviting grin as he made himself to the bar, swaying to the music as he walked.

 “Fancy seeing you here,” Greg said with a grin as Mycroft approached him. “I thought that gay bars weren’t your thing? What brings you here tonight?”

 “I do like the music,” Mycroft said with a sheepish expression on his face. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink? It is the least that I can do after the last time we talked.”

 Greg nodded enthusiastically, he had never been someone who turned down a drink.  “I’ll have the same as you.”

 Mycroft nodded and braved the packed bar and eventually came back with two glasses in his hands. “I ended up with rum instead of whisky, I hope that you don’t mind.”

 Greg happily accepted the glass that was pushed into his hand and he huddled up close to Mycroft, partly to hear him better. “How is university?” Greg asked, rather unsure about what he was meant to say. “I suppose that it was crazy enough that you had to cancel all those months ago.”

 Mycroft grimaced and sighed before he spoke. “I can assure you that I did not want to cancel on you. I am surprised that you were happy to see me, then again, going by that dancing of yours, I assume that you might be somewhat intoxicated.”

 Greg raised an eyebrow and removed his glass from his lips. “I am not that drunk,” he said. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see you?”

 “No one is usually happy to see me,” Mycroft replied.

 “Well, I’m glad to be the first one,” Greg said with a smile.

 He was pushed close into Mycroft’s side as someone shoved past him to get to the bar. Greg didn’t move away and stayed in close, Mycroft didn’t seem to mind too much.  He scanned Mycroft up and down   taking him all in, making Mycroft blush slightly as he noticed. “You look really good,” he said into Mycroft’s ear. “I like your shirt.”

 “I like your hair,” Mycroft said somewhat awkwardly as if he had never really complimented someone before.  “You make me think of James Dean when you have that jacket on. The earring is new.”

 Greg ran his hand through his hair and shuffled in closer. “Have you come here to find someone? Anyone caught your eye?”

 Mycroft took in a deep breath and took a long sip of his drink for courage before he nodded.  “I do not think that he might be interested...We were meant to be going out for dinner before I regretfully had to cancel.”

 Greg finished off his drink and grabbed Mycroft’s hand before the other had much a chance to respond. “You can have a dance with me and we’ll see what happens.”

 “I do not dance,”  Mycroft said. “I have never danced in my life and I will never dance.”

 He did not let go out his hand despite his protests and allowed Greg to drag him to the dance floor. He stood there somewhat awkwardly, swaying to the music as Greg started to dance.

 “God, I love this song,” Greg said loudly that Mycroft could hear him. “Come one, have some fun and let your hair down. I reckon that you are too serious.”

 “I am capable of having fun,” Mycroft protested.

         “It’s impossible not to have fun when you are on a dance floor with good looking blokes,” Greg teased, pulling Mycroft in close. “You are the best-looking one.”

 Mycroft snorted loudly and shook his head. “You must be very drunk.”

 Greg pulled him in close and shook his head. There was a slight buzz from the alcohol but it was pleasant. The atmosphere of the club, the music and being with Mycroft was responsible for his good mood than the alcohol. He had needed this so badly after being in a disastrous relationship.

 “We don’t have to dance,” he said to Mycroft once the song had ended. Mycroft seemed to enjoy watching him dance than actually wanting to dance himself and swayed awkwardly to the music.

 “I told you that I couldn’t dance,” Mycroft said into his ear. “You are a fantastic dancer, everyone is watching you.”

 Greg cast an eye around the room and turned his attention back to Mycroft. “I haven’t been dancing in a while, my  girlfriend didn’t like it.”

 Mycroft looked him up and down and bit his bottom lip, he looked rather deep in thought. “Would this girlfriend mind if I bought you another drink? Or if I took you somewhere else?”

 Greg wrapped his arm around Mycroft’s waist and attempted to sway with him to the music in the attempt to get him to ‘dance,’ with him. “I’m unattached,” Greg murmured. “I would very much like another drink with you. Where are you thinking about going?”

 “Another dance and we can see where the night takes us?” Mycroft suggested with a grin.

 “I don’t normally do anything like this,” Mycroft murmured, grinning, as he ran his fingers through Greg’s hair. “I did not expect to see you at the club tonight.”

 Greg leaned back against the headboard and traced his fingers along with constellation like freckles on Mycroft’s arm. It was impossible not to smile back. He had the odd feeling that the earth had turned a certain way for them to meet up again. He did briefly wonder if it was fate. He had always been a bit of a romantic.

 “What would you have done if you didn’t see me then?” Greg asked with a grin. “Just listened to the music?”

 Mycroft let out a chuckle and Greg couldn’t help but join in. “I suppose that I would have done that and gone to bed for ten. I did not plan to go out tonight.”

 Greg stretched out on the bed and ran his hand along Mycroft’s thigh that was covered by the duvet, and pressed a kiss on the outside of his wrist. “You must have done something right for fate to bring us together and to spend the early hours of the morning getting shagged.”

 Mycroft wrinkled his nose in disgust and rolled his eyes good naturally. “‘Shag,’ is such a common word, Gregory,” he lightly scolded.

         “You did say worse things earlier on,” Greg smirked. “I did not expect those words to come out of a mouth like yours. I didn’t think that posh boys even knew words like that.”

 “I’m full of surprises,” Mycroft grinned. “I suppose that this does make up for last year?”

 Greg shrugged and played with Mycroft’s long fingers, he felt the need for a cigarette but he had finished off his box before he entered the club.  “What even made you cancel? University deadlines?”

 Mycroft worried his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head, dismissing him. “Nothing for you to worry about. I doubt that you would understand.”

 “What wouldn’t I-”

 He silenced off Greg’s question by crowding him against the headboard and kissed him, teasing.  “I am just really glad that you were willing to forgive  me and that you happened to be in the club tonight.”

 He ran a long-fingered hand up  Greg’s thigh and hummed into the kiss. Greg’s hands gravitated towards his arse. It was the lushest arse that he had ever seen on someone. Greg wondered if fate was doing him a favour tonight.

         “I’m very glad that decided to have a bit of fun and have a dance with me” Greg smirked. “You are very forgiven.”

 Mycroft almost had a rather tender expression on his face and placed a hand on his cheek. Greg felt a jolt inside him almost as if the atoms in his body had been rearranged. It would have frightened him in any other situation.

 “Me too,” Mycroft murmured, “I rarely let myself have any fun.”

 He let out an undignified squeak when Greg suddenly flipped him over onto his back. It broke into a breathy chuckle as Greg started to press kisses from the scattering of freckles on his nose and started to work his way down.

 It was a loud ringing of the phone that loudly taken Greg out of the moment that he was in. He had hoped that Mycroft was going to ignore it,  but Mycroft had worked his way from under him and slipped a dressing gown on before Greg could hardly think about what planet he was on.

 He could hear Mycroft talk on the phone in a low and serious voice. He sighed several times and sounded so exhausted from what Greg could make out on the phone.

         Greg tried to position himself on the bed in a more dignified position when he walked back in. Mycroft looked as if he had aged several years in the two minutes that he had been on the phone and he started to flatten down his very ruffled hair.  

         “Is everything alright?” Greg asked with a frown, he pushed back his fringe from where it had flopped down over one eye.

 Mycroft started to collect their clothes from the floor and organised their items into two piles in the bed. “You need to go, “ he murmured. “I am so sorry.”

 Greg stood up from the bed and put on a clean pair of boxers that Mycroft had shoved in his direction. “Is your boyfriend coming home or something?”

 Mycroft looked up at him as if he had told a joke and let out a humourless chuckle. His posture was unnaturally stiff as if he was propped up to a metal pole.  “That would be an easier situation to deal with.”

 He started to pull on his clothes that managed to stay relatively crease-free despite being tossed on the floor earlier on. His eyes were calculating and he seemed to be lost in his own world as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

 “What’s happening then?” Greg asked, “You were fine a moment ago.”

 “And I’m fine now,” Mycroft said briskly. “Thank you.”

 “Are you seriously going to do this again?” Greg asked as he shoved the last pieces of clothing on. “I don’t mind you blowing me off once but twice.”

 Mycroft sighed and sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. “This is not my own choice,” he murmured.  “I have enjoyed the night we had but -”

 “You don’t think it’s a good idea?” Greg answered for him, somewhat bitter. “Are you even going to call me ?”

 Mycroft fastened up his trousers and sighed. “My situation would not allow me to have a relationship even if I wanted to. I do like you, Greg.”

 The words fluttered in Greg’s stomach teasingly. He tried to not let himself get caught up in the moment as he knew that he would be severely disappointed. “What is the situation?”

 “You wouldn’t understand.”

 “I’m a very good listener,” Greg countered. “I doubt that it is that bad.”

         Mycroft seemed to consider it for a moment,  the words ‘my brother,’ fell out of his mouth but he had quickly closed his mouth again and shook his head.  “I had a really good night with you,” Mycroft tried to smile but it did not reach his eyes. “I think that in another world  we could be very happy together but the timing isn’t there.”

 “I could wait for you,” Greg replied. “I think you are just scared. You know that this a good thing that we’ve got going on and you are running away.”

 “I thought that you were a police constable and not a psychologist,” Mycroft snapped before he apologised with a sigh.

 Greg shook his head and scolded himself for getting wrapped up with someone who had already ditched him before. He knew that things wouldn’t happen between him and Mycroft, they seemed to come into difficulty from the moment they met. He didn’t even know Mycroft’s name in the first night they met.

 “Your loss,” Greg shrugged as he shoved his jacket on.

         “This isn’t my choice,” Mycroft sighed. “My life  is...complicated.”

 “Isn’t life meant to be ?” Greg countered. “I think that you need to have a friend at least, someone who you could talk to.”

 Mycroft seemed to consider it for a long moment and sighed. He reached out his wallet and pulled out some money and placed it in Greg’s pocket when he refused to take it. It made him feel rather cheap.

 “It is for a taxi home,” Mycroft said. “I am truly sorry. I do like you and I cannot drag you into this mess.”

 Greg pushed back his hair and sighed. “You can phone me if you want,” he said. “I think that you do need a friend...I’m willing to be that for you.”

 Mycroft perched on the bed and looked rather small, the confidence that he had in the club seemed non-existent. He bent down and kissed him goodbye, he had the odd feeling that it would be the last time that he would see Mycroft.

 Greg straightened himself out and sighed. “I will see you around, yeah?” he murmured.  

 It took all of Greg’s strength to leave Mycroft’s flat that evening.

     Mycroft didn’t know what inspired him to go to the club that night, he had never enjoyed clubs. He didn’t even really enjoy the music that was being played.

 A part of him hoped that he would have seen Greg.  He had always kept an eye out for him on the rare occasion that he felt brave enough to venture down to Soho and when his burdens had lifted from his shoulders slightly.

 He hadn’t seen in Greg in a long time, he had assumed that he had managed to get himself a girlfriend or a boyfriend and it had put his days in the club to an end.  He knew that there would be a snowflake’s chance in hell that something would happen between them.   His happiness did not even have a priority in his own life.

         Mycroft tried to let himself enjoy the night, allow himself to get caught up in the music and forget about his own life for several hours. Each time he had walked into Soho, he always realised how much that he needed a night like this.

 One night where his biggest concern was about the music that they were playing in the club and what he was going to drink. A night where he did not have to be the adult that he pretended to be.

 A night where he could be himself for several hours and pretend to be somewhat ordinary, unburdened by the work on his desk and attempting to help his little brother who did not want to be helped or care for himself. A night away from parents who disapproved of him and were happily ignorant about what their youngest son got up to.

 He needed a night away from that burden but he would snap back into reality the moment that his pager buzzed or if the phone rang.

 He tried to enjoy the music, he normally would not care for The Smiths in the real world, but right now, they were his favourite band. He never really understood the lyrics of ‘      Panic’     before in the real world, but tonight, they spoke to him.

 He looked over at the dance floor and he felt his heart twinge and his stomach flutter at the sight of Greg dancing away without a care in the world. Mycroft had never cared much about dancing before but he found himself more willing to dance if Greg asked him to.

 Greg stopped dancing for a moment and grinned when he saw him, pushing his hair away from his eyes. He beckoned him over the to the bar as he danced.

 Mycroft thought for a long moment, finished off his drink and ran his hand through his hair before he made his way to the bar.                  How could he have refused?

 He knew that there was only so many chances in life he could take and he did know when it would end or have the opportunity to have a good time.  Tonight almost felt limitless.

[laudedliar]

Just a quick short - I based it on the word Touch:

He was always touching him. A brush of a hand. A friendly bump of a shoulder. The gentle nudge of a thigh under the table. A lingering palm on his back. Fenris tried to ignore it. To not seem interested when Hawke would stare into his very being with those feral amber eyes.

But it got more difficult every time.

Even when they shared angry words about the man’s proclivity to indulge the Abomination Anders. Or when the other warrior was insistent on safe guarding the dangerous apostates they inevitably ran across. When they argued about the veracity of Merrill’s claims that she ‘knew what she was doing’.

And after their heated words were finished, panting and cheeks flushed from passionate debate, Hawke would touch him.

And Fenris’ world would shrink to that single spot where the man’s caress lingered. Breath hitching, heart faltering, skin burning.

He wanted more. Especially since Hawke’s fascination with equality and fairness extended beyond just mages. He embraced the idea that all people’s deserved better. Elves. Men. Dwarves. Even Qunari. Fenris had never met anyone like Hawke in his entire life. Even the Fog Warriors fairness and care were a dim candlelight compared to Hawke’s sun-like brilliance.

His eyes were lingering on long, pale fingers that brushed against Hawke’s forearm. Slender fingertips stained from working with alchemical herbs tickling through the fine dark hairs. Jaw flexed, teeth grinding together, Fenris tore his gaze away from where Ander’s caressed their enigmatic leader and back to his hand of cards.

“And then she asked if there was a potion to cure it!” The mage was clearly intoxicated. A blush flushed high on his sunken cheeks.

Hawke laughed loudly, pulling his arm away from the other human’s stroking fingers to lift his tankard of ale to his lips.

“Look, mage. I only asked if there was a preventative measure so I wouldn’t have to bother you again.” Isabela replied, her shoulder’s shrugging. She didn’t seem the least bit ashamed that Ander’s had ousted her for having STDs.

“Rivani, if I ever write a story with you in it, I’m going to have to put a warning on the front page. In big bold lettering: For Mature Audiences Only.” Varric was shaking his head as he stared down at his own hand of cards.

“You’d sell a lot of copies in Orlais.” Hawke quipped.

“Ha!” Varric set his hand down on the table. “Full House. Read ‘em and weep!”

“You cheated!” Anders whined as he set his own dismal hand of cards down onto the table.

“You’ll be disappointed to note Varric but I have a Straight Flush, Angels high.” Isabela smirked at the gathered companions around the table to a round of loud groaning protests.

“Well, I’m tapped.” Hawke grumbled as he tossed his cards down onto the table. The warrior pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’ll see you all tomorrow?” He asked as he down the last sip of his ale tankard.

“More adventures?” Varric asked as he collected the cards off the table top and began to shuffle with practiced flair.

“Always.” Hawke promised.

“I’ll walk home with you.” Anders said as he pushed away from the table as well and fell into step with the other man.

Fenris’ eyes lingered on the pair of humans. His nostrils flared with irritation at the way Anders once more caressed Hawke’s elbow.

“You in, Elf?” Varric asked as he began to deal the cards.

“Sure.” Fenris gruffed and turned away from the doorway as the two men walked out.

It was a subdued hand of cards with only the three of them left. Isabela and Varric kept glancing over at him.

“What?” He finally asked when looked up from his cards into Isabela’s staring brown eyes once again.

“So... I don’t mean to be a busybody but...” She started. Her eyes looked away back to her own hand of cards, fingers deftly moving them around.

“Then don’t.” Fenris growled and shook his head. He knew exactly where she was going with this. And he didn’t want to hear it. Not from her.

“I’m about to say something myself, Broody.” Varric muttered as he eyed his cards carefully.

“It’s just that, well, maybe you would feel a little better if you just... I don’t know... Approached Hawke?” Isabela suggested. It was a gentle nudge. A friendly push.

“He wouldn’t turn you away.” Varric agreed. The dwarf laid out the next card in the deck. A Knight of Roses.

“I knew a woman once that read cards. She would say that’s a good omen!” Isabela said happily as she laid another handful of copper down into the pot.

“Now you read cards?” Fenris asked flatly. He added his own copper pieces, shifting his own cards around.

“I’m just saying if you don’t board that ship there are plenty of others waiting on the docks.” Isabela said.

“Anders.” Varric coughed the name out. His fist hit his chest a couple times. “Sorry about that, had a little tickle.”

Isabela and the dwarf laughed lightly between each other. Another card placed on the table and Fenris scowled at the Serpent face. He just needed a Song and would have a flush hand.

“I’ll make you a bet. If you win... We won’t bother you about this again. But if Isabela or I win...” The two glanced at each other and then turned their wicked gazes back on him.

He looked back at his hand again, mulling over probabilities. “You’ll never speak of it again?” He asked. “Ever?”

“Well, I might use it in a story, but to you? Never. Lips will be sealed.” Varric ran his fingers over his mouth in a zippering motion.

Fenris’ eyes flicked to Isabela. The pirate lifted her right hand into the air. “I swear on my honor as a captain.”

“And if I lose?” He asked, eyes lingering on the traitorous Serpent card.

“You have to go to Hawke. Tonight. No excuses and I want all the glorious, gooey details tomorrow.” Isabela crooned.

“Anders might be there.” Fenris dead panned as he watched Varric flip another card. Another Knight. Shit.

“Blondie? Nah. He was swimming. Hawke probably tucked him into bed already.” Varric was smiling at his cards as he placed a shining silver to the pot. He was bluffing. He had to be. “Well, do we have a bet?”

Fenris stared at his cards some more. His teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek. Only a Song. And they would never bother him about it again. “Bet.” He ground between his teeth against his better judgement.

The night air was cool as he stood outside the door of Hawke’s estate. Lights were on inside so at least someone was still awake. He hoped it was merely Bodahn and could tell the two vagabonds he’d been turned away because ‘Messere Hawke is sleeping and doesn’t wish to be disturbed’. He took a deep breath and knocked.

The door swung open and Hawke stood there in his house robe. Amber eyes blinking widely at Fenris.

“Fenris!” The man was clearly surprised at seeing the elf this late.

“I have been thinking of you. In fact I have been able to think of little else. Command me to go, and I shall.”

Hawke stared at him for the space of a heartbeat.  “No need.”

[bulbpix]

If You Just Listened - Part 5

    

A/N: Sorry for the longer wait on this chapter, ya girl has had a lot of exams and I'm still not even done with all of them yet. But writing another fluffy installment was exactly the kind of pick me up I needed. ANYWAYS - let me not delay this any further. YOU WANT SLOW BURN? I'LL GIVE YA SLOW BURN.

    Things were looking up for you lately. Of course, you still had your crappy job and you weren't exactly rich (yet). But, things were getting better.

    For one thing, your co-workers were beginning to finally open up to you. Owen was much less controlling, respecting most of your host-related decisions around Pogo's. Lucy teased you considerably less. You were finally beginning to feel like you fit in. A little bit, at least.

    There were still times you found yourself talking to Owen for quite some time, only to hear "Huh? Oh... Yeah. Whatever," as his response. You would think you were discussing detailed, intricate topics with Lucy, to be suddenly met with, "Yeah. Anyways, did you see that guy that just walked in? Two words: Beef. Cake."

    It was discouraging to know you weren't really being listened to. That was something you had begun to notice about the people of Gotham. Everyone seemed to only be concerned about their own thoughts and lives. It was incredibly difficult to get used to that aspect of city culture. Yet still, you were happy to have built somewhat of a rapport at work.

    You sighed in exhausted relief as the clock struck 9. Things may have been getting better, but double shifts weren't one of those things. You wasted no time clocking out, slipping on your coat as you walked out the door. You even forgot to say your goodbyes for the night, which you did feel bad about (But you were sure Owen and Lucy would survive without them).

    You took a deep breath once you stepped outside. Unfortunately the air here wasn't fresh, but at least the cold made it feel like it was. You scoffed at the thought, and began your journey home.

    Your work heels tapped against the concrete.

Click-clack

    Click-clack

Click-clack

Thump thump

Click-clack Thump thump

Thump thump

.....

You stopped, looking over your shoulder.

Arthur stood there. He looked up at you, a guilty expression on his face.

You rolled your eyes. "Arthur..."

"Sorry," he muttered.

    You smiled, motioning for him to come join you. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, walking towards you cautiously.

    "You know, if you want to walk to the apartment together you could just tell me," you assured, continuing your stroll. "You don't have to just walk behind me being all stealthy and stuff."

    There was a pause. Arthur's shoulders lowered, as if he was beginning to relax. A meek smile appeared on his lips.

    "Okay, if you say so," he said quietly.

    You nodded. "Thanks by the way."

    He raised his eyebrows. "What for?"

    "I know you're just looking out for me," you said, looking up at him happily.

    "Oh...Yeah. It's not the safest out here."

    The both of you continued your journey home, discussing whatever came to mind, although it was mostly about the current political climate. Apparently there was a new mayor being elected, but you didn't know much about that honestly.

    You were so wrapped up in your conversation that you hadn't even noticed that you had come across the block of vendors from the other day. You gasped in happy surprise once you realized, startling Arthur slightly when you did. Your mouth quickly began to water in anticipation, as you were blissfully reminded that you hadn't eaten all day. You turned to Arthur, excited to now have someone to share a fun experience with.

    "Feeling hungry?" you beamed.

    Arthur blinked a few times, confused by your sudden enthusiasm. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.

    "Come on!" You didn't give him a chance to respond, taking him by the arm and leading him into the crowded street.

    The mixing scents of different foods delighted your senses just as much as the first time. You lead Arthur through the maze of people, stopping at all the carts you visited before and more, not letting him pay a single cent. In terms of tips, you had a spectacular few weeks. Tonight was the night to indulge, and it was all the more enjoyable to have someone with you for the ride.

    Roast chicken, shish kebab, tacos, deep fried treats, hot buttered rum - NOTHING was off the menu. As the night went on, your bellies grew full, and you were definitely beginning to feel bloated. BUT- you would not end the night without introducing Arthur to the most unique taste of them all.

    

    Arthur sat at a bench at the end of the block as you placed your final order of the night. You approached him, handing him his own roll of seaweed wrapped fish eggs. He took it from you gently, unsure of what exactly he was looking at. 

    "Ever tried these?" you asked, sitting beside him. 

    He shook his head. "What exactly... IS this?"

    "One of the weirdest things you'll ever eat." 

    You raised your roll to his, tapping them together.

    "Cheers! To one of my tastiest nights in Gotham."

    He chuckled, bringing it to his mouth and taking a large bite. You did the same, delighted to finish the night with your favorite food. You looked over at him. 

    "So good, right?"

    Arthur was wincing as he chewed on the eggs, clearly not enjoying the flavor. You raised your eyebrows. 

    "No way. There's no way you didn't like that!"

    Arthur 's eyes widened, "No, no! They're really good, I like them!"

    You laughed, "It's okay, they're not for everyone I guess."

    He lowered the roll from his mouth, relieved that he didn't have to take another bite. 

    The both of you sat on the bench for a while longer, quietly observing the crowds shuffling among the food vendors. You listened to the sounds of the city around you. You allowed your mind to relax, as you took in your surroundings. People chattered. Cars honked. You could hear the giggles of young couples, the wailing of restless babies, angry store owners shooing off petty thieves, drunken friends singing their favorite songs. 

    Gotham was full of life. It made you feel peaceful somehow, knowing that you were able to be a part of this city's story. You leaned your head back on the bench, looking up at the night sky. 

    "You can't really see the stars here, huh?"

    Arthur turned to you, seemingly shaken out of his own trance. He looked up. 

    "No, not really. Too many lights out here."

    "Yeah," you sighed. "The food is a good trade off, though," you giggled. 

    "I'll take a feast over stargazing any day."

    He smiled, looking down at his shoes. 

    It was a good night.

[grovyrosegirl]

Ugly Sweaters

(AO3 Link)

Summary: It’s Jesse McCree’s first Christmas with Overwatch. He starts out the night trying to endure a crowded holiday party at Reinhardt’s apartment, but maybe there’s such a thing as Christmas magic after all. 

Author’s Note: Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy this silly little Christmas fic I cooked up! 

It’s Jesse McCree’s first Christmas since his “recruitment” into Overwatch. He’s standing in the corner of Reinhardt Wilhelm’s apartment, crowded with Overwatch agents and their plus-ones. He holds a cup of eggnog topped with cinnamon shavings in one hand.

Reinhardt’s place feels straight out of a holiday catalogue. Every door in the apartment has a wreath hanging, while every table is covered with a scarlet red tablecloth. Whenever he glances up, Jesse can see waves of homemade snowflake streamers across the ceiling. A large Christmas tree covered in an array of ornaments and multicolored lights stands in the center of the room. The topper of the tree is a wooden, bright yellow star. Traditional, save for the Overwatch insignia carved into its center. Beneath the branches are piles of carefully wrapped gifts, each one topped with a red or green ribbon. There’s a lone mistletoe hanging on the doorway to the kitchen. The more observant guests—also known as the sober ones—are careful to avoid walking directly under it when they pass through.

There’s scarcely a moment to hear his own thoughts between the chattering of the party-goers mixed in with the blasting of festive songs in the background. Hardly any room to move either. It seems the different friend groups had already found their spots in the small space and weren’t planning on budging anytime soon, lost in endless conversations.

He can spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Reyes and Morrison were lucky enough to have grabbed the available seats on the only couch in the place. The two of them are having a conversation that Jesse can’t hear, but he can assume it’s a good one, considering that Morrison suddenly starts cracking up over something Reyes says. He sees Reyes smack Morrison’s back, laughing along with him and nearly spilling his drink in the process.

Angela Ziegler, a med student who often comes to visit, is among the guests as well. She’s standing at the dessert table, grabbing a slice of cake until Captain Sojourn, another familiar face, waves her over to join in on a chat with her and Torbjörn. Angela looks delighted to see them and makes her way over. Probably asking her about her studies or congratulating her about some presentation she gave at her school’s conference, Jesse predicts.

Angela is one of the only people here around his age, and Jesse would be lying to himself if he said he still didn’t find her attractive. In their first interactions, there had been a few attempts to make a move. A small wink or the occasional hat-tip towards her. But though she enjoyed his company, Angela had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anything beyond a friendship. She was hardly searching for any kind of romance at the moment. What’s the expression? “Married to her work?” That seems to sum it up nicely.

Which is fine. A friend is better than an enemy, Jesse tells himself.

Reinhardt, the ever-joyous host, is moving across the apartment. In his arms he carries a large silver plate of homemade Stollen which he offers to any guest he sees without a snack or a drink. Some happily accept a slice of the fruity bread, while others politely decline. Even with the denials, Reinhardt gives them a cheerful smile and reminds them of the bounty of other treats on the nearby tables.

And finally, there’s Captain Amari. She makes her way through the room with her young daughter, Fareeha, by her side. A well-known face at the party, she’s recognized by almost everyone she passes, which makes her have to stop every few moments to greet them.

He swears for a moment that Captain Amari swerves her head to look at him. But when he looks again, her attention is with Fareeha. She seems to have bent down to whisper something to her daughter. Fareeha nods and moves away from her, pushing her way through the crowd towards the Christmas tree.

Jesse feels a voice in the back of his mind. Go over to someone. Talk. Try to make it so that this night isn’t a total waste of time.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns his attention away from the happy faces of the bright party. He lets his eyes drift back to the eggnog in his hand, then he raises the cup closer to his lips.

That is, until a hand suddenly swoops in to snatch the eggnog away from him.

“Hey—” Jesse starts, but stops when he sees Ana’s face two feet away, giving him a smirk. “Captain.”

“Jesse,” she says dangling the eggnog in one hand. She brings it closer to her face and sniffs it. Immediately she draws it back, nodding as she does. “I think you’re a bit too young for this stuff.”

Jesse folds his arms, “With all due respect, Captain Amari, I’ve had plenty of drinks in my life. And the legal age of drinking in Switzerland is eighteen.”

“And are you eighteen?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Give it six months, but why not start early?” He starts to reach to retrieve the stolen drink.

Ana laughs and retracts her hand with perfect reflex, “Nice try.”

“What ever happened to the spirit of giving?” says Jesse.

“Right here. Consider it my gift to you that I won’t allow you to wake up on Christmas morning with a hangover. Trust me, cowboy, they’re the worst ones.”

Jesse sighs, accepting defeat. “Fine.”

She gestures her head at the snacks across the room, “Reinhardt makes a delicious hot cocoa. I’d recommend it.”

“Maybe,” he says as he leans back against the wall with another sigh.

Ana doesn’t take the gesture to leave, “I didn’t take you for a wallflower, Jesse.”

“I’m not,” he retorts. “I’m just...a bit overwhelmed, I guess. Haven’t been to a party like this in years. Wasn’t even planning on coming to this one, but Reyes insisted.”

“I’m glad he did,” Ana says, moving to stand next to him. “We’re happy you’re here.”

Jesse gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “C’mon Captain, you don’t have to break out the schmaltzy lines to make me feel better. I know that’s common around Christmas. I don’t need them.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Ana replies, “because if you ever accuse me of being ‘schmaltzy’ ever again, I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.” She chuckles, but then looks back to him with sincerity in her voice, “I’m not trying to patronize you. I just want you to know that you’re welcome here.”

Jesse doesn’t respond. He can’t meet her eyes again after that last statement. He can only shift his head to the side and try to focus his attention on a couple in the distance who, likely after a few drinks, accidentally walk under the mistletoe together. The taller partner realizes it first and begins to laugh until their cheeks turn pink. The shorter one looks confused until a nearby acquaintance points out the little plant hanging above, and they join in on the laughter before planting a kiss on their partner’s cheek.

There it was. Actual schmaltz. Cheesy, yet a good distraction.

But Ana’s voice persists.

“You’re an Overwatch agent now. And you should know that, once Gabriel puts you in the field, you’re going to see bad things on a near daily basis. Some of the most terrible things the world has to offer.”

Jesse shuffles against the wall, his gaze still avoiding her.

“You don't need to warn me,” Jesse replies. “I’m well aware that the world can be a real shithole.”

Ana states, “I know that. You’re not stupid. And even if you were, I wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth to make you ‘feel better’ about being here.”

“So why bring it up then?” Jesse mutters, irritation is growing in his tone.

“Because the truth is exactly I said. We’re happy you’re here.”

He goes quiet again.

“The world can be a ‘shithole,’ as you said,” she says, “but there’s the key word, cowboy. Can be. Not is. The truth is very painful sometimes. Other times, it’s not. And just because something hurts, doesn’t make it automatically true.”

Jesse slowly turns his head back towards her. She’s smiling at him.

“So let yourself enjoy the softer truths when you can, okay? We want you here with us, and we’re glad you’re here with us.”

He doesn’t have any smart response, or a witty joke to deflect the tightness he’s suddenly feeling in his throat.

He only nods.

She reaches with her free hand and pats his shoulder, “And I’m here. When you need me.”

Jesse swallows, fighting off the tightness enough to say, “Thanks Captain.”

“Mum!”

A younger, chipper voice breaks through the noise Jesse has been tuning out. Both he and Ana look ahead. Fareeha returns, pushing her way through the crowd of taller party-goers. She’s holding a box, wrapped in a bright green paper tied with a red bow. A beaming smile present on her face.

“I found it!” Fareeha exclaims.

“Perfect timing, habībti,” Ana remarks happily.

Jesse looks to Fareeha, a smile tugging at his lips, “Aw, get something nice for your mom, Fareeha?”

Fareeha smirks. Jesse discovers she has the same one as her mother, “It’s for you.”

His smile drops. Not in sadness. Not in fear. Only pure surprise.

“For me?” He repeats.

Fareeha rolls her eyes and lifts up the tag on the gift, his name neatly written on it, “No, for the other Jesse McCree here—Yes for you, dummy. Mum made it.”

She practically shoves the gift into his arms. Jesse flinches from the suddenness, nearly dropping it in the process. He regains a grip on the box, staring down at his blurry reflection in the shiny paper.

“I—I don’t,” Jesse struggles for words. “You didn’t have to—,”

Fareeha groans, “Will you open it already?”

“Fareeha,” Ana lightly scolds. “Be patient.”

Jesse slowly starts with the ribbon. He pulls an end, and with one tug, the whole thing comes off. He then lifts the top of the box off, letting it drop to the floor. Something big is inside. Soft, too. He can spot a shade of scarlet red peeking out from the cardboard. Ana reaches over and holds the bottom of the box, allowing Jesse to use both hands to lift the item out.

It’s a red sweater. A handmade knit sweater. Like the kind he used to see in old Christmas specials as a kid.

“What do you think?” Ana asks him. “I’m still a beginner when it comes to knitting, but I think this one is my best work so far.”

Well, okay, it isn’t perfect. The sweater is about two sizes bigger than him. He can spot a few places where Ana clearly messed up a row and had to start over. There seems to be an attempt to knit in a snowflake pattern across the chest area, but it more resembles a bunch of squiggly lines than snow. Still, she managed to get in a bunch of star patterns across the red yarn. And the centerpiece of the sweater, a reindeer, is the best-looking part of it.

“It’s uh,” says Jesse, running his fingers across the soft texture, “it looks warm.”

Ana laughs and shakes her head, “And after I was so honest with you.”

Jesse groans, “Captain, I’m trying here, alright?”

“Put it on,” Fareeha interjects.

He looks back to her, “Pardon?”

Fareeha folds her arms, “Put it on. You have to, for the picture. It’s the rules.”

It’s in that moment that Jesse finally notices that Fareeha is wearing a blue sweater of her own. It looks near identical to his, albeit the size fits her better. He takes a second glance to the other party-goers. Reyes and Morrison, still on the couch, are wearing matching sweaters with crooked Christmas tree patterns. Reyes’ sweater has a sleeve that’s longer than the other, and Morrison has to pull his down every few minutes to cover his undershirt. Sojourn’s sweater has a neck piece that keeps sliding down while Torbjörn is practically swimming in his sweater. Then there’s Reinhardt. His sweater is so tight on him that it looks more like a midriff. Even Angela is wearing one, with the brightest shade of orange he’s ever seen and an angel centerpiece that has a goofy grin.

He looks back at his own sweater.

Oh God.

“Don’t worry,” Ana says, “you’ll grow into it.”

Fareeha playfully nudges his arm, “Merry Christmas, Jesse. Welcome to the family.”

-------

“You should come.”

Genji sits in front of the few windows in Blackwatch HQ, a winter wonderland behind the cool glass. He glances over his shoulder at McCree, who is wearing a red knitted sweater beneath his coat and holding a wrapped gift.

“You look ridiculous,” Genji says.

McCree chuckles, “Tis the season for ugly sweaters, partner.”

Genji rolls his eyes and silently returns to his gazing out the window. Normally, McCree takes this passive aggressive gesture as his cue to give up. But not tonight. Never tonight. He walks closer, keeping the present tucked under his arm, and stares out at the swirling flakes descending upon the outskirts of the base.

“Real pretty, isn’t it?” McCree says. “It’s like something out of a greeting card.”

“Don’t you have a party to go to?” Genji glares daggers while speaking in a flat tone.

McCree raises an eyebrow, “You know, I was where you were. First time I went to the old man’s party, practically had to be dragged there by Reyes.”

“Let me guess, you went to the party and discovered that the magic of Christmas was inside you all along?” Genji asks sarcastically.

He snorts, “Hell no. But I had a nice time. And you might too, if you give it a shot. There’s a lot of folks there who would be happy to see you.”

“Such as?”

“That new recruit Oxton, Captain Amari, Angie…”

Genji sighs, “Why are you so insistent? Did you all put up a bet to see who could pester me enough to go?”

“Oh Reyes tried, but nobody was up for it,” McCree casually says with a shrug and a laugh. He notices Genji huddle closer to the window before continuing in a calmer tone, “No, but seriously, no bullshit this time. I wasn't put up to this. I’m inviting you because, frankly partner, nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

Genji goes quiet, he slowly shifts his gaze down the window.

McCree turns to leave, “Welp, I’ll text you the address if you change your mind. See you later.”

He reaches the door and lifts his hand to the console.

“Wait.”

McCree pauses. He turns back around. Genji looks at him from across the room, his expression unreadable.

Genji lets out one more defeated sigh, “I don’t know where my jacket is.”

McCree grins, “I have an extra. You can borrow it.”

“Thank you, McCree.”

“Merry Christmas, Genji.”

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Seven

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 2448

Chapter Warnings: Nightmares, parent death mention, dysphoria and coming out mention

Over the next couple of days, between tending to customers, cleaning tables, baking treats, and snuggling his husband, Patton spent his time pretty much glued to Roman’s side. The two of them talked for hours about movies and jokes and cartoons. The child’s laughter and delighted surprise every time Patton whipped out a pun or a reference warmed his heart.

It was a late Thursday night when Patton was startled awake by Roman shrieking. He fumbled for his glasses as Virgil stirred beside him. “Shh, it’s okay, I got it,” He whispered, awkwardly patting Virgil’s shoulder.

“Mm... call me ‘f you need me,” Virgil mumbled, his voice rough and sleepy.

Patton’s heart swelled with love for the protective, caring gleam in his husband’s half-closed eyes. He kissed him on the cheek before stumbling out of bed, then made his way down the hallway towards the guest room where Roman was staying. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s me,” He called softly as he nudged the door open. 

It took a moment of bleary eyed blinking for him to realise that Roman was not, in fact, in bed. The covers had been flung off, left in a chaotic tangle that hung off the side of the bed. 

“... Ro? Where are you, hon?” He asked softly, running his gaze over the room.

“Closet,” A muffled voice responded nervously.

Patton made his way over to the closet set into the wall of the bedroom across from the door and bobbed down in front of it. “Can I open the door?” He asked.

The sliding door slowly slipped across with a faint squeak, revealing a pale and shaky looking Roman curled up in the corner. “... Hi,” He said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Patton soothed. “What’s wrong?”

Roman hesitated, then scooched to the side, making room in the small space underneath the coats hanging above him. Patton took the invitation and crawled in, his legs curled awkwardly under him, and opened his arms. Roman cuddled up to him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing against him as Patton started to gently run his fingers through his hair.

“I had a bad dream,” He whispered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Patton pressed his face into the boy’s hair, his arms wrapped gently around him.

Roman nodded, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “I, um... I was with my parents. And they were yelling. There were other people there, some of their friends, I think. They were all yelling at each other. And I was standing behind them all, and I couldn’t breathe, and they were all so angry, and I started crying, and Dad yelled at me to shut up, and... and-”

He burst into tears, and Patton’s heart throbbed. “Oh, Roman, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let it all out, honey, you’re safe. I promise, everything’s okay.” He murmured, rubbing Roman’s back as he cried, his small body jerking violently with each sob.

Every fibre of his being ached for Roman, every jolt of his shoulders sending another sharp needle lancing through Patton’s heart. There had to be some way to help him, better than sending him home or abandoning him to the cold chaos of the foster care system. They had to find some way to keep him safe and happy and warm and-

He cut off his own train of thought with a deep breath. No use getting worked up, he scolded himself gently. That isn’t going to help anybody. So he sat there, his hands lightly tracing shapes over Roman’s back, peppering kisses into his hair as Roman cried and clung to him.

Eventually, gradually, Roman began to quiet. His sobs ebbed into sniffles, and the shuddering of his shoulders faded into a slight tremble. Patton didn’t move, not yet. The last thing he wanted was to disturb Roman before he was ready. He clearly needed hugs, needed love, needed kisses and toys and warm food and stories and songs.

Roman shuffled, and he loosened his grip so that he could move back a little. It was hard to see in the dark of the closet, surrounded by jackets and scarves, but Patton could still see his face, red and streaked with tears. “Thank you,” He whispered.

“Anytime, Ro. Really,” Patton promised, brushing back his fringe and leaning forward to kiss his forehead again. “Would you like to sleep in our bed tonight?”

Roman brightened, and Patton’s heart fluttered happily at the faint smile on his face. “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?” He tilted his head to the side, his grip on Patton’s pyjama shirt tightening.

“Of course!” Patton chuckled. “Come on, my legs are gonna fall asleep if we stay squeezed up in here, cozy as it is.”

Roman scampered over his lap, popping out of the closet with a giggle. “That’s just ‘cause you got old man legs!” He teased as he poked his tongue out at Patton.

Patton gasped in mock offense, placing a hand against his chest as he crawled out of the closet. “Hey, well these ‘old man legs’ can still catch little princes!” He growled playfully, advancing on Roman, who shrieked in delight and dodged to the side.

“No way! You can’t get me!” He declared, vaulting onto the bed and bouncing up and down on it. 

“Oh, really?” Patton winked before pouncing, scooping Roman out of the air mid-bounce and attacking his belly and sides with probing fingers. Roman squealed, twisting and wriggling in his arms to try and get away from the assault of tickles. “Nobody escapes the tickle monster!” Patton exclaimed with a grin.

He shifted Roman so that he was held over his shoulder, the pair of them still giggling as he carried him out to the hallway, almost bumping into a very sleepy Virgil who was making his way towards them, his hand pressed to the wall to find his way in the dark.

“... Heard yellin’,” Virgil yawned and leaned against the wall, scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Tickle fight,” Roman informed him solemnly, twisting to meet his eyes over Patton's head.

Virgil took a moment to process, then nodded. “I see. Serious business then, eh?” He nudged Roman, who burst into another fit of giggles. He glanced to Patton while Roman was distracted, a clear inquiry for an explanation.

Patton shook his head and mouthed, ‘Bad dream’. 

Virgil nodded again, then paused, looking between Roman’s doorway and the doorway to their room. ‘Our bed?’ He mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

Patton flashed a sweet smile, hoping it would be enough to win him over. ‘Just tonight?’

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly and jerked his head towards their room. “Alright, kid, if you’re coming, let’s go. You might have the luxury of being carried, but these floorboards are colder than a midsummer Arendelle."

Roman snorted. "Yeah, right, Grim Burton." He wriggled out of Patton's grasp, landing on the floorboards with a gasp. He immediately clung to Virgil, and scrambled to climb up him. "Ohmygoshthat'sabsolutelyfreezing!" He whined.

Virgil rolled his eyes, easily plucking Roman off the ground and swinging him around so he clung to his back like a baby koala. Patton giggled at the sight, clasping his hands together in delight. “Come on, then, Sleepless Beauty, let’s get back to bed before you get any more hyped up.” With that, Virgil turned on his heel and carried Roman back into the cozy warmth of his and Patton’s bedroom.

Patton smiled dreamily after them for a moment before he followed. There was something so sweet about seeing the two of them together, teasing and playing and cuddling. It warmed him to his core, sent tickly tingles of happiness from his toes right to the tips of his hair. The urge to bake rocketed through him, but he settled for waving his hands in front of him in excitement, giggling quietly for a few seconds. 

He was worried that the sudden flurry of movement would disturb the other two, but when he peered through the half-open door of the bedroom, Virgil was already sprawled across the bed in his usual gangly fashion, his long limbs sticking out at odd angles. Roman had burrowed into the blankets and was curled up in a ball with his back against Virgil’s side. He reminded Patton suddenly of a kitten.

He hung back in the doorway, watching the pair of them. Virgil reached over to rest a hand on Roman’s back, mumbling something which made the boy laugh again, a sweet, soft laugh like tinkling bells. Patton’s stomach fluttered pleasantly at the sound, like he’d swallowed stardust that danced and twirled and twinkled inside him, and that took him a little by surprise. He’d had that feeling exactly three times in his life. 

The first he could remember was when he was quite small, feeling his father’s large, strong hands throwing him up into the air. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture the layout of their backyard, strewn with toys and gardening tools. In those moments, he’d felt like Daddy was teaching him to fly, like if he learned the secret to hang in the air just a half-second longer then the two of them could soar up into the endless sky for forever. (‘Like birds, Daddy!’) Patton had, of course, always come back down, into his father’s arms, the two of them laughing and clinging tightly to each other, their cheeks pressed together, until Mom called them inside for dinner, and Patton loved him so much he felt that his heart would burst.

The second was after his mother died. It was a painful time for the whole family. His father had been away on a business trip, and Patton was staying with his grandmother. He could only recall vague, painful snatches from the day. Daddy had appeared on the doorstep, his coat already half-off his shoulders, his face red and cracked and painful, and swept him up into a tight hug, so tight he could hardly breathe. (‘I love you so much, Pippa.’) He remembered sitting on the living room floor, his legs splayed on either side of the dollhouse he had in front of him, and his grandmother being too distracted with whatever it was Daddy was explaining to her in a low voice to tell him off for sitting in such an unladylike way. 

He’d stayed with Abuelita that night, and the next, and the night after that, and every night Daddy promised that he’d pick him up before long. (‘I just need to sort out a few more things, princess. I’ll see you soon.’) Eventually Daddy stopped calling. Patton understood. Talking was painful, both of them always holding their breath and waiting for that third musical voice to join their conversations. For a long time, Patton hated Abuelita’s house, hated the lace and the dainty trinkets and the biting lemon air freshener, hated eating the food that wasn’t his Mom’s, hated Abuelita. He came home from school one day, just a few months later, to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, tears rolling down her face, a scrapbook from Mom’s quinceañera sitting open on the table, they hadn’t spoken. He’d slid into the chair next to her, and the two of them had held each other as they cried. The next morning he’d woken up to find Abuelita with a brand new recipe book, flicking through the pages to make something for breakfast. (‘We’ll make new foods, chiquita. New foods and new memories.’)

The third was when he came out. It was just after his 14th birthday, and Abuelita was already loudly planning his own quinceañera. Everything about it just... rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t sure if it was the whole coming-of-age thing, the cost, or... something else. Something he was pretty sure he knew, but didn’t want to think about. He’d been over at Virgil’s house, pacing back and forth, his hands tightening into fists, clutching the powder blue skirt swishing around his knees. Virgil lay on his bed, his legs up against the wall and his head hanging upside-down off the edge of the bed, watching his best friend rant. He’d let Patton go on for a few minutes, his face gradually darkening into a concerned frown, before interrupting and asking the question that had brought what Patton thought he knew about himself crashing down. (‘Pip, you love cheesy parties and fancy outfits and sappy customs... so why are you really against this?’) 

Virgil had stuck right by his side as they poured over internet articles and forums, as they watched movies and shows and read books, as they flicked through books of names and their meanings. He’d held Patton’s hand in a comfortingly tight grip as he explained to Abuelita, in a voice thick with tears and anxiety, that he wasn’t a girl. That he wanted to be called by a different name, to cut his hair and get chunkier glasses that didn’t make his face look so round and soft. That he didn’t want a quinces, or dresses, or makeup. Abuelita had gazed at him silently for a long, tense second, and then requested to speak with him alone. Virgil had bitten back, refusing, but Patton squeezed his hand and nodded, and Virgil had, after a moment, stepped back, the protective flame within him down but still smouldering.

Once he was out of the room, Abuelita had gotten up from her chair in the kitchen, gathered him into her arms, and kissed the top of his hair. She had cooed softly in Spanish as Patton trembled in her arms, tears spilling over to drip down his cheeks. (‘Oh, darling, I love you. Chiquita, I-’ She paused. ‘Chiquito, I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you and love you, for always.’) They’d called Virgil in, both of them crying and smiling, and he’d immediately wrapped his arms around Patton in a tight hug. Patton had blubbered near-incoherent words of gratitude into his shoulder, and Virgil had rubbed his back and whispered comfortingly. (‘Anytime, Pat. I got your back, always. Promise.’)

Looking in from the doorway, it dawned on Patton exactly what it was Roman needed. Hugs and food, sure, but what he really needed was family. He needed that love. That safety and security that no matter how high he flew, how much he hurt, how scary something seemed, someone would be there to hold him and be by his side. And in that moment, Patton made up his mind. 

Come hell or high water, he would be that person.

[patsdrabbles]

Duet

Title: Duet Fandom: Dhani Harrison; Jakob Dylan Pairing: Dhani Harrison/Jakob Dylan Rating: Gen Word Count: 2054 Summary: “Anyway, you remember his cover of Must Be Santa?” “Oh my god.” In which Dhani is invited to do a Rolling Stone interview with a mystery person, allegedly an old friend he hasn't seen in a long time. And he is certain he won't get any sleep until he finds out just who that person is...  A/N: A dear friend of mine wrote a gem of a Dylarrison Jr. fic called “They’ve Trapped Us Boys” which made me low-key start to ship this ship. They I had the idea for this fic and let’s just say, I ended up giving myself a whole lot of feels. ❤ Thank you @szappan  and @savoy-brown-shoe for the kind support of this rarepair fic and lots of thanks to my amazing beta, @smittyjaws <3333 Anyway, this is 100% fluff, so please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and @ill-be-your-tennessee-lamb‘s fic are in the reblogs!)

It all began, as these things have a tendency to, with a harmless enough enquiry.

Dhani had received an invitation to do an interview with the Rolling Stone magazine sometime late in November. Now, that was nothing unusual in his books. He had done his fair share of interviews over the years, in part due to being his father’s son, in part due to long being a musician of his own right. Now, this invitation, though? It caught his attention far more than any usual invitation to an interview would have done. Because it required some navigation, some shuffling dates around in his calendar – and someone else’s. Just that Dhani didn’t know who that mysterious other person was, that was supposed to be interviewed together with him.

Dhani reread the letter a good couple dozen times.

It said that he was to be interviewed together with someone he already knew. Well, he thought. I do know quite a lot of people…

Furthermore, it was someone also from the music field. Kinda obvious. He scratched his head. Still doesn’t limit the amount of people it could be.

The letter also hinted that it was someone he had known for a long time - long was relative, wasn’t it? – and someone he likely hadn’t seen in a long time either, given what was known to the magazine and the public. It was supposed to be a fun sort of reunion.

That last part was what Dhani couldn’t get off his mind. Sure, he was thrilled and excited that they were – hopefully – trying to do something nice for him, but... Just whom was he to be reunited with?

He knew that it was supposed to be a surprise. He knew better than to get impatient about this matter. And yet.

So, a few days after the date for the interview was finally settled on, he found himself unable to sleep and opened his messenger app.

And created a group chat with all the people he could think of that the Rolling Stone might want him to meet.

 Dhani: Hi :) Any of you doing a Rolling Stone interview with a mysterious other person sometime mid-December?

Kris: Wtf mate it’s like 2am

Dhani: 2am where you are, perhaps

Kris: That’s fair

 Dhani yawned into his hand and replied immediately after Kris’s response.

 Dhani: 4am where I am

James: Not the one you’re looking for, btw. Sorry, pal

Dan: Nope

James: Want me to make enquiries?

Dhani: Nah, they probably won’t like that. Thanks tho

Dhani: Seriously, though. None of you guys were invited to do a RS interview mid-December? With me?

Jakob: Go to sleep, Dhanster

Dhani: Don’t tell me what to do, Dylan

Rufus: lol

Lily: Seriously, could you guys be any more married? :’D

Jakob: You know that’s not possible

Dhani: GUYS. Did y’all just evade my question??

Jakob: You should stop fretting abt this Dhani, it’s gonna be fine

Dhani: *eye-rolling emoji*

Jakob: Srsly, go to sleep Dhani, it’s late af

Lily: Yeah, we should all head to bed now. Sleep well, kiddos

Rufus: night, my American friends

Kris: Nite

 Dhani sighed and put his phone away. His friends seemingly weren’t involved in all of this. He should probably try to get some sleep instead.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled the covers up to his chest and squinted. There was still light coming from the other side of the bed. Dhani rolled onto his side and stretched so that he could reach farther across the body that was blocking his movement. Then, he swatted lightly at the phone emanating the light in question.

“Cat.”

“Hmpf.” Dhani pouted, but he only got a grin in reply.

“Who are you to judge?”

“Goddammit.”

But it was only a few seconds later that the light on the other side of the bed was turned off and Dhani found himself wrapped into a warm, tight embrace. He fell asleep within minutes, the mystery interview completely banished from his mind.

 The day of the interview came sooner than anticipated. The usual whirl that seemed to catch everyone before the holidays didn’t spare Dhani either, and before he could say “oh, I should have fuckin’ known it”, he found himself seated in a nice room at the Rolling Stones’ headquarters, right next to none other than Jakob Dylan.

Very much embarrassed at how he had allowed Jakob to fool him, he just buried his head in his hands and groaned theatrically. Jakob only looked at him and snorted.

“I never told you I wasn’t the mystery person!”

“You told me you wouldn’t be doing any more interviews this year??”

Jakob scratched his chin. “Okay, that’s fair. But I said that before I was asked to do this with you.” He grinned and didn’t falter even a tiny bit under Dhani’s dark gaze. He shrugged: “It’s not my fault, is it? And I have a feeling that this is gonna be fun, Dhanster.”

“Oh my god, please don’t call me that in public,” Dhani just breathed out in a hushed voice. “Seriously, Jake.”

Jakob nodded. “Alright. But in turn, you’re gonna try to relax now, okay?”

This was the moment that their interviewer chose to appear. He greeted them cheerfully and explained that Tony, who had done some interviews with each of them respectively over the years, wasn’t doing this interview because the whole editorial team had sent him on a much needed vacation.

“Guy doesn’t know when to take a break. He hadn’t taken a day off in three years,” Ryan explained to them. He sat down opposite of them and quickly looked through his note cards. When he looked back up, the cards in one hand, his phone ready to record in the other, he seemed to notice something that made him halt, however. Two shiny rings. He grinned.

“Huh, didn’t know you guys had gotten hitched.”

Dhani’s breath caught in his throat. Jakob noticed and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Would you wanna talk more about your significant others today, or-“

“Maybe later.” Jakob gave him a smile and they began the interview, Ryan all too eager to hear whether the two of them were appropriately thrilled to have met again and be able to do this interview together. Dhani actually found himself relaxing after a while and had to suppress a laugh several times. Judging by the twinkle in Jakob’s eyes, he felt the same way about the interviewer’s excitement.

Sooner than anticipated, the interview was over and Ryan invited them to play a song together. This, too, had been hinted at in the enquiry letter they both had received last month, but Dhani hadn’t prioritized it as much as finding out who his interview partner was going to be. Now he wished he had.

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is always a favorite around this time of year?” Ryan suggested with a smirk. Dhani couldn’t suppress a snort and heard Jakob laughing next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jakob giving him a nod and turned around. Their hands brushed when he did and Jakob’s smile widened.

“You know that Christmas album my dad recorded?”

“How couldn’t I? You didn’t stop mentioning it that holiday season.”

“True.” Jakob grinned at the memory. And the holidays that year spent with his dad.

“Anyway, you remember his cover of Must Be Santa?”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes.”

Dhani gave him a searching glance, then gave in. He waved his hand at Jakob. “Gimme your phone, I need to listen to the song again to at least make an attempt to get it right.”

Jakob obeyed – all too happily, if he was being honest – and turned toward Ryan. “Can we get a couple of additional studio musicians to do this in, say, an hour?”

Ryan beamed like Jakob had just hung the moon. “Sure!” And, after showing them to one of the studios, off he was.

After Dhani was done listening to the song a couple of times, they started practicing with the studio guitars they had been provided with. It was fast-played chords and almost shouting the lyrics breathlessly into each other’s face as fast as they could from there on.

“This is insane,” Dhani said when they took a breather, but he was grinning, enjoying the silliness more than words could express.

“You know what kind of life you agreed to when-“

The door burst open and in came Ryan, a studio band they didn’t know, as well as two cameramen with their equipment.

It was a blast. That was the only way to put it. They made it through the song on their third or fourth take, but the second the cameras were off, Dhani collapsed into a fit of giggles and had to cling onto Jakob to steady himself.

“That was fun.”

His face was red and Jakob looked at him like he wanted to kiss him right then and there. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Dhani and pulled him up against his side. Dhani shuddered, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“I should have hoped so.”

They thanked the studio band for the job well done as well as the fun that they had had, shook everyone’s hands and left to say goodbye to Ryan.

Jakob’s hand had long left Dhani’s shoulder and, after a tentative brush or two against his knuckles, was now firmly clasped in Dhani’s hand. They were smiling and their faces were still slightly red from singing the fast holiday song several times in a row when they left the room together.

It was their giddy and relaxed selves that ran into Ryan in the hallway. While they thanked him for the fun interview and jamming session, Ryan’s gaze wandered down to their joined hands and he smiled. Ah. He wouldn’t need to take Jakob up on his earlier offer to elaborate. He felt that he had gotten the right idea and wouldn’t ask – nor tell.

“You guys have a good evening, yeah?” He smiled at them and shook their respective free hand.

“Thanks, mate, you too,” Dhani smiled and looked at Jakob with a fond gaze. He gave a gentle tug on the other man’s hand and, after another smile and nod at Ryan, off they were.

Once they had put on their coats and were out of the building’s front door, he turned his head toward Jakob, only to find the other man already looking at him with a gentle smile on his lips.

“That was... a lot of fun, actually.”

Jakob grinned, just a tiny bit smugly. “You did choose your spouse wisely, after all.”

Dhani just gave him an amused look out of the corner of his eye. “You didn’t choose too badly, either, I’d say.”

It took them only two seconds before they were laughing once again. And just like that, despite the freezing evening temperature, Dhani was feeling all giddy and warm again. To think he had stressed so much about finding out who his interview partner would be until earlier today...

“C’mon.” A gentle tug on Dhani’s hand. “I think dad wouldn’t mind us dropping by. Wanna go?” Jakob grinned as Dhani just buried his face in the crook of his neck. And didn’t move away.

“Huh. Dhanster?” Jakob asked and lightly poked Dhani’s back with his gloved hand.

“Don’t wanna move right now. You’re comfy.” His words were barely audible, as his face was hidden in the fake fur of Jakob’s winter coat. His cold nose was pressed against Jakob’s throat though, and Jakob tried to shift away from it – but to no avail.

“Alright, then. Then I’ll carry you.”

“Nooo.”

“Don’t tell me you still have your so-called polka dot PTSD,” Jakob half-teased.

Dhani only groaned and Jakob laughed.

“We’ve been married for how many years now?”

Dhani finally pulled back from Jakob’s neck and made a face as though he was pondering the question seriously.

“Not long enough for me to get over the polka dots. Never long enough.”

Jakob snorted and shook his head. Taking hold of Dhani’s hand again, he squeezed it in encouragement.

“So- you coming?”

Dhani gave a plaintive sigh for the sake of drama (mostly) but smiled back at Jakob and, squeezing Jakob’s hand back, nodded.

“Always.”