#a girl who was never good enough to get anyone she loved to stay tacking on precarious boons to better serve her friends

[yashley]

fearne’s entire existence occurring for the expectation of being exploited, her childhood she spent alone as a prized possession of a hag, her heart being dropped by the shrugging parents she loved unfailingly, and all of the threads of fate fearne turns away from because she feels she doesn’t have an important role to play, this experience happening isn’t for HER to be a part of, she’s still someone’s accessory to use when needed and put promptly away and she smiles her feigned smile and accept that. and then for her to be told that yeah she’s a disappointment? that they had her and all had their way with her life and she suffered alone and still tried to earn their love, still tried to be enough, but she doesn’t actually matter at all? she needs to start dropping bodies

#I’m saying if fearne doesn’t actually get to exalt and blast out a city block than it’s fine #a girl who was never good enough to get anyone she loved to stay tacking on precarious boons to better serve her friends #i love her for her heart unfailingly wanting not to go dark but my girl i think you should. hard. #fearne’s heart being worried and open for those she loves and she’s left in the rain it’s fine it doesn’t make #me insane

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

[grasslandgirl]

FALLING for you

It was an accident. Really. Katja was tall, and she’d always been more comfortable on horseback than on her own feet. So when a root sticking out of the ground caught on her boot while she was walking home from school with Ostentatia; it was an inevitability that Katja would trip. And take Ostentatia down with her. And somehow, through a feat of physics Katja didn’t understand, ended up sprawled on her back with Ostentatia on top of her- their faces mere inches apart.

Katja stared. Ostentatia stared back. Katja didn’t think about how she could smell Ostentatia’s strawberry lip gloss, the Love Spell perfume she reapplied at lunch, the oregano hair rinse her Nonna made her use every weekend. Ostentatia blinked down at Katja. Katja was sure she was bright red and probably smelled like the stables (the bad stables smell, like dirt and sweat and poop- not the good stables smell of fresh hay and Cinnamon’s special cinnamon-scented mane conditioner). 

Ostentatia sat up, rolling off of Katja and sitting down on the grass beside her. Katja closed her eyes for a moment, staying sprawled out on her back. Her stomach was one big knot and she could still feel Ostentatia watching her. Her knee was right next to Katja’s ribs, and if either of them moved even an inch, they would be touching. Katja opened her eyes again, looking up at the blue sky through the branches of the tree above her.

She sat up. Ostentatia was still staring at her, mouth pursed up tiny and determined. 

"I- I'm sorry-" Katja started to say.

Ostentatia shoved her hand out towards Katja's face, holding one finger in front of her face to silence her. "Don't say you're sorry." Ostentatia commanded, and Katja's mouth snapped shut. She tried very hard not to think about how close Ostentatia's hand was to her mouth. She tried not to think about how close Ostentatia’s mouth had been to hers a minute ago. This is just how Ostentatia, Katja told herself, she's loud and she's pushy and she goes into my personal space because she cares about me- like a friend. That's it. "Don't apologize to me," Ostentatia continued, scowling up at Katja. "You did not to anything wrong."

"But I-"

"No!" Ostentatia interrupted again, "I need to tell you something! And I'm going to say it!"   

Katja nodded, mute with worry. Ostentatia stood, unspeaking. Her eyes bored holes into Katja. Her jaw trembled, even as she glared, and Katja worried for a second that Ostentatia was about to cry.

Ostentatia crying was the third worst thing Katja could think of, after Cinnamon dying or her Dad being upset. Katja very pointedly did not think about the connecting factor between those three things. If Ostentatia started crying, than Katja was going to start crying too, and then Ostentatia would be upset she'd made Katja cry, and then Penny would appear out of nowhere- she had a weird sixth sense ability to tell whenever one of them was crying- and the weird moment would be broken.

Katja didn't think about how pretty Ostentatia still managed to look- even when she cried. Tears streaming down her face in clean lines, eyes sparkling even as she glared at someone or something, nose turning bright red. Katja always ended up with a lot of snot over her face, and that wasn't a good look for anyone but Cinnamon (who looked beautiful always and forever no matter the circumstances).

Katja wondered what was so important or so bad that Ostentatia couldn't bring herself to say it aloud- even to her. There were only a few things that Ostentatia struggled to say (that was one of the things Katja lo- liked the most about her; how Ostentatia wasn't ever afraid to say what she thought)- not like Katja, who still felt the most comfortable talking to Cinnamon.

"I'm going to say it." Ostentatia repeated, but it sounded more like she was saying it to herself this time, not to Katja. Her finger was still an inch away from Katja's lips. Katja still wasn't thinking about it. Ostentatia had really pretty hands, too: perfect nails with real gems on them, she and her mom had a regular appointment to get them done together every month. One time, Ostentatia invited Katja to go with them, but Katja didn't end up going- it's hard to set up horse tack with inch-long acrylics. (Even if Ostentatia said her nail tech could totally do a horse design if Katja wanted. Even though Ostentatia had taken Katja's hand in her own and told her she had nice nail beds. Even though Ostentatia's hands had been warm and gentle on hers.) Katja blinked. Ostentatia was scowling.

Back before they were The Maidens, back before they were friends, Katja had thought that Ostentatia's scowl was the scariest thing in the world (after the thought of Cinnamon getting hurt or dying, of course). But, Katja realized with a little bit of pride, she knew Ostentatia well enough now to know this wasn't her pissed-off-at-You scowl, this was her pissed-off-at-Me scowl.

"I'm gonna say it," Ostentatia said for the third time, almost murmuring it. Her perfectly-manicured eyebrows were low over her eyes, jaw set and determined.

"I love you," Ostentatia whispered.

Katja's heart fell out of her chest.

Ostentatia wasn't one who was afraid of telling people she loved them- she did it often, loudly, and with pride. But this was different. This wasn't how Ostentatia said it to the other maidens, or even how Katja had overheard her say it to her family. This was quiet, an intention behind the words that Katja was terrified to put a name to. 

Ostentatia huffed, blowing a small strand of hair out of her face. "I mean like- whatever, I love you. Like. Eugh-" she finally took her hand away from Katja's face, gesturing with both of her arms wildly- "Like love you, okay! Like, Zelda and her weirdo boyfriend, like Danielle and Antiope, like Sam and that fucking bitch Aelwyn. Like- like you. Okay??" Ostentatia's voice rose in pitch and volume as she talked, but behind all her bravado, Katja saw something she'd never seen in Ostentatia before- uncertainty.

Oh.

"Oh." She breathed, and like she was waiting for any response from Katja, Ostentatia froze- arms hanging in the air, mid-gesture.

"Oh?" Ostentatia echoed. Her voice was angry, but her eyes were still uncertain, even- afraid.

"I, uh, like- love you too." Katja mumbled. She'd read a lot of the romance-centric books in the Babysitter's Horse series (even written some stories of her own for some of them, but that wasn't here or there-) but nothing Katja had ever read could have prepared her for how hard it was to say it aloud. "Uh, I didn't know that- but you just- and I don't know how to. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh. Did you want to-" Katja racked her brain for something cool or romantic to say. (In most of the Babysitter's Horse books, they went and got hay from the same trough together- or even sugar cubes in some of the later, teen editions- but Katja didn't think Ostentatia would want to do that.) "Get ice cream? From Basrars? With me? Just me- not the other girls? Or, I mean, if you wanted to invite them too we can if you want to, but I thought maybe we could-"

"Yes." Ostentatia was twisting one of her rings around her finger- a nervous tic- but she was smiling up at Katja. She had a really pretty smile, and it made something go mushy and warm in Katja's stomach to realize that it was her that was making Ostentatia smile like that. "Yes. Basrar's. A date."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." A date. 

"Okay," Ostentatia said definitively. She took Katja's hand in her own- warm, with callouses on her palm and cool metal rings on her fingers. "Let's go." Ostentatia tugged Katja to her feet. 

“Ostentatia?” Katja hated how her voice wavered, hated how even in this wonderful, important moment, she still shook with uncertainty. She turned, raised an imperious eyebrow; but there was still that warm smile on her mouth, her hand around Katja’s- and that was enough to bolster Katja’s courage. “I wanted to kiss you. Earlier. When we-” Katja felt like her face was on fire- “and also. Before then. A lot. So.” She grimaced, looking down at Ostentatia’s warm hand still tight around hers. “Sorry, I’m not good at this.”

“Katja.” Ostentatia took a step closer. Katja could see her pristine Fantasy Uggs in the grass. “Look at me.” How was Katja supposed to ignore that? She did, tugging her gaze away from their interwoven fingers. Ostentatia’s smile was a blinding, burning thing, spread across her face. Katja had heard her talk about her god’s Holy Forge before- how it had burned impossibly hot for centuries, how no mere mortal could look upon it without Logran’s blessing or their face would get burned off- Katja thought that’s what Ostentatia’s smile looked like. So beautiful she was scared she would go blind from the force of it. “You’re good at this. You’re good at a lot of stuff. Don’t shit talk my girlfriend like that.”

“Girlfriend-?” Katja squeaked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“And for the record? I thought about kissing you, too.” Ostentatia tipped her head, huffing as though she’d just won an argument. Katja beamed. “So there. Can we go get ice cream and make out now?”

“Ye- yeah. Yes. Let’s go.” Katja held Ostentatia’s hand the whole way to Basrar’s- and she didn’t trip once.

#HHHHHHHHHH THEYRE SO..... #d20 #the seven #fic #ostentatia wallace #katja cleaver #whats their ship name? kastentatia? #anyway s/o to casey aberfeath as always for being my sounding board love uuuu

[heliads]

How to Move On

Based on this request: “A ghost!Luke Patterson x alive!reader but she is older. Like in the 90s they were but then he died and she got older. An angst story please :)”

masterlist

When he was alive, Luke Patterson lived five houses down from one of the cutest girls he’d ever seen. It still surprises him that he has to tack on that first part to describe anything that happened in his life before, like if he shuts his eyes hard enough he’ll find himself back in the 90s, when he had a pulse and a heartbeat and people could see him if he walked out onto the street.

However, an unseen blade cuts a little too deep whenever he thinks about his current situation, so Luke allows himself to fall deeper into the memory instead of returning back to reality. She’d lived five houses down, right? Or was it four? Luke has hardly been brought back as a ghost for a few weeks before he’s started losing his grasp on the details that bound his life. They’re all slipping through his fingertips, gone now in recollection as well as his ability to return to them in person.

Yes, five houses down- he’s certain of it now. Whenever he wanted to sneak out of his house to go visit her, Luke had to climb out of his window and weave through two backyards before he could risk returning to the sidewalk for another three houses. Five houses down, that’s right. Luke curses himself mentally, not wanting to forget another detail. He’s already lost the girl, he doesn’t want to lose the few figments of her in his memory. A ghost of her for the ghost he already is.

If he managed to sneak out of his house and make it down five houses, as he so often did, Luke could then toss small pebbles at one moonlit window. It usually only took two or three of these interactions before the window would be hurriedly unlatched, a beaming face peering out at him. Luke would allow himself a second of staring, admiring the way the moonlight cast the girl in a bone-white halo, then haul himself up into the room.

From the second his feet touched down on the bedroom floor, Luke would be in safe territory. He still took precautions, of course, keeping his voice down and his movements quiet. However, Y/N L/N always seemed to have a secret oasis in the form of her room, and he was never once caught. They both made sure of it, and if he and Y/N worked together, they could achieve any goal so long as it was worth it.

Y/N L/N. She was the one he’d left behind, one of the aches that hurt the most. He’d been lucky enough to win her love, either through some complete misunderstanding or maybe the fact that he’d finally done something right in his life, but he had her nonetheless. Or, he’d had her until the day he’d died, leaving behind nothing in his wake but grieving parents and the girl he’d sworn to stay with for the rest of his life. Well, his promise had come true in one sense, although Luke can’t help but wish there was another way around it.

To be completely honest, even as Luke dreads forgetting any detail of his past girl, he might fear thinking about her even more. It’s not that he wants to lose the picture of her smile in his head, or the way she’d reach for him when she was cold, it’s just that to think of her in any sense is like a knife stabbing him through the ribs, reminding him that he’ll never get her back. If he tries to push her from his mind, he won’t remember the way she’ll never be with him again. Isn’t that better?

Luke already knows the answer: no, not at all. Even this one slip in his memory, the faltering knowledge of how far apart their houses were, sends a jolt of worry spiking through him. Luke wouldn’t consider himself forgetful, maybe just a little absentminded, but the fact that he’s already starting to forget his past life worries him. However, to keep Y/N’s picture cherished in his mind means reminding himself of everything that he’d lost, of finally confronting all the memories he’s been holding back for so long.

Eventually, Luke finds himself in the studio, searching through the boxes and crates of stuff that had eventually made its way into dusty corners and spiderwebbed cracks of the room. Julie’s mom had been kind enough to keep at least some of Sunset Curve’s possessions, and so Luke ransacks these sparse belongings now. At last, his hand emerges triumphant, carrying with it an old photo album. It’s thin, spine scarcely thicker than a small paperback, but for the way he looks at it its pages could be lined with gold.

Luke pauses a second, steeling himself before flipping open the front cover. Instantly, he’s hit with a wave of memories. These first few photos had been taken a year or so before he died, when he had first started dating Y/N and everything seemed like he was living a dream. There are Polaroids from their first few dates, snapshots of festivals and boardwalks and everything a couple of teenagers could afford when they were young and stupidly in love.

Luke studies these, then the next couple of pages, and then the next. He must have been more distracted than he’d first thought, because he doesn’t notice Julie Molina enter the studio until she’s practically standing on top of him. Julie clears his throat, and he startles, doing his best to quickly close the album. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite right to so openly share his memories of Y/N to anyone within eyesight.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are we practicing?” Luke asks. Julie laughs, her smile a tad incredulous. “Not yet, but I’m a little worried as to why you were so quick to hide that book. What, are you trying to keep secrets from me?” Her eyes assure him that this question is purely an excuse to tease him, but Luke can’t find it within himself to smile back. Instead, he sits back down on the floor of the studio, gesturing listlessly to the empty space next to him.

“Not entirely. It’s just- well, I found this old photo album, and it’s kind of hard to not regret leaving everything behind. The current day is good, don’t get me wrong, and I love the band, but-” Julie picks up on his train of thought even as Luke’s voice trails off. “It’s not what you’re used to, and you feel bad about everything you could have had. I get it. I’m surprised you’ve adjusted so well, to be honest. It can’t be easy to leave your entire life behind.”

Luke lets out a quiet sigh. “Exactly.” After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the photo album again, opening the cover and passing it to Julie. She accepts it, glancing at him one last time to make sure he’s alright with baring his soul to her. A soft smile traces its way onto her face as she sees the photos of him and Y/N, grins so bright they could practically light up the world. “Who is this?”

Her finger lingers over a photo Luke had taken of Y/N. She had been wearing a Sunset Curve shirt, one of their first attempts at a logo. They’d long since changed the design, but she had said something about how her boys were so official and taken the first draft t-shirt nonetheless. Y/N had worn it to many shows since then, until the design faded into nothingness and she’d been forced to get a new one. Luke’s voice softens. “That’s Y/N. She is- she was my girlfriend. Back in the 90s, at least.”

Luke hates the way he has to say that, like she’s died instead of him. She was his girlfriend, they had known each other, they are each utterly different now and there is no getting back what they’d once had. Julie glances over at him, sympathy radiating from her gaze, but then she turns back to the photo, frowning over it in something that almost looks like recognition. “Wait, you said her name was Y/N? Like Y/N L/N?”

Luke sits bolt upright, melancholy thoughts completely forgotten. “Yes! How did you know that? Do you know her?” Julie’s excitement starts to bleed away from her, as if she knows something that ruins the dream she had been so thrilled to share. “Well, yes, but she’s not Y/N L/N anymore. She has a different last name now.” Luke picks up on what Julie is unwilling to say, and his stomach sinks a little. She has a different last name because she’s married, because she’s moved on.

Even as he thinks this, Luke feels annoyed at himself. Of course she’s moved on- he died 25 years ago. There’s no reason she would never love again, and even if she did, Luke would never want that for her. She was so bright, so happy, that the thought of herself locked away in mournful grief like his parents seems so utterly wrong that if that happened she might as well have died with him. Still, Luke doesn’t like thinking that there’s someone else out there receiving her smiles, hearing her hopes and dreams late at night the way he had once listened to her.

Luke must have gone silent for too long, because Julie is looking over at him again, pity written in every line of her face. She thinks for a second longer, then stands up, holding out her hand to him. “She still lives near here, actually. A few streets down. Do you want to go see her?” Luke stares at her, then rushes to his feet. “You mean it? You know where she is?” Julie nods. “Only if you’re willing to see her.” She’s right to worry- seeing Y/N again will mean finally coming to terms with everything Luke had left behind when he’d died, a final piece of proof that Y/N will never be his again. Still, if he hides away from her again, Luke will spend the rest of his ghosthood wondering what she might have been like and who she may have become. So, he nods, and allows Julie to lead him from the studio and down the blocks to Y/N’s house.

Even without Julie’s directions, Luke would know their destination even before she points out Y/N’s front door. He sees her in every corner of the building, every flower and tree planted in the yard. She’d always wanted a brightly painted front door, tall trees in the backyard so she could have a little shade on the summer days. They’d once planned what their future houses would look like, always choosing one for the two of them. If Luke sees traces of his ideas in her house now, does that mean Y/N still thinks of him? Or that she’s already forgotten that it was his voice suggesting those changes and not her own, that he’s already faded into the last few corners of her memory?

His feet stall in the driveway, but at an encouraging look from Julie, Luke forces himself to walk up the final few feet to stop in front of the front door. He reaches forward and rings the doorbell himself, although he can do no more once the door swings open. This will be Julie’s part- Luke can do no more than watch the woman in front of him with wide eyes.

She still looks like her. Is that a strange thing to say? She’s taller now, her face more lined and weary as if she’s had a lifetime of problems to deal with ever since Luke left her days. It makes sense that she looks older- the last time Luke saw her was 25 years ago, so she’s probably in her forties now. Still, there are traces of the girl he’d known in every movement, every step. When she looks questioningly at Julie, Luke can see the way she’d looked at him to ask when and where Sunset Curve would be performing so she could make sure to arrive on time. The gesture is so truthfully her that it practically hurts to see.

Julie’s eyes dart to Luke, as if trying to gauge his reaction, then she focuses her gaze firmly on Y/N. “I, uh, was cleaning out my mom’s old studio. I found something from the band who used to practice there- they went by the name of Sunset Curve? Your name was on one of the photos.” It’s a duplicate photo strip from a photo booth on a long-since demolished boardwalk, an excuse for the visit. Still, it’s enough to make Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks at Julie as if she’s punched a hole right through her chest.

She gestures for Julie to follow her inside. Luke drifts in after them, staring at the photos lining the walls, the backpacks flung in a corner of the room. So she has children, a family. How long had it taken her to move on from him? She smiles in every family portrait he sees, but did she ever think about the boy she’d left behind? Would it matter that much to him if she did?

Julie hands Y/N the photo strip now, and tears glisten in the woman’s eyes as she looks at herself and Luke, decades younger and what feels like centuries happier. Julie, thank everything, is unwilling to let Y/N leave without asking her about the boy she’d left behind. “Did you know him well? The boy in the photos?” Y/N glances up sharply at Julie, startling as if she’d forgotten there was a girl in front of her, too drowned in the memories of the past to remember reality. It’s a familiar feeling to Luke, and it stings to see it on this older Y/N too.

“Yes, I did. Very well, in fact. I loved him with all of my heart until he died along with his bandmates.” She laughs quietly, the sound broken through with utter misery. It twists Luke’s heart like a blade. “I almost didn’t make it through the funeral. I was sitting next to his parents, and we were sobbing like we’d never smile again. He was everything to me, and I had no idea what to do when he was gone. I wish you could have met him- he was always so quick to a smile or a laugh. I never told him how much I liked his smile. I wish I had.”

Luke stumbles as if he’s been punched. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he swipes at them angrily with his shirt sleeve. Why should he have to cry now, mourn everything he’d lost? Hasn’t he been through enough? Y/N swallows harshly. “It’s easy to get lost in the past. I graduated high school without him, went to college without him. I didn’t think I’d ever have to live a day without him, and suddenly I had an entire future completely empty of anyone like him. There are days when I almost think I see him in a crowd, and days when it gets easier. In the end, I think he’d want me to move forward, even as hard as that may be.”

Julie glances over at Luke once more, scarcely a second away from tears herself. “Yeah, I think he’d want you to be happy. That above all else.” Y/N sighs, the sound cutting through Luke and almost sending him to the floor. “Thank you for the photos, Julie. You take care of yourself.” Julie smiles. “I will. Thank you too.” Luke, sensing the imminent goodbye, takes one last furtive glance around the house. What if he had been there, present in every family photo and every line in her journals? He wishes nothing more than to have that option, to be able to go back, but he can’t.

So, he allows himself to follow Julie back out into the sunshine of the afternoon, and when the door closes softly behind him, he doesn’t look back. Julie is silent on the walk back, as is he. Luke heads for the studio, and he stops before the photo album before glancing up at the walls around him. If he tries hard enough, Luke thinks he can see her in every corner of the studio. There she is on the couch, laughing as she pretends to smack him with a pillow. There she is next to him on the piano, listening to his latest song. There are hundreds of her in the studio, hundreds of memories. That’s all he has left of her. Just memories and nothing more.

Julie returns to find him later, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to cut across the room, landing on the photo newly pinned to the wall. There are two figures in it, a boy and a girl grinning madly as they reach for each other in a dusky night. Both of them are long gone now, dead and aged even as their photo-selves smile on. If Luke looks back at the photo now, keeping that image burned into his mind, he never speaks of it again.

requested by @charliegillespiewife​

jatp tag list: someone who i would not leave behind if i died in the 90s @underc0vercryptid​

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke #julie and the phantoms luke imagines #julie and the phantoms luke x reader #julie and the phantoms luke oneshot

[willynilly088]

We Could Fall In Love : William Nylander

I haven't been on this site in a long time and I know there's a lot of Willy sluts out here that enjoy some Willy smut so anyways I wrote one.

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: Ella's best friend William Nylander convinces her to go on a mostly romantic getaway to Hawai'i with some of his teammates from the Maple Leafs and their partners. She's found herself falling for William recently and is scared that things might go wrong for their friendship if she tags along.

Warnings: Smut, some alcohol references, friends2lovers trope ahaha yo I'm weak for this man

Author's note: I haven't written fics in a long time, probably since high school so I'm open to any comments and feedback you have if you read this! The title is taken from a song called "Sunsets" by Druu.

"I don’t understand why you don’t want to come,” William whined. He threw his arms in the air and let them fall to his sides, slapping his thighs in frustration. “It’s Hawai’i. It’s a vacation!” You sighed, resting your elbows on the kitchen island at William’s place, and placed your head in your hands.

“Willy, everyone going is a couple,” you pointed out, probably for the 12th time since he first expressed interest in taking you on this trip with some of his teammates. “Wouldn’t you feel like a third wheel? I’d feel like a third wheel.” William had been asking you for weeks to go on this trip over the summer. The wives and girlfriends of his teammates from the Maple Leafs were spending a couple weeks on Maui together. Most of the older members of the team parted ways from the younger ones during the summer to go back to their hometowns and spend time with their families, and it was a decent sized group of couples that would be going along with William.

It sounded more like a romantic getaway for the rest of his group, which was a bigger deterrent than the positive aspect - which was that you’d be in Hawai’i. You had been good friends with William for a while but there was nothing romantic between you, although you’d often wished there was. Just as well, you didn’t really know his teammates or their spouses too well. William was single and did occasionally bring you to team functions as his plus one. Despite that, you never really had the opportunity to get to know them while you were all together. Most of the time you were with William at charity events so you had to mingle with donors or the donees.

“Who cares?”, William argued, and you raised your head to meet his stare. “I’d love for you to be there, Ella. If everyone else wants to be with their partners and lounge around the hotel, we can venture out and find things to do. It’s just going to be me on my own if you’re not there.” His blue eyes pierced you from across the kitchen, his pleading expression making your heart leap. How could you say no?

The truth is that you had begun to realize within the last year that you were attracted to William Nylander. Anyone looking from the outside could say you were even falling in love with him. After meeting William in Toronto during his time playing for the Marlies, the two of you became fast friends. He liked your company; he didn’t have to be ‘hockey player William Nylander’ around you. You didn’t fawn over him like the girls that saw him around the city. Hockey was his whole life but you gave him that separation between work and just being a kid. He had been living on his own in a big city for the first time which was stressful enough before you tack on the pressures of wanting to make an NHL roster. You were in the same scenario at the time, just having moved into Toronto for a new job, and you leaned on each other for support. William admittedly leaned on you as well for warm home-cooked meals, otherwise he would order takeout most days.

Over the years you basically became inseparable. It’s why William felt comfortable asking you to go with him to team events. He would have you over at his place to watch movies or play video games when he wasn’t at practice, games, on the road, or hanging out with his teammates. You would have him over at your place mostly to cook for him, or to pick his brain on projects for work, and watch TV or movies. He would also get you into his hockey games every so often, which was a nice perk. He was a balancing agent in your life, and you were sure he’d say the same about you.

So for you to accompany him on an otherwise romantic getaway made you feel awkward. You knew how you felt about William, but for as well as you knew him, you couldn’t read whether or not he might share those feelings for you. He proved a good point that you could get out of the hotel and adventure around the island. Would it really be that uncomfortable for you? Or were you just afraid of something happening between the two of you that would ruin your friendship? You definitely wanted to go to Hawai’i. There was no reason you should treat it any differently than just hanging out with William on any regular day. You could just push the romantic atmosphere aside.

“Alright, Willy,” you conceded. “I’ll come with you.” His expression turned to glee and it made a smile pull at the corners of your mouth. He walked around the island to where you stood and pulled you in for a hug, and he placed a hand on your head to ruffle your hair.

“Willy!”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” he sang, and you swatted him away to restore the top of your hair to how it looked before he touched it.

“Where are you all staying? I can book my hotel room.” Willy shook his head. You looked at him quizzically.

“I’ll take care of it, Ella,” he said. “You’ll be my guest.” Willy had gone through enough hassle trying to get you to come on this trip with him so you didn’t argue further.

The group had booked this trip very last-minute, since the team unfortunately did not progress in the Stanley Cup Playoffs past the second round. This longer offseason gave them some extra weeks to spend away on vacation. Due to the timeframe of accepting William’s request for you to join him, your packing and planning was even more last-minute. Fortunately William was still able to get you tickets on his flights. There were no seats around him, though, so it was a long travel day. You only got to see him during your layover in Vancouver before landing in Maui.

Kahului Airport greeted you into their open air terminal once you touched down. Warm breezes swept through the walkways as you and William reunited off the plane and caught up with Mitch Marner and his girlfriend Stephanie. The four of you traversed down to the baggage claim. Everyone else had been on a different connecting flight and would be meeting you at the hotel.

William already looked the part of a classic vacationer; he sported a yellow Hawaiian shirt with the top buttons undone, gray fabric shorts, and slides with white tube socks (which you made fun of him for). He did look good, however. You were a few strides behind him and enjoyed watching his long blonde hair flowing around his neck in the breezy walkway. Once you all had collected your bags, the four of you picked up a rental car and loaded up to head to the hotel. The drive wasn’t too long and it was nice to see the island where you’d be spending the next couple of weeks. You decided you were glad that you agreed to come as you absorbed the beauty around you.

Mitch pulled the car into the drive of the Four Seasons resort and a valet attendant assisted everyone with their luggage before taking the car. Stephanie and Mitch took their bags and rolled them into the lobby, but William stopped you before you could follow them in.

“Hey, Ella, hold on”, he said, reaching out and tugging on your arm gently. “Before we check in I just want to tell you something.”

“What is it?” You cocked your head, not sure whether or not to be concerned.

“So, I tried to book your hotel room after you said you’d come. It was so late in the game, uhh, so they didn’t have any rooms left. I had to add you into my room.” He looked apologetic and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh,” you responded softly. “I mean, I guess it’ll have to work. We’re already here.” Spending two weeks sharing a room with Willy? It was as much a dream as it was frightening. Willy smiled warmly and invited you to walk into the lobby with him. He had a twinkle in his eyes that you’d never noticed before.

You checked in and found your room down a twisting maze of hallways on the 5th floor. It was nice and spacious - a suite, you guessed - with contemporary decor and Hawaiian accents all around. There was music playing somewhere in the room, and you discovered that there was a music system in the bathroom that quietly piped in Hawaiian music. A glass door at the other end of the room opened up onto a balcony with full ocean views. It was absolutely beautiful.

“Alright, since you waited until the last second to come, you get the bed that pulls out of the sofa,” Willy sang when he threw his backpack on the ground next to his suitcase. You turned around to look in his direction. If you didn’t know Willy well enough you wouldn’t have thought he was joking. You could see just by the look on his face that he was trying to mess with you, but you wanted to play his game.

“No problem,” you chimed. “I’ll get it set up; I could use a nap right now after flying.” You dropped your bag on the end table and started pulling the cushions off the sofa.

“Wait wait wait, no,” William blurted, scrambling around an ottoman towards you. “I’m kidding, I’ll take the sofa bed. I owe you for coming here with me and, well, since I couldn’t get you your own room….”

“No, Willy, seriously. You paid for my whole trip. You take the regular bed.” William gave you a playfully stern look in response to your protest. He walked over to you then, placing both hands on your cheeks, and his blue eyes darted back and forth between yours, making your heart flutter.

“Ella, I am not asking. Take the nice bed.” He had a goofy grin plastered on his face. You lost the staring contest and dropped your eyes to his lips, then looked back up to his eyes. His smile faded but he still held a sparkle in his eyes. William dropped his hands from your face and, at a loss, wrapped his arms around your shoulders to hug you. When he let go he picked your bag up and carried it to the regular bed. You stood there watching him, dumbfounded. What just happened?

“There, it’s officially your bed,” William declared, placing your bag on top of the duvet. He turned around and looked your way, the same glimmer in his eyes but now mixed with confusion. He wasn’t good at masking that.

“We’ll have a discussion later,” you retorted. “Let’s go meet up with everyone else.”

The two of you left your room and walked back down to the reception area. Mitch and Stephanie were sitting at a table near the lobby bar, where Auston Matthews, Zach Hyman, Morgan Reilly, Alex Kerfoot, and their respective wives and girlfriends are joining them, having just arrived. William walked up to the guys to greet them, and gave all the women a hug. He turned to you.

“You guys remember Eleanor,” William asked, motioning from the group to you. Everyone smiled and the ladies walked up to hug you and reintroduce themselves.

“You can call me Ella,” you said. William’s teammates greeted you after.

“We’re so excited that you decided to join us,” exclaimed Zach’s wife Alannah. “William was really convinced that he wasn’t going to have any fun without you here.” Everyone chuckled at her playful jab at William’s many pleas for you to go with him on this trip. William blushed across the way, laughing and placing his hand on his forehead.

You all stayed and chatted briefly, before deciding to split back to your rooms. The majority of the group still needed to put their belongings in their rooms, and you were all needing to freshen up to go have dinner at one of the restaurants in the resort. Upon returning to your room with Willy, you decided you would take a shower to wash the dirty airplane feeling off of you. Once you were done, Willy gave you the main room and he took a shower. He emerged shortly after from the bathroom. You had changed into a dress for the evening and you sat at the vanity table by the closet, letting your hair dry while you put on some makeup. In the reflection of the vanity mirror, you saw William walk behind you shirtless, with his white bath towel wrapped around his hips. Your breath hitched in your throat. The towel was just barely secured around him.

“I forgot to grab my clothes,” he uttered. He grabbed the edge of the towel to hold it up and returned into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You had to lower your mascara wand back into the base, and you took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

Dinner was nice that evening. The restaurant was set up oceanside and the sun set just over the horizon during the meal. You enjoyed the company of the group. It was great to get to know them better since in the past you hadn’t really had the chance when William had brought you places with him. Much of the discussion was over what everyone was planning on doing throughout the two weeks there. Some had planned to drive the Road to Hana together, others to go out on a catamaran, or to drive to a town called Lahaina. They also wanted to spend a lot of time relaxing at the hotel, catching sun by the pool or down on the beach. Everyone continued their conversations as you made your way back into the lounge area by the lobby, bringing what was left of glasses of wine and cocktails with you, before dispersing back to your rooms. Rest was much needed after the long day of traveling, and the alcohol was definitely making everyone drowsy as well.

Willy changed into lounge clothes to sleep in, and you were glad you actually brought clothes to sleep in since you weren’t expecting to be rooming with William on vacation. You changed in the bathroom and then let William in so he could brush his teeth while you did your skincare at the dual sink vanity. The faint sound of ukulele music still played in the bathroom; you wondered if it ever turned off, but it was so serene to listen to. You exited the bathroom and climbed under the covers of the main bed (Willy wouldn’t hear another word about it when you got back), and sighed, thinking about the exchange you had in the room with him earlier that afternoon. The way he looked at you when he held your face - was he thinking the same things you were? Or were you looking too deeply into it? He had always been close with you and touchy-feely, but this time it felt different.

Willy retreated from the bathroom and meandered over you in your bed, reaching for the wall lamp next to you that was still on.

“You good?” You looked up at him and nodded. He flicked the switch and the light went off, leaving only the floor lamp next to his bed lit. “Goodnight, Ella.”

“Goodnight, Willy.”

—————————————————————

The first week had passed, and you and Willy had stayed active throughout. Most everyone else had resorted to hanging around the hotel much of that time, but you had already gone snorkeling around the Molokini Crater, driven with your whole group to a tourist town called Lahaina, into lush green mountains of Iao Valley, and to the local pineapple plantation. You had taken the rental car yourselves on a drive up to another town called Paia the day before today, where you strolled through the quaint town, shopped, and beach hopped. There was an ice cream shop up there with homemade ice cream and shave ice, and it was quite refreshing and enjoyable, especially with Willy’s company. One of the beaches you stopped at had several sea turtles in the sand, sunbathing, and you spent some time swimming in the ocean after you watched them for a bit.

You both decided just to take it easy, not only because you had been on the go so much already, but you didn’t want to run out of things to do before the trip was even over. Your adventures with Willy had you thinking less about that first afternoon here and more acting like your usual self around him. It admittedly was hard sometimes, since Willy continued to come out of the bathroom each night after showering with just his towel tied around his waist.

Mitch and Stephanie joined the two of you on the beach at the resort after their catamaran trip that day. They swam with you in the ocean for a bit before deciding they needed a break from the sun, leaving you and William alone. Because of some of the other couple’s excursions that day happening at different times, everyone decided to be on their own for dinner that night.

“You wanna try that Wolfgang Puck restaurant that’s here - what’s it called, Spago?”, Willy asked. He propped himself up on his towel with his elbow and hovered over you as you laid on your back. Some of his hair had dried in the sun and blew across his face from a breeze.

“I’m fine with anything,” you responded. “Even if we just chilled and got the poolside service on the upper level, that’d be alright.”

“Come on Ella, there’s all this great food around and you want to eat at a pool?”, William teased, reaching out to poke your arm. “That’s what we did at lunch. Let’s do something nice!”

“What time is it?” You stayed down on your back and fumbled around with your hands to try to reach for your phone.

“It’s already 4:45,” he answered before you could look at the time on your lock screen.

“Well then we better go get ready.” William leapt up from his towel and leaned forward, offering his hand to help you up from the ground. You picked up your beach bag and Willy collected your towels out of the sand before going back to the room.

Each of you took turns showering, washing clean of the sunblock, sweat, and sea salt that you’d been saturating in for hours. You dressed while Willy was showering, putting on a breezy yellow wrap dress that you picked up the day before in Paia from a local designer. You started on your makeup and Willy, of course, exited the bathroom with just the towel on his waist. His back was turned to you as he rummaged in his closet to find the clothes he was going to wear tonight, and you couldn’t help but stare as his toned back and arms shuffled around the contents of the closet. Once he selected his shirt and pants, you saw him beginning to turn around and come back this way, so you scrambled to get back to applying your eyeliner. He looked at your reflection in the mirror on his way through and caught your eyes, which in turn left a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You look be- you look great, Ella,” Willy expressed when you both were finally ready to go. You both stood inside the doorway of your room. His wide eyes drank you in like water before he cleared his throat and straightened his shirt collar. Was he - was he nervous? It was just the two of you for dinner at a nice restaurant (at his suggestion, you remembered) overlooking the water in a tropical paradise. You were good friends though, why did he sound nervous?

“You look very nice yourself, Willy. You always clean up well.” He chuckled, turning rosy, and opened the door of the room, ushering you out. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

The restaurant was great. You enjoyed the variety of Hawaiian-influenced cuisine. Most of the dishes you ordered you shared, so you could try a little bit of everything. William was a big fan of the poke while you leaned towards the roasted puna chicken. Between trying bites of food, the conversation stayed casual, discussing more of what was upcoming on your vacation radar, your job, and what Willy was planning to do the rest of the summer when he would go back to his family in Sweden until training camp. He picked up the bill once you could eat no more and he walked with you out of the restaurant.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggested as you passed a walkway out to the gardens. William nodded and followed you out onto the path through the foliage. The air had cooled down and there were a few gusts blowing around. The sounds of the surf surrounded your chatter.

“Thank you again, for coming here with me,” William remarked. “I know what you meant about feeling like a third wheel when you were expressing your drawbacks; I definitely would have felt that way if it was just me here with everyone else. They are my teammates but they probably wanted some quiet time away from me.” He laughed softly and you smiled to yourself, looking onward at the walkway.

“I’m glad I came,” you admitted. “Thank you for pushing me to come, Willy. I’ve enjoyed myself so far. Sorry I didn’t agree sooner. You’re not the worst roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Hey, I think I’m a pretty great roommate,” Willy retorted with confidence. “You might even say, perfect.” You swatted William’s arm.

“Maybe if someone didn’t walk half-naked around the room all the time,” you teased, turning to him with your brow raised.

“Ugh,” he interjected. “I work very hard for this body, someone’s gotta see it.” He looked down at you and winked.

“Well I appreciate that, I guess,” you said, giggling. There was a brief pause. “What should we plan for tomorrow?”

By now you reached the end of the path, which met the beach. You stopped and grabbed William’s forearm to balance so you could take off your heels. The sand would feel nice now that it was cool and you also didn’t want your heel to sink down in the sand with every step. You and William walked together on the length of the beach towards the rocks at the end, trying to reach an agreement on what to do the next day.

Out of the dark sky, a few random raindrops started to fall, and before you realized it was rain, a stronger shower began to come down on you. You yelped with surprise, and William took your hand, leading you towards the stone retaining wall where the beach began, and tried to take cover under a set of leafy plants that hung over the side. William was laughing, as the plants weren’t making a great umbrella. He looked down at you and drew up his hand to lift some strands of hair that had stuck to your face from getting wet. The joyful smile on his face faded into a softer expression as he continued to leave his gaze on you.

In the darkness, his face was only illuminated slightly from the reflection of the resort lights atop the retaining wall. As had happened on your arrival into your shared room, his eyes bore into yours, flitting back and forth between them. William shifted the last piece of wet hair from your face before resting the palm of his hand flush on your cheek. The leaves above you splattered water droplets onto the two of you as you stood together, frozen, rain cascading down your foreheads. Your eyes once again dropped to his lips and back up. William waited for you to pull back; you didn’t. That was his cue to close the space between your faces.

William’s warm lips were like fire against yours, which were cold and wet. Upon the first touch a shiver ripped through your body, which could have also been attributed to the chill of the rain seeping through your skin, but you were convinced it had to be from William’s kiss. He lingered there on your mouth for a moment and then pulled away. Both of you opened your eyes and stared wide-eyed at each other, William’s hand still cupping your cheek before you made the next move. You dropped your shoes, and brought your hands up to drape one on the back of his neck and one on his cheek to pull him back into you.

However a kiss could be both tender and hungry, that was what William’s was. Your fingers combed up his neck into his long hair and you pushed deeper into his lips, not feeling close enough to him already. William dropped his hand and wrapped one arm around to your back, the other rested on your side just under your arm. Inside, your stomach leapt and twisted at the addition of both of his hands on you. His touch was confident and he molded into your body like he was always meant to be there. You remembered you needed to breathe and ended the kiss, looking back up at him.

“That was…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” William whispered with a soft smile, and he collected his breath. He swept your wet hair behind your shoulder. You tilted your head towards him, and he placed a delicate kiss between your eyebrows just as the rain subsided. You picked your head up yet again to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea,” you replied quietly. Neither of you could seem to move for a few minutes. You weren’t sure if more rain would be coming in though, so you picked up your shoes, tangled your fingers in William’s hand, and pulled him back up the path into the hotel. He pressed the call button for the elevator as soon as you approached it and the doors opened. The elevator whisked you away to your floor and this time William lead the way, winding through the hallway back to your room.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he opened the door for you, and he quietly closed the door after following you in. Stepping swiftly to you, William wasted no time closing the gap between your bodies. His lips were pressed on yours once again and he pushed you gently up against the wall, grabbing your midsection and resting his hands just at the base of your breasts. It sent shockwaves through your body. You cradled his face in your hands to keep him right where he was before trailing them down his chest. William moaned into your mouth, pulling your torso flush against his in response. A chill from your wet clothes quickly turned into heat from your touching bodies. Your lips continued devour him until you couldn’t breathe anymore. When you tilted your head back to inhale, William placed kisses around your chin and neck. There was some pressure coming from underneath your breasts as you found him lifting you up in the air.

William carried you over to your bed, with your arms wrapped around his neck, and set you back down on your feet. Your lips reconnected and William’s hands roamed your body until he found the tie that held your dress together. He plucked the knot open and you gasped when you felt the fabric loosen around you. The dress clung slightly, damp yet from the rain before. William pulled back from you, meeting your eyes with concern.

“Ella, I’m sorry,” he panted. “We don’t have to-”

“No, Will, it’s okay,” you responded between your own breaths. “I want you to touch me. I want you.” His concerned expression faded and hardened with desire, and before you knew it his hands had slipped underneath the fabric of your dress, and his mouth returned to its place on yours. William was locked into the feel of your bare skin, touching some of the most delicate parts of yourself that you had often fantasized about before. Your arms fell and you froze in his passionate attention to every detail of your body. He peeled the damp cloth of your dress off of you, and you wriggled your arms to shed it onto the floor. That left you standing there in your panties.

To level the playing field, you felt around for the buttons on his shirt and hastily began ripping them from their holes. You were about halfway down when William gave you some assistance unbuttoning the rest and throwing the shirt from his arms. Your hands began skating around his toned chest, which was slightly dewy from the rain, and you could feel goosebumps where your hands had already traveled on him. William broke the kiss and stepped back.

“Sit down.” His words weren’t commanding coming out of his mouth; you knew he wanted to keep going further and so you sat on the edge of the bed in anticipation. He unbuttoned his shorts and slid them off, kicking off his shoes in the same motion. Coming forward toward you again, he lifted you from your sides and pushed you a little further onto the bed, laying you on your back. William hovered over you, propped up on his hands, and straddled you on his knees. You watched his eyes move up and down the length of your body. He was mesmerized.

“You’re so beautiful,” William breathed. His hand stroked your cheek, and you cupped your hand on top of his, leading it down to graze the top of your breast. He plunged his head down into the crook of your neck and began trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach. You stopped breathing for a second when he reached your panties and toyed with the hem. Pulling down ever so gently, the fabric started to slide down your hips and you lifted your waist up off the bed. William crawled backwards just enough to delicately free your legs of the garment and tossed it on the floor. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched William put a hand on each of your ankles and slide them up your legs, taking in the sight of you - this time, all of you - again. His fingers fluttered over your center and he closed in to kiss you softly on the lips.

Still resting his hands at the top of your thighs, William slowly pushed your legs open. He hadn’t even fully touched you there yet but you felt your core throbbing. Drawing his thumb down your center was enough for you to moan his name before he lowered his face between your thighs.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” he spoke softly. Baby. William’s blue eyes looked up at you and he stuck his tongue between your folds. When he began sucking and teething on you, you gasped, throwing your head back and reaching out to grab a fistful of his hair. His hands slid up and held you down at your stomach as he felt your hips starting to rock. Leading you to orgasm, he slipped two fingers inside of you. He slid them in and out, and your breathing sped up. You started to cry out William’s name when he curled his fingers inside of you and you erupted underneath him.

William got up and removed the last piece of his clothing, his underwear, and climbed back on the bed. You sat up and kissed him, taking his cock in your hand and pumping it. That startled him it seemed, as he froze in the kiss and you heard him breathe in sharply. You pushed his chest to make him fall gently onto his back. Getting on all fours, you held his member and licked a stripe up from the base to the tip of him, and his body trembled when you took him into your mouth. William was sensitive, breathing rapidly and moaning with almost every mouthful you took of him, pumping with your hand at the same time.

“Fuck, Ella,” he breathed. You had gotten him close to his climax but he decided he couldn’t wait any longer to be in you. William flipped you onto your back again, got up and walked to his side of the closet. You heard a plastic package tear and then he was climbing on top of you again. He positioned himself at your entrance, rolling his cock up and down your center. William was gazing down at you, taking his time almost as if to make sure that you weren’t going to change your mind and have him stop.

The next thing you felt was William burying himself in you, stretching you open, and the pleasure seared through you. He thrusted a few times and leaned down over you. Placing his lips on yours, he slid his arms underneath you and held you as he kept up his pace. The feeling of being close to each other was something you both craved. There was something so tender and intimate about the way he held you close to him as he fucked you. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling the raw passion William exuded. You wished you’d known this William a long time ago.

“Will, you feel so good,” you panted. Your fingers dug into his back the closer you came to reaching your limit. William’s breath picked up again along with the rate of his thrusts. He crashed his lips onto yours one final time before his face dropped beside yours, whimpering into your ear. You began to yell out his name again as you reached your height, tensing and shaking, feeling yourself tighten around his cock. That was everything he needed to let go himself, gasping and moaning as he pressed his body into you. He dropped and rolled over to his side, pulling you with him.

With legs tangled together, you held each other closely. You flipped your free leg over his side. William had not taken himself out of you, and you could still feel him as you came down from your high. Both of you pressed against each other, chests rising and falling as you caught your breath. You buried your head into the crook of William’s neck. He pressed his lips into your hair and his fingers floated around your back, his feathery touch sending shivers all over. Shifting yourself backwards, you caught William’s lips in a soft kiss before resting your head. You were silent, and he reached out to push your hair back behind your ear. A smile tugged every so subtly at the corners of his mouth. It reflected in his eyes as he laid in front of you, still taking the sight of you in.

“What are you thinking about?”, you whispered. Willy’s smile got wider but he shook his head.

“I’m not,” he said in a low volume. “I’m trying to make sure you’re real.”

“Willy, I can see the gears turning up there,” you responded, your eyes looking up to his forehead. “What are you thinking?”

Suddenly he sat himself up, finally removing his softened member from you. He scooted off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. You turned and laid on your back, moving up onto the pillows behind you so you could lounge. The water ran in the sink and William came back out with a damp cloth for you. He climbed over you and pushed your legs apart again to clean you up. He left the bed again, only stopping in the bathroom entry to toss the cloth away. When he got back on the bed he motioned for you to sit up and move forward. He sat on the bed behind you, putting you in between his legs to lean back against him. His arms slithered around your midsection, folding his hands together over your stomach, and he placed a kiss on your temple. You began to pick at his hands until he unknotted them, so you could play with each of his fingers.

“I was thinking about you. I think about you,” William said, breaking the comfortable stillness flooding the air. You stayed silent, for the first time not knowing how to talk to Willy despite knowing how you felt about him. “You…and the thought of you consumes me, Ella. Everything I do, everywhere I go. I hear your voice. I see your face. When I’m not around you, it’s you I want to come back to.

“It looks like I have everything on the outside. I have a career doing the one thing I wanted to do the most since I was a kid, I have enough money to do whatever I want, I live in a great city. Ever since I met you, I knew you were the piece I was missing.” William tipped his head forward against yours and sighed. “I never felt like I could tell you because I felt like I was just your goofy, dorky best friend Willy. I didn’t want to make the wrong move and lose you.” You sat up and, turning sideways, you leaned against his folded leg that was propped up. Love and pain clouded his misty blue eyes now. Here you were sitting with him, naked in bed, and you knew he felt more vulnerable now than ever.

“William, you could never lose me,” you reassured him quietly. “I love what we’ve built in the time that I’ve known you. I can’t say I have felt any differently about you, and for the same reasons I haven’t spoken about it with you. I didn’t want to come on this trip not because of the other couples, but because I thought something might happen between us and turn out, well, badly.” William had dropped his eyes and was drawing patterns on your bare leg with his fingers.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’d like the opportunity to fall in love with you. Properly. Wholly. If that’s what you want, too.” William returned his eyes to your face, appearing much softer this time, after you finished speaking. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on yours. This kiss wasn’t the first one you had shared tonight, but it was the first one that was full and confident and possessive. You pulled back again from each other, breathless.

“So is that a yes?”, you asked. William’s face wrinkled with absolute joy.

“I think you know,” he replied, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers in it.

“I think I know what we’re doing tomorrow now,” you said wittingly. William let out a hearty laugh and pulled you into him again, kissing your hair. He laid down and you followed suit, your back to his front and his arm draped around you, resting just below your breasts. For the first time, you fell asleep in the arms of your best friend; the one you wanted to fall asleep with forever.

#william nylander #william nylander smut #toronto maple leafs #william nylander imagine #willy styles #willy nylander #smut #friends to lovers #whew lord

[bitch-for-bo]

His Destined Miracle (Asahi Azumane x Chubby Reader) (omegaverse)

POST timeskip

Asahi had been in love with you practically since the first time he saw you. He'd find himself taking walks around the office just to catch sight of your beautiful face and sunny, warm demeanor. He always wanted to approach you, but he'd never had the courage. All he could do was hope that he encountered a miracle. Going into a rut during a day that office was NOT a miracle to Asahi. In fact, it was one of his worst nightmares, but when you show up on his doorstep, looking like an angel from heaven, he realizes that miracles come in all different ways... and that you were his destined miracle.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey Y/N can you run these copies to the boss’s office, I have to go to the bathroom or I think I might die!!” One of your over-dramatic coworkers asked as they practically threw a stack of papers at you. They were shifting back and forth, their knees knocked as they hopped around in a little bathroom ‘dance’

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.” You replied, giggling quietly to yourself as they hobbled/ran quickly towards the restrooms.

You looked down at the stack of papers in your hands, admiring the brilliant pieces of art on each page. The boss would be very happy with these. Of course, if he was unhappy with them, he wouldn’t tell anyone, the boss was the type who if he didn’t like what he saw, he would improve it and then deny all credit. Some in the office called him a pushover, but you thought that it was sweet that he did that.

You stood from your cubicle and began to walk to the bosses office, it was on the other side of the floor but you had already been planning on getting up to stretch your legs out soon anyway, so it had worked out.

You strolled through the office, not in any particular rush to get to the boss’s office. You greeted people that you passed, you knew everyone on your floor by name and you knew at least one fact about them, if they had pets or kids, what their hobbies were. You did this so that you’d never run into someone and not be able to ask them a question about their personal life, this ‘technique’ is what had made you so popular around the office, every time you would talk to someone, they would walk away with a smile on their face.

Your naturally sunny demeanor had always been your redeeming trait. When you were young, kids would mercilessly bully you. The names they would call you, ‘fatty’ or ‘ugly cow’ along with the treatment you received for being an omega was enough to tear a young you apart. You had started being overly nice to people to make up for all of your shortcomings, you found that if you were constantly sucking up to them and making them feel better about themselves, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Unfortunately, this had led to you not only being incredibly insecure with very low self-esteem, but also a doormat for people to walk all over. You were always doing people favors, getting them coffees, paying for their snacks at vending machines, even doing their work for them. Your friends would tell you to stick up for yourselves, they would even tell people off if they treated you poorly in front of them. They had begun to practically beg you to start saying no to people, but you didn’t mind being a bit of a push-over. After all, you still thought of yourself as a worthless, fat, omega cow that couldn’t do anything right and if you could be useful to someone, even if it meant staying an extra hour to file their paperwork for them, it was worth it.

You frowned at the memories as you walked, catching sight of yourself in the large windows that overlooked the beautiful city outside. You winced. Even though your friends were constantly telling you that you were beautiful inside and out, it was still hard to look at yourself in the mirror. All of the traumatic events of your childhood had really affected you. It was almost impossible for you to look at yourself and not despise the person you saw.

You arrived at the boss’s office, giving a light knock on the closed door.

“Come in please.” You heard the soft voice call from inside. You twisted the knob, opened the door, and entered the room, gasping at the sight before you.

Hundreds of designs were strewn across the floor, tacked to the walls, and pulled up on the computer monitor, and in the middle of it all sat a six-foot-two alpha who was currently smiling shyly up at you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment of the mess.

“Hel-”

He stopped, his eyes wide as they stared at you. Clearly, you weren’t the person he’d been expecting. He stared at you for a solid five seconds, saying nothing as his eyes were frozen on you, making you feel extremely self-conscious and a little hot under the collar.

You cleared your throat, snapping him out of his daze.

“Excuse me.” You said. As soon as you’d spoken the boss had got up onto his knees and looked around as if wondering how he would get to you without ruining his designs.

“Sorry about the mess.” He mumbled, a large blush blooming on his cheeks as he scrambled up and towards you, trying (and failing) to avoid stepping on the designs.

“Please! Don’t apologize!” You stumbled, matching his anxious energy as your face adopted a blush of its own. “I just came to give these to you!” You squeaked, your arms holding out the designs as your gaze locked on the cluttered floor.

“Oh.” The large male said gently, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” He said, more confidently this time. He’d noticed that you were emitting a strongly anxious scent, and something about it must’ve scared him and made him think that he was scaring you.

“Your welcome.” You practically whispered, your eyes not daring to meet his, “Have a good day.” You rushed out before rushed back out of the room, letting the door almost slam behind you.

‘Dammit!’ you thought, mentally slapping yourself. You couldn’t believe you’d made such a fool out of yourself. You just couldn’t help it, the boss was super intimidating. Plus he was an alpha.

Being an alpha meant that, since you were an omega, you had a natural urge to submit to him, it also meant that he was incredibly intimidating, borderline scary.

Usually, it didn’t matter that you were an omega. You took scent and heat suppressants to control your natural omega tendencies. The suppressors made it to where no wolf could smell you and you couldn’t smell any wolf. People could smell the basics on you, fear, happiness, sadness, they just couldn’t smell your natural scent, the scent that gave you away as an omega. The suppressants also kept you from smelling other wolves and ‘losing control’ of your own scent as a reaction. This all meant that even if you encountered betas and alphas in your daily activities, they wouldn’t know you were an omega and you wouldn’t be able to smell their natural scents either.

The only exception to this was when an alpha was in a rut, when they were rutting their noses were strengthened tenfold and they could sniff you out in an instant., but thankfully, society had progressed to the point that ruts were an excused absence from your job. Another time that the suppressants weren’t at their full potency was during your heat. Yes, it suppressed almost all of your scent, but depending on the strength of your heats, some would still leak out. Thankfully, heats were also excusable by employers. Luckily you’d never had to leave work for heat, you’d always been able to track it and take off plenty early so you could lock yourself in your apartment and suffer through it, and you’d also been lucky enough to never encounter a rutting alpha.

*******************

Asahi Azumane, aka the boss, was still standing in front of his closed door. He stared at the closed door, the designs he’d been given loosely clutched in his hands.

‘Dammit!’ he thought. He couldn't believe how he’d reacted. How embarrassing!

Ever since the newest member of the floor had begun working at the studio as a financial advisor, Asahi had been incredibly infatuated. Even though he’d never held a conversation with her due to his busy schedule, he never failed to notice the way she lit up the office. Everyone liked her and got along with her. Sometimes he’d overhear people talking about her, or sometimes he’d even overhear her talking to someone, she always seemed so warm and kind that Asahi couldn’t help but be a little jealous that he’d never received the honor of ever talking to her.

When she had been the one to open the door to his office, he’d been practically incapacitated. As soon as his eyes had hit her body he’d forgotten how to talk.

As a designer he couldn’t help but admire the classy style of her outfit, the warm red-orange turtleneck tucked into a pair of brown and tan flared slacks paired with black platform boots. It took all of his willpower not to pull out a pencil and sketch it for inspiration.

And as a man, he couldn’t help but admire how the outfit fit your body perfectly. The way that it hugged your form, complementing and accentuating the curves of your figure. It was enough to take his breath away and make the alpha in him roar with the need to claim and protect such a precious sight.

Unfortunately for Asahi, as soon as the encounter with the angel began, it ended. He was beating himself up for not saying something, for not inviting you to dinner, for only staring like a lovestruck loser.

‘She probably thinks I’m a total loser...or even worse a pervert!’ he thought glumly. He sulked back over to his designs, frustrated at himself for not being bold enough to call after the beautiful girl and ask for her number.

‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘Y/N is way too out of my league, she’d reject me in a heartbeat. Or even worse! She’d say yes out of pity!’

As he continued to work on his designs, the thought of the angel that had visited him was clouding his mind, making work impossible. He just couldn’t seem to forget the shape of her lips as she spoke or the way that the perfect outfit laid on her perfect body....her perfect hips….her perfect breasts.

“Fuck” he grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably as he realized that he’d thought himself straight into having an erection.

‘I just couldn’t help it. She’s so beautiful.’ he thought.

He tried to struggle through his… problem, but it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more it persisted. It was actually to the point that he was sitting in the middle of his office, red-faced and panting with a painfully obvious tent in his pants.

“What the fuck is happening?” He grunted, feeling his canines start to lengthen and his claws emerge. Could he be going into rut already? He wasn’t due for at least another week!

Was it seeing Y/N that made him go into rut early? How? Y/N wasn’t his mate….right? No. He would’ve known if she was his mate by her scent. He had no recollection of ever smelling her, was she on suppressants, was there a chance that she could be his mate?

‘Yep.’ Asahi thought as another wave of heat and desire burst through his body, ‘I’ve started my rut early…. I need to get out of here…. Need to go home.’

He practically crawled to his desk, grasping desperately for his phone so he could call the receptionist and ask her to remove all of the females on the floor from the building. The last thing that he needed or wanted was to set off any omega’s heat by accident.

“Hello, Mr. Azumane. Is everything alright?” The receptionist asked, surprised at the call seeing as Asahi rarely called, opting to physically walk to the desk and ask. He thought that it was more polite this way, plus it gave him a chance to catch a glimpse of Y/N at her desk.

“I need all of the women on the floor to temporarily evacuate, I’ve gone into a rut.”

The receptionist on the other end, that was used to dealing with Asahi’s over-anxious personality, just laughed.

“That’s incredibly unnecessary sir. I’m sure everything will be fine if you just leave out of the back stairs, you could even leave out of the fire escape if you’re that nervous.”

Asahi sighed and nodded. It was true that he’d be wasting everyone’s time if he asked for an evacuation. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Ok……” he said warily. “I’ll try.”

“Great!” The receptionist replied, “I’ll make sure to get someone to bring your work to your house tomorrow so you can continue to work from home.”

**********************

“Right here is good. Thank you.” You said, getting out of the cab and paying the driver. YOu glanced up at the tall apartment complex as the car drove away, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You thought back to what had happened not even an hour earlier. Yui at the front desk had asked you if you would be willing to take the boss some work. She said that he was sick at home and wanted to continue to work from there. Being the people pleaser that you are, you said that it was no problem and that was how you’d wound up standing in front of Asahi Azumane’s apartment complex with a thick file full of designs and a large container of soup.

You walked into the lobby before buzzing into Asahi’s apartment. Clearly, he’d been expecting someone to come with his work seeing as he buzzed you up almost immediately.

You entered and took the elevator to his floor, the floor third from the top. When the doors opened, you were met with a small entryway that led to a single door.

“A penthouse?” you mumbled to yourself. You couldn’t be super surprised, after all, he was the boss of your floor and probably made a very comfortable salary. Still, the building hadn’t looked small from the outside, and if Asahi had a whole floor to himself that meant that his flat was at least 4,000 square feet big. You knocked on the door.

It opened.

You automatically gasped.

The scent of sandalwood and rosemary hit you like a brick wall, forcing you to stagger back on your feet.

‘Oh, shit’ you thought, ‘they told me he was sick! Not that he was in a rut!’

You began to panic in the split second that the door had been opened. You wanted to run away, but seeing as Asahi was much stronger and faster than you, you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Maybe it wasn’t a strong enough rut to enable him to smell through your suppressants? No. There was no way it was a weak rut, not when Asahi was such a powerful alpha.

In your state of panic, you failed to notice two things. The first being the fact that your wolf was screaming something at you, and the second being the large alpha, looming over you in the doorway.

Asahi’s body was heaving with heavy breath. His claws were contracted and his canines were piercing through his bottom lip, causing the taste of blood to hit his tongue as he stared at the beautiful omega in the doorway to his apartment.

‘I didn’t know Y/N was an omega’

‘Why is she here?’

‘Can she smell that I’m in rut?’

Were all questions running through the alpha’s brain, but the most important thing running through his brain was the single word that his inner wolf was practically screaming at him.

Asahi looked down at you, causing a violent shiver to wreck through your spine. You whimpered, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. His lips curled back before letting out the most deafening growl ever. A growl so loud, you were confident that people down on the sidewalks had heard.

“Mine.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, you gasped and suddenly the voice of your inner wolf was crystal clear. ‘Mate!’ it was howling happily. Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Asahi was your bond mate? YOUR BOSS WAS YOUR BOND MATE!

It made you want to faint out of surprise as well as anxiety. You considered if you could make a run for it, despite already knowing it was impossible. You were glancing at your surroundings when you finally remembered that Asahi, your mate, was still standing in front of you.

You looked at his tall frame in awe, your desire growing as you practically drooled over the sheer size of the alpha. He was huge, his broad shoulders, his built chest, and if you were to take a guess, you’d say that he was huge under the belt too.

You were so distracted ogling his body that you didn’t notice the way that his claws were digging into the flesh of his palms and how his canines had pierced his bottom lip hard enough to cause a small trickle of blood down his chin.

“Azumane! You gasped, setting the papers and soup on the floor in the hall before automatically stepping forward and grazing his hands with your own, careful to avoid the razor-sharp claws.

“No.” He grunted, trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. He feared if you stayed much longer he would do something out of his control, something unforgivable. “Please…..I don’t want to hurt you.”

You could see the pain and genuine fear in his eyes. You felt your heart fill with sadness and love at the same time. You couldn’t believe how much you’d been blessed. You had been given Azumane as a mate…. A man who was gentle and kind and was always so thoughtful of others. This was the man that you were destined to spend the rest of your life with.

Suddenly all of the fears and insecurities of not being good enough for people melted away from you. As your arms left Asahi’s hands to wrap gently around his neck, tears of happiness began to run down your face.

How could you have been so stupid? All of this time happiness and love had been right down the hall from you. You had deprived yourself of a partner to laugh with, to love, all because you felt inferior to others.

“You won’t hurt me.” You whispered, one of your hands nudging his face down closer to yours. “I trust you Azumane.”

Your lips were so close to his that you could feel his slightly labored breathing. His eyes were so close that you could seemingly see into his soul. You tried to tell him with your eyes just how hopelessly in love with him you already were.

Somehow, he must’ve felt it, because soon he was sighing into a soft kiss as one of his strong hands moved to hold your head as the other glided down your body to rest on your hip.

“Asahi….” he breathed, disconnecting your lips to look into your eyes.

“Huh?” you asked, slightly dazed from the passion of the short kiss.

“Call me Asahi, my love.” He said before once again joining your mouths in another heartfelt kiss, pulling your body flush against his own strong frame.

You moaned into the embrace, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he carefully swept you up off of the ground and began to carry you into his bedroom.

It all seemed like a whirlwind to you, but you couldn’t imagine it any other way. This was your soulmate…. Your other half.

Asahi’s body was alight with desire as well as he felt the effects of his rut in full force. He couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky he was to receive you as his mate. You…. the girl that he’d been admiring from afar, the one that, dare he say, he was already madly in love with. You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with you in his arms. When he held you, he felt like the strongest man in the world.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to force you. I’m in rut so I want you to be 100 percent sure that this is YOU wanting me, not your hormones.” Asahi whispered as he set you down on the edge of his bed.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted. You didn’t care that he was in rut, you knew that the lust you were feeling barely had anything to do with your omega nature. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad that it made you want to cry.

“Asahi,” You whimpered, falling back onto his bed and staring up at him with a maddening blush on your cheeks. “I want you to claim me…”

“My love….” he growled before lunging back down at you, his lips attaching to your jaw with a renewed feverish manner.

“Asahi!” you gasped as his large hands roamed your body, his long fingers dancing across your hips that had been exposed as the blouse you were wearing was torn off of you, the buttons flying across the room.

He chuckled at your surprise before resuming his onslaught of love onto your body, his lips seeking out your breasts as his hands began to work at your slacks and then at his own clothes.

As soon as you were both fully nude, he leaned back, leaving reality to dawn on you as you realized that you weren’t actually fully over your insecurities. Your hands flew up to cover your face and stomach in embarrassment, you didn’t want Asahi to see you under such bright lights.

“I-I’m sorry I jus-” You whispered in shame, your eyes locking on a wall in his bedroom as you tried to explain.

“Let me see you.” He demanded, interrupting your pathetic stuttering with his strong hands clasping around your wrists and pulling them above your head. Your eyes closed tightly in humiliation.

Asahi’s eyes hungrily drank in your body. Every curve and arch was precious to him. He was practically drooling at how soft you felt under his hard body, how pliant you would be to his will.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. Making your blush darken.

He brought his head down to your chest, his tongue piking out of his mouth and leaving a hot trail between your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of the appendage dancing its way down and across your stomach, down to your hips, until finally, Asahi’s head rested between your thighs.

His hands splayed out against the smooth flesh, admiring how soft they were in his grip. He could smell your arousal, turning him on that much more as he watched slick drip out of your hole and onto the meat of your upper thighs.

“One day.” He mumbled, half to himself and half for you to hear, “I will fuck these gorgeous thighs.” He said before swooping in and kissing the upper region of your legs. Biting and sucking dark spots into the sensitive skin.

“Asahi!” Was all you could manage to cry as his hands and mouth wreaked pleasurable havoc on your mind and body. You wanted him so badly. You could feel your cunt fluttering with need as slick dripped out of it, leaving a large damp spot on Asahi’s bedsheets.

“What do you want my love?” He asked, his eyes looking up from his position from in between your thighs to meet yours. You were suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of so much affection and adoration that laid in the dark brown pools.

“I want you Asahi….” you cried, panting as he quickly climbed up your body, lining himself up with you.

Both of you were hot and ready. The feeling and scent of desire clouding the room and leaving you both in a state of reckless lust. Nothing in that moment mattered but you and him.

Asahi connected your mouths once again as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls further than anyone had ever stretched them before. It felt so good…. so incredibly good.

“Asahi….” you gasped as he seated himself fully inside of you, the indescribable feeling of fullness making your body shake. “Please... Give me your cock.” A low growl ripped through his chest as his restraint finally snapped and his rut took over his mind and body. His hips began to snap in and out of your body at an almost lethal pace, leaving you writhing and gasping for air as you felt his primal instincts taking over.

“Yes!” you cried, your nails driving themselves across his upper back in a pathetic attempt to keep you rooted to this world. If the sheer size of his dick wasn’t enough to split you in two, it was the lightning-fast pace that his hips were thrusting into your body at, hitting all of the deepest areas of you, making you want to scream in pleasure.

As his cock drug in and out of you, rubbing against your walls so good that it took all of your breath away, you felt the tip of his cock but against your g-spot.

“Aah! Asahi!” You screamed, your walls clenching around him as stars painted your vision in pleasure. You couldn’t believe just how good he filled you up, how he reached every single place within you, drawing out the lewdest sounds, filling the rooms with your moans and cries as his cock pounded into you.

“You’re so beautiful” He gasped as you clenched around him, he was practically rapid with pleasure. He was slamming into you as his newfound goal in life was to please you, sucking on your neck as his hands roamed and gripped your body.

You could tell that since Asahi was in rut, his end was approaching much faster than it normally would and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t on the brink of orgasm as well. Apparently, Asahi had realized the same thing and was positioning himself to where he was hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart first.

“Asahi!” You gasped, tears running down your face as your hands gripped his strong shoulders. “Asahi, I’m gonna come….”

“Yes, my love….” He grunted, picking up his pace impossibly more before bringing his fingers down to circle your clit. He could feel you getting closer and closer with the way that you sucked him back in with each thrust. “You take me so well.”

“Yes. Only you Asahi! You fuck me so good!” You babbled, your hips circling quickly in a sad attempt to keep up with the delicious feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel the elastic of your orgasm pulling tight in your lower stomach. You knew that Asahi wouldn’t let himself come before you.

“Please….” you begged, teary eyes staring into Asahi’s lustful ones. “Please let me cum..”

“Yes my love.” he panted out, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he felt his own end rising. “Cum for me…” He said, his lips once again joining yours as your body was thrown off of the cliff into a sea of pleasure. You cried into his kiss, your body arching off of the bed as it shook with the overwhelming force of your orgasm. You swore that you temporarily went blind with the impact.

“I’m gonna come…..” Asahi breathed against your lips.

“Please…..come inside of me.” You begged, your legs wrapping around his hips and trapping his body against yours as his hips began to stutter and his cock burst inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” he groaned, pitching his head back as every fiber of his benign burned in the glory of his high. He continued to lazily thrust into you, bringing you both through your peaks.

As soon as you had been able to gain your breath again, he pulled you, leaving you incredibly empty. You whined at the loss.

“I need to take care of you.” He chuckled, climbing off of the bed to retrieve a towel from his bathroom to clean your body with. He kissed and massaged you as he gently wiped all of the cum mixed with slick off of your thighs, his face burning red at the lewd evidence of your lustful activities. You giggled as his docile, shy nature slowly returned, barely being able to make eye contact with you.

As soon as he was finished, he let you pull him back down onto the bed, despite both of you still being naked and sweaty. You closed your eyes, you knew that his rut would flare up again and you wanted to catch a quick nap before the second round.

Asahi just stared at your face as you drifted off to rest. You looked like an angel to him...so pure and beautiful. He knew then that he would always protect you, even if that meant laying down his own life. You were now his reason to live, you were his muse…..

You were his.

#haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu smut #asahi #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+ #asahi x reader

[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: Two

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death, brief mentions of sexual assault, lots and lots of filthy smut

(This is also 26.k words so like... be prepared for a long read)

Read Part One Here

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It’s Halloween, and Misty is drunk.

Okay, so perhaps she isn’t quite drunk, but she’s getting there, and Harry is doing his best to take care of her.   (And his best isn’t exactly good enough, considering she’s the only one who can see him.)

It takes him fifteen minutes to get her attention, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finally sees her walking towards him- dressed head to toe like the devil (if the devil were, of course, sexy and wore a skin tight red dress and fishnets).

When she reaches him, she smirks, and he doesn’t know why.   “What?” She asks, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

For the sake of Misty’s pride, Harry turns away before anyone can see her talking to nothing.  “Follow me,” he says, nodding over his shoulder and leading her into the hallway.

They turn the corner into her bedroom, and Harry gently closes the door behind them. When it’s just the two of them, Misty grins.  “What’s up, buttercup?”

Harry smirks. “You doing alright?”

“M-hm!” Misty says with a nod.  “You want a drink?”

“Can’t, love.”

Misty’s smile slowly fades into a frown.  “You mean ghosts can’t let loose? Have a little fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”  

Misty considers his words and offers him a shrug.  “I mean you’re just watching a bunch of drunk college kids in stuipd costumes get even more drunk and make out with each other.  That isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Misty giggles.  “You know what I meaaaan.”

“I’m watching you,” Harry says smugly.  “That’s all I need.”

She laughs again, turning away so he can’t see the tinge of embarrassment on her face.  “Don’t watch me,” she says.  “Creep.”

“Not a creep,” Harry insists, plopping onto her bed.  “Just want you to take care of yourself.  That’s all.”

“I wish you could take care of meeee,” Misty says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and punctuating her sentence with a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Harry doesn’t know if Misty meant to say that, or if she even meant it in the way that he’s taking it,  but he knows that if he had a beating heart, it would be racing at her words.   He brushes it off, smiling at her softly.  “M’taking care of you right now, aren’t I?”

“S’not what I meaaaaan,” Misty says, through another giggle, and now Harry knows exactly how her sentence was meant to be taken.

He laughs.  “Sunshine why don’t we get you some water, hm?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty says, sauntering clumsily towards Harry.  “‘Sunshine.’  Makes me happy.”

“I like making you happy,” Harry replies softly.  “Now, will you make me happy by getting yourself some water please?  I would get you some myself but, you know.”  He gestures vaguely with his hands.

“You can’t!” she says, tittering to herself.  “Cause you’re a ghost.  I know that.”

Her words sting just the tiniest bit, even though Harry knows she doesn’t mean it in a negative way.  He laughs them off anyway.  “You’re stalling, Misty.”

“I’m not stalling!” Misty says.  “I wish I could stay in here with you all night.”

And God, Harry wishes that too.

“And miss all the fun of the party out there?” Harry asks, eyeing her as she wobbles a bit around the room.  “I saw the way those guys were looking at you.”  He wiggles his eyebrows, and laughs as she gags.

“Ew,” she says, face twisting up in disgust.  “They’re the worst.”

“You didn’t like their flirting?  I thought that the trick the one guy did with the beer can on his head was very appealing. Especially with him dressed like a Greek God and all that.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harry grins.  “Water, Misty, “ he reminds her.   “You need to get yourself a glass of water.”

“Alright alriiiiight!” Misty holds up her hands in surrender. “You’re so neeeeeedy.”

Harry giggles, rising to his feet just in time to steady her a bit when she wobbles.  She laughs softly at the feeling of his cold hands against her hips, turning in his arms to face him.

“You smell good,” she says, her face mere inches from his.  “Have I ever told you that?”

Harry realizes that he’s held his hands in the same spot for just a tick too long, and he quickly drops them to his sides.  “No,” he says,  “Never told me that.  What do I smell like?”

“Like…”  Misty sniffs the air dramatically.  “Like cinnamon.  You’re laughin’ at me but it’s true!  Smells really good.”  She frowns up at him, as if a new thought just crossed her mind.  “What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Now her words really sting, and Harry struggles to just laugh them off this time.  Still, he knows tonight isn’t the time for sadness, and he doesn’t want to ruin Misty’s buzz.  So he grins.  “Buy a cinnamon candle?”

Misty pouts.  “Not the same.”

Harry laughs, booping her nose with the tip of his finger.  “Now I know you’re stalling.”

“Is it working?”  Misty grins mischievously up at him, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says through another laugh.  “You little sneak.”

Misty giggles.  “But you’ll stay with me, right?  All night?”

“If you want me to.”  Harry nods.  “Yeah.  You can’t talk to me though.  Unless we’re in here.”

Misty frowns.  “I know.  Sucks.”

She turns like she’s going to leave finally, but then stops again.  “Why can’t you show yourself in front of everyone?” she asks, as if the thought just dawned on her.

Harry sighs, because as much as he knows she’s stalling, it is a valid question.  “I suppose I could,” he says, “If I really wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really, no.”  Harry offers her a half hearted shrug, and when he sees her face drop he quickly tacks on, “Not that I don’t want to be able to openly spend time with you, of course! You know I do. It’s just difficult.”

“Why is it difficult?” Misty cocks her head to the side like a curious child, and it’s so cute Harry could burst.

“It’s exhausting,” he explains.  “As ghosts we only have so much energy. And it’s affected by the energies of others in the room as well. Manifesting takes up a lot of that energy, especially when you’re manifesting in front of a lot of other beings.”  He smiles, pausing to allow her to process what he’s just said before continuing his explanation.

“When it’s only you who can see me, the amount of energy I’m putting forward is far less than, say, the amount it would take for me to manifest in front of everyone else.  On top of that, being around all different energies-- feeling them interact with your own-- you sort of adopt those energies as well.  You take them upon yourself.  I don’t like doing it.  It doesn’t feel good.”

“Oh.”  Misty frowns.  “That sucks.”

“It does suck,” Harry says, nodding his head.  “Especially since I can’t walk around tonight and show you off the way you deserve.”

Misty giggles shyly, and Harry beams at her before continuing.  “Now if you don’t go and get yourself some water, I’m going to have to expose myself to everyone.”

Misty’s laugh is louder than it usually is, and Harry has no choice but to laugh along with her.  “Okay!” she says.  “Sorry! God.”

Misty makes her way over to the bedroom door with Harry close on her heels. He holds his arms out just in case she needs extra stabilizing.  As soon as the door opens, she’s met with a loud cheering from the people in the hallway.

Harry recognizes Rosie and Greg, but there are two other guys there that he’s never seen before.  And by the looks of their cheers, they’re super happy to see Misty.

“Mistaaaaay!” One of the guys, who is dressed as a lifeguard, shouts.  “What were you doin’ in your room all alone?”

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse for Misty, when she surprises him and comes up with one all on her own.

“My little sister was calling me, weirdo,” Misty says. “She forgot our parent’s wifi password.”  She glances over her shoulder and shoots Harry a very subtle wink, and honestly Harry’s impressed.  He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“Quick thinking there, sunshine.”

Misty ignores him but her smirk does not go unnoticed.  Her attention is quickly pulled, however, when the original guy speaks up again.

“You’re lookin’ good tonight, girl.  You know Josh is looking for you?”

And just like that, Harry’s ears are perked and his stomach is sinking.

“Yeah?” Misty asks, completely uninterested as she tries to push through the crowd. “Well I’ve been here!”  She almost seems to sober up, and Harry is intrigued as to why.

“You should go see what he wants.”  Lifeguard wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry takes a protective and unintentional step forward.

Misty rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered.  “If it’s really that important he can find me.”

Lifeguard whistles.  “Damn, Misty, alright!   Not interested?”

Misty spares a quick glance in Harry’s direction.  “I’m not, no.”

It should make Harry feel much, much better.  It really should.  But it doesn’t.

Misty, of course, offers no time for explanation-- which she shouldn’t, Harry knows, but still. She only continues to push through the crowd, with Harry close behind-- and he tries to ignore the random shivers from the people he accidentally walks through.

“Misty--” He says quietly.

“It’s fine.”  It’s barely audible, and of course Harry can’t blame her for that; for fucks sake, she can’t look like she’s talking to herself.

Misty stumbles a bit as she enters the kitchen, opening the fridge and reaching inside for a jello shot.  Harry keeps a close eye on her-- not because he feels he has to, by any means, but mostly because it’s getting to the point in the night where things are starting to get a bit nutty.  The boys are becoming handsier, the girls are becoming more giggly and loud.  In his lifetime, Harry had been to quite a few parties-- so he knows exactly the direction this night is headed.

Misty is about to close the fridge when Harry offers her a pointed look.  “Forgetting something?”

“Water!” Misty says out loud, without thinking.  “Duh! Sorry.”

She reaches into the fridge just as a voice comes from behind Harry.  “There you are, babe! Who are you talking to?”

Harry and Misty turn at the same time to see who the voice belongs to, and Harry immediately frowns.

He comes to the conclusion (based on little to no evidence) that this must be Josh-- just by the way he’s eyeing Misty like prey.  He’s dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business, only he’s left the shirt unbuttoned far enough that his abs (or lack thereof) are visible.

Misty speaks, confirming Harry’s thoughts.  “Hi, Josh.”

She sounds less than thrilled to be seeing him, and she goes stiff when he throws a hand around her waist and pulls her in for a hug.  He leans in to kiss the side of her head, but Misty quickly ducks away, regaining her distance from him and opening her water bottle.

“Not happy to see me?” Josh pouts.

“No, I am,” she says, unconvincingly.  She opens her water and is about to take a sip when Josh scoffs.

“You’re drinking water?  Lightweight.  Thought you were gonna get lit with us!”

“I am!” Misty insists. “Just don’t want to end my night with my head in the toilet.”

“You know I’d take care of you babe,” Josh says.  “What’s in your cup tonight?”

Misty takes a few long sips from her water bottle, eyeing Harry pointedly, before she speaks.  “Uh.  I don’t know exactly, Kennedy made it for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Josh says, eyeing her glass.  “You’re runnin’ low though, want me to get you another?”

Before Misty can even answer, Josh has taken the cup from her hands.  He’s walking over to the stash of various liquors on the counter, and Harry immediately moves to stand beside him.  He watches carefully as Josh pours the liquor into Misty’s cup.

“Heard you talkin’ in here,” Josh says.  “Who were you talking to?”

“What?”  Misty and Harry share a quick glance before she speaks.  “Oh.  No one.  I was talking to myself.”

“Yourself?”  Josh scoffs, still pouring vodka into Misty’s drink.  Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to stop him from pouring.  “You’re a little weirdo sometimes, Misty.  You know that?”

Harry lets out an annoyed sigh, wanting more than anything to put Josh in his place. Misty only smiles passively.  “I know.”

“Quite a bit of fuckin vodka he’s putting in there,” Harry says.   “He’s trying to get you drunk, love.”

“I know,” Misty repeats, both to Harry and to Josh.

“Hot little weirdo though,” Josh says, adding only a tiny splash of cranberry juice before turning around to offer Misty her cup again.  He pauses, just as he’s about to hand it to her.

“Did it suddenly get cold in here?”  he asks, glancing around him.

“I could kill him,” Harry states, emotionless.

Misty has to fight a giggle, reaching forward to take her drink from Josh.  “No, I don’t feel anything,” she says.  She takes a quick sip, immediately regretting her actions when her esophagus is burned with the taste of vodka.

Misty shivers and gags, coughing in an attempt to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.  “Jesus, Josh, what did you put in this?”

“Vodka cran baby!” Josh says.  “Know you like those!”

“Vodka with a fuckin’ shot of cran,” Harry adds.

Misty coughs, putting her cup down on the counter.  Josh frowns.  “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Misty chokes, “I mean it’s fine but… fuck, dude, how much vodka did you put in there?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, Misty!” Josh steps forward, hip checking Misty and nearly knocking her over.  “You’re a tough little girl aren’t you.”

“I really could kill him,” Harry adds.

Misty clears her throat, finally done with coughing.  “You need to work on your bartending skills, Josh.”

“Yeah?”  Josh puts his cup down, moving in on Misty.  Before she even has time to react, he has her pinned against the counter, with both his arms trapped on either side of her. She leans her head back in an attempt to get further away from him.  He, completely oblivious to social cues, only grins.  “Maybe I do.  But I know of one skill I don’t need to work on.”

“Josh—“ Misty couldn’t lean any further back if she tried, and she glances at Harry out of the corner of her eyes.

Josh leans in, pressing his lips to Misty’s neck. “C’mon, baby, you know what I’m talking about.  Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Harry takes a step forward as Misty manages to get her hands unpinned and shoves them weakly against Josh’s chest. “You’re drunk,” she says.

“And you’re not?” Josh licks his lips, trying to kiss Misty again. “Take another sip then.”

Harry has never felt so helpless in his entire existence, and he doesn’t even think twice before reaching forward to yank Josh off Misty. Misty coincidentally pushes at his chest at the exact same time, sending Josh practically toppling over.

He regains his balance after a moment,, glancing at Misty with a confused look.  There’s a thick silence in the air, and Harry instinctively takes a step between Josh and Misty.   Josh glances around, as if searching for whatever just yanked him, and Misty shoots Harry a nervous look.

A menacing grin spreads slowly across Josh’s face, and he swipes his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, girl. You’re strong.”

Misty blinks back at him, swallowing. “Josh,” she says slowly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Harry feels like his insides are on fire with anger, and Misty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is actually.  Interesting how you don’t seem to recall that.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him,” Harry says.

Misty rolls her eyes, which goes completely unnoticed by Josh as he continues his tirade. “Look, I know you’re just being stubborn and I get it! I do.” He picks up Misty’s abandoned drink, sloshing the cup around in his hand. “Why don’t you just finish this drink I made you and then come find me when it hits you and you stop being such a prude?”

Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he doesn’t even think twice before he moves in- slapping the cup and tilting it all over onto Josh’s skin and his stupid white shirt.

Josh shrieks, and the look on his face is a mix between shock and confusion. He eyes the now empty cup in his hand as if he can’t believe he just spilled it all over himself. Misty scoffs quietly to herself.

“Wow Josh, you might want to lay off the drinks.”

“Fucker,” Harry adds.

“I’m not that drunk!” Josh insists, raising his voice and taking a step towards Misty.  Harry immediately steps between them once again, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice.

It’s at that exact moment that Kennedy walks in, saving the day.  She instantly notices the tension in the room, and her eyes dart between Misty and Josh.  She laughs when she notices his spilled drink.

“Woooow,” she says.  “What happened here?”

“I stumbled,” Josh laughs, trying to regain his composure and play the situation off.  “Misty saw it, huh?”

Misty shoots Kennedy a glance before muttering, “Yeah.  It was crazy.”

“Mm,” Kennedy says, and it’s obvious that she seems to have an idea of exactly what happened. She doesn’t like Josh, that much is obvious. Harry is immensely grateful for her, knowing that she’s going to take care of Misty in a way that he can’t.  “Well you should probably get that cleaned up, huh?  And maybe lay off the drinks a bit.”

Kennedy immediately walks to Misty’s side, and Harry can tell Josh knows his game is over by the look he gives. Neither Kennedy or Misty hint at being upset, and Misty shoots Harry a thankful look.

“I’m not drunk, Kennedy,” Josh lies, a smile on his face that makes it very obvious that he’s offended.

“Okay,” Kennedy scoffs.  “How bout you, Misty?  Need another drink?”

Misty’s eyes dart from Kennedy to Josh to Harry, who watches her with helpless and sympathetic eyes.  Misty wants more than anything to curl into Harry’s side, but she knows she can’t, and she’s thankful for Kennedy for stepping in when she did.

“Uh,” Misty says, clearing her throat.  “Yeah, actually, I do.  This idiot here spilled mine.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, but it’s apparent she knows about the situation with Josh.  “What a douche,” she teases. shooting Josh a look as if to say she’s not actually teasing-- she means what she’s saying.  “Why don’t you go clean yourself up.  Misty, I’ll make you another drink.”

Josh rolls his eyes, scoffing as if he can’t believe what just happened.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Alright.”  He winks at Misty, shooting her an overly confident “I’ll see you later” before exiting the kitchen.

Kennedy, Misty, and Harry all watch him exit most ungracefully before Kennedy turns to Misty.  “You okay?  Like, actually.”

“Yes,” Misty lies.

“No,” Harry adds.

Kennedy rolls her eyes as she gets to work making Misty another drink. “He’s a fuckin douche canoe. I can’t believe he even still thinks he can talk to you.”

“I know.” Misty grabs a paper towel to clean up the bit of the drink that spilled onto the ground. “I don’t either.”  

Harry watches Misty, continuing to feel helpless— almost as if he’s butting in on a conversation he shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t move. He remains still, almost frozen in place as he watches Misty clean up the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve planned that better.”

“It’s okay,” Misty says, both to Harry and Kennedy. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t have given up though,” Kennedy says, pouring the actual correct amount of vodka into Misty’s cup. “He’s a creep.”

Misty sighs. “He is. But—“

“No buts.” Kennedy and Harry both say this at the exact same time, and it takes Harry a moment to process.

“God I hate him,” Kennedy says. “Don’t let him intimidate you.  Here.”  She finishes mixing the drink in Misty’s cup and hands it to her. “Stay with me, yeah?”

Misty smiles gratefully at Kennedy. “Thank you.”  She glances over at Harry, a soft grateful smile directed in his direction as well.

Kennedy and Misty make their way out of the kitchen, and Harry once again feels helpless as he follows them.  Should he leave her alone? She asked him not to, but now he feels awkward and, if he’s being honest, angry that he couldn’t help her more.  

Harry numbly follows Misty and Kennedy through the house and into a cozy but messy living room filled with tons of other drunk people.  He feels a slight sense of relief when, immediately upon sitting down, Misty’s eyes search for him. She seems to visibly relax when she sees him, and he smiles sadly at her.  He reaches out to stoke lovingly at her cheek, and try as she might to not react, she can’t help but flutter her lashes closed for a brief second and lean into his touch.

The rest of the night seems to pass by slowly.  Misty hardly touches her drink at all, and as normal as she’s behaving around everyone else, Harry-- and Kennedy, it seems-- can tell that something is wrong.  She seems sad, her eyes less bright, and as the hours tick on she becomes less and less secretive about her glances towards Harry.

The party ends-- finally-- around 3am, with most of its guests falling asleep in various places throughout the house.  Misty moves slowly, helping Kennedy clean up the apartment, and Harry follows her anxiously-- wishing he, too, could help.

“Are you okay?”  Kennedy asks, once she and Misty-- and Harry-- are alone in the kitchen.  “Like, actually.”

“Yeah,” Misty insists.  “My buzz just wore off and like… I dunno.  I just want to sleep.”

“I get that,” Kennedy says, turning on the sink to wash out a glass.  “Well why don’t you go up to bed?  I’ll finish up in here.”

“I don’t want to leave it all to you--”

“I’m good! I’m just gonna do a couple more dishes and then head up to bed myself.  We can do the rest tomorrow.”

Misty hesitates, glancing from Kennedy to Harry before sighing, smiling a little relieved smile.  “You’re the fucking best, Ken.”

Kennedy grins.  “Duh.  Go get some sleep.”

Misty throws her arms around Kennedy from behind, giving her a big squeeze and pressing the most obnoxious kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight.  She still seems upset-- something is still very clearly on her mind, but she seems a bit relieved that she’s finally able to leave.  

As she pulls away, she shoots Harry a questioning glance, as if asking him to come with her.  He nods, holding up his finger to indicate that he’ll be right there.  Misty smiles, nodding her head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harry turns back to Kennedy, making his way slowly towards her.  He reaches forward, hesitating before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.   He’s thanking her, in the only way he knows how to without revealing himself, and much to his relief, Kennedy only jumps slightly before giggling.

“I knew you were here,” she says softly.  “Whoever you are.  And I know you care about our girl, too.  Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Harry smiles to himself, wishing he could verbally thank her.  But just her knowing about his existence-- and being okay with it, at that-- means more to him than he can explain.  So without any more delay, he disappears from the kitchen and makes his way to Misty.

He finds Misty in her room, waiting in the doorway, and she smiles when she sees him.  He makes his way quickly into her room and she closes the door behind him, her face immediately dropping the moment it’s closed.  Harry waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t-- she only busies herself with retrieving the items she needs in order to get ready for bed.

“Are you alright?”  Harry finally asks, voice gentle.  He doesn’t know if he should step closer, touch her, hug her, or just stay away, so he stands awkwardly off to the side.

“I’m alright,” Misty says, most unconvincingly.  

“You sure?”  This time he does take a step towards her.  “I don’t think--”

“It’s nothing,” Misty insists.  “Seriously. He’s a creep.”

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with him,” Harry says.  “Does he treat you like that often?”

Misty pauses, then sighs, nodding her head slowly. “And everyone kinda just… lets him get away with it because….” she scoffs cynically, “He’s Josh.”

“Fuck Josh.  Where does he get off?”

Misty shrugs, opening a drawer and rummaging through it in search of a t-shirt.  “It’s just who he is.  I don’t know.”

“Well I mean…”  Harry isn’t sure how to word his next question.  “What makes him think that he can mess with you like that?”

“It’s literally nothing,” Misty says, exasperated.  She pauses, considering her words before turning to face Harry.  She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then finally decides to speak.

“You really want to know what happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says.

Misty sighs again, removing her little devil horn headband.  “We were drunk at a Kappa party my freshman year.  We kissed a little.  I was… stupid.  He kept pouring me drinks, and I just… kept taking them.  And….”

Harry waits for a moment, before gently pressing her a bit more.  “And?”

“And stuff happened.  We didn’t like, have sex or anything. I know that for a fact.  But he…”  She trails off, lost in thought, before continuing. “I don’t remember a whole lot of it.”

Harry is furious, and he wants more than anything to go find Josh and kick his ass.  But he knows that isn’t what Misty wants-- and definitely not what she needs right now.  So he stays put, offering her a sympathetic sigh.  “Oh, Misty.”

“It’s okay,” she offers. “I remember he made me a drink that was particularly strong. We went up to his room and then… next thing I remember I was throwing up in the yard.” Misty laughs bitterly. “My big was the one that found me. With him, I mean. That’s how I know we didn’t have sex. But she saw what we were doing and I—“ Misty trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

Harry swallows heavily as he takes in her words, scanning her face. The way Misty is looking at him right now, with her big soft eyes and genuine smile, he’s feeling guilty for even bringing it up.

“So. That’s what happened.”  Misty shrugs.  “I wish it didn’t, but it did.  And that’s it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time just how cold he really is.  The only thing Harry can settle on in this moment is a sigh, and so he lets all of his anxieties out in a big puff of air that actually, admittedly, does make him feel better.  As soon as he’s pushed all the air out of his lungs, his guilt increases, and he meets Misty’s eyes.

“Misty,” he says softly,  “Sunshine.  I’m so sorry.”

Harry reaches for Misty, nervous that he’s pressured her to talk about something so personal. She does lean into his touch-- thank God-- and she lets out the deepest sigh she feels she’s ever let out in her life.

“Harry….I don’t know how to navigate a situation like this,” Misty admits, voice hardly above a whisper.  “I only want to make you happy.”

“Darling, you do make me happy. I can’t believe he would ever—“

“It’s not about him,” Misty says. “I’m okay. I’m talking about you. I don’t know how to navigate… this.”

Harry pauses, realizing that she’s talking about the blatant chemistry between the two of them. “Well, I—“

“You’re just…. such a wonderful guy. And I wish—“ she trails off, as if second guessing her words, before starting her next thought. “All I know is that you’re someone I just… want around. All the time.”

“I want to stay around,” Harry says gently.  “I wish I could stay around longer.”

“Me too.”  Misty smiles sadly up at him.  “Our situation is unique.”

“Unique,” Harry repeats.  “That’s a nice way of saying ‘weird as hell.’”

Now Misty giggles.   “But I like it,” she tacks on quietly.  “I like…”  She trails off, closing her mouth as if the rest of that sentence hangs heavy on her tongue.

“I know,” Harry offers.  “I do, too.”

They stay like this for a moment, before Misty sighs.  “I have to get ready for bed now.  So--”

“I’ll go!” Harry says quickly.  “I’ll let you get to sleep and--”

“No, wait!” Misty holds up her hand.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m gonna change and stuff in the bathroom.  But then I’ll come back so we can… say goodnight.”

Harry wonders what exactly she means by that, but he doesn’t even allow himself to question her.  He smiles.  “Alright.  I’ll be here.”

Misty looks almost relieved.  “Alright.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, leaving Harry behind with the silence and his own thoughts. He knows Misty is still a bit buzzed, sure, but her words were pointed.  He tries not to overthink what she could have potentially meant by ‘say goodnight.’

He sighs, walking around her room and trying to distract himself from the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He looks at the pictures in the frames along her dresser, the unfinished homework lying on her desk, the paddle made by her “big” hanging on the wall.  All these pieces of Misty’s life make him smile, but what really gets him is the framed picture on her bedside table.

It’s a picture of her family, taken from when Misty couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. She’s smiling the biggest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and she’s the spitting image of her beautiful mother, who stands behind her, laughing.  

Beside her mother stands her father, a tall, broad man with some wrinkles around his eyes and graying sideburns.  He looks like the kind of guy that Harry would love to chat with, sharing a whiskey neat or two while giving each other shit.  He seems pleasant, and he seems like a wonderful man just from this picture alone.

Surrounding Misty are her siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister and brother.  Harry wants more than anything to be able to meet them.  To have to earn the respect of Misty’s older brother, to spoil her younger siblings and make them love him.  He wants to be close to the whole family, really.  He wants to be the boyfriend that Misty brings home one year for spring break.  The boyfriend who brings a new plant for her mother, who watches football with her father and impresses them with his knowledge of American traditions, despite being british.

Harry wishes, more than anything in the world, that he was still alive.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at the picture until he’s startled by Misty’s presence as she enters her room once again.  He jumps a bit, and Misty giggles.

“Hi,” she says.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi. Ghosts don’t get scared.”

“Debatable,” Misty says.  Harry gets a good look at her, and he’s completely enamored. He’s just watched her transform from a sexy demon, with dark makeup and long lashes and the plumpest red lips he’s ever seen-- to the most adorable person he thinks he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Her makeup-less face reveals a few zits on her cheek, her lips look chapped, and she’s dressed only in a long t-shirt and shorts.  She discards her costume into her hamper without a second thought, completely unaware of the way Harry is watching her.

“You look cute,” he says, as she pulls back her comforter.

“Shut up,”  she says, rolling her eyes as she crawls into bed.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts.  “I’m serious.  You’re so pretty.”

“Well,” she says, plumping up the pillows behind her.  “You’re so nice, but I’m going to have to respectfully tell you that I think you’re lying.”

“Well,” Harry mocks, “agree to disagree then.”

Misty relaxes against her pillows, rubbing sleepily and adorably at her eyes for a few moments.

“Thanks for being so wonderful to me,” she says after a bit, pulling the covers up tighter around her hips.  “Like, all night I mean.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry says.  “I care about you.  I had fun.”

“Me too.  I just…” she sighs, and Harry takes a step towards her.

“What, love?”

“I just wish you could’ve actually like… had a good time.  Like, drank and hung out with us and stuff.  I wish I wasn’t the only one who could see you all night.”

“You don’t like havin’ me all to yourself then?”  Harry fake pouts.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “It is nice to have my own personal ghost, but I just… wish you weren’t one.”

Harry smiles sadly.  “Me too,” he says.  “But I like watching over you.  Like your own personal guardian angel or summat.”

Misty giggles.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Feelin’ okay?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject. “Need more water or anything?”

“No,” Misty says. “Think I just need to sleep off the rest of this buzz.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees.  “Sometimes that’s best.”

“Yeah.”  There is a weird sort of tension fizzling in the air between them, as if Misty has something else she wants to say.

Harry waits patiently, watching as she avoids his gaze. She seems deep in thought and on the verge of asking something, but when she doesn’t Harry realizes that maybe he’s the one being awkward. Maybe she wants him to leave now and she’s too polite to tell him so.

So Harry clears his throat. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, bug.” He nods in finality.  After a few more seconds, he takes a step back before vanishing right in front of Misty’s eyes.  He’s about to actually leave, and he figures he can go inspect the house.  Maybe see what damage has been done, and try to discreetly clean up a bit in order to help speed up the process tomorrow for what he knows is going to be a very hungover group of girls. But something catches his attention that he absolutely cannot ignore.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Misty’s voice sounds so pitiful that Harry can’t even pretend like he’s not going to come back.  He manifests immediately in the corner of her room and he coos at her.  “What is it, sunshine?”

“Can you sleep with me?”

She seems so embarrassed to be asking, it makes even Harry’s cheeks flush.  “You want me to… get in bed with you?”

Misty nods, eyes bigger than Harry’s ever seen.  “Yeah,” she mumbles.  “Can you?”

Harry doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night in a bed-- much less with a beautiful girl-- but the thought of doing it tonight excites him.  He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, of course, but he can’t help but feel touched by her request, and he all but runs to her side.

As he makes his way towards the bed, he speaks.  “I might be a little bit cold,” he offers.  He looms over her, reaching down to brush a bit of her messy hair off of her forehead.

“S’okay,” Misty sighs, “I have lots of blankets.  Just wanna cuddle.  Is that okay?”

Harry smiles at how cute she looks, bundled up and sleepy in her bed.  He chuckles softly, reaching to tug gently at her covers to pull them back for himself.  “Yeah,” he says,  “That’s okay.  I can do that.”

As Harry settles himself in bed, he tries not to beat himself up too hard for the slight shiver in her body.  She obviously doesn’t seem to mind as she cuddles up close to him instantly.  The feeling of her warmth is almost too much for Harry to handle-- similar to the feeling of getting into a hot tub too quickly-- but he doesn’t mind.  It feels so good, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s human, too.

“Can ghosts sleep?” Misty asks abruptly, tearing Harry from his fantasy and reminding him of his actual form.

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, we can sleep,” he says.  “It’s not exactly the same as how you sleep, though.”

“What’s it like then?”

Harry thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully to explain this in a way that it makes sense.  “You know how I mentioned I can visit dreams?  When I’m… gone.”

“Yeah?”

“So if I go to sleep while I’m here, I’ll just go there.  To the dreamscape.  Where I can visit anybody’s dreams that I want. That’s usually how I visit my mum or say, a friend.”  Harry chuckles.  “Or someone who wronged me in the past.  So I can haunt their ass.”

“But you’ll still be here when I wake up right?”  She sounds so sleepy, almost needy, and it makes Harry hold her that much tighter.

“If you want me to be,” he answers.

“I do,” she says softly.  There is a beat of silence before she’s changing the subject again. “Tell me what it’s like.”

“What?”

“The dream stuff.  Like how do you just… do that?”

“Mmm. It’s like… how can I explain…”   Harry thinks carefully once again.  “I’m in a black… room?  Sort of.  Like where I go when I’m gone.  And there are a ton of doors, right?  In this room I mean.  And I can enter any one of them that I’d like, at any time. Anywhere in the world.”

“You can enter anybody’s dream?”

“Mhm.”

“At any time?”

“At any time.”

“Woooooow.”  Misty’s sleepy exclamation tickles softly against his neck.  “That’s so cool.”

“It is yeah,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  

“Can you come into my dream tonight?”

“If you want me to, yeah.”

“Can you make me dream about you?”

“Well,” Harry says, tracing a circle into Misty’s spine.  “Yes and no.  Whatever you’re dreaming about, I can enter it if I want to.  But I won’t know what you’re dreaming about until I’m in there.”

“Oh,” Misty says through a yawn.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “Why ‘ew?’”

“Because what if I’m dreaming something embarrassing?”  

“Then I can embarrass you about it forever,” Harry says.  “How fun!”

Misty pulls Harry closer, burying her face deep into his neck.  He can feel her visible frown, and it makes him smile.  “Don’t pout,” he coos, scratching at her back.

“Don’t tease meeee,” she whines, but the way she says it sounds like she has another thought to add on.

Misty hesitates, and Harry gives her time to think about what she’s going to say.  She arches her back the teeniest bit, leaning into a particularly good scratch, and it makes Harry smile. Finally, she finishes her thought.

“I actually did have a dream about you the other night,” she says,  “although now I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Harry nods.  He did know that, because it was his doing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; if anything it had just been pretty mundane-- similar to every day he’s spent with her in real life.  But it felt more real, more permanent, more tangible.  Harry had been careful, of course, not to be too obvious with it-- he didn’t interfere with the natural plot line of her dream as much as he normally would if it were a real visit.  He had just wanted to spend more time with her, and it had been lovely.

“Was it weird?” He asks, although he already knows the answer.

“It wasn’t weird,” Misty says.  “You were just kinda… there.  But I…” he feels her body tense up, and she curls herself even further into his side, as if hiding herself.  “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Harry feels his breath hitch in his throat, and his fingertips cease their movements along her spine.  “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.  “Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sunshine,” Harry whispers.  “I wanted to--”  He trails off now, letting the rest of his sentence fizzle out in a sigh.  “It’s not weird,” he repeats.

“I’m falling asleep,” Misty announces through the softest yawn Harry thinks he’s ever heard.  “It’s not weird right?  Like, things between us aren’t weird just cause I got drunk and kinda… confessed some shit?”

“Confessed what?”  Harry says.  “You’ve told me nothing.”

Misty giggles  “You’re a good man, Harry.”

“I’m not a man,” Harry teases.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Can you not be annoying for like, one whole second?”

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle now. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll chill.”

Misty yawns again, and the feeling of her breath against his neck makes him shiver.  He smiles, snuggling his cheek against the top of her head. “Well,” he says.  “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she mumbles.  Without thinking, she presses the softest little peck against his neck that almost goes unnoticed by him. It makes him freeze, letting out the rest of the air in his lungs in a little sigh. He doesn’t know if he should kiss her back or not, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.  So he lets it slide.

But he spends the entire night replaying the feeling of her lips against his neck over and over and over again.

------

Misty sighs as she reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.  Somehow she’s been roped into a conversation that she wants no part of; gossip between Lindsey and Rosie about Lindsey’s boyfriend who’s been openly cheating on her for weeks. Perhaps she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow Misty has found herself listening to the girls chat away, one feeling sorry for herself, and the other kissing her ass.

When Misty closes the door, she jumps when she sees Harry, who has manifested right in front of her.  She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose, and Harry grins cheekily at her, raising his eyebrows and daring her to speak.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” Rosie asks, and Misty realizes her little scare hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Misty glances between Harry and the two girls, who stare expectantly back at her.  “Uh,” she says,  “Nothing.  I… thought I saw something.  Sorry.”

“Is it that fucking ghost again?” Rosie’s face grows pale at her own words. “I swear to God if that fucker is back I--”

“No,” Misty says, cutting her off.  “He-- it-- isn’t back. Continue with your story.”

Lindsey launches right back into it, hardly giving Misty’s words a second thought. “Anyway, Brad was like, totally flirting with me that night right?”

“He totally was,” Rosie replies.

“Thank you! I thought he was, and Jade thought he was, but then now he’s back with Jessie again and--”

“God who cares about any of this?” Harry’s voice drawls in Misty’s ear. “She’s been going on and on about this for ages.”

Misty sighs softly so that only Harry can hear her.  She knows she can’t verbally respond to him, but he hears her response and smirks. It’s then the idea pops into his head.

“Whatever you do, don’t smile,” Harry says, voice low and teasing in Misty’s ear-- a surefire way to make her smile.  

The corners of Misty’s lips twinge and she visibly gulps, and Harry knows he’s got her.

“I said don’t smile,” Harry, sing-songs, inching closer to Misty’s ear and trying his hardest to get her to break.  “You’ll look like a crazy person.  Can you imagine?  Lindsey’s pouring her heart out, and you can’t stop smiling?  What will they think?”

Misty clears her throat a bit more aggressively than normal as a desperate plea to get Harry to shut the hell up.

“No,” he replies, with a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what her noise meant.  “I’m not going to stop.”  

Misty holds her breath as an attempt to hold her composure as Harry continues.  “Imagine if Lindsey’s water like, came out of her nose right now. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Harry notices the way Misty runs her tongue over her teeth, setting her jaw firmly so as not to slip up again.  And honestly, he’s impressed.  He presses her further.  “Did you know I could make that happen?”

This time Misty’s breath hitches, and she eyes Harry threateningly out of the corner of her eyes.  “I really can,” he says. “I can snap my fingers and she’ll be like a faucet.  A free flowing spirit.”

Harry thinks he’s almost got her, her lips twitch up again and she raises her water bottle to her lips to cover it up.  Harry snorts.

“Nah, I’m fucking with you,”  he says,  “you think I could really do that?  Who do you think I am, fuckin Harry Potter?”

Misty rolls her eyes without giving it a second thought, which luckily goes unnoticed by her sisters-- but not unnoticed by Harry.  He raises his eyebrows.

“Ope! Careful there.  Going to give yourself away, eh?”

When Misty stares blankly ahead, Harry laughs.

“Wow,” he says, “so you’re really not gonna smile, are you?  You’re good at this.”

His tone makes Misty think he’s giving up, and she gives a subtle smirk of satisfaction in his direction.  

But Harry is nothing if he isn’t persistent.  And he is not going to give up that easily.

It’s when Misty raises her arm to run a hand through her hair that Harry gets his idea.  He doesn’t even allow himself time to think about it before he’s setting his plan into action.  Before he knows it, he’s going right for Misty’s ribs.  

Harry digs his hands into Misty’s lower ribs, squeezing a few times, and Misty folds instantly into his arms.  She lets out a surprised shriek mixed with an almost honking laugh, and both Lindsey and Rosie stop the conversation immediately to shoot her a puzzled look.

It’s all too good, and Harry is so utterly pleased with himself right now.  He’d be lying if he said this kind of power didn’t go to his head, especially when Misty immediately realizes that she’s got to stop giggling.  Harry doesn’t let up on her ribs, lowering a hand to pinch softly at her side, and Misty tries desperately to cover up her remaining giggles with a cough.

Harry would also be lying if he said that seeing her laugh like this didn’t turn him on.  But that is neither here nor there.

After a few more seconds of tickling her and watching her desperately try to contain her giggles and cover them up with the fakest coughs Harry’s ever heard, he decides to show the poor girl some mercy.  He removes his hands from her torso, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she’s free.

The silence that follows is charged with awkwardness, and Harry almost feels a bit bad.  Misty, whose face is visibly hot, reaches for her water bottle on the counter and takes several long sips from it.

“You alright?” Rosie asks, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Misty gulps down one more sip and gestures vaguely at her throat.  “Yeah, sorry I just--”

“Have a tickle in your throat?”

Harry beams, voice low in Misty’s ear.  “Something like that,” he says.

Misty closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s just heard the worst joke of her life.  Harry snorts.  “I know,” he says.  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Linds, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Misty says,  “But I have this huge paper due in a couple of hours and I’m super behind so--”

“Oh is it that stupid paper for english?” Lindsey nods sympathetically.  “I worked on it like, all night last night.”

“Yeah,” Misty lies,  “I have to work on it.  I promise in a few hours I’ll be right back down to--”

“No worries, baby, do your thing!” Lindsey says, shooing Misty with her hand. “I get it.  You’re good.”

“Thanks.”  Misty begins making her way out of the kitchen without even sparing so much as a glance in Harry’s direction. “I want to hear all about it later though.”

Misty storms up the stairs with Harry close on her heels. He is giggling the entire way, but Misty doesn’t even smile.  It’s about halfway up the stairs that Harry begins to get a bit nervous.

“You have to admit that was good,” he says through his laughter, obviously trying to lighten the mood.  “Come on.”

Misty ignores him, continuing her path to her room.  When she arrives, she doesn’t even check to see that Harry is behind her.  She closes the door a bit harder than she intends, and Harry effortlessly glides through it.  The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

She turns, agonizingly slowly to face him, and the look on her face is unreadable.  Harry isn’t sure if the smirk on his own face is appropriate or not, so he tries his best to suppress it while he waits for her to say something.  When she doesn’t, his lips twitch.

“I take it you’re angry,” he tries.

“How could you do that?!” Misty hisses, the sort of whisper that’s stupidly loud.  He knows she isn’t angry, not fully, but he almost worries he took things a step too far.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Made me look like a fucking idiot.” Misty runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head at him.  “And for what?  So you could get a laugh?”

Harry tries desperately not to smirk, but the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly-- giving him away. “Yeah.”

Misty stops, not exactly expecting that answer.  She pauses for a moment before sighing through her nose and closing her mouth.  “Ridiculous,” she mumbles, before brushing past Harry to rummage through her closet.

“I really think you should lighten up,” Harry says, walking over and plopping himself on her bed.  “Wasn’t meant to be a personal attack.”

“Lighten up?!” Misty says, whirling around on her heels.  She hesitates, realizing that she’s raised her voice a tick too loud.  She takes a step towards Harry, lowering her voice significantly before speaking.  “You think I need to lighten up?  Harry, you--”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your bloody day, Misty, Christ.  I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There’s an intense pause between them, and Harry doesn’t shy away from Misty’s intimidating stare.  In fact, there is hardly any emotion on his face at all, and Misty can’t tell whether it infuriates her or turns her on. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she lets out a flustered sigh.

“You seem like you have something else to say,” Harry states calmly.

It’s so unfair, Misty thinks.  It really fucking is.  She scrambles to find words to express how she’s feeling, but her brain is cloudy with the thought of how goddamn attractive he is. When she really thinks about it, she isn’t angry at all, really.  The thought of Harry being able to do whatever he wants to her- whenever he wants- in front of people both embarrasses her and makes her excited.  

Truth be told, she’s never been more excited in her entire life.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly.  “Well?”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Misty says quietly.

“Are you sure?”  Harry asks, rising to his feet and taking a cautious step towards her.

Misty lets out a frustrated breath, reaching up to push her hair off of her face.  “Yes, I’m sure! Will you stop doing that?”

Harry scoffs, mockingly.  “Stop doing what, Misty?  Trying to call you out on what we both know is true?”

“No!” Misty’s voice is dangerously loud, and she catches herself again before she can get any louder.  She rolls her eyes at herself before continuing at a much softer pace.  “Stop… looking at me like that.”

And oh, now Harry understands.

Harry shakes his head.  “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are!” she insists, closing the space between them just the tiniest bit more.  “You’re always looking at me like… like that!”  She gestures indistinctly.

Harry licks his lips, eyebrow subconsciously raising challengingly.  “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Misty.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunshine,” he drawls, voice thick as honey,  “all I ever want is to make you happy.  That’s a promise.”

Misty swallows, nostrils flaring as she tries to get her breath under control. “Harry, I…”  She trails off, because truth be told she doesn’t know where she was even going with this thought.

“What?” he asks, taking another step towards her.  “Tell me.”

After a beat of intense silence Misty groans.  “I don’t know! You’re so annoying and you’re so perfect and you make me so happy and I just--”

“What?” Harry says, inching closer.  “You just what?”

Misty lowers her voice, eyes thick with sadness.  “I just… don’t want to be feeling this way about you.  I can’t.  But you make it impossible to not.”

“To not what?”

“Fall for you.”  Misty sighs.  “I’m trying so hard not to because… well, you’re not actually here  are you?”

“Can you see me?”  Harry asks, matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes, but--”

“I’m here.”  Harry reaches forward, lightly caressing Misty’s arm.  “I’m right here Misty.”

Misty glances down to his hand, then back up at him.  “Harry, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into feeling any type of way at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-- God.”  She lets out all of her air and shakes her head, almost cynically.  “Harry I… really, really like you.”

If Harry had blood running through his veins, it would run cold at her words.  “You do?”

“Have I not made it obvious?”  Misty scoffs.  “Fuck, dude, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not,” Harry says in a breath.  He steps forward.  “Misty, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists.  “I want you so bad, Harry.  And I’m scared.”

Harry processes her words slowly, and he knows he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. But he does it anyway.

“I’m scared, too,” he admits softly, feeling more human than he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m scared that I’m going to really fall for you,” Misty continues, “because I know you’re just going to have to leave in the end. And I’m going to be sad, and I’m going to miss you, and—“

“Well then why don’t we just pretend?” Harry tries. “We’ve still got a few more weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but the thought of you leaving won’t go away, Harry! It’s all I can think about. Every time I feel something for you I’m reminded of our situation and how you’ll never actually be mine.”

“I hate it,” Harry agrees, his own voice matching hers in volume now. “I absolutely hate it, but Misty, we can’t let that thought hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.”

“But--”

“You make me feel alive again, Misty!” Harry doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he can’t help it.  “I know that’s forward, and we haven’t known each other for all that long, but it’s true.”

Misty looks like she wants to cry, and her eyes feel thick and heavy.  She wills herself not to break, taking a moment to regain her composure before speaking.  “Harry, I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.  “I don’t… we can’t--”

Harry leans in, taking Misty’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger.  He tilts her head up softly, effectively quieting her, and she realizes her lips are still parted. Harry can feel her breath, and it feels far too intimate to be real.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice tender and quiet.

Misty blinks up at him. “God,” she breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Harry smiles, leaning in gently and fastening their lips together slowly.  He takes her top lip between his own, and he can feel her instantly relax against him. She smiles faintly into the kiss as well, but makes no movement to pull him closer— as if she’s still a bit unsure.  He kisses her again, then pulls away, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

“How do you feel?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I want to do that for the rest of my life.”  Misty reaches up to cup Harry’s face and bring him in for another kiss.  

Harry, of course, happily complies to her nonverbal request, snaking his hands around her waist and holding her gently to him.  He timidly peeks his tongue out, gliding along her lip as if asking for permission, and she willingly submits— opening her mouth for him to lick into.

Misty giggles into his mouth the minute their tongues interact, and it makes Harry pull away. “What?”

“You taste good,” she says. “You taste…. sweet. I don’t know. I love it.”

“Oh.” He grins, pulling her back into him to pick up immediately where they left off.

It’s beautiful, and Harry feels happier than he’s felt in a long time now that he’s finally kissing her. He licks into her mouth softly, trying to convey all the words he isn’t yet brave enough to say.

“Harry.”  Misty pulls away, smiling up at him.  She’s so happy that it feels like everything her eyes land on is glowing. “God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you do it then?  I wanted it, too!”

“Well why didn’t you?!”

Harry grins.  “Wanted to see how long until you gave in, I suppose.”  When Misty rolls her eyes, Harry chuckles.  “Alright I’m kidding.  I guess I was just… scared.”

“Me too,” Misty admits.  “I mean… feelings are scary one way or another, but then when you add our situation in there its…”

“Weird as fuck,” Harry says, nodding.  “Yeah.  I hate it.”  He smiles, cupping the back of her neck and bumping his nose tenderly against hers.  “But I don’t fully. I’m very happy that I have you, sweet girl.”

Misty smiles, leaning gently into his touch.  “Kiss me again,” she asks,  “Please.”

Harry grins, pulling her close to him and pressing his lips gently to her forehead.  “With pleasure.”

They continue like this for a while, giggly and unsure and so, so happy.  It is weird, as they both admitted, but it’s so incredibly wonderful and fills both of their hearts with a warmth that neither of them have felt for a while.  And as Harry continues to kiss against Misty’s smile, he forgets his situation— if only for a moment— to revel in the fact that he’s kissing the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

He doesn’t think his entire existence could ever get better than it is right now.

------

Later that night, Misty sits cross legged on her bed, fresh from a shower and rubbing lotion into her arms while Harry explores her vinyl collection.  She’s wearing the cutest t-shirt and pajama shorts combo Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and it’s driving him crazy.  Things are definitely not awkward between them by any means, but the whole situation feels silly and exciting, like two middle schoolers who just admitted they had a mutual crush on one another.

Misty nods towards the Fleetwood Mac record Harry currently holds in his hands.  “I found that one at a garage sale,” she says.  “Luckiest find of my life.”

“No kidding.”  Harry turns, smiling at her.  He holds the record up.  “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Nah, just thought the vinyl looked cool.  I don’t even know any songs by them.”

Harry halts all movement, eyeing Misty to figure out if she means what she’s saying.  She’s got him for a moment, her expression remains completely unbothered as she rubs her vanilla lotion into her arms.   But then she giggles, face twisting up like she can’t believe Harry would even ask her that.  “What the fuck kind of question is that, Harry?  Hello?  Why else would I have that?”

Harry snorts.  “You know what?  I’ve had enough of your sarcasm.”

“My sarcasm?” Misty says.  “You’re one to talk!”

“Me? I’m a dream!”  Harry returns the record to it’s rightful spot and makes his way over to the bed.  “You on the other hand--”

Harry reaches for a pillow to whack Misty with, but Misty is quicker.  She grabs the other pillow on her bed and shields his attack, squealing as he continues his fight on her regardless.  He eventually tosses the pillow aside, going for what he knows will absolutely get her to cave and digging his fingers into her sides.

Misty squeals, instantly bucking into his touch as he squeezes at her.  “Wait, no! Fucker!  This is cheating!”

“Careful!” Harry taunts, fingers wiggling up to her ribs. “No one else knows I’m here! Would be awful embarrassing if they heard you talking and giggling to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

“Well then fucking stooooop!” Misty whines, wriggling under his grasp.  “Why are you making me--” She is cut off by her own cackle before she continues-- “Do this?!”

“Because I can.”  Harry beams down at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose.  “Because it’s cute and you like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Misty practically howls.  “You’re annoying!”

“Oh,” Harry says, ceasing the movement of his fingers.  “I’m annoying?”

“YES!” Misty whines, pouting up at him.

He smiles, leaning closer into her face and enjoying the heat radiating off of her cheeks.  “Do you really not like it?”

Misty pants, catching her breath and smiling up at Harry.  “No,” she admits after a beat.

Harry squirms so he’s fully on top of her now. “‘No’ you don’t like it? Or ‘no’ as in you do like it and don’t want me to stop?”

Misty reaches up to cover her face as much as Harry’s body pinning her will allow.  “‘No’ as in… don’t stop.”

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Misty’s nose.  “I figured.”

Harry trails his lips lightly along Misty’s cheeks leading up to her mouth, pressing smiley kisses to the soft skin and loving the way he can feel her smile beneath him.  “Pretty girl,’ he mutters.  “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

When he finally fastens his lips to hers, Misty sighs.  She opens her mouth willingly, allowing him to lick his way in, and she delights in the sweet taste of his tongue against hers.  She allows her hand to trail up Harry’s icy neck, tangling her fingers in his hair before she tilts her head away slightly to speak.

“You know,” she muses,  “You could be awful mean to me if you wanted to be.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side teasingly.  “Do you want me to be mean to you?”

Misty only sighs. “If you have to ask--”  She trails off, fingertips lightly toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt.  There’s a moment of tense silence in which she bats her eyes up at him innocently, and that’s all the starting gun he needs.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Harry coos.  “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

Misty groans, her facade crumbling away little by little.  “I cannnn’t,” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.  Harry can see her smile between her hands however, and it eggs him on.

“You can,” he says, voice almost mockingly sweet. He rises to sit on his knees. “Know you can.  You just won’t.”  

Harry reaches up, trying to gently coax her hands from her face as best he can. “You know why you won’t?”

Misty peeks through her fingers, shaking her head but not verbally answering Harry.  He flashes her his cheekiest dimpled grin.  “Because you want me to make you say it. Am I right?”

Misty giggles as Harry successfully lowers her hands.   “You can’t make me say it,” she says teasingly.

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Misty’s calf and squeezing lightly.  “It’s true.  I can’t. Can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, baby.”  He walks his fingers up her leg, tauntingly tracing his pointer finger around her kneecap and making her shiver.  “But darling, this cute little act of yours is only going to get you so far.

“It’s gotten me far enough, hasn’t it?” Misty licks her lips subconsciously, reaching forward to scratch behind Harry’s ear.  “Obviously things have gone my way.”

“Have they?” Harry says, cocking his head.  “I haven’t given in yet, have I?”

“How much longer until you do?” Misty asks, giggling nervously.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Misty’s chin.  “Dunno,” he says.  “Wanna see how long you’re going to act like this for.”

Harry presses a few more rapid kisses directly to Misty’s chin before trailing them up to the fleshiest parts of her cheeks.  After a few kisses there, he pulls away.

“Your cheeks are so hot, sunshine,” Harry muses, reaching up and tracing a knuckle along the tender skin.  “Why?”

“Hot in here,” Misty breathes, voice so low that Harry can barely even make out what she’s saying.  

Harry’s honey drip of a voice sends shivers down Misty’s spine when he speaks.  “No,” he says with a grin.  “That’s not it.”  

With his other hand, Harry trails his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her arm, making her squirm a bit.  “Know what I think it is?”  His fingers squeeze delicately over her hips before resting on her exposed thigh-- where he gives her a soft scratch.  “I think somebody is embarrassed about how badly she wants me to be mean to her.”

Harry leans in, pressing an icy kiss to her neck that makes her instinctively tremble.  A breathy moan floats past her lips as Harry ghosts his own along her collarbone.  He takes his time with this, really inhaling her scent and her warmth as he makes his way down her body.  His fingers trace delicately along the waistband of her pajama shorts, her stomach jolting a bit when he hits a sensitive spot on her hips.  Misty watches his face with parted lips, so completely enamoured by him and his touch that she’s rendered speechless.

Slowly, gently, Harry lowers his hand to the spot between her legs, feeling the damp heat against the soft fabric of her short pajama bottoms.  He grins, slowly adjusting to sit up on his knees once again.  He takes her in, her entire body, and allows himself to really savor this moment.  When his eyes fall on the beauty between her legs again, however, he stops.

“And you know what else I think?” Harry says, grinning over her as his fingers tease her waistband once again.  “I think you like being embarrassed like this.  I think you like that I can do this to you, and we’re the only two who’ll ever know about it.  Hm?  Am I right?”

Misty gulps, goosebumps prickling her skin and lips glistening.  She nods.  “Yes,” she breathes.  “You’re exactly right.”

“I knew it,” Harry says, hooking his fingers into her waistband. “Filthy girl, aren’t you?”  He begins lowering the shorts from her hips, never breaking eye contact and smirking at how willingly she complies with his movements.  When he pulls the shorts past her feet he flings them carelessly to the floor, then glances down at the ever-growing wet spot on the fabric between her legs.  He grins up at her.  “Messy thing you are, too.  Look how wet you get just from some teasing.”

“Harry--” Misty breathes.

“Love it when you say my name like that, darling,” Harry purrs.  He leans forward to press a kiss directly to her bellybutton. The kiss is wet, and the sound of it mixed with Misty’s beautiful sighing is enough to make Harry melt.  He can’t help but to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, sighing when he’s met with her heavenly scent.  “Smell so fucking good,” he mumbles.  “Haven’t smelt anything like this in years.”

“Don’t--” Misty breathes,  “Don’t tease.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts, tracing the spot where her inner thigh meets the fabric of her panties.  “Poor thing doesn’t want me to tease?”

He glances up at her from under his lashes, and the look on her face sends Harry over the moon.   Her eyes are wide and the smile on her slightly parted lips is so warm and inviting that Harry almost has a hard time keeping this up.

“Well, I find that hard to believe.”

He sinks his teeth into the waistband of her panties without any warning, and she gasps at the sudden sharpness mixed with the temperature of his mouth on her hips.

Misty lets out an unfiltered moan and immediately flings her hand up to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  She gives herself only a few moments to compose herself before whispering, “Harry, I… I need you--”

“Aww,” Harry coos, his teeth still hooked around her panties. He shakes his head a bit, curls falling in his face as he pulls the fabric away from Misty’s skin. “Needy,” he mutters, tugging a bit in an attempt to remove the panties.

When the lower half of Misty’s body is exposed to the chill of Harry’s skin, she shivers, and he delights in the movement for the first time since he’s met her.

“Know I’m cold,” he says quietly, teeth still clenched around her panties as he drags them down her leg.  “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Misty nods.  “M-hm…”  She’s eyeing him, and he’s moving slowly because he can tell she has something she wants to say.  He discards her panties onto the ground and tries not to outwardly show just how fucking delicious she looks right now.  He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, but she’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to push her too far.  So instead, he trails his nails slowly up her calf, looking only in her eye  and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Well, no,” she says.  “But I…”  she trails off, squirming when his eyes land between her legs once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she starts, squirming a bit.  “I didn’t shave.”

Harry almost laughs at her when she says this. “Oh, darling. That’s what’s got you so nervous?”

She nods.  “Yeah.  I mean, I didn’t think… I don’t know.”

“Your pussy looks amazing,” Harry says, deciding to just bite the bullet and be as forward as he feels.  “Looks fucking delicious.  Smells delicious as well.  I certainly don’t mind a bit of hair.”

“You don’t?”  she asks, sitting up.

“Are you kidding?” He reaches forward, brushing against some of the hair with his finger.  “Fucking sexy as hell.  Don’t be silly.”

“I mean,” Misty says quickly, “I suppose it’s probably been, like, a minute since you’ve seen a pussy.  So I guess any pussy is gonna be fine.  I mean, not to assume your preferences, or anything, but you know--”

Harry leans forward, biting Misty’s thigh and making her yelp.  “Shh,”  he mumbles.  “Please.”

Misty giggles nervously. “Okay,” she says.

Harry leans down and kisses the spot he’s just nipped at, trailing his lips up her thigh and settling himself on his stomach. Being this close to her core ignites something in him that he hasn’t felt in years, and just the smell of her alone makes his mouth water.

With one hand Harry coaxes Misty’s leg up and over his shoulder, and now with a clearer view of her beautiful pussy he licks his lips.  

“You’re already so wet,” he observes. “Wanted it this badly, did you?”

“Want you,” she replies, squirming. “So bad.”

Harry takes his time with it, eyeing her body up and down before leaning in to press the most velvet soft kiss directly at her center  His scruff tickles her lightly, and she lets out a sigh.

Harry hums against her core before really diving into his work, peeking his tongue out from between his lips to lap delicately at her clit.  He watches her from under his long lashes, waiting for a reaction from her as he explores her with his tongue— wanting to find the best spot to really devour.

She watches him intently, as if in a daze, while he sucks at her, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s holding her breath. So he pops off of her clit gently, making her jolt, before reaching up to place a hand on her belly. “Breathe, baby.”

Perhaps Misty didn’t realize she was holding her breath, because she lets it all out in a puff. Her tummy immediately grows a bit and Harry loves it, loves seeing her fully relaxed for him like this.

“You okay?” He asks. “Genuinely.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

Misty snorts.  “I swear on my life, Harry, come onnnn.”

He giggles, “Alright alright.”  Without any further warning, he leans down and presses the softest kiss directly to her clit, resuming his work and licking against her.

The only noises in the room are Misty’s heavy breathing and soft sighing, mixed with the wet noises of Harry’s mouth-- and it all feels so filthy and intimate that it makes Harry lose himself in his work. He moans, even louder than she does, and it makes her back arch a bit off of the mattress.

“Harry--” she sighs.

Harry tilts his head, ghosting his lips against her thigh.  “Careful,” he says.  “I don’t have to be quiet. You do.”

Misty smiles to herself, enjoying the feeling of his tongue between her legs. The sensation of his temperature down there is something she’s never experienced before in her life, and it makes the entire experience all the more intoxicatingly wonderful.

“God you taste so fucking good,” Harry mumbles, pulling his head back only slightly and reaching up to rub at her clit. “Like fucking honey. Delicious.”  He lowers his fingers to collect her wetness, observing the stickiness coating the digits before raising his hand to her mouth.

He doesn’t even have to tell her to do anything, she’s already opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Harry rests his fingertips on her tongue, and she envelopes them with her lips, giving them a nice long suck that causes Harry to make a most obscene noise in the back of his throat.

The temporary distraction lights a fire in Harry’s soul, and he ducks down to bury his face in her pussy once more. She arches her back when he hits a particularly good spot, and she accidentally bites down gently on his fingers— which Harry is surprised to find that he loves the feeling of.

Harry hums against her, wiggling his fingers a bit as a silent request for her to loosen up.  She opens her mouth, unable to contain the moan that escapes her lips when she does so.  Harry envelops her clit with his lips and sucks harshly, and she squirms against him.

“Harry--” She breathes.  “It’s so… fuck-- you’re so good…”

“Quiet now,” Harry mumbles against the skin of her thigh.  “Unless you want them to know how filthy you are.”

“I don’t care,” Misty pants breathlessly.  “I’ll blame my vibrator, I don’t care,  I’ll--- oh fuuuuck.”  She’s cut off when Harry sinks his teeth into the flesh of her thigh, and even he moans at the sensation.

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as he pulls away, admiring the dents that his teeth left and the string of saliva trailing from his bottom lip to her plushy skin.  “You taste good everywhere.”

“More,” Misty pleads.  “Harry, more, please.”

Harry sits mesmerized by the imprint of his own teeth on her thigh.  “They’ll think you’re crazy if they hear you.”

Misty groans, and Harry instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth without hesitation.  He considers stopping, punishing her for not listening to him and being loud.  But looking up at her, seeing how needy and fucked out she already looks has him weak.  So he buries his face between her legs and prepares to finish the job, licking her out like it’s the one thing he was born to do.

Misty’s hand flies to Harry’s hair and she tugs so hard it makes him wince.  Honestly, it’s the best feeling he’s felt in ages.  No one has pulled his hair like this since long before he died, and the feeling alone causes him to moan out loud against her core.

“Fucking shit, Misty,” he mumbles.  “Do that again.”

“You like that?” Misty cries breathlessly, her fingers moving frantically to grasp at his curls once again.  

Harry groans, lapping against her clit and enjoying the most pleasure he’s felt in years. “Misty,” he breathes, relishing in the way she twitches against the tickle of his breath against her skin, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Fuck,” Misty groans. ��“Holy shit--”

“Is this good sweet girl?”  

“I need more,” Misty cries, and who is Harry to deny her of her simple request?

He reaches down, fingering gently at the wetness pooling between her legs before teasing a single finger into her-- never once removing his lips from her clit.

He sucks harshly while his finger simultaneously searches for the spongy spot inside of her. She squirms around his digit, and Harry has to use his other hand to pin her hips down.

“Hold still,” he instructs.

“I can’t,” Misty whines. “I need another finger.”

She’s practically begging at this point, and it makes Harry so smug. “Ohhh,” he says, lips ghosting her thighs again, “So you’re the one calling the shots, are you?”

He’s teasing, of course, because he knows that she absolutely is the one in control of everything that’s going on right now.  But the way she’s dripping, tugging on his hair and practically shoving his face into her-- as well as verbally begging him-- strokes his ego.

“Please,” she groans.  “I want-- fuck-- I need to cum.”

Harry smirks up at her, tutting his lips.  “Not even embarrassed to be so needy?” he teases.    “My god…”

As much as he loves to tease her, though, he wants to make her cum more than anything else. And seeing her on the brink like this-- already-- makes him all the more eager. So he adds a second finger, pumping his digits in and out and lapping at her clit like it’s his last meal.  

She lets out an obscene moan, louder than any of the others she’s let out, and he knows she’s close. But for the sake of her pride, he knows she has to stay quiet. So he removes his hand from her hip and presses it to her mouth.

“Quiet,” he instructs, giving her face a little squeeze before putting his entire heart and soul into eating her.  

Misty is wiggling like mad now, and it takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth on her.  He knows that if he lets go of her mouth to try and pin her hips down again, she’ll expose herself— loudly— so this is a challenge Harry gladly accepts.

She stills briefly when her orgasm hits, and then her thighs are trembling around his face.  Her stomach is clenched and she’s drooling against the palm of his hand.  Her muffled moans are music to his ears, but they do sort of catch Harry off guard because he’d never guess that she’d be such a vocal cummer.  Of course, he isn’t complaining, and he wishes that he could hear her, completely unfiltered, with no one around to catch them.

Misty’s stomach relaxes a little bit at the same time she lets out a few little cries, and Harry realizes that she’s finished-- although her pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks against his tongue.  He slowly removes his hand from her wet mouth and looks up at her from under his lashes.

She looks utterly fucked, with tears in her eyes and chest rising and falling gently as she tries to catch her breath.  Harry is fascinated, thinking he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, and he realizes that he hasn’t moved in a while when Misty squirms beneath him.

He removes his lips from her but continues to watch her, relieved when her features seem to relax and she lets out a breathy giggle.  “My god,” she says, voice somewhat hoarse.  “That was--”

“A dream,” Harry says, now allowing himself to relax a bit as well.  He looks down at her soaked pussy and grins.  “You’re messy.”

“Can you blame me?”  Misty reaches up to run a hand through her hair.  “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?”  Harry smiles.  “I’m so glad.”

Misty hums, reaching down to playfully muss up Harry’s hair.  “Now, come up here so I can take care of you, pretty boy.”

Her words hit Harry’s heart, causing it to sink immediately. “Oh, doll,” he tuts,  “God, I wish you could.”

Misty frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“No blood in my veins,” Harry explains sadly, still making no effort to remove himself from between her legs.  “No blood… no boner. I don’t get hard.  I don’t cum.”

“Holy shit.”  Misty props herself up on her elbows, looking down at Harry and causing the cutest double chin Harry thinks he’s ever seen.  “Seriously?”

Harry nods.  “Seriously.  So even if you did… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Do you…” Misty’s voice gets quiet, as if suddenly going shy.  “Do you still get horny?”

“Yeah.”  Harry kisses Misty’s knee.  “Of course. You think I don’t feel anything while I’m eating your beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t know!” Misty whines.  “I feel like there is so much about you that I’m still learning.”

“Well,” Harry says with a sigh.  “You turn me on.  More than anyone I’ve ever known.  My body may not be able to physically show it… but you do something to me that I haven’t felt in years.”

“So I’ll never be able to suck you off?”  Misty pouts.

Harry smiles sadly.  “I’m afraid not, sweet girl.”

“Holy shit.” Misty frowns. “That fucking sucks.”

Harry laughs. “I mean… it’s not so bad. I get to make you feel good.” He licks softly at her pussy in an attempt to begin cleaning her up, and she flinches out of sensitivity, causing him to chuckle.

“I hate it though,” Harry admits, “kind of. I hate that I can’t…. well… pardon my French here but—“

“Fuck me?” Misty finishes. “You hate that you can’t fuck me? Because I want you to.”

Harry snorts. “Well damn, miss Misty. Never expected you to be so forward but yes, I hate that I can’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Misty frowns. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.,” Harry says with a smile. “Every second that we’re together feels better than the last.” He licks at her pussy once again, smiling at the way she wiggles against his tongue instantaneously.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you cleaned up and get that English paper done, hm?”

-------

It’s the night of Misty’s sorority homecoming, and Misty is having a less than ideal time.

It isn’t that the venue isn’t wonderful, or that her friends aren’t being lovely. Everything seems perfect from the outside, and Misty knows she should be enjoying it. But her problem isn’t with the event itself— it’s the fact that she’s here alone.

Because the one person she’d wanted to bring as her date happens to be a ghost.

Harry had watched her get ready all day, constantly telling her how gorgeous she looked and laughing, amused, when she’d tried countless times to get him to give in and come with her. Of course he wasn’t going to do that, and she understood, but still.

He’d sent her off with a kiss, reminding her one last time how absolutely stunning she looked and promising to be waiting up for her the minute she returned home.  And she’d left, reluctantly, because she knew he was right— she did need to go off and live her life.

But god, what she would give to have him here right now.

“Misty!”  

Misty realizes she’s been staring at the wall, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over, when she’s startled out of her thoughts.  Angie walks excitedly towards her.  

Angie, of course, looks stunning.  She’s wearing a long, blue gown that compliments her eyes nicely, and her hair is done up in curls that are so perfectly put together they don’t even look real.  She flashes Misty a warm smile as she approaches.

“Girl!” she says.  “What’s wrong with you? You alright?”

Misty smiles, realizing that she probably looks silly all zoned out like this.  “Yeah, no, I’m good! Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You look sad,” Angie says, worry creasing her eyes.   “You sure you’re just tired?”

Misty sighs, because god, she really wishes she could explain her situation to Angie. Or anyone really.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Sorry.”

“Well you should get out there and dance!” Angie says encouragingly.  “The DJ kinda sucks but like, if you take a shot beforehand it’s not that bad.”

“He does kinda suck, doesn’t he?” Misty giggles.

“Oh, also…”  Angie hesitates before speaking her next sentence.  “Josh is looking for you.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but Angie continues talking.  “I knoooow, I know he sucks but like… I don’t know, maybe if you got drunk and made out a little bit it would--”

“Why would I do that?” Misty asks.  “He came here with Brooke anyway!”

“Oh yeah, and she’s pissed about it,” Angie giggles. “Everyone knows he was just trying to make you jealous.  Poor Brooke.”

“Yeah,’ Misty says.  “Josh sucks.”

“You know, I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance!” Angie leans against the wall, taking a sip of the bright orange drink in her glass.  “I mean, he like, very clearly wants you.”

“I don’t want him,” Misty replies.  “Like, at all.  If he can’t take a hint, then--’

Misty trails off when she notices Angie squinting over her shoulder.  “Who the hell--”  Angie whispers.

“What?”  Misty turns slowly, and her jaw drops when she sees what it is that Angie is looking at.  

In walks Harry, physical body and all, waving at everyone like he’s known them all his life.

Is she dreaming? Surely she has to be.  She shakes her head, then reaches up to her forehead as if to check her temperature.  Can everyone else see him?  How is he here?

Her movement catches Harry’s eye, and he beams at her, turning his full attention towards her and heading in her direction.  “Misty!” He calls, waving at her.

Angie’s jaw is practically on the floor, as are the jaws of almost every girl in the room.  “You know him?” Angie asks.

And honestly, Misty isn’t sure what the right answer to that question is.  “I--” is all she can manage to get out.

Harry approaches, and Misty is not only greeted by his delicious cinnamon scent, but a strong, spicy cologne. He looks delicious in this suit, and when he hugs her she shivers, partly because of his cold skin and partly (mostly) because she can’t believe her eyes.

“Hiya, darling,” Harry says, wrapping Misty up in a chilly hug and kissing her cheek.  “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Misty manages to stammer out, although her facial expression must give away how confused she is.  

Harry only smiles down at her, reaching up gently to close her mouth.  He then turns to Angie with a pleasant smile.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand.  “I’m Harry.”

Angie wastes no time, reaching forward to shake his hand quickly.  She seems taken aback by the temperature of his hands, but Harry pays it no mind.  Instead he brushes it off with a quick, “Don’t mind the cold hands.  Can never quite get used to the weather out here.”

Misty giggles, awkwardly, wrapping her arm around Harry’s back.  “Darling,” she says, as forcibly normal as possible, “I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Harry answers cooly, before turning back to Angie.  “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“It’s Angie!” Angie blurts, cheeks growing redder by the minute.  She giggles like a little schoolgirl.  “Misty never mentioned she had a boyfriend… much less such a handsome one.”

Harry smiles.  “I’m flattered, Angie.  Thank you.  But no, actually, Misty and I are just casual for now.  We met a few summers ago during her spring break back home.  We’re… oh, I don’t know what to call it… talking? I suppose?”  Harry laughs, grinning down at Misty.

Misty, still in shock, misses a beat before realizing that he’s addressing her.  She laughs stiffly.  “Yes,” she says, “‘talking’ is a good word.”

Harry grins back at Angie.  “And you?  Where’s your lucky fellow tonight?”

“Oh,” Angie says, biting at her lip, growing visibly excited at the mention of her date.  “He’s um… he’s somewhere around here. I guess we’re uh— talking as well.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “I see.”

He’s so ridiculously chipper, so casually cool, and Misty is growing more and more impatient by the minute.  She laughs, accidentally cutting Angie off just as she begins a sentence.

“Angie, I’m sorry, but would you mind if I took Harry outside for a bit? I didn’t realize he was going to be here tonight and we… uh…” She looks up at Harry, who only grins smugly back at her,  “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Oh sure!” Angie says.  “Of course, babe, go have fun.”  She smiles brightly at Harry.  “It was so nice meeting you, I’ll catch up with you both later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry says, warmly. “Of course!”

Misty smiles at Harry,  but the look in her eyes informs Harry that she has a lot to say.  He smiles, so ridiculously casual and sweet, and takes her hand.

“After you sunshine,” he says.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she does smile softly to herself as she leads him outside. Harry doesn’t know if she means to, but she gives his hand a slight squeeze as she walks.  He gives her hand a squeeze right back, far more intentional than hers, and her breathy little giggle does not go unnoticed by him.

Harry eyes the room, taking in his surroundings and looking for who he has decided is his number one enemy in life (and technically death)-- Josh.  He doesn’t find him at first, and he has to admit that his heart sinks a bit at the thought of not being able to show Misty off right to Josh’s face.  But then he finds him, outside smoking a cigar with a few other guys, and Harry perks up once again.

Misty doesn’t even acknowledge the boys as she continues to lead Harry to a quiet corner of the garden, but Harry of course isn’t going to stand for that.  Not when he has the satisfaction of seeing Josh’s face light up upon Misty’s arrival only to completely drop half a second later when he sees she’s with somebody.  Harry’s not letting it end there.

“Evening, guys.”  Harry raises his free hand to his forehead, giving the group an effortless salute.   “Gorgeous night, innit?”

Josh takes the bait, immediately stepping out of the circle and making his way over to Harry and Misty.  Misty doesn’t even notice until Harry is resisting her tug, and when she turns around to see who’s approaching she rolls her eyes.  “Fuckin hell,” she mumbles.

Harry, of course, has the complete opposite reaction, smiling warmly right back at Josh.

“Hey man!” Josh says, holding out his free hand.  “I’m Josh.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

“Never been around,” Harry says matter-of-factly.  He takes Josh’s hand with a grip so firm Misty can sense it.  “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” Josh’s smile is so fake Misty wants to scream, and she wishes she could evaporate into thin air to escape the awkward tension in the air right now.  “How do you know Misty?”

“I’m from her hometown!” Harry says.  “Met her a few spring breaks ago.  We’ve been casual for a while now.”

“Have you?”  Josh looks pointedly at Misty, and she rolls her eyes.  Harry never looks away from Josh.

“I would say so, yeah,” Harry smiles.  “On and off of course.”

“I see.”  Josh nods stiffly.

“Oh wait!” Harry says suddenly, as if a thought has just occurred to him.  “Ohhh, you’re Josh!  Misty here has told me quite a bit about you!”

Misty can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she glances frantically between Harry and Josh.  Josh smiles.

“Oh yeah?  All good things I hope!”

“Mmm…” Harry says in a questioning tone, shrugging a bit but maintaining his smile.

Josh stares blankly back at Harry, completely unsure of how to process what he’s just said, and Misty can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, well!” she says, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.  “This has been super lovely but Harry and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don’t we?”

“We sure do, pumpkin!” Harry wiggles his nose exaggeratedly at Misty and she laughs.    He turns back to Josh.  “Nice to finally meet the famous Josh,” he says.   “I’m sure I’ll see ya around!”

“Uh,” Josh stammers.  “Yeah.  See ya.”

Misty tugs Harry away from Josh and over to a secluded corner of the garden, and Harry shoots Josh a pointed and intimidating look over his shoulder before turning to Misty.  She tries to be serious, but she can’t stop herself from giggling.. “Harry what the hell!” She hisses.

He smiles.  “Surprised?  Happy? Do you want to kill me?”

“Um, yes to all of the above!” Misty lightly slaps his arm.  “What are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, reaching forward to gently hook his pinky with Misty’s.  “Figured a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a big night like this.  I wanted to help make it special.”

Harry leans in and places a kiss right on Misty’s cheekbone.  “Besides,” he says, softer,  “I couldn’t give Josh the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance tonight.”

Misty giggles, oblivious to the way the nearby group of boys are all watching her longingly.  Harry laughs along with her, kissing her nose and then her smile.  “Are you happy, sunshine?”

“So happy,” she says, kissing him back.  “Beyond happy.”  

Misty pulls away, eyeing Harry in his suit.  Never in her life has she ever seen a more handsome man, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction.  “But,” she says slowly.  “I don’t… understand.  Your energy--”

“I’ll be fine, love,” Harry insists.  “It’s one night.  As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts.” Harry smiles.  “Now, something tells me you haven’t danced much tonight. Is that true?”

Misty smirks.  “Didn’t feel right dancing without you.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harry says. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”  He holds his arm out to her, raising his eyebrows.

Misty eyes his arm before giggling and linking arms with him. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

Harry leads her back inside, shooting Josh one more pointed look before holding the door open for Misty.  She’s like a giggly schoolgirl as she walks through, taking Harry’s hand in hers and giving it a long squeeze.

Misty practically floats onto the dance floor as a slower song begins, and Harry can’t believe she’s real. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes and catches the dim lights. She beams up at him brightly before wrapping an arm up around his shoulders and pulling him in. They begin swaying together as Harry pulls her in closer by her hips; the scent of her perfume just below his nose. He can feel her sigh contentedly against his chest, and it makes him smile to himself.

“It’s so nice to finally dance with you like, out in the open and stuff,” Misty says.  “Instead of looking like I’m possessed.”

Harry laughs.  “I know.  It’s nice to be seen.  It’s nice to show off my dancing.”  The minute he finishes his sentence, he spins Misty out, then in, before dipping her.  She squeals, giggling up at him and going limp in his arms.

“Love hearing you laugh like that,” Harry says, mirroring what he’d told her the first night they danced together.  “I mean it.”

He pulls her back up into him, her hair flying behind her.  “No one makes me laugh the way you do,” she admits.  “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.’

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them for the next few moments, and they can’t seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Harry let’s out a boyish giggle and leans forward, pressing a peck to her nose.

“You know,” Misty says. “You’re actually a pretty good dancer for a ghost.”

“I’m not sure whether I should take offense to that or not.”

“It’s a compliment,” Misty laughs. “I’m just impressed. A lot of guys I know aren’t really good at dancing.”

“I was known to be quite the dancer in my day,” Harry says, spinning her out and then quickly back into him once again.

“Really?”

Harry gives Misty a soft little hip check. “Not at all.”

Harry and Misty laugh their way through the rest of the dance, hardly even realizing when the music slows to a stop. Harry leans down, pressing the sweetest kiss to Misty’s lips before she even has a chance to say anything, and she smiles into the kiss— communicating exactly how she’s feeling just by her kiss alone.

After a few more dances, they make their way to a table, giggling and out of breath. Harry orders Misty another drink, socializing with everyone at the table like he’s known them his whole life. And as Misty watches him through slightly buzzed and love drunk eyes, she allows herself to feel, just for the moment, that everything in her little world is perfect with Harry.

———

About an hour and a few drinks later, Misty wanders into the restroom, leaving behind a very happy Harry— who chats effortlessly with the other people at their table.  She realizes halfway through her journey that her face hurts from smiling, and she giggles to herself quietly.

Her situation may be incredibly unique, but she’s so lucky to have Harry here on her arm this evening.  She giggles, throat thick with the sweet drink she’s been sipping on and eyes hazy, before washing her hands and making her way back out into the hallway.  No one is around, and she begins to make her way back into the large dance hall when she nearly runs someone over as she turns the corner.

“Oh, sorry!” She looks up, immediately relieved to find that it’s Harry she’s bumped into.

He smiles down at her.  “Slow down there, speed racer.  Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Coming to find you,” she says, smiling at him.  She rises up onto her toes and kisses his chin.  

“Mm.”  Harry hums, tilting his head to kiss her lips.  “Having a fun night?”

“Yes.”  She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and inhaling the delicious cinnamon scent of him.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head.  “Me too.  So glad.”

Misty pulls away, licking her lips and adjusting Harry’s bowtie that she’d accidentally muffed up.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fine!” Harry insists.  “Like I could run a marathon.”

‘Oh yeah?”  Misty eyes him quizzically, and he laughs.

“I mean… no,” he says. “But I feel fine.”

Misty groans.  “You’re using too much energy.”

“Will you stop?”  He asks, pulling her closer by the small of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

‘Promise?”

“Swear?”

Harry chuckles.  “Swear.”

“Cross your heart?”

Harry boops Misty’s nose.  “And hope to die.”

Misty rolls her eyes, reaching up to comb her fingers through Harry’s slightly messy hair.  “You’re not funny,” she says, booping his nose right back.  “But you are handsome as hell.  Especially tonight.”

“Yeah?”  Harry tilts his body, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket.  “Like it?  Picked it out myself.”

“How?”

Harry winks.  “Magic.”

“Oh god,” Misty giggles.  “Well, however you actually did it… I’m glad you did.”  She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his hands gently.  “You look fucking delicious.”

“Hardly.  You’re far too sweet to me, angel, but I figured that if I was going to be this beautiful girl’s date tonight, I needed to look the part.”

Misty hums, pulling him in by his lapel and buttoning her lips with his. He smiles against her mouth, and she licks eagerly against his bottom lip.  He knows exactly the kind of mood she’s in just by the way she’s kissing him, and he reaches up to cup the back of her neck.

“God,” she breathes, lips ghosting his. “The things I would do to you.”

Harry gulps, loving the forwardness coming from her pretty lips. “Yeah?” He nods, as if urging her to go on.

“Mm, I could devour you. It’s all I want.”

Harry tilts his head, pulling Misty closer and kissing her ear. “What else do you want?”

“To feel you,” she says. “I bet you’re so big.”

Despite having no blood in his veins, Misty’s words stroke Harry’s ego and twist his stomach into knots.  “Mm,” he hums, trying to maintain his smug demeanor.  “I am, actually.”

“Damn.”  Misty pouts, softly fingering at Harry’s bowtie.  “God I wish I could suck you.”

Harry gulps, because fuck does he sure wish that as well. He raises a hand to brush Misty’s hair back from her face, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes.  “I know, sweet girl.  Me too.”

They spend a few moments just looking at one another, speaking without words.  Harry gently caresses her cheeks, wishing more than anything that his touch wasn’t so damn cold.   He clears his throat softly.  “We have to get back out there, you know.”

“I know,” Misty sighs.

‘You look so beautiful.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to take Misty’s hand in his own.   “Never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,’ Misty says softly, making Harry scoff.  “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Then don’t,” Harry teases.  “Does wonders for my ego when you look at me like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Misty hums, reaching up to thumb at Harry’s cheek. “I want you,” she says quietly.  “So fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”  Harry says softly, gears turning in his head as he realizes the exact kind of mood Misty is in.  “What is it you want exactly, baby?”

Harry has only known Misty a short time, comparatively speaking, but he knows her well enough to know exactly what buttons to push.  He knows what that look in her eyes means, and he knows how to turn her on with only his words.  

He also knows that making her put into words exactly what she wants turns her into a messy, embarrassed puddle that turns them both on.  So he watches her expectantly.

“Well,” Misty says slowly, heat radiating off of her face.  “I want…. To suck you off.”

“I know,” Harry coos, trailing his fingertips along her jawline.  “Said that already. But you know you can’t, baby.  Doesn’t work like that.”

“I hate it,” Misty pouts.  “I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Harry says.  He waits for a response, and when it doesn’t come, tense idea forming in his head comes to fruition.

He reaches around to cup the back of her neck, scratching lightly at the hair there.  “You want me to make you feel good right now, pretty girl?  Hm?”

Misty snaps almost fully out of her trance then, glancing around nervously.  “Harry, we can’t right now.  Are you joking?  We’re in public--”

“Why not?”  Harry grins down at her.  “You know I can disappear.  Make it so that only you could see me.”

“Yeah but--”

“Nobody would know,”  he shrugs, tacking on a quick,  “that is, if you can keep quiet for me.”

Misty sighs sharply at his words, and he chuckles.  

“Sunshine, if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

“No, I…”  Misty lowers her voice, despite the fact that they’re still the only two in the hallway.  “I want to.”

“Yeah?”  Harry asks.  “You sure?  Not trying to pressure you.”

Misty looks up at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re not pressuring me.  I’ve always wanted to do some raunchy shit like this.”

“Oh yeah?  Bit of an exhibionist are we?”

Misty giggles.  “Harry.”

“I’ll go under the table. No one will even know I’m there.  Even if they look.”

“But where should I tell them you went?”

“Hm.”  Harry hums, considering this for a few moments.  “Cigar break.  Went out to smoke.  You were out with me for a bit but I got a phone call and you got cold.  So you came inside.”

Misty frowns. “You don’t smoke.”

“I’m also not a living human being, but here we are.”  Harry grins, pulling Misty in closer and lowering his voice.  “Gonna let me make you cum, pretty girl?  Hm?’

“Yes,” Misty whispers back, shyly avoiding his gaze.  “Yes.”

“In front of all these people?” Harry asks teasingly.  “Naughty.”

“Harry--”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her nose.  “Alright, alright.  Go sit at the table.  I think they’re about to serve dessert anyway.”

“And you’re going to miss it?”  Misty pouts.

“Misty,” Harry says,  “You know damn well I’m going to be enjoying my own dessert.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.”  He pinches her butt.  “Now go.  Please.  I’m hungry.”

“Oh my godddd. Fine.”

She presses one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and turns to leave, but he reaches forward-- taking her hand and spinning her back around.  “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I come in, you’ll be the only one who can see me. You’ll have to cover for me when I get under the table.”

“Okay.”  Misty nods.  “I’ll pretend I dropped something under there, and I’ll lift the table cloth.”

Harry grins.  “Alright.  Good girl.”

“God,” Misty laughs,  “You’re relentless, huh?”

“What do you mean?” The way Harry’s smiling, he knows exactly what Misty means.

“You just want to get me as worked up as you possibly can, don’t you?”

“You caught me.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “God you’re annoying.  Okay, I’m going.  See you soon.”

“See you soon, bug.”

Misty turns once again to exit, and Harry gives her bum a quick and subtle slap, which makes her giggle.  

As Harry watches her go, he tries to ignore the ache in his bones.  He’s exhausted-- of course-- from exuding so much energy, but he doesn’t even care.  It feels so good to feel alive again like this.  To be on the arm of a pretty girl, in the midst of a bunch of young happy people with their whole lives ahead of them.

He sighs, pushing his yearning feeling far out of his head and ignoring the exhaustion in his body.  He’s going to give Misty a few minutes to get settled in her seat before he joins her, and he thinks maybe he should go hide in the bathroom for a moment to give himself a bit of an energy break.

The idea is quickly shattered, however, when Angie and her date turn the corner, giggling all over one another. Angie stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Harry, and she grows visibly embarrassed.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!”

Harry smiles politely. “Hello Angie. This must be your lucky man.”

Angie smiles shyly up at her date. “Yeah,” she says, “this is Eric. Eric, this is Harry.  He’s Misty’s date tonight.”

“Hey man!” Eric removes his arm from around Angie’s shoulders and holds it out for Harry. “Nice to meet you!”

Eric seems like a pleasant guy, a bit on the short side with big brown eyes and hair that has been perfectly gelled for this evening. Harry shakes his hand warmly, grateful for the fact that Eric hardly seems to even notice the temperature of his hands.

“Where you from, brother?” Eric asks. “Never seen you around before.”

“I’m from Misty’s hometown.”  Harry nods. “Known each other for ages. It’s a sort of casual thing between us, you know?”

“Right on!” Eric grins. “Sort of casual for Ang and I too, I suppose.”

Angie’s face falls just the slightest bit for only half a second, and if Harry had blinked he’d have missed it. She smiles. “Yeah!” She adds. “Super casual.”

“How wonderful.” Harry grins. “You’re a lucky man, Eric.”

Angie blushes at Harry’s words, then gives Eric’s arm a squeeze. “Harry you’re way too nice.” She lets go of Eric’s arm, turning towards the restroom door. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, if you guys will just excuse me for a second.”

Harry and Eric mumble their goodbyes as Angie makes her way quickly into the bathroom.  Harry smiles at Eric, nodding his head as a parting gesture before turning to make his way to Misty.

“Wait, Harry.”

Eric’s voice surprises Harry, and he whirls back around.  “What’s up man?”

Eric seems hesitant, opening his mouth and then closing it.  He laughs, as if embarrassed of his own self, before speaking.  “Man… I don’t know why I’m asking you this.”

Harry steps back towards Eric, his friendly smile never leaving his face.  “You alright?”

“No I’m good! I just… maybe it’s cause I’m drunk… but I’m--” Eric sighs.  “Dude, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Angie,” Eric admits.  “You know, like, I really like her and I-- I don’t know.”

“Mm.”  Harry nods.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if… if she feels the same.”  Eric seems nervous, and Harry smiles reassuringly.

“Are you kidding me?  Do you not see the way she looks at you?”  Eric’s eyebrows furrow, as if what Harry is saying makes no sense to him, so Harry continues.  “She looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, mate.”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I asked her about you earlier. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you were.  But when I asked who her lucky man was, her face lit up like the sun.  How long have you been an item?”

Eric smiles a dimpled smile, seemingly relaxed.  “Almost two months now, I would say.”

“Why the hesitation, then?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eric sighs.  “I don’t know, man.  I guess I just…I don’t want to do things wrong.”

“You want to know what I think?” Harry takes a step forward.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Harry takes in a big breath, pondering the words he’s about to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it, before taking a step towards Eric. “I think,” he begins slowly, “that life is too short.”

Eric chuckles. “Man, it really is, huh?”

Harry nods. “Way too fucking short—pardon my French- to let perfect moments pass you by.”

“Yeah?”

“Mate, if you really feel this way about her, and you know you have this beautiful connection… why wait? You know what I mean?  There were--er, are-- so many moments in my life that I look back on and think, ‘god if only I hadn’t been so stupd.  If only I had done this, or said that.  If only, if only, if only.  And I think…”  Harry sighs.  “I think that when it comes to telling someone how you feel about them…  it’s important to be honest and vulnerable. That’s what makes you feel human.”  Harry smiles, almost lost in his own thoughts.  

“And feeling human,” he adds,  “The good and the bad, is what life is.”

Eric doesn’t reply right away. He smiles, taking in everything that Harry is saying to him. “Shit dude,” he says, after a long while. “That’s some profound shit.”

“Nah,” Harry says, playing it off with a cheeky smile. “We’re just drunk.”

Eric laughs at this. “Maybe. But that was really good advice.”

Harry shrugs. “Just telling you what I wish someone had told me.”

“Yeah.” Eric grins. “Well thanks man.  Ang and I were coming over here to like….” Eric lowers his voice, “.... do stuff, but like, I want her to know it’s more than that for me. You know?”

“I know.”  The door to the women’s restroom begins opening and Harry raises his eyebrows cheekily. “Off you go then,” he tacks on quietly.

Harry turns to exit just as Angie enters, and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy in his stomach for Eric. He hears Eric and Angie chatting softly behind him when he’a suddenly stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Harry!”

Harry turns on his heel. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”  

Angie glances between Eric and Harry, a bit confused but still smiling. Harry shoots her a quick wink before raising two fingers to his eyebrow and saluting Eric loosely. Eric smiles, an unspoken confirmation between him and Harry, and Harry rounds the corner, leaving him and Angie to talk things out.

And now, there’s only one pressing matter on Harry’s mind:

Making Misty cum until she can’t think straight.

Misty’s stomach churns as she watches Harry enter the room.  She is so nervous for what she knows is about to happen, and yet she’s so excited.  She makes casual small talk-- of course about Harry-- with the others at her table.  “Yeah he went out for a cigar and then got an important phone call from work” and “oh yeah, we met a few springs back.  It’s been very casual” and “God, I know, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes never leave Misty’s face, and he’s smirking so deeply it makes Misty’s stomach (and other parts of her) twitch. “Hiya, baby,” he says quietly, and Misty has to raise her drink to her lips to cover up the enormous smile on her face.

“You remember you have to help me out here?” Harry asks, and Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead, she subtly knocks her knife off of the table.

It doesn’t cause much of a commotion, just enough for the others at the table to glance in her direction.  “Oops!” Misty says, “My bad!” She leans over, lifting the tablecloth and shooting Harry a subtle glance.

He grins. “Sneaky girl,” he mutters, before dropping to his knees and crawling under the bit of space that Misty has opened up for him.

Misty tries to cover up the rustling of the tablecloth as Harry crawls, and luckily the movement goes pretty much completely unnoticed by all of her drunken peers.  Harry settles himself beneath the table, and grins at her.   He presses a kiss to her knee.  

“Still good with this?”

“Yes,” Misty whispers.  “Are you?”

Harry scoffs, gently running his hands up her calves.  “What a dumb question.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks as she drops the tablecloth and sits up straight. She offers the others at her table a forced smile, but no one seems to notice or care.  She squirms, parting her legs ever so slightly.

Harry reaches for the bottom of her long dress, taking his time and really teasing her by building up anticipation as he drags the fabric up her calves. He kisses the skin he exposes as he goes, taking care to love on her knees a little extra because he knows they’re sensitive.  Misty instinctively opens her legs a bit more, and Harry chuckles quietly.

“Gonna need you a bit more open than that, love.” He gently pries her knees apart, bunching up the fabric of her dress and gasping quietly at the sight before him when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Ohhh, baby,”  he breathes, “no panties?”  He reaches forward with a single finger, teasing at where he knows she’s already damp. “My god, you’re a dream.”

She wiggles a bit in her seat, hoping for more friction from Harry’s finger, and Harry chuckles almost menacingly. “Squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Barely even touching you yet.”

Harry leans in, pressing another slow kiss to her knee before trailing his lips and tongue up her thigh. He drapes the skirt of her dress over his head, immediately shivering at the feeling of her warmth and wondering if she likes the sensation of his coldness.  

Under the protection of her skirt, all Harry can see, hear, and smell is Misty, and he takes a moment to really soak it all in. Her scent is intoxicating, and he swears that if he were alive, he would be more than content to live out the rest of his days with his face buried between her legs.

Harry takes a big deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly, making a point to blow against her skin. He can feel her subtly shiver, and he grins.  This is going to be easier than he thought.

For him at least.

“Now careful,” he taunts.  “Gonna keep quiet for me?” He smirks, pulling away to tease her skin lightly with his finger.  “That was a trick question.  Know you’re going to because you don’t have a choice.”

Misty kicks lightly at Harry, and he grunts.  “Ouch.  Feisty thing.”  He grins. “Alright, alright.  I’ll stop teasing.”

And somehow, Misty doesn’t believe him.

Harry leans in, licking and kissing softly at her clit, just to get her nice and relaxed.  His curls tickle at her thighs, and he hooks his arms around her legs to hold her in place. He’s hardly even started, and yet she’s already so wet. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t do wonders for his ego.

He can faintly hear the conversation going on above the table, but he does make out his name and something about missing out on dessert.  

“He’ll be fine,” Misty says.  “I’ll grab him a slice in a bit.”

“What a generous girl you are,” Harry mumbles, although he isn’t sure if Misty’s heard him or not.  If she had heard him, though, he doesn’t give her time to react.  He opens his lips wider, lapping at her clit from a new angle that makes her shiver.  She squirms in her seat, lowering herself just a bit so that Harry has easier access, and he unhooks one of his arms from her legs to rub gently at her clit while he repositions himself.

Misty squirms against him, and her hands make their way under the table.  Harry isn’t sure what exactly she’s doing until her skirt is lifted up from over his head, and he blinks in the dim light.  

“What, baby?”  he asks.

She threads her fingers through his curls, squeezing, before gently trying to push his head back down.

“Oh you want my hair?”  Harry chuckles. “Cute.”

He licks gently at her clit, enjoying the way her fingers scratch a bit harshly into his scalp. He hums. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Misty jolts when Harry kisses a specific spot, and he chuckles. “Ohhh...You liked that, didn’t you?”  Harry pulls back, examining the spot he just kissed.  “Noted.”

Harry leans in then, attacking the same spot he’d just been lapping at, and the way Misty yanks suddenly at his curls informs him that it’s definitely a good spot.  He moves his hand to grip either side of her waist.

“Misty,” Harry gulps quietly, grasping at her as if he can feel her slipping through his fingers. “Baby, please, I need—“

Misty’s fingers curl into Harry’s hair even more, tugging slightly until Harry finds himself with his forehead pressed to her thigh. He shivers, mumbling against her skin,  “Need you to open up just a bit more for me, baby.”  Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the fleshy spots just below her pussy as she continues to scratch affectionately at his head.  “You’ve done such a good job.  Been good so far.  Need you open.”  Harry sponges kisses along the hem of her dress.

Misty pulls Harry’s head up gently by his curls and rubs her thumb along his cheekbone before squeezing lightly at his cheeks, opening her legs more and pulling him closer to her pussy.

Harry needs only that squeeze as a starter gun, and then he’s off. His hands find their way up to her hips as he bunches up her skirt.  He presses several chaste kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh, taking his time to soak in her warmth before attaching his lips to her pussy again.

He flattens his tongue along her, licking a long broad stripe just to get the wetness all soaked into his tongue before wrapping his lips around her clit.  He sucks softly, flicking his tongue between his slightly parted lips to give her a heavier sensation.

Misty hums quietly, letting her nails trail along his scalp to the back of his neck.  He knows she wants to moan, and it only encourages him to work harder.  He removes his lips from her clit with a popping noise that startles her, and she lifts the tablecloth ever so slightly.  Their eyes meet, and Harry can tell she’s already fucked.  He grins.

“They couldn’t hear that,” he reminds her. “You’re the only one who has to keep quiet here.”

There’s a visible lump in Misty’s throat as she sighs, begrudgingly removing her eyes from Harry and focusing on the party occurring around her.  Harry clicks his tongue.

“Ohh,” Harry coos,  “poor baby.  Feels so good and she can’t even moan for me, can she?  Sweet girl.”

Harry pulls the tablecloth out of her hands, yanking it back down before resuming the movement of his tongue against her clit. She squirms against him, obviously growing impatient.

“You love this so much,” Harry says,  “don’t you, sunshine?”

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever in his existence had it this bad for anyone before, and somewhere deep down he knows that Misty fully cognizant of the power she holds over him. It’s exciting for the both of them really, and Harry knows that Misty does not take it lightly.  Still, he loves the exhilaration of teasing her to no end-- he loves how wet it gets her and he especially loves being the only one who gets to see her like this.

Harry lets out a low-bellied grunt, and Misty sighs, an almost inaudible mumble of “oh god” passing her pretty lips.  Harry removes his mouth from her clit, tilting his head to attach it instead to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a mumbled coo of,  “Careful.”  He sucks harshly, pulling until he feels her skin against his teeth and then he lets off with a pop.  Misty wants to moan so badly it’s killing her, and Harry can see her toes curling in her heels.  He kisses the spot he’s just bitten, where he knows a mark is already beginning to blossom.

“Feel how wet you are?” He asks.  “Feel how messy you get just from a bit of teasing?  Are you not embarrassed to be so wet??”

“Christ.”  Misty’s voice is so low only Harry can hear it, but he smiles against her inner thigh when he does.

“How cute,” he muses, reaching out to feel the stickiness pooling between her legs. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how messy you get for me.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting the wetness against his fingertips and humming to himself.  “Wonder if they can smell you.”

Harry buries his tongue directly into the center of her and shakes his head a bit, ignoring the one loose curl of his that falls into his face.  He can feel Misty’s entire body tense up, and he knows she’s close.  He takes his opportunity to make it a million times worse for her; with one hand he reaches up and spreads her lips further apart.  With the other hand, he gently tickles at the back of her knee.

She squirms, partly from his touch against the sensitive part of her leg but mostly from the sensation of his tongue against her clit.  He can see her fingers clench against her chair, and he smiles before buying his own fingers inside of her warmth.  Misty all but lurches forward, and Harry is almost worried he’s given her too much too quickly.  Still, he’s nothing if not a tease, so he curls his fingers gently inside of her.

He smirks, deciding that she’s had enough teasing and wanting to make her cum. He can hear her let out a quiet, breathy giggle, obviously confused at the sensations she’s feeling, overwhelmed with the desire to both laugh and moan, and when he thinks she’s had enough he pulls his fingers away from her knee.

Harry hums against her core, shaking his head. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

Misty grips the edge of the table at the same time Harry notices her stomach clenches, and then he knows she’s cumming because her knees begin trembling.  He can feel her orgasm pulsating through her, and he works her through it patiently with his tongue.  He curls his fingers a bit more, and sucks a bit harsher, and for a moment he completely loses himself in his own actions.

He’s never seen Misty so wound up, and she lightly stomps her heels against the ground in frustration.  He knows she feels good-- hell, he feels good, too-- and he tries his best to keep her as grounded and still as he possibly can.

It’s when she tangles her fingers in his hair to lightly tug his head away that he realizes he hasn’t stopped, and she’s completely spent.

Harry sits for a moment, staring at her soaked pussy and now slightly bruised thighs, and he admires his work.  She combs her fingers lovingly through his curls, and he knows she’s thanking him for making her feel so good.  It’s then, of course, that he realizes exactly how exhausted he is.  He turns his head to kiss gently at her wrist, then allows himself to sit for a moment and catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last like this. He’s never used this much energy in manifesting before, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. But Misty is having a wonderful time, and of course so is he— he doesn’t want the night to end by any means, but god, is he ready to lay down.

Harry musters up all the strength he can manage and taps Misty’s knee. “Can you let me out, sweet girl?”

It takes Misty a moment before she lifts the tablecloth, pretending to mess with her heels.  She gives Harry the softest smile the moment their eyes meet, and she looks completely wrecked in a way that only he would recognize.  He chuckles.

“Got you that good, did I?” He begins crawling out from under the table, trying his best to cover how exhausted he is.  As he passes Misty he presses a chaste kiss to her nose, making her giggle.  “I’ll be back.”  

He rises, weakly, to his feet-- and he hopes Misty doesn’t notice how slowly he moves, but she does, and she frowns.  He brushes it off, refusing to make it into a big deal, and then disappears from sight.

Misty is left, trying to cover up the fact that she’s struggling to catch her breath-- and she smiles the moment she sees Harry physically enter the room.

He’s grinning- because of course he is— and his finger guns in Josh’s direction do not go unnoticed by Misty. She rolls her eyes as he approaches the table, smiling brightly at everyone in the small circle.

“Sorry,” he says convincingly, “my mum called.”

Misty smiles up at him. “Oh that’s okay, my love! Everything okay?”

Harry grins at her, reaching over to take her hand in his own. “Everything is absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

Misty grins, obviously flustered just by the way he’s looking at her. “Yeah?”

He leans forward, kissing her nose lightly.  “Yeah.”  

Harry turns to everyone at the table, smiling that charming smile that Misty is so obsessed with.  “Now,” he says, “Am I too late to get a slice of this cheesecake?”

----

Harry drops, completely spent, onto Misty’s bed.  As soon as she closes the door behind her she rushes to him, immediately undoing the laces on his left shoe.

He’s paler now, his skin looking thin and white, and he smiles sleepily down at her as she gets to work tugging his shoe off.  She seems worried, but he only chuckles.

“Had so much fun with you,” he says, voice weak.  “Did you have fun?”

“Harry, you shouldn’t have put so much energy forward.”

“Wanted to,” he says.  “Worth it.”

“Harry,” Misty coos, tugging the shoe off of his foot before working on the other.  “My god, look at you.”

“Just sleepy,” Harry says.  “I’ll be completely back to normal tomorrow.  Promise.”

Misty is unconvinced; she frowns as she tugs off his other shoe before sitting fully on the bed, crawling up the length of his body.

“I’m gonna undress you,” she says.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs,  “‘Course it’s okay.”

Misty begins by unbuttoning his suit jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. Harry watches her the entire time, reveling in her warmth. “Feels nice to be taken care of like this.  Wish you didn’t have to.”

“Harry, it’s the least I can do.  You’ve done so much for me.   You shouldn’t have come out tonight.  You should have…”  She notices the way he’s watching her, and it catches her off guard.  “What?”

Harry grunts, trying weakly to prop himsef up on his elbows.  “Do you realize,’ he says, voice frail, “that this is the most fun I’ve had in years?  That getting to feel alive, with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, is worth any pain I might be in now?”  He catches Misty’s worried frown, and quickly tacks on, “But I’m not in pain. Just sleepy.”

Misty sighs. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“Awfully selfish of you,” Harry teases. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

Misty rolls her eyes, using all of her strength to sit Harry up and remove his jacket. Harry chuckles, a weak laugh that trails off into a cough. “I promise,” he says, as she settles him back down. “I’m okay. I’m just sleepy. It’s not like I’m dying.”

He watches her expectantly, waiting for a reaction and obviously proud of his stupid joke.

Misty shoots him a deadpanned glare that makes him cackle. “Come onnn,” he says, “that was a good one!”

“How can you still be so annoying when you’re so exhausted?” Misty says, chuckling as she works to unbutton his shirt.

Harry doesn’t answer her, propping an arm up behind his head and watching her work.  She allows her eyes to trail down his body as she reaches the bottom button, pausing at a small patch of hair she notices leading from his bellybutton down into his trousers.  Her breath hitches in her throat as she comes to the realization that she’s never seen him beneath his clothes.

Harry seems to realize this at the same time, and his smile fades just a hair.  “What, baby?”

Misty doesn’t answer him.  Instead she slowly pulls the two sides of his shirt apart further, exposing his entire torso.  She lets out her breath slowly, surprised at how completely normal he looks. She reaches a hand forward but stops herself, unsure if she should actually touch him.

“You know I used to have a tattoo there,” Harry offers.

Misty’s eyes flicker from his tummy to his face.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I had a ton actually.  But I guess when you die, they don’t come with you.”

“What were they?”

Harry trills his lips.  “God I had so many I don’t even remember all of them.  There was a butterfly right here--” he points to the direct center of his stomach, --”some swallows here--” his collarbones,  “and…” Harry smirks, pointing to his hip bones.  “Some ferns here.”

“God.”  Misty continues to scan at his body, eyes landing on a soft purple mark on his ribs.

Harry knows immediately what Misty sees, and he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his as his face takes on a far more serious expression.  “Where I landed,” he explains. “When I—“

“Oh my god...” Misty is torn between wanting to touch the scar and wanting to leave it be, and Harry seems to be completely sympathetic to that because he only chuckles.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks. “Took me a while to get used to.”

“I didn’t…” Misty trails off, confused as to how she should even word her question. “I mean, I didn’t think—“

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s weird. I mean how could you ever even know what to expect to see on a ghosts body? How could you  expect, like… a sign of death on another body.”

“I just—“ Misty genuinely doesn’t know what to say, and she’s so thankful that Harry doesn’t pressure her at all.

“I know,” he repeats. “It’s weird.”

“Can I…” Misty’s voice is hardly above a whisper when she speaks. “Can I touch it?”

Harry smiles softly.  “If you’d like.”

“I--”  Misty trails off, unsure of what exactly it is that she’d like to say.  She reaches forward with a timid hand, almost pulling her hand completely back before touching the gentle purple mark.  It’s not raised-- she doesn’t know why she was expecting it to be-- but it’s colder than the entire rest of his body.  She gasps without even realizing what she’s doing.  Harry flinches slightly at her touch, but he doesn’t move.

He allows Misty to run a loving finger over his scar, taking in exactly what it is she’s looking at, before he speaks.  “Are you alright?”

“What?”  It takes Misty a moment to realize what he means, and she tears her eyes from the scar immediately. “Oh god, yeah, sorry.  I’m okay, I just--”

“It’s weird,” Harry says for what feels like the ninetieth time.  “I know.”

Misty sighs, hesitating a bit, as if she wants to say something more. She scans his body again, glancing up at his eyes sadly, before slowly moving forward.  

She moves as if in slow motion, and Harry watches her with baited breath. She squirms a bit, angling her body a certain way, and lowering her face towards his torso.  Harry realizes with sadness what she’s doing, and pressure builds behind his eyes when she lowers her lips to the purple scar.  She presses the most velvet soft kiss Harry thinks he’s ever felt into his flesh, and his eyes cloud with mist.

Misty trails her lips from his ribs up to his collarbone. There is nothing but love in her movements, and Harry tries to swallow down a lump in his throat.  His breath is shaky as he looks down at her, loving on his body.  

She seems lost in her movements, kissing all over his torso as her lashes flutter slowly.  She lowers her lips to his stomach, and he can’t stop the single tear that slips from his left eye.

He hasn’t been loved on like this in years, and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

There is no sexual intention behind her kisses, and her low breath from her nose tickles gently just above his belly button.  Harry reaches up to dab at his eye, trying to prevent another tear from escaping.  “Misty,” he says, voice cracking the slightest bit.  “Darling--”

“Harry,” she says softly against the skin of his tummy.  She lifts her head, looking into his eyes and giving him a sympathetic smile.  She reaches up to wipe at his cheek with her thumb, and she doesn’t move her hand away when she’s done. She sighs.  “You are so, so beautiful.”

“Misty,” he says.  “I don’t--”  He trails off when she pecks at his collarbone, trailing warm, wet kisses up his neck.  She noses at his cheek when her lips hit his chin, and then she’s kissing his lips.  It’s all so gentle, so ridiculously intimate and sweet, and Harry doesn’t even realize he’s still crying when two more tears roll down his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she says, pulling away to wipe gently at his cheeks.  “My god.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispers.  “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, continuing to run her thumbs over his cheeks.  “I know, baby.  But it is what it is.  And Harry…”  She smiles softly.  “We can’t let it hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.  Hm?  Remember that?”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, knowing that she’s repeating his own words.   “I know,” he says.   He reaches up weakly to cup her face as well.  “I just want to be able to love you the way you deserve. Fully.  Without fear.”

Misty’s heart freezes the minute she hears Harry speak the word “love” but she doesn’t react.  Instead, she leans in, kissing his jaw.  “Harry,” she says slowly.  “I know it’s not ideal.  But you have given me the best month of my entire life.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, “Don’t say that.  You don’t need to thank me.  Misty I--”

“Shhh.”  Misty rubs her thumb along his bottom lip.  “I know.”  She smiles now, trying her best to hold back her own tears.  “I’m so… so thankful for you.  My beautiful boy. We will meet again, okay?  I promise you.”

Harry swallows thickly.  “I know we will.  I’m coming back the moment I can.”

“See?” she says, smiling.  “And next time will be even better.  But you know what?”  she sniffs, feeling herself slip further into sadness and begging herself not to cry. “We’ve still got a few more days, yeah?”

“We do, yeah.”  Harry chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “God, I’m a sap aren’t I?  I didn’t think this was going to hit me so hard.”

“It’s good, my love!  Sometimes it’s okay to let your emotions out like this.   You’ve done so much for me.  Let me love on you a little bit for a change.”

“You love on me constantly!”

“No,” Misty says.  “Not enough.”  She kisses him again before sitting up.  “Let me get changed.  We’ll go to sleep.  We both need it.”

Harry watches her rise to her feet, and he reaches up to wipe at his damp face.  “You’re too good to me, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You can thank me later.”

Harry snorts and Misty throws him a joking glance over her shoulder.  “I’ll be right back.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on a t-shirt.  She allows herself a few tears, crying quietly to herself for only a minute because god, it hurts so bad.  It hurts feeling something so deep for somebody who isn’t even alive; for someone who she knows she’s going to have to spend 90% of the next year without.  

As soon as she allows herself that moment of weakness, however, she forces it to pass.  Wiping her tears away, she continues with her bedtime routine, making sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before making her way back into her bedroom.

When she gets there, Harry is fast asleep on top of her bed-- still in a state of various undress.  She recalls him telling her that ghosts don’t sleep, not exactly, but he looks so peaceful-- wherever he is right now.  

Misty works to gently undress him the rest of the way as he blinks sleepily, hardly even responding to her at all. And when he’s in only a pair of boxers, Misty crawls into bed beside him after turning off the light.

She rolls onto her side, watching him as he sleeps-- or, whatever it is ghosts do.  He looks so beautiful, and she reaches forward to gently stroke at the scar on his ribs again. She loves him, she thinks.  Even though she’s only known him for a short amount of time, she loves him. And there’s an ache in such a weirdly specific part of her heart that she can’t even begin to put into words.  

Pressing the gentlest kiss to Harry’s temple, she cuddles into his side, and he subconsciously wraps an arm lazily around her.  Misty wills herself not to cry-- not to think about the situation at all-- as she drifts gently to sleep.

-----

It’s a somber day.  Colder than usual.  Misty sits with her feet dangling over the side of her bed, and Harry stands off in the corner of her room, nervously fidgeting with some of the trinkets on her shelf.

They know it’s coming.  They’ve known it was coming for the last few days, but they’ve both been avoiding the subject, pretending that if they just ignore it, it will go away.

But it won’t go away.  And Harry has to leave.

Harry glances out the window.  It’s gray outside, matching the atmosphere in the room.  The trees blow angrily outside Misty’s window, and Harry swears he can feel the wind in his body.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he remarks casually.

Misty doesn’t reply, and he turns around to see her just staring sadly at him.  She isn’t crying, not yet anyway, but her eyes look damp.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to be asking the question, and she won’t even look directly at him. It makes his heart-- however dead it is-- feel like its shattering, and he takes a step towards her.

He brushes her hair behind her ear.  “You know I wish I could,” he says, equally as quiet.

“And what would happen if you just… didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“I don’t know.  Didn’t… go?”

Harry smiles sadly.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I don’t have a choice.”

Misty opens her mouth, then closes it again.  Her breath hitches in her throat before she lets it all out in a sigh.  “What’s it like?”  She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What is what like?”  Harry matches her tone.

“When you… go, I mean.  The process. Do you just like, fall asleep?  Or is it like you just blink and you’re in the void?”

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Harry chuckles.  “Somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?”  She gulps subconsciously, and she looks so curious and cute right now Harry could scream.

He shakes his head. “No.  Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“So one minute you’re here and the next you’re just…”  She trails off, and Harry sighs.

“Gone,” he finishes somberly.  “Yes.”

After a beat, Misty chuckles bitterly.  “Seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll be back the first moment I can be,” Harry says, then adds with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, finally turning to face him fully.  She takes his cold hands in her own, and her warmth makes him shiver.  “I’ll wait for you every single day.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says, shaking his head and sitting beside her on the bed.  “You have a life to live.  I don’t.”

Misty’s eyes grow damp, but she blinks back the tears just as quickly as they arrived.  “But I’m going to miss you so much,” she says through a shaky voice.

It all seems silly, really, for Harry and Misty both.  But neither of them can help it.  This connection they’ve formed in such a short amount of time weighs heavily on both of their hearts.  And Harry is certain that he would do just about anything in the universe to get another chance at life, if only to be with her.

“I’m going to miss you so much it’s going to hurt me every second,” Harry says, not a trace of humor in his voice despite the slight exaggeration.

Misty lets out her breath in a loud, shaky sigh.  She rests her head on Harry’s shoulder, and for a while they just sit there like this, him and her, pretending with all their might-- if only for a few minutes-- that this is just another day for them.  That Harry is human, and that they can grow old together.

“I have a selfish request,” Misty says after a while.

“Anything.”

Misty takes a deep breath.  “Will you come visit me?  In my dreams?”

“You already know that’s my plan.”

“Every dream?”

Harry chuckles.  “Well, that’s a bit of a tall order.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to come every night.  But, as often as I can, and as often as you’ll have me, I will come.”

“Promise?”

Harry turns to kiss Misty’s forehead.  “I promise.”

Misty closes her eyes and leans gently into Harry’s kiss, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that she’s grown to love so much.  “So when does it happen?” she asks, almost hesitantly.  “When do you… go?”

“I don’t know the exact moment,��� Harry admits.  “Whenever the sun enters Sagittarius. Whatever that exact time is.”

“Is there gonna be a Sagittarius Season ghost?”  Misty asks.  “Ghost of Sagittarians past?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think so, no.  But if there is, don’t go fallin’ in love with him now.  Sagittarians are nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t think I ever could,” Misty says, a bittersweet ache in her voice.  “Think I’ll only ever have feelings for you.”

Harry sighs, patting gently at Misty’s knee.  He savors her scent and her warmth for a few beats before he changes the subject.  “Your sisters will be glad to have you around again,” he says.  “I know I’ve been hoggin’ ya.  They must think you’re really goin’ through something, the way you’re keeping to yourself.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it to them,” Misty replies.

Harry nods sympathetically.  “And you’re gonna have a hard time explaining to them what happened to your mysterious long distance boyfriend from back home.”

“Oh shit,” Misty says, worry suddenly showing on her face.  “What am I gonna tell them when they ask?”

“Tell them he died.”  The look on Harry’s face is so smug, and Misty can tell that he’d been holding onto that one for a while.  She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t even try to refrain from smiling.

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“It’s not wrong!”

“That’s not funny!” The smile on Misty’s face tells Harry otherwise, and he nudges her shoulder with his own.

“Alright alright.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to interlace their fingers.  There’s a moment of drab silence, and Harry sighs thickly before finally admitting weakness. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Misty’s smile softens, but it doesn’t completely fade.  She turns her head, pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s shoulder.  “I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of them, and Harry interlaces his fingers with hers.  “Maybe you’ll meet a boy to take you to next year's homecoming,” he muses.

Misty frowns.  “That’s not funny either.”

“Not trying to be funny! Trying to encourage you to live your life, darling.  I wish I could still live mine.”

“You can live in my dreams. Rent free.”

With a snort, Harry stands up. “Oh I intend to. As much as possible.”

“Well good.”

Harry walks over to Misty’s window again, watching the trees blow in the wind for a few quiet moments.  After a bit, he speaks again.  “I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s have fun tonight. Let’s watch a movie. I’ll manifest in front of everyone and we can end on a high note. Instead of being sad.”

Misty considers his words for a moment. “But I want you to myself.”

Harry grins. “So they won’t question it when we excuse ourselves early, will they?”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “Well, when you put it that way--”

Harry laughs.  “No one even has to join in with us if they don’t want to.  But I figure my last night here shouldn’t be spent so upset.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees.  “But I’m still gonna be sad.”

“Don’t you want to remember me having fun?  That’s how I want you to remember me, at least.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!”  Harry holds his hand out to her.  “Come on then. You get to pick the movie.”

The evening progresses unbearably fast, and it isn’t long before Misty finds herself curled up into Harry’s side on the couch, watching him giggle alongside all her sorority sisters and their various partners.  She hopes he doesn’t notice her staring at him, but she can’t help it of course. He is so lovely, so full of some type of light that she has never seen before and cannot seem to get enough of.

As Misty watches him, she realizes how heartbreakingly human he really is.  He may be a ghost, but he died a young college boy— with so much ahead of him and so much to look forward to.  Never in Misty’s life has she seen a more genuine smile, nor has she ever met anyone as charismatic as Harry. Try as she might to forget it, she knows her time with him is coming to an end and she hates it. But watching him interact with everyone around him, as charming as ever, she realizes that he genuinely needed this.  He needed to feel alive, to feel apart of something once again.

So Misty leans closer into him. He smiles down at her, looking so full of life and warmth. He reaches down, pulling the fuzzy red blanket covering both him and Misty up over her shoulders.  “You alright?” He asks softly.

Misty tilts her head, leaning up to press a peck to his nose. “I’m wonderful,” she replies quietly.

Harry grins down at her, and for a moment the two are lost in their own little world— looking into one another’s eyes as if the entire universe existed in them.  As if reading her mind, Harry gives Misty’s lips a soft kiss.  The kiss is tinged with sadness, of course, because the darker it gets outside the less time they know that they have together.  So he pulls away, bumping her nose with his.

“You sleepy?” He asks quietly.

And Misty knows exactly what he means. “Mhm.”

“Mm,” Harry hums. “Me too.”

He moves to rise to his feet to make a graceful exit with Misty. “Well,” he says, addressing the room. “Misty and I are going to go up to sleep now. I have to head back home pretty early tomorrow and—“

“You’re going to fuck,” Kennedy says, matter-of-factly.  Misty and Harry both gape at her, and she laughs.  “It’s alright! No shame in that.  We’re all adults here.”

Misty laughs nervously, and Harry remains calm and smug.  “You’re hilarious, Kennedy.  I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Kennedy laughs, winking and pointing finger guns at Harry.  Misty rolls her eyes, but she’s giggling as she turns to exit.  Harry follows close behind her and Kennedy calls out, “Be safe! Use protection!”

Harry and Misty giggle the entire trip up the stairs, and as they approach Misty’s bedroom, she speaks quietly.  “Okay, but how are you feeling?  Like, energy wise.”

“Fine,” Harry says, and he honestly means it.

Misty glances at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he snorts.  “I promise, Misty.  I mean it.  I didn’t use that much tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it.  Harry closes the door behind him, still buzzing from the fun he’s had today, and a playful smile spreads across his face. He turns slowly on his heels, eyeing her mischievously.

She looks back, tensing up a bit as a smile spreads across her face.  “What…”

Harry growls playfully, bounding over to her and tackling her onto the bed before she can even say anything.  She squeals, giggling as she and Harry come tumbling down.   Harry attacks her face and her neck in kisses while squeezing at her hips, and she squeals.

“No!” She shrieks.  “What are you doing?!  NO!”

He growls, nipping at her cheeks before lifting his head and grinning down at her.  “Gimme kiss.”

“If I do, will you chill?” She giggles.

Harry makes a face, pretending to consider her words.  “Mm… maybe.”

She lifts her head slightly, pecking at his lips, and he shakes his head.  “Better than that,” he says.

She kisses him again, but he only repeats, “Better than that.”

Misty lets her head fall back again, mouth falling open as the most lovely laughs bubble out of her lips. Harry seizes this opportunity, leaning down and kissing her open mouth with a dimpled grin.

Misty’s giggles die down the minute their lips interlock, but the smile never leaves neither her nor Harry’s faces as they kiss.  Misty licks gently into Harry’s mouth, and he immediately grants her access, swirling his tongue against hers. He speaks between kisses.  “You’re--” kiss, “so--”  kiss, “beautiful.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “No you are,” she says, and Harry kisses her before she’s even finished her sentence.

He chuckles.  “No you.”

“Nooo…”  She pecks at his nose.  “You.”

Harry snorts. “God we’re disgusting, huh?”

Misty hums, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Harry’s face.  “Yeah.  Ew.”

He leans down, burying his face in her neck and sucking softly.  He feels her melt against him, squirming a bit as she lets out a long, humming sigh.  He smiles, lifting his head to press another kiss to her lips before speaking.  “I have an idea,” he says.

“Another one?  Do tell.”

“How about……”  Harry sing-songs,  “One more orgasm for you.  As a parting treat.”

“Hmm…” Misty muses.  “Only one?”

Harry snorts.  “Or two.  Or… however many you want.”

“How many do you want to give me?”  Misty scratches lovingly behind Harry’s ear.

“Oh sunshine,’ Harry says,  “If I had my way I would never stop.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks and ears, but she tries to hide it.  Harry only laughs again, thumbing at her cheek.  “Gonna miss that.”

“What?”

“How easy it is to get you hot.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but she laughs.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Gonna miss that, too.  Love when you insult me.”

“Oh my god.”  Misty shakes her head.  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry hums.  “With pleasure, sweet girl.”

They continue kissing for a bit as Harry undresses Misty gently.  He loves on every inch of her body, reveling in every single reaction he gets out of her. He tries to remember every detail that he can, and everything about the evening they’re sharing.  And when he makes her cum, four separate times, he savours her taste, her smell, and the noises she makes as best as he can-- without making himself even sadder than he is.  He knows she feels the same, noticing the way she continuously glances at him with more love in his eyes than he’s seen in a long time.

After hours of messing around with her, loving on one another’s bodies and sharing giggles and playful kisses, they realize it’s time to go to bed.  They undress one another, and Harry helps her remove her makeup-- which makes them both laugh the entire time.

When they find themselves in bed together, stroking lovingly at one another’s faces, they realize that they can’t run from the inevitable anymore. Their time together has been reduced to only hours, and there is nothing they can do about it at all.

“I’m going to miss you,” Misty says, tracing his features in the darkness.  “Have I told you that already?”

Harry laughs softly.  “Maybe once or twice,” he admits.  “But I’m going to miss you more.”

Misty sighs, kissing his lips gently.  “Promise to come visit my dreams as much as you possibly can?”

Harry leans into her touch, tilting his head to kiss the palm of her hand.  “I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” She looks on the verge of tears, and Harry wishes there was something he could do to stop her.  At this point, however, he knows it’s inevitable.  So he tries to make her smile.

“You need to,” he says.  “Humans need sleep.”

“Maybe,” she says.  “But I need you more.”

“That’s not true, baby. You know it’s not.”  Harry strokes a spot just in front of her temple-- a spot he’s noticed over the past month that relaxes her more than anything else.  As if on cue, she yawns.

“Listen to me.  You are meant to live your life, sweet girl.  You are meant to be happy, and grow old.  Promise me you will.”  She frowns at him, but he doesn’t allow it.  “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise,” she whispers.  Harry smiles.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I promise Harry,” she whispers, blinking against the sleep in her eyes.  “But I also promise that when you return, I will be waiting.”

“That’s fine.  You can wait.  But do not let it stop you from living.  You hear me?  Please don’t. I would give anything to live my life again.”

Misty yawns again, finally giving in to the heaviness of her eyelids and closing her eyes. She leans into him.  “I promise.  I’ll live every day in your honor, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles sleepily, still not opening her eyes.

Harry watches her, taking in every last detail of her sleepy face.  He can feel himself fading, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so he says nothing.  He ignores the pressure building behind his eyes, swearing to himself that he’s not going to cry.

Misty is also fading fast, succumbing more and more to sleep by the second.  Harry knows it’s going to be a hard year without her, but he takes comfort knowing she is surrounded by people who love her.

And it also doesn’t hurt that he plans on haunting Josh’s dreams so that he leaves Misty the fuck alone.

He smiles softly, completely unable to stop the tear from leaking from his eye.  He’s grateful that Misty’s eyes are closed, and he presses the slowest, most gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, miss Misty.”

Without opening her eyes, Misty speaks with a distant, sleepy voice.  “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry replays that moment in his head for the next few hours, reveling in the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth.

And when Misty wakes in the morning, Harry is gone.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #smut #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

[yeenybeanies]

Giant Cowboy Murder Mystery

forgive me it’s been almost two weeks since i posted the preview sdfjdfj but the full version Was released to the public on my patreon on time so you can’t be Too mad at me patreon will receive new chapters first!

3,790 words

mild mentions of nudity and injury

thanks for reading!

patreon | ko-fi

Cool, crisp air rustled the leaves of the tall conifer trees, and crickets sang their choruses, filling the calm evening with a natural symphony. A crackling campfire lent its rhythm, rounding out the song. It sounded peaceful. Serene. 

It smelled a lot different. A putrid stench permeated the air, filling the forest. 

A young woman ran. Ignoring her bare skin, her shrieking muscles, her burning lungs, she ran. She ducked and weaved her way through the trees, following the only thing she could really discern in the darkness: that campfire light. Its orange glow was a beacon of hope, of safety. Jaw clenched, the woman pushed her battered body further. She paid no mind to the branches and thorns that scraped her as she passed, to the stones that stabbed her feet. Her body was numb, filled with adrenaline and the need to escape.

As it came more into view, the woman realized with rising concern that the campfire was much bigger than she’d initially assumed. With some distance still to go, it looked more like a bonfire than a campfire, or maybe a forest fire. Her pace slowed some. 

No, it was too stationary, too contained to be a forest fire. Reassured, she continued her sprint. 

As she approached the treeline, the girl called breathlessly for help. She held her arms in front of her face and crashed through the underbrush, into the clearing. Her whole body shook. She doubled over, hands to her knees for support, and tried to speak, but she could only manage shaky sobs between her gasps for air. 

Instead of voices rising to meet her, the woman only heard wind and crickets and crackling. 

No, that wasn’t true. She heard another noise, like crunching and tearing. She looked towards the source of the noise, and toppled over from fright. Several yards to her right stood a massive, four-legged beast resembling a horse or a mule. It had to have been at least forty, fifty feet tall! Its head hung low at the end of a long neck, mouth to the ground to graze at the grasses. Each chomp it took left a bare patch of dirt big enough for her to curl up in. The beast paid her no mind, save for one long ear pointed in her direction, but she felt like she could no longer breathe. 

She didn’t know for how long she stared at the giant horse-thing. It felt like hours. Her lungs protested the lack of air, but she couldn’t bring herself to breathe, to move––not until something else grabbed her attention. A heavy, rhythmic thudding, something she felt more than she heard, yanked the woman’s gaze away from the beast. Eyes wide as saucers stared into the darkness between the trees across the fire. The sound grew louder, shaking the ground. From the darkness, she could make out a tall figure. It looked almost human in shape, save for the fact that it, much like the horse, was at least forty feet tall, and proportionally filled in. The figure pushed past the trees and stepped into the clearing, taking on orange tones from the fire’s light. It––he––was a man. A giant man. 

A giant man and his giant horse. 

It was too much. Like a switch had been flipped, the woman found her breath and her voice. She screamed. The shrill noise startled both the horse and the man, the former joining in with an alarmed grunt of its own. The man looked down sharply, his eyes landing on her. The lower half of his face was covered with a scarf, and he wore what looked like an appropriately-sized cowboy hat. As a matter of fact, his whole outfit gave her the impression that he was some sort of giant rancher or cowpoke, from his hat to his spurr-toting boots. 

For a long moment, the two stared at each other, neither moving nor making any noise over the night symphony. The woman felt herself start to shake, though not from the cold. The fire provided ample warmth to keep the chill away, even in her naked state. No, she was shaking, quaking, out of pure terror. With him staring her down, she felt even smaller, even more exposed. 

Wordlessly, the giant man took a step forward. His boot hit the ground with a heavy thud, sending a jolt through the woman’s body. Flight mode activated, she scrambled to her feet and rushed back into the forest, back the way she came. 

The giant hesitated when the human bolted. Of all the things he expected to see tonight, a naked human woman was not one of them. His mind swirled with questions: what was she doing here? How did she get here? Why was she naked? What had caused all of those cuts and bruises on her? 

Whatever the answers, clearly she was distressed and in need of help. 

He breathed a sigh and continued forward, keeping his pace slow and eyes sharp. She’d probably never seen a giant before, or so he assumed, hence her reaction towards him. He pondered over the idea of calling out to her, but he decided that his voice might scare her more. 

Humans: anxious little creatures. 

Carefully, he followed after her, making sure to mind where he stepped.

The woman ran as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. Everything hurt, but she couldn’t stop––not with that giant on her tail. She could hear his footsteps crashing behind her, threatening to stomp on her. Were it not for the tight-knit trees, she was sure he would have caught up to her already. 

Which way was she going? She didn’t know. It was too dark to see much beyond the ground and the trees right in front of her. All she needed was to get away, maybe find somewhere to hide and wait for the giant to pass her. 

Then what? 

Would she have to spend the night in these woods? Alone? Naked? There was a giant man and a giant horse-mule thing; were there other giant animals? Where the hell was she? 

Her racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt when her foot caught on a root. The woman cried out in pain and fell bodily to the forest floor. She bit her lip and brought her knee up to her chest, hands cradling her now injured foot. Already it was starting to warm and swell. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though; those thundering footsteps still followed behind her, getting closer and closer. The woman clenched her jaw and pushed herself up to her knees. She figured she wasn’t going to be able to run much further, so the next best option was to hide. That was a part of her skeleton of a plan. Getting hurt was just a bumpy start. Forcing herself to stay quiet, despite the throbbing pain in her foot, the woman crawled her way around the large, protruding roots of one of the trees. She found a hollow to sequester herself into and curled herself into a ball, hands over her head. 

The giant’s footsteps grew louder until they were practically on top of her. The woman squeezed her eyes shut and sent a silent prayer to anyone that would listen. 

Above and oblivious to her, the giant man scanned the dark floor as best he could in the moonlight. He should have brought a lantern with him, but he hadn’t thought to do so in the moment. It was such a bizarre situation. 

What was he going to do with her if he found her? Cover her up, surely. That would be step one. But after that . . .? He figured he could take her back to the cabin, but then she’d be surrounded by even more giants. If she reacted so poorly to just one, six more would surely send her into shock, or worse. 

The giant sighed heavily and shook his head. 

* * *

“Look who it is! Mr. Elijah Love! Where the fuck were you?” 

The jovial voice made the giant’s nose crinkle. Slowly, Eli lifted his head, tired eyes meeting the owner of said voice. Though the other giant wore a blue scarf over the lower half of his face, like everyone else on the farm, he knew he was grinning. He could hear it. 

“Shit, you look like you were up all night. Did you get more bags under your eyes?” 

“Not now, Smart.” He answered with a hint of warning in his tone, a signal that he was not in any mood for his fellow giant’s teasing. Unfortunately, Smart rarely minded any signals or warnings. Eli rolled his eyes and dismounted his horse. 

“If not now, then when?” Smart continued. His voice was already grating; the grin did not make it any better. 

Eli shook his head and ignored Smart. Reins in hand, he led his horse towards the barn. Once he saw to her needs, he could retire to his quarters. The prospect of much-needed rest sounded great in his mind, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get anything meaningful. The human still raced through his mind. He lamented that he hadn’t been able to find her; she’d clearly been in distress. Over what, he had no idea. What could possibly land a human naked in the middle of a forest? Surely it couldn’t have been good. The poor girl had been hysterical. She’d called for help. 

And she hadn’t expected a giant to answer her call. 

Eli mulled over last night’s events as he entered the barn. With muscle memory guiding him, he started to remove his horse’s tack. 

“Miss Blueberry Pie!” Called another voice. Eli sucked in a surprised breath, mind snapping back into the present. A young giant approached from the other end of the barn. His boots were covered in muck and soiled bedding. His face scarf nearly matched his bright red air in color. He stopped before the horse with treats in one hand. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d––oh! H-hello, Mr. Love.” As if just noticing Eli, the young giant stiffened, cheeks going red. 

“Gaffin,” Eli greeted. He took no offense to the oversight; it was well-known on the farm that Gaffin liked the animals more than his fellow giants. He’d probably sleep in the stables with the horses if he was allowed to. “We got in late. Is Pie’s stall still clean?” 

“Yes sir! Cleaned it out and gave it fresh bedding this morning. No one’s been in there since.” Once the horse had finished her treats, Gaffin started to rub her ears, much to her delight. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, a low rumble in her chest. 

Eli nodded. He hauled the saddle from Pie’s back and carried it over to a rack. “Would you take her from here?” 

“Sure thing! It’d be my pleasure, Mr. Love.” His eyes lit up with excitement. Normally, Eli would have been reluctant to hand Pie to someone else, since she was both his responsibility and his beloved steed, but Gaffin would often insist on overseeing care of all of the horses, and he did a damn good job attending to them. Pie was in good hands. Eli gave Gaffin another nod and exited the barn. 

* * * 

“Love.” 

The sharp voice unceremoniously yanked the giant from his snooze, making him flinch. He blinked his eyes to clear the sleep and looked up towards it. Standing over him was another giant, their dark eyes staring down at him from between their wide-brimmed hat and their yellow face scarf. They gave him an expectant look, one brow raised and arms crossed over their chest. 

Eli groaned softly in a stretch and pushed himself up to sit. “Slayne. What is it?”

“You sure you’re good for a night patrol? Smart said you looked exhausted,” they said. Their expectant look shifted into something more concerned.  

“Smart says a lot of shit,” Eli said tersely. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? It’s almost sundown and you’re still here.” They tilt their head towards the window, to the reddening sky beyond.

Eli cursed under his breath and lept up to his feet. Had he been asleep that long? He certainly didn’t feel very rested. His thoughts and dreams had been plagued with that woman, still lost somewhere in the forest…

“I’m fine,” he repeated. The giant pulled his scarf up over his nose and grabbed his hat from his bed post, then his gun belt. He pulled his boots on and brushed past Slayne, heading for the door. 

“Elijah,” they said, using that same sharp tone. It made him pause and glance over his shoulder. “You’re not fine. But we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Ugh. He wasn’t looking forward to that. How was he supposed to explain to her what kind of a night he’d had? He hardly understood it himself. Nevertheless, he offered a shrug and pushed through the door. 

As expected, Blueberry Pie was out in the pasture, happily grazing away. Eli called her over with a loud whistle and led her to the barn to get saddled up, then, after getting a few more treats from Gaffin, headed off towards the farm’s perimeter. 

* * *

Eli was no stranger to the night shift. Most of the time, he prefered it. Save for the occasional pest trying to get at the livestock, nights out in the pasture were quiet. None of the other giants could pester him out here. It was peaceful. 

Usually. 

Tonight was an exception. Tonight, Eli couldn’t seem to relax. He was antsy, on edge. His horse felt it too. Blueberry Pie was normally a very placid horse, but tonight, her ears swiveled to and fro at every noise, and frequently flicked back towards him. He could feel her tension just as much as she could feel his. 

And the night was dragging on. 

Eli rubbed at his brow and stifled another yawn––his third in the past half hour. His body felt tired, and his mind even moreso. The moons in the sky told him that it was only around midnight; he still had several hours to go before the suns came up, and plenty of perimeter to cover in that time. Eli gave Pie a firm pat on the neck and nudged her ribs, encouraging her to trot on. 

They were near the clearing where the woman had appeared last night. A foul smell hit his senses, making the giant grimace. He’d noticed it the night before, too. It smelled rotten, like a dead animal. He’d made a mental note to investigate it, but the woman had pulled his attention away from it. 

The campfire he’d used last night came into view through the trees. It was a common stopping point for Eli on these night patrols. He’d often rest here for a little bit before continuing on his way. Tonight, though, he didn’t feel too interested in stopping to rest. Despite the heaviness he felt, his anxiousness kept him moving. Eli eased Pie to a stop and dismounted.

Almost as soon as his boots hit the dust, a shrill scream pierced the air. Both giant and horse startled, the latter whinnying in her own alarm. Eli felt his blood chill. That was the same scream from last night––the woman’s scream. 

Eli ran. He dashed into the forest, running towards where he thought the scream had come from. Another cry made him pause and readjust his route. With each stride, her distressed cries grew louder––as well as a rough scraping sound. Just beyond a wall of trees was a massive, dead oak. Scrabbling at its trunk was a huge, bear-like beast that stood nearly twenty feet in height. Its claws dug into the bark, clawing and reaching for something higher up. What it was, Eli didn’t yet see, but he could hear the woman still screaming nearby. He pulled one of his pistols and shouldered his way through the trees. The bear rounded on him, snarling. It was not something he wanted to fight; what it lacked in height––compared to him––it made up for in bulk.  The giant fired a warning shot into the air and yelled, cracking the beast’s aggressive facade. It too, apparently, didn’t care to have this fight. Whatever meal it sought up in the trees wasn’t worth it. It turned tail and ran off, vanishing into the forest. 

Once he was sure it was gone, Eli holstered his weapon. He kicked himself mentally for not shooting the damn thing. It was his and the other ranchers’ job to make sure that titanofauna didn’t come too near the property and the surrounding area. He’d have to hunt the bear down later. 

Right now, he had another priority. A few feet above the gouges in the bark, a shape trembled in the moonlight. It was the woman. She shook like a leaf in a windstorm, and her breaths came in uneven gasps. 

She was terrified. Not just of the bear, but of Eli. 

Slowly, the giant knelt down before the tree. He studied her for a long moment. She was still naked, the poor soul, and she’d acquired many new cuts and bruises. Her legs and arms in particular were a ragged mess. Eli pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her, but the woman shrank away as best she could. 

“Here,” he said, trying to keep his voice low. He gave the handkerchief a little shake. “Cover yourself.” 

The woman stared at him, eyes wide as the moons themselves. Save for her shaking, she didn’t move. Eli frowned. He lifted the handkerchief and dropped it over her, making her cry out in alarm. It was comically large compared to her, like a bed sheet. She struggled under the fabric for a minute, limbs flailing, until she managed to get her head out. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, making her look feral––or more feral than she already looked. 

“You should drink something too,” Eli said. He pulled his canteen from his belt and removed the cap, then held it to the woman so that water pooled at the lip. Again, she shrank away. Eli sighed. “I don’t wanna dump this on you too. I suggest you just drink.” 

Much to his surprise, the woman complied. She dipped her hands into the pooling water and pulled a handful to herself. Her first drink was tentative, but her next two were more eager. Eli figured it had been a while since she’d last had water, and he could guess food as well. She took two more handfuls of water before she backed off again. Some of the water had dripped down her chin and neck, washing away some of the dirt. 

“Alright.” Eli capped and stowed the canteen. “Don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s going on?” 

The woman stared at him. She looked marginally calmer, but fear and distrust still painted her demeanor. 

“Got a name?” 

Silence. 

Under his mask, Eli pressed his lips together. He didn’t blame her for being afraid of him, but it made it a lot more difficult to help her. 

“Okay,” he said with another sigh. “Come on out of the tree. I’ll get you somewhere safe.” He raised his hand, palm up, to her level. She yelped and tried to retreat further, but the giant handkerchief got tangled under her and threw her balance. The woman fell from her branch, dropping nearly five feet, directly into Eli’s palms. Her sudden weight startled the giant. She wasn’t heavy, but having her in his hands reminded him of the fact that, in his forty years, he had never actually held a human before. 

The woman lied in his hold for a few stunned moments, then bolted upright with realization. She glanced at the fingers and flesh around her, then up to the masked giant’s face, and screamed. He flinched, eyes closing and brows furrowed. For such a small body, this human had a set of lungs in her. He felt her lurch, which made him curl his hands around her. That, in turn, made her struggle more.

“Miss––I’m trying to help–––” Abruptly, her scream faded, fizzled out like the cries of a dying elk. Eli opened one eye, and then the other, to see her body limp in his hold. A pang of alarm struck him. “Miss? Hey–––” He opened his hands to see her better. He hadn’t squeezed her at all––or so he thought. Gingerly he prodded her side with a thumb. When she didn’t react, he gathered her in one hand, and gently rested two fingers to her chest. He dared not even breathe, not until he could feel the faint, fluttering beat under the cloth and flesh. Her heart was still ticking. She was still breathing. She was just unconscious, likely having fainted from shock. Eli released his breath and let his shoulders relax a little with relief. 

Though she didn’t seem too keen on going with him, Eli couldn’t just leave her here. That wasn’t an option. Carefully he wrapped the handkerchief around her so that it was a bit more secure, and so that it might keep her restrained, should she wake up violently. He brought her nearer to his chest and stood up. 

The breeze picked up, carrying with it another wave of the vile smell. Eli grimaced and fought off the urge to gag. He really needed to find out what the hell was causing that stink. It was probably what attracted the bear.  

But that would have to wait another day. Tonight, he needed to focus on getting this mysterious woman to safety. 

Keeping her cradled to his chest, Eli returned to where he’d left his horse. Blueberry Pie lifted her head, her ears angled towards him as he emerged from the treeline, and grunted in greeting. He returned the greeting with a pat to her forehead and a soft hello. She leaned in towards the bundled handkerchief, nostrils flared, and gave the woman a curious sniff.

“Easy, Pie,” he chided gently. “She’s not a treat. We ought to get her back to the farm.” He patted the horse’s neck affectionately, then rounded to her side and pulled himself up into the saddle. Having only one free hand made it a little bit more difficult, but, once he was settled, he took the reins and gave Pie a nudge to start walking. 

There was still some perimeter left to patrol, but he had a feeling the woman wouldn’t be waking up for a while yet. He’d keep her safe with him until they reached the farm, and then he’d figure out what to do with her. 

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #gcmm #elijah love #conn slayne #rain smart #geon gaffin #hyena ocs #hyena writes

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 16

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 16

Chapter Summary: Meet the family

Rating: 18+

Warnings: None for this chapter

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15}

"How well does she do on flights?" Henry asked quietly, nodding for Faye to slide in first to take the window seat.

"She gets sick on longer flights." Faye explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, resting the snoozing child in his lap, her chubby cheek pressed against his chest as a small bit of drool tumbled from her lower lip.

"It's a little under an hour, do you think she'll be ok?"

"She didn't get sick until after the third hour when we came to England."

"Hopefully she'll just sleep the whole time." Henry sighed, smiling fondly at the child snoozing on him. To say he was excited to introduce his girls to his family was an understatement. He had been practically vibrating with giddiness for the last two days. That in turn wound up Kal and Briar, which meant no one wanted to go to bed. Faye had counted herself lucky to get the child tucked into bed and finally asleep before 11pm the night before. Certainly not enough time for any sort of decent rest before their 6am flight. She could also tell Henry hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, the dark circles under his eyes a dead giveaway, no matter how many times he insisted he was fine.

Maybe they could all catch a nap during the flight. That sounded incredible, though Faye wasn't sure if her nerves would allow her to actually sleep. Henry had assured her over and over that his family would love her, but she had a nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept asking her 'but what if they don't?' Would Henry leave her if his family didn't like her? What if they didn't like Briar? She could be a bit much at times. Maybe they would think she was an awful mother who couldn't control her child. She just had to keep reminding herself that Henry wasn't like that. He wasn't a controlling abuser. He wanted to see her happy. He actually loved her and she was slowly learning how to be loved in return.

Henry reluctantly slid the child from his lap and into her seat before take off, buckling the now grumpy toddler in while Faye gave Briar her stuffed bunny in an attempt to pacify her for the time being. That only resulted in the rather amusing image of an incredibly angry looking toddler hugging a very well loved stuffed bunny, glaring daggers at the seat back in front of her. The second the fasten seatbelt sign went off, Briar was back in Henry's lap, smugly snuggling back into his chest with her bunny tucked under her arm.

"I swear, she likes you more than she likes me." Faye sighed, shaking her head at her daughter.

"I never tell her no." Henry shrugged, giving the child a small squeeze.

"I've noticed." Faye grumbled.

"How do you expect me to say no to that face?" Henry challenged, nodding down to where Briar was already sleeping on him, her cheek squished up against his chest, more drool slowly soaking into his shirt.

"What if she wants to do something dangerous?"

"That's why I have her wonderful, strong, beautiful mother nearby." Henry smiled at her, chuckling at her annoyed look.

"So what are you gonna do with any future children?" Faye shot back, not missing the way Henry's entire demeanor lit up.

"I'll just have to follow your lead." He offered, trying to tame the smile from his face. This was the first time she had mentioned any more children since their scare, and just the thought was enough to make him dizzy with excitement.

"Breastfed that kid for a year and a half, and this is the thanks I get." Faye grumbled to herself, moving over to the middle seat to use Henry's bulky shoulder as a pillow.

"As much as I'd like to say I'll help you every step of the way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be useless when it comes to that."

"Such a shame, your tits are bigger than mine."

"They are not." Henry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Mmhmm. Mine only look nice when I roll them up into a bra so you can't see how deflated they are."

"They're the perfect size for my hands."

"And your tits are still bigger."

"Fine, but I still don't think I can breastfeed a baby." Henry relented, his face heating up when he realized the flight attendant had made it to their row with the drink cart. Her look of confused horror was one Faye would remember for years to come.

"I think we're good." Faye half laughed, Henry dropping his head in embarrassment. Sometimes people just walk up at the wrong time in a conversation.

Faye was apprehensive at first when Henry told her his brother would be picking them up from the airport. What if he instantly didn't like her? Would he just leave her there or something? It would make for a very uncomfortable car ride to say the least. Thankfully Niki and his wife turned out to be just as nice and accommodating as Henry kept assuring her they would be. Naturally, Niki stuffed his younger brother into the back seat, allowing his wife to stay up front in spite of her half hearted protest. Faye had the feeling this was an ongoing thing between them.

The sight of a toddler seat in the back, hooked in and ready to go made a strange happiness swell in her chest. Faye was grateful they had taken steps to keep her daughter safe, while Henry was slightly annoyed that he was now crushed even more. With a simple look from Niki's wife, Faye understood that this was just how the brother's were, antagonizing each other whenever possible. Niki wasted no time filling Faye in on a few stories from Henry's childhood, telling her about the time he brought a turtle home and tried to keep it in the bathtub to hide it from his parents. Then he moved on to the time he split his pants at his cousin's wedding when he was fifteen and spent the entire reception trying to talk to the bridesmaids with his underwear showing. The last one he squeezed in before his wife stopped him was when they were all younger and buried him in the snow, having convinced him that's how an igloo was built.

No one hesitated to get out and start unpacking the car once it was parked in front of a rather quaint looking house, Niki tossing Henry's bag at him, Henry 'accidentally' shoulder checking him into the back of the car good natured retaliation. Niki's wife had already gone inside to announce their arrival, giving Faye a chance to talk with her daughter before meeting everyone.

"Now remember sweetie, we need to be on our best behavior for Papa's family today, ok?" She reminded, crouching down and straightening out her daughter's jacket.

"I a good girl." Briar stated firmly, nodding her head in self assurance as she grabbed her mother's hand with her mitten covered fist.

"Yes, you've been a very good girl, even though I can tell you're really tired. I'm very proud of you, sweetheart." Faye praised, giving the child her stuffed bunny before leading her after everyone else.

"And then-" Simon wheezed, pausing to catch his breath through his laughter. "And then Henry comes back inside, covered in mud, sticks in his hair, and he's just like "well, he's not under THAT bush!'." Faye wiped a tear from her eye, holding her aching stomach. She had lost count of the stories that had been retold, everyone seeming to take a turn at ribbing each other. Henry even told the story of Faye accidentally gluing her hand to a makeup brush when she was trying to apply prosthetics. It felt almost too easy settling into his family. He had been completely honest, they were very accepting.

His mother was warm and inviting, pulling her in for a hug and whisking Faye off to the kitchen, putting a glass of wine in her hand before she had even said hello to anyone else. It felt so good to be around a family again. Faye had been close with her parents and her siblings, especially her twin sister, and it was times like this that reminded her of what she had given up to chase her dreams. She had promised to try and be home for Christmas, but life got in the way of her going back the year before. Now it was coming up, and she was wondering if Henry would be alright with going all the way across the ocean just to meet her family. Were they really that serious? She knew they were pretty serious, having moved in together, but she didn't have any prior experience to compare her current relationship to.  Would he want to spend Christmas with his family? They were all really nice and probably always spent the holidays together. Would she be interfering with a tradition by asking him to spend Christmas with her family?

"So how did you two meet?" Marianne interjected, everyone suddenly shifting their attention to the couple.

"Uhh... met at work?" Faye offered up, turning to look up at Henry to see if he had anything else to add. Always the eloquent half of the pair, Henry had plenty to tack on, telling them about how this sassy little makeup artist wouldn't give him the time of day no matter what he did to get her attention. He'd tried talking about her tattoo's: nothing. He'd tried talking about the show: nothing. He'd tried to ask her about her life: nothing.

"It wasn't until Briar's birthday that I got anywhere. I swear, if you weren't such an awful baker, you would have never even looked my way. Poor Briar made sure everyone knew you were no good at it too. Briar!" Henry called, smiling when the little girl came running in the room, a dinosaur in one hand and the other covered in a sock. "Briar, how's mummy's baking?"

"Yucky." Briar informed flatly, the adults roaring in laughter while she rushed off to go play with the other children again.

"She's actually managed to simultaneously burn and completely undercook a tray of brownies once. It was amazing."

"Wasn't that also the time I mixed up the salt and the sugar?"

"It was." Henry confirmed, pressing an adoring kiss to her temple.

"That reminds me of the time you accidentally used garlic powder instead of nutmeg in the apple pie one year." Piers turned toward his wife, laughing at her loving glare.

"Alright, alright. Enough." Simon jumped in. "We all know what needs to be discussed. Who is stronger, Superman or the Incredible Hulk?" The entire family seemed to groan in unison; this must be an age old debate.

"Superman, obviously." Henry scoffed.

"No way, the Hulk is indestructible!" Niki threw back.

"So is Superman." Charlie pointed out.

"A little bit of kryptonite and Superman is useless." Simon intervened.

"What are the odds of having kryptonite on hand, though? If we're going to be using weaknesses, when Banner couldn't shift into the Hulk during Infinity War should definitely be brought up." Faye countered.

"But we're not talking about Banner, we're talking about the Hulk, as in he already shifted." Niki complained.

"Didn't the Black Widow have some lullaby thing that turned him back?" Charlie mused.

"Come on, Faye. We all know you're just siding with Superman because you're sleeping with him." Simon teased, Faye rolling her eyes in response. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

By the time they returned home just two days later, Faye was utterly exhausted but filled with joy. His family was so warm and inviting. They actually liked her. They didn't look down on her. They didn't question why Henry was with someone like her. They just accepted her and her daughter as one of their own. Two more to add to the Cavill Clan.

Now that they were back at home, it felt almost empty compared to the jam packed house they had just been in. Kal was all too happy to meet everyone at the door, his food bowl still full from the last visit from the dog sitter while their mail was stacked neatly on the kitchen table waiting for them.

Henry left the bags by the bottom of the stairs to take up later, sorting the letters into two separate piles. A large envelope addressed for Faye caught his eye, curiosity prompting him to bring it straight to her.

"What's that?" Faye asked, tossing the clothing from the bags into a laundry basket.

"I don't know. Looks important. Maybe it's informing you that you just became Queen a small unknown country."

"I've always wanted my own country." Faye chuckled, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the papers inside, her face falling more and more with each passing second. Her blood ran cold as teardrops stained the paper.

"What? What's wrong? Faye, you're starting to worry me. What does it say? Is something wrong?"

"My ex... my ex is trying to sue me for custody of Briar."

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay  @nostalgicb-txh

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

#felinette #felix x marinette #marinette x felix #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #declawing the cat #chapter 2 #PLEASE COMMENT AND INTERACT IM SO BORED

[dickspeightjrs]

The IKEA Curse (college au / 3k words / fluff / angst)

ao3 link

“We’re getting nowhere, Cas.” Dean grumbled. “Let’s just hurry up and pick something so we can move on.” 

Castiel sent an exasperated look to his best friend. “You’re the one who found an apartment for us that doesn’t come with furniture.” 

“I already told you, it was a good deal!” Dean insisted. 

Dean and Castiel had been best friends since they’d been assigned as roommates in freshman year of college. Despite Dean’s initial impression of Cas being that the guy was a little weird and didn’t always understand Dean’s references, they ended up becoming fast friends. 

They carried on rooming together through college but now they’d graduated they’d decided it would be easier to carry on living together in their own place. They knew they could live together and neither of them would ever be able to afford their own place with their mountain of student debt.

So that’s how they found themselves in Ikea on a busy Saturday afternoon, bickering over what they should get to furnish their new apartment. 

“Fine,” Castiel relented, “but you can’t complain about my furniture choices.”

“I can when you’re trying to convince me that a JONAXEL is better than a KALLAX!” Dean exclaimed. Castiel could be a little out there with his taste and Dean could dig it most of the time but he had to put his foot down now.

“But a KALLAX is so generic, Dean, everyone has one!” Castiel responded in earnest. 

“I don’t give a crap about anyone else, we’re the only ones living in our apartment. You think Sam is gonna care about what shelves we have when he comes to stay?”

Castiel sighed but didn’t answer. 

They continued walking around the showroom, reluctantly pointing out other items of furniture that they thought the other might like in an attempt to actually agree on something. 

It was not going well. 

Eventually, Castiel spotted the toilets and pulled Dean to the side. “I need to go to the bathroom. Wait here, then we’ll go and try to pick out a couch.” He walked off, not waiting for Dean to answer. 

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned to himself, leaning his head against the wall behind him. This day was never ending. Their friendship may have withstood a lot over the past few years of living together but who knew it would be a trip to Ikea that really tested it. 

An amused chuckle came from next to Dean. He looked to his left to find a middle-aged woman with a small smirk on her face. She seemed to be waiting for someone in the bathroom too. 

“You two remind me of my husband and I. That’s exactly what we were like with our first home after we got married.” She smiled and then gave Dean a thoughtful look. “But it soon settles and you realise being with each other is more important than what shelves you have in the living room.” 

Dean spluttered. “W-we’re not married. We’re not even together.” He quickly explained. “We’re just friends.” 

The woman gave Dean a knowing look. “That’s exactly what me and my husband used to say to people before we got together.” 

Dean felt his heart rate increase in panic. He’d accepted his true feelings for Castiel a long time ago but that didn’t mean he wanted to do anything about them. There was no way he’d risk his friendship with Cas over some stupid feelings. 

A delicate hand touched Dean on the arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. The woman regarded him with a concerned look. “Don’t worry yourself, sweetheart, it’ll happen.” She reassured him. 

Dean was saved from answering by Castiel coming out of the bathroom. He looked between Dean and the woman but didn’t say anything, just asking Dean if he was ready to carry on.

As they left, Dean gave one last glance to the woman who only gave him an encouraging look in return. 

Dean tried to clear his head as they moved through the store to the couches. He let himself be distracted by the various options on display but all he really wanted now was to lie down on one of them and never get up. 

“Which one do you like the look of Dean?” Castiel asked kindly, oblivious to Dean’s internal turmoil. 

“I don’t know, man. Let’s just choose one and get out of here.” Dean mumbled. He didn’t like the turn this day has taken. Suddenly everything felt entirely too domestic and it showed Dean everything that he could never have. 

Castiel finally sensed the change in Dean. With a frown he asked, “Is everything okay, Dean? I know we’ve been at odds today but it feels like there’s something else going on.” 

“I’m fine, dude. Just feeling tired, I guess.” Dean shrugged off Cas’ concern. 

“Okay..” Castiel squinted in disbelief, clearly he knew Dean wasn’t telling the truth but he didn’t press him on the issue. “We could ask someone who works here what they recommend? It might get us out of here faster.” He suggested.

And that’s one of the things Dean loved about Cas. His ability to sense when Dean didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering him, but instead he gave Dean support in other ways. If he’d had an argument with Sam, Cas would be there silently putting on one of Dean’s favourite movies. When Dean had failed a test he’d studied really hard for, Cas had been there wordlessly putting together Dean’s favourite pie. 

Despite his awkwardness around other people, and his tendency to miss social cues, Castiel could always read Dean, and he knew when to get Dean to talk and when to just be present for him. Castiel knew him like no one else did.

Dean loved him so much. 

Taking a small steadying breath through his nose, Dean nodded silently at Castiel’s suggestion. He just wanted to go out, get drunk and forget all about this day. Maybe Castiel could come back by himself to finish choosing their furniture. Dean knew he’d end up loving whatever Cas chose because it would just be wholly and completely Cas. Cas who had strange quirks and questionable taste but who Dean admired with every fibre of his being. Cas wasn’t stupid, he knew he was different to other people and Dean loved that about him. 

“Excuse me?” Castiel got the attention of a girl wearing a vest with ‘Ikea’ written across the back, and ushered her over. 

As she approached, Dean’s mood rose slightly spotting her Baby Yoda pin tacked to her uniform. Charlie, as her name badge read, clearly had an awesome taste in movies. 

“Hi!” Charlie greeted enthusiastically, red hair jostling with the energy buzzing through her. “How can I help you?” 

“We’re looking for a couch,” Castiel supplied, “and we were wondering if you could recommend one? Our apartment isn’t the biggest but we’d need something that would be large enough to seat us both.” 

“I know exactly the one!” Charlie beamed. “It’s just over here,” she said, gesturing towards a collection of couches on the other side of the room. She guided them through the maze of different fabrics and colours to a rather understated looking, dark-coloured, two seat couch. “It doesn’t look like much but it’s super comfy - give it a try!” She encouraged. 

Dean and Castiel looked briefly at each other before seating themselves on the couch. Dean had to admit, she was right. The couch was certainly comfier than it looked. “I like it.” He stated. Castiel nodded in agreement. 

“I’m glad!” Charlie smiled. “I thought you guys would. My girlfriend and I actually have this couch and it’s perfect for movie nights.”

Blood started rushing in Dean’s ears. 

“Really? Dean has been trying to get me to watch more of his favourite movies recently. We’ve just started watching the ones with the Avengers.” Castiel stated. He turned to Dean to include him in the conversation but Dean had closed in on himself again. He knew exactly where this conversation was heading. 

“Ah they’re awesome, especially Black Widow. Scarlett Johansson is a goddess.” Charlie chattered, completely unaware of Dean not joining in with the conversation. “And if you guys are anything like me and my girlfriend, it’s great for when you fall asleep together during said movie nights. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a trip to The Shire as much as the next person but those movies are super long. But, this couch is deep enough that it can easily fit two adults lying together. And possibly moving together if you catch my drift..” Charlie wiggled her eyebrows with a playful smirk.

And Dean’s brain just snapped. 

“We’re not together!” He insisted sharply. 

Charlie went quiet. “My mistake. I apologise, I shouldn’t have assumed. Let me know if you guys need anything else.” And with that, she slinked off. Which was probably best considering the look Castiel was now giving Dean. 

“I know there’s something wrong and I was trying to give you space but now you’re being rude to complete strangers. What is going on?” Castiel demanded in a harsh whisper as he rose from where they’d been seated.  

Dean cringed internally at Castiel’s tone. Cas was one of the happiest, most cheerful people he’d ever met, Dean hated that he was the one who made him sound like that.

“It’s just, everyone seems to think we’re married, or at least together.” Dean tried to explain, looking up to Castiel from the couch. 

Castiel interrupted before Dean could continue. “What do you mean ‘everyone’?” He questioned. 

“Uh,” Dean stumbled. “While you were in the bathroom, this lady started talking to me and, well, she thought we were married.” Castiel just gave Dean a look that told him to elaborate. “Well, don’t you think it’s super crazy that people think we’re together? I mean come on, man.” Dean scoffed, trying to cover his nervous anticipation of Castiel’s answer. He really didn’t want to hear Castiel laugh off the idea of them dating but he also couldn’t face letting Castiel know his true feelings. 

“Wow,” Castiel breathed, “is the idea of being with me really that awful?” 

Wait. What? 

Dean’s brain screeched to a halt. That was not where he was expecting Castiel to take this. 

“I know I’m a little weird,” Castiel continued, “and people don’t always get me. But I thought you did.” 

Dean couldn’t speak. He just stood there stunned with the way Castiel had responded. 

Realising he wasn’t going to get a response from his friend, Castiel sighed and turned away from Dean. He turned back to give Dean a dejected look. “You can choose the furniture, whatever you want will be fine. I’m going home,” he said. 

Castiel’s retreating back made Dean finally spring into action and he jumped to his feet. ‘Woah, Cas, wait a second.” He gripped the top of Castiel’s arm, forcing the other man to turn and face him. He was met with the saddest blue eyes Dean had ever seen. 

Dean moved them into a more secluded area of the showroom, away from prying ears and eyes. They’d already been getting looks from some of their fellow customers. 

“Where the hell did that come from, Cas?” Dean begged for an answer. 

“It’s just been a long day, ignore me.” Castiel said as he tried to move past Dean. “Everyone else does,” he whispered.

But Dean stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Bullshit. What’s happening?” 

Castiel locked his eyes and held Dean’s gaze with a completely defeated look. “What’s happening is that I’m in love with you.” He answered in an unaffected monotone. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m in love with you, so it hurts to hear you be so against even the notion of us being together.” He remained standing in place, just watching and waiting for Dean’s reaction. 

Dean couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream that he’d wake up from any second. He’d never let himself hope that Castiel would ever feel the same as he did. 

“H-how long have you felt this way?” Dean stuttered. 

“Since freshman year.” Castiel answered. 

All this time Castiel had felt the same?

“Damnit, Cas.” Dean said with an exasperated tone, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was clearly the wrong thing to say. Castiel cringed, screwing his face up at Dean’s words and he looked heartbroken once again. God, Dean hated it. 

“It’s fine, Dean. I understand. I’ll leave and find somewhere else to live. I apologise for making things awkward between us.”

“Cas, you ain’t going anywhere.” Dean commanded as he moved to block Castiel’s path. 

“Dean, just drop it.” Castiel said through gritted teeth, heartbreak being replaced with anger. He stepped around Dean to leave but Dean stopped him once again only this time it was with a simple light touch to his hand. He couldn’t let Castiel leave.

Dean couldn’t believe what a mess this had all turned into. His heart was all over the place. First, he was elated that Castiel felt the same but seeing the downtrodden look on his best friend’s face broke his heart too. He’d do anything not to see that expression again.

“Please, wait.” Dean whispered. 

“Why, Dean? So I can stand here in the middle of Ikea and be rejected and humiliated?” Castiel bit out. 

“No,” Dean said firmly, irritated at Castiel’s reluctance to hear him out, “so you can shut up and listen for one goddamn second.” 

“Why should I?” Castiel demanded. 

“Because I love you too, you moron!” Dean shouted. Though, he internally cringed at his choice of words. Castiel was in no way a moron. He was actually much smarter than Dean. But sometimes he got so wrapped up in himself that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. (Though Dean was minutely aware of his own tendency to be like that too.) 

Now it was Castiel’s turn to be shocked into a stunned silence. Dean took it as his cue to continue. 

“You’re so constantly blinded by thinking badly about yourself because of what other people say that you couldn’t see that I’ve been here waiting for you all this time.” Dean explained. 

“B-but you’ve been with other people.” Castiel stammers, eyes darting in confusion. 

Fuck. Castiel would never believe Dean was interested in him too. He wasn’t like Dean, he didn’t believe in casual sex. He only wanted meaningful relationships. Knowing Dean had been with other people probably made Cas think it would never happen between them. God, he was the fucking moron. 

Dean was quick to reassure Castiel of the truth. “Yeah, but they were only ever one night stands. When I was completely drunk and stupid. Why d’ya think I never brought anyone home for you to meet?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked bashfully down at his feet. “I suppose I thought you just didn’t want them to meet me. That I’d embarrass you or something.” 

“Oh, man, Cas. What have we been doing?” Dean shook his head and finally let out a chuckle. 

Castiel lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Wasting time?” 

Dean let out a happy bark of laughter and nodded before finally pulling his best friend into a long overdue kiss. They both smiled against each other’s lips, pleased to, at long last, be on the same page. 

“Ahh! I knew it!” The two men were separated by the sound of Charlie’s voice. They turned away from each other to send her identical questioning looks. “The FÄRLÖV always works.” She explained and pointed a knowing finger at them both. “But, if you go back to try it again, you will have to buy it if you go any further in your shenanigans.” 

Both men flushed red. “I think we’re just gonna go.” Dean said, slipping his hand into Castiel’s and walking him towards the exit. “But, thanks for your help.” He threw over his shoulder back to her as they rounded the corner. 

Honestly, furniture shopping could wait. Right now they each had a ratty old bed waiting in their apartment and, frankly, that was all they needed. 

They stopped at the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. Dean chanced a glance at Castiel and saw the beaming, shy smile across his best friend’s - boyfriend’s? - face. He knew then that he’d do anything to keep it there. Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand, letting him know that he felt the same way. 

The elevator arrived and they stepped in, it was blissfully empty and Dean thought for a second that he might suggest that they carry on where they left off in their few seconds of privacy. 

But, as the doors began to close a hand shot in to stop them closing. They opened to reveal the same lady from earlier with a man who must be the husband she talked about. Her eyes flashed with recognition when she saw Dean. He blushed at being caught holding Castiel’s hand less than an hour after he’d assured her they weren’t together. That they’d never be together.

After taking in their joined hands, the lady looked up and smiled brightly at Dean. “I see you got married in the last hour. Congratulations.” She smirked teasingly, triumphant that she had been right earlier. Dean just murmured a small ‘thank you’ while Castiel and the woman’s husband gave each other confused looks. 

The rest of the short journey to the ground floor was completed in silence. 

Dean knew they’d reached the bottom when he felt the soft thud of the carrier settling on the ground. 

As the doors opened and Castiel gestured for the woman and her husband to go ahead of them, the woman turned back to Dean with an amused glint in her eye. “Just be careful not to get divorced when it comes to putting together your new furniture.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that. There was no chance of that happening. No matter what, he had Castiel now and there was no way he was ever letting him go. 

-

A/N: I really love this one so I hope you did too! 

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse @2musiclover2 @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @50shadesofsubtext @destielle @carryoncastiel @winchester-novak @angelwithashotguun @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @chaoticdean @jensenacklesruinedmylife @huckleberryhusbands 

(added a few people, let me know if you want to be removed - or if you enjoyed and want to be added, also let me know)

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #fluff #angst #au #first kiss #hurtcomfort #3k #collegeau #roommates #friends to lovers #minor:charlie

[sighmurderbot]

cowboy like me

Hey, do you guys remember that one scene in Season 15 where Spencer mentions in an alternate life he’d want to be a cowboy?

May I introduce my Hallmark-movie and ten-cent-romance-novel inspired fic, cowboy like me. It’s my first try at a reader-insert, and it’s unbetaed and ugly, but if anyone else has this Very Specific Itch, it exists here. 

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid was a renown professor in Washington DC until his mother passed away and he came home to Grandridge, Nevada to settle her estate. This includes her cattle farm, Serenity Ranch. Despite Spencer's determination to wrap up his mother’s estate and return to the city, there’s something about the small town and its colorful cast of inhabitants.

For some, Grandridge is home to generations of family. For you, it's an escape, and Diana Reid is the local ranch owner who took you in without a second thought. All the years you worked for her, you never met her son, and it's only after she passes away that Doctor Spencer Reid deigns to visit. You can't imagine ever liking the man who's trying to get rid of the only home you've ever known. Love? Forget it.

Word Count: 1k (more chapters to come whenever I get the inspiration)

You pressed your heels into the sides of your horse, urging the frisky mare over the last hill that blocked your view of town.

Despite its name, Grandridge, Nevada, never had any delusions of greatness. You could pretty much see the whole thing laid out in front of you, clear in the morning sun. But that’s okay, because this one-post-office town was home to you and 337 others who loved the endless desert sky and quiet life. 

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you could already feel the sun warming your back and the hint of heat that would soon overtake you.

“What say we hurry home, girl?” you murmured to your mount, patting her neck. She tossed her head, jingling the bridle in anticipation. You shook your head with a smile and loosened the reins slightly, relaxing back into the saddle. With a small squeeze and a click of your tongue you were off in a fast canter. 

The wind caught the ends of your hair, playing and pulling at it while you guided the mare towards the biggest building on this end of town. If you closed your eyes for a moment and matched her stride with the movement of your body, it almost felt like you were flying.

It didn’t matter that you had been riding horses since you were old enough to hang on, or that this was technically your job, there was an indescribable joy to letting loose a little with your horse. Her energetic stride and perked ears let you know that she was enjoying this as much as you were.

Far too soon you were slowing to a trot. Outside the stable you stopped next to a hitching post, easily dismounting. The mare began pulling towards a bright blue bucket, and you good-naturedly tugged her back.

“There’s nothing in there, Ezzie,” you laughed, quickly trading her bridle for a halter before she could redouble her efforts towards the bucket. The bridle bumped against your side from its place hung over your shoulder while you hitched Ezzie to the post and slid her saddle off. Tucking the sweaty girth over the top of the saddle, you carried it into the cool, sweet shade of the stable. 

Your footsteps were greeted with excited whinnies from multiple directions as velvet noses poked out of stalls and wide brown eyes followed your movements.

“You guys already ate,” you exclaimed to your equine audience with a chuckle.

The smile on your face died as the crunch of tires on gravel reached your ears. You frowned.

They weren’t supposed to be here yet.

You made a quick stop by the tack room to drop off the saddle and bridle, promising yourself you’d wipe them down later, and stepped out the opposite end of the stable.  Partially obscured in the shadow of the building you watched two figures stepping out of a truck too shiny to have ever driven anywhere except a rental parking lot.

One figure was short and stout, and you recognized her instantly. Shelby Barker, the “too-smiley, too-nice lawyer”, according to Diana. You had met her a few times when she had come to see Diana about this or that. The other figure, tall and slim, you knew only from photos in the house. 

Doctor Spencer Reid.

You squared your shoulders and tried not to let your scowl be too obvious. One deep breath later, you were marching across the yard, small puffs of gravel dust floating behind you.

“Y/N!” Shelby exclaimed with a smile so big it looked uncomfortable on her round face. She waved. “How are you?”

“Hi, Ms. Barker,” you replied, notably less enthused. “I’ve got a horse hitched out back I need to groom and turn out, but I heard you come in.”

“Not a problem, dearie, not a problem at all,” she went to pat your arm then hesitated, electing to nod instead. You barely restrained rolling your eyes at her.

God forbid she gets a little dirty.

 “We’ll just head into the house,” she rambled on. “I’m glad to see you’re keeping things around here running smoothly.”

You tuned her out halfway through the first word. You knew from past experience that, despite being a semi-competent estate lawyer, Shelby would talk until she ran out of air and nothing she said was important. Instead, you turned your attention to the man behind her. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he was dressed in dark slacks and a black vest over a deep purple dress shirt. 

He’s going to roast out here in about an hour if he doesn’t stay inside, you thought. His brown hair was just as unruly as in each of the photos Diana had proudly displayed on every surface in her home. 

She had talked about her son at every opportunity. A prominent professor in Washington DC, he frequently flew her out to see him at some conference or another that he was lecturing at. A few times she had invited you along with a twinkle in her eye, probably hoping to set her son up with the loyal ranch hand, but you had declined every time. You weren’t sure if you could hide your disdain of him if put face to face with him. 

What sort of son doesn’t come home to visit even once? She said he hasn’t been back to Greatridge since he left for boarding school when he was nine.

You had often caught Diana studying a photo of Spencer with a faraway, mournful sort of look. Knowing that the man before you had caused her any sort of sadness made you want to lash out.

Instead, you interrupted Shelby with a tight smile.

“I gotta get back to work,” you said. “There’s lemonade in the fridge, help yourselves.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stalked back towards the stable. Your chest tightened, anger cutting into your heart and bringing tears to your eyes. You welcomed it. If you were angry then there was no room to be sad. No room to cry over the death of the woman who had taken you in when you were lost and cared for you like her own child. No room to mourn. Just anger, anger at the injustice of the world and at Shelby Barker and her stupid smile and at Doctor Spencer Reid, the prodigal son returned home too late.

#cowboy like me #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds AU #au fanfic #rancher au

[libsterslobsters]

Communication Breakdown

Summary: Friends make life much sweeter. That is, until you realize that you've accidentally fallen in love with your only friend. But that's not a problem. The reader can just keep pretending that she has absolutely no romantic feelings for Bucky whatsoever... right???

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Reader

(Reader sees bits of the future, understands all languages, and processes information abnormally quickly)

Warning: Angst, fluff, strong language, and truly terrible communication between two grown adults who should really know better

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert if that's your jam, but when I'm writing this particular character, I call her Violet.

*************************************************

 They day starts out the way most days do. There’s the normal ding of her phone at seven a.m. signaling that she’s received another “Good morning” text from Barnes (six months, and he’s yet to miss a day). As usual, she sends back her own “Good morning” and they exchange a few well wishes for the day ahead. Only this time, a pang goes through her heart as she turns the phone to silent and places it in the drawer of her desk in preparation for her first class. Pushing it to the side, she greets her students and starts in on her lecture about verb tenses.

 She’s almost forgotten her momentary lapse in feelings when her phone rings at twelve. Time for their daily lunchtime phone call. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about the words they exchange. He’s doing laundry today, does she want him to stop by and pick up hers as well? Yes, thanks, that’ll save her some time since she has a mountain of papers to grade. Does she need to reschedule tonight’s dinner? He doesn’t mind if she does. No, she has time. Can she bring anything? No, just herself. Then a joke about how hasn’t she heard that one somewhere before. She almost slips up and tacks an “I love you” onto the goodbye, but remembers just in time. That’s not a thing friends say to each other (or at least, not in this friendship). Of course, friends also don’t spend far too much time imagining what the other person’s lips would feel like against theirs and their skin doesn’t tingle like they’ve received an electric shock every time they so much as brush hands.

 “You got a boyfriend, teacher?” One of her students ask teasingly as she puts her phone away.

 “No, nothing like that. Just my friend.” 

 Her afternoon is a blur (the only part that stands out is when one of her students is asked to form a sentence in the present tense, and his example is, “I am asking teacher to marry me.”; it was a joke, and she responded with, “Teacher is flattered, but she is saying no.”), and by the time she’s on the bus back home, a backpack full of papers in the seat beside her, all she wants to do is sleep. Of course, then her phone dings with, “Be at yours in thirty.” and she finds she has a little more energy.

 It’s unhealthy, a sign that she doesn’t know when to quit, but as usual, she begins to pretty herself up a bit before he arrives. She should just stop. They’re friends. Bucky is her friend. All he will ever see her as is a friend. What does it matter how she looks? Frustrated, she throws her hair up in a ponytail (she wasn’t succeeding in getting it to lay right anyway) and pulls on an old flannel with several holes in it over her shirt. There. She’s got this completely in control.

 She’s just finished washing the makeup from her face when, right on time, a knocking comes from her front door. It’s just a formality at this point; he has a key. Speaking of… she shoves a pair of socks that got mixed up in her laundry last time she did both of theirs in one go into her pocket and goes to answer.

 “Hey.”

 As per usual, they share a hug, and a part of her whispers that hugs between friends don’t last this long. She knows it’s foolishness, though. She hasn’t had a friend in years, so she’s remembering things wrong more than likely. He doesn’t get much interraction outside of her, not much touch, so that’s why he doesn’t let go. That, or he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings by pulling away.

 Eventually it does end, and she can feel that her cheeks are warm.

 “Hey, Doll. Ready to go?”

 She swallows hard. It’s a sweet nickname, one that from what she’s read, was a common way to address females you’re familiar with back in the days before he went in the ice.

 “Sure.” She pastes a smile on her face and closes the door behind her.

 They’re in the elevator before he speaks again.

 “That shirt-” His fingertips brush the skin on her wrist as he examines the cuff. “-it looks kinda familiar.” Her mind has gone all fuzzy, but it’s still clear enough that sudden realization dawns on her; it’s actually his. A loaner from months ago when it was colder than she had expected by the time she got around to leaving his apartment far later than she really should have. She can’t believe she never got around to returning it.

 “Shit. Sorry, Buck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

 Yet another reason why he would never be interested in her. She’s absentminded. Seeing bits and pieces of the future leaves her so scattered that she forgets what she’s supposed to be doing in the present. In fact, for the first month or so after they really started to become friends, it was a constant struggle; her asking him about something she could’ve sworn he told her, only to find out it had yet to occur, or worse, it had happened but he sure as hell hadn’t mentioned it. These days, whenever she makes a mistake with her timing, he just responds with a joking, “You’re ahead of the game again.” She’s lucky to have him as a friend.

 “Nah, don’t worry about it.” The doors squeak open as they reach the ground floor. “Looks better on you anyway.”

 God, she wishes he’d stop saying things like that, stop being so kind. It only serves to make things get even more tangled in her mind. She needs a distraction. Now.

 “So, what’s tonight’s plan?”

 He chuckles.

 “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.” She doesn’t even bother to supress a groan at that.

 “I think I have enough surprises in my life already.”

 “Funny thing to say for a girl who sees the future.” Not like she can argue with that. “Just trust me. You’ll like it.”

 She does trust him, and that’s part of the problem. It’s been a long time since she’s had anyone in her life that she can honestly say she relies on.  She needs to stay in control, or else she’ll lose him like she’s lost everyone else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She’s oddly quiet tonight, reserved. Maybe even a little sad. Bucky shakes his head, silently chiding himself. He’s imagining things. If something had happened, she’d tell him. She’s probably just tired. It’s the middle of the working week after all, and she’s having to do one of her least favorite tasks as a teacher: prepare exams. She’s told him many times how much she hates it because, “I don’t feel like it’s an accurate gauge of how much they’re really learning. Lots of people do poorly on tests because they get nervous but do well in class discussions and on the homework. It shouldn’t count for so much of their grades, but I have to stick to the rules.” It’s yet another reason he loves her, even if he hasn’t said as much.

 As they stop by different street vendors, collecting what they need for the night ahead (which he still isn’t one hundred percent certain will be a success, but after copious amounts of internet research, it was the only thing he could come up with that would fit  the current bounds of both budget and time), he asks about her day. Usually she gives an animated account of everything that happened, but this time, she just sticks to the basics. Even when she shares that a student teasingly proposed to her, the smile on her face seems hollow, unreal. Okay, maybe he’s not imagining things.

 When they’re a block away from their destination, he stops and turns to her.

 “Close your eyes.” Her response is a frown.

 “I think I’ve heard this one before, and I’m not falling for it.”

 “Come on.” Nope. Still nothing. Time to pull out the big guns. “What was that about trusting me?” It’s a guilt trip, and he hates to do it, but it’ll be worth it.

 “Fine.” She groans, and her eyelids lower. “But if you’re about to put a spider on me, I’ll smack you. I don’t care that it’ll probably break my hand.”

 He snickers.

 “No spiders involved. Promise.”

 It’s not the first time he’s held her hand, but as he covers her smaller one with his, a rush of warmth travels from his fingertips up his arm. It’s so hypnotizing that he almost forgets he’s supposed to be leading her. Almost, but not quite.

 “This way.”

 “Don’t let me fall.”

 “I won’t.”

 If anyone notices that there’s a woman with her eyes closed being led around by a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses even though the sun is setting, they don’t show it, and it’s a relatively peaceful walk into the park. Now, he remembers there being a bench… there. Great. And the lake is completely theirs. No other people around.

 “You can open them now.”

 The look of cynicism melts from her face as her eyes open and she takes in the scenery surrounding them. In a bustling city, they’re in one of the few places that is completely green. More than that, there’s-

 “Ducks!” She laughs, and he can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “In the middle of the city! Wild ducks!” Looks like his gamble paid off. “How did you-”

 “I didn’t know for sure.” And in truth, he felt a little silly googling ‘parks in Bucharest with wildlife’. “But there was a web page that mentioned wild ducks tend to populate lakes, swamps, and rivers even here, so I took a shot that, maybe since there’s a lake here, there’d be a few.”

 “Is that what this is about?” She taps the loaf of bread they aquired on the way over.

 “No, that’s actually part of dinner. This-” He hates to do it, but he has to let go of her hand to dig in his pocket, finally producing a bag of oats. “-is for the ducks.”

 She smirks. “You’ve done your research.”

 “Be prepared.”

 “Alright, boy scout.” Even as she says it, she’s staring out at the water.

 “I know it’s not ‘catching a mouse in your apartment’ different, but-” The corners of her lips quirk up at the memory. “-I thought it might be a nice change from sitting around watching movies.”

 “Thank you.” Even though it’s getting chillier with the sun going down, that smile more than makes up for the lack of warmth. “You didn’t have to do all this-”

 “No, but I wanted to. Thought it might make you smile.” That’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because she freezes, and that smile melts into a frown. “Everything okay?”

 She starts to nod, but then stops short.

 “Bucky, I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

 Without any other explanation, she’s off, heading back in the direction from which they came. And, like that first day all those months ago, he chases after her.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Hey! Slow down!” Ten seconds. He must not’ve had his Wheaties this morning if it’s taken him this long to catch up with her. Still, just this once, couldn’t Barnes not follow her? Take it easy on a girl for a change? That’s the whole point of running away, after all. To put some distance between yourself and whatever it is you’re running from.

 She keeps moving, walking fast, but he’s right on top of her.

 “When are you gonna stop running away from me?”

 “Depends. When are you gonna stop chasing me?”

 “I’m not. Thought that was understood.” He takes her hand (when did they start doing that? Most friends don’t… then again, what does she know about friendship) and she has no choice but to turn around and look at him.

 “Talk to me.”

 She can’t. If she starts, she knows those tears she’s keeping at bay will spill over.

 “Alright.” Dropping her hand, he crosses his arms. “I’ll wait, but it’s starting to get dark, so I’d appreciate it if we could do this sooner rather than later.” Dammit.

 “I just can’t do it anymore.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. No tears. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’ve never lead me on or acted like anything other than a friend, so please don’t think you’re the problem.”

 “Problem? Doll, what-” She pushes ahead, ignoring his confusion.

 “The problem is me. Somewhere along the way, I got my wires crossed.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Now keep going. “You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes. And a-” Her cheeks are on fire. “-a good-looking one too. Anyone would be lucky to have you. And selfishly, I started wishing that “anyone” was me. I didn’t mean to, but I fell in love with you.” She has to finish it, or else she’ll regret it. “I just can’t keep going like this. It hurts too damn much. I’m sorry. I need to not see you for a while, and I get it if you never want to talk to me again.” It’s no use. The tears fall, and she starts walking again.

 “When the hell did I say any of that?”

 She can’t stop. She can’t do this. Not now.

 “Will you stop running away from me? Just for five minutes?”

 He hasn’t touched her, but it doesn’t matter. She freezes in place, just as if he’d grabbed hold of her and held her there.

 “Please, just this once, let me walk away.” Can’t he spare her that one last dignity?

 “You wanna walk away? Go ahead. But like I said, I’m not gonna stop chasing after you. Not until you hear me out.”

 He’s in front of her now. There’s no way of hiding that she’s full-on crying, so instead she shuts her eyes so she won’t have to see his face.

 “Dammit.” She couldn’t have said it better herself. “None of what you just said made any sense. You want us to stop seeing each other because… you’re interested in me. Have I got that part right?” She nods, still keeping her eyes closed. “That’s what I thought. See, the part I’m a little confused about is, why would that be a problem?” She opens her mouth to explain it all over again. “I thought it was pretty clear I’ve been trying to date you for the past six months.” What? She’s never been more befuddled in her whole life. It’s enough that she has to open her eyes. “Not as clear as I thought, obviously.”

 He’s scratching the back of his neck, something she’s realized over time is a nervous habit.

 “This is my fault. I should’ve come out and said something, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or…” He clears his throat. “...well, sound dumb if I’m being honest. Granted it’s been a while since I’ve done this, but seeing each other pretty much whenever either person has free time, eating together and watching movies, phone calls…” He trails off. “...I thought that was dating.”

 Oh.

 “So, all this time-” She starts.

 “Looks like it. Sorry.” He grimaces. “Not that I wouldn’t want to be your friend, if that’s all you wanted. I mean, you’re a great person and I like you in more than just THAT way. I just sort of assumed.”

 She can’t help it. A laugh slips out.

 “God. This would’ve been a hell of a thing to have a vision about.” Good. He’s smiling. At least they’re starting to recover.

 “I thought for sure you must’ve; something at least, with all you see me doing before I do it.” Sometimes, she really hates her powers and how selective they can be. “Figured it was just one of those things you don’t talk about but you both know. Pretty dumb, in hindsight.”

 “No…” She reaches out to grasp his arm, but stops short. “...I can see why you’d assume-”

 “You too, now that I think about it.” He chuckles. “This is a nice mess, huh?”

 “One of my best, I think.” Honestly, she could’ve avoided all this trouble if she had taken a cue from third graders and passed him a note that said, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”

 “Can we start over? Maybe have a redo with less assuming and more actually saying things?”

 She nods, a genuine smile on her face.

 “I’d like that.”

 “Okay.” Clearing his throat, he sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Bucky. I’m the man who’s been falling in love with you for the past six months, and if it’s alright, I’d like to be your boyfriend. Or, whatever the term is these days.”

 “Pleased to meet you.” She’s struggling not to laugh as she shakes his hand. “That term’s kind of cringey, but I think it’s still in use. And if it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me.”

 It’s been long enough; she really should let go of his hand, but she can’t bring herself to. He seems to be having the same problem, so instead, he takes a step closer, and she does the same in response.

 “I have one more question, and I’ve been meaning to ask it for a while.”

 They’re chest to chest now. She can almost feel it every time he takes a breath.

 “Shoot.” 

 “Can I kiss you?”

 This must be what people mean when they refer to getting butterflies.

 “You’d better.”

 It’s not her first kiss, and if she had to bet, it’s probably not his either, but it’s unlike anything she’s felt before, making everything else pale by comparrison. They may have gotten off to a rough start, but at least for now, they’ve ironed it out. Oh, and he loves her too. That’s also good.

#marvel #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #captain america #the winter soldier

[half-bakedboy]

I know there's only a handful of hours left of femslash February... BUT what about a "The Happiest Season" Clizzy AU? Very random suggestion inspired by no conversations at all. (Also you are great let's be best friends and go to a concert)

Kelly, you wonderful, incredible, perfect human being you. This might be my favorite fic I’ve written this weekend. Obviously, this prompt was inspired by no conversations at all, so you had no idea I would’ve preferred Abby with Riley. So you would definitely not expect that Abby is Clary and Riley is Izzy in this fic. So ENJOY IT. YOU’RE GREAT. AND I WOULD LOVE TO BE BEST FRIENDS. 🥺💜

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Clary wandered the streets of the small New York town alone, wishing that the cold air would quell the annoyance bubbling inside of her. She wanted so badly to just be with Heidi while she explored the town she grew up in, but instead, she was on her own, doing anything she could to stay away from the house she had thought she was invited to as herself.

She wasn’t supposed to be Clary Fray; an art student, out and proud lesbian, strong and brave feminist. No, she was supposed to be Clarissa; a business student, as heterosexual as they come, and an orphan who relied on Heidi for a family. She should have left the moment Heidi asked her to be anything other than herself, but she wanted to make their relationship work. She had never been so in love with someone before, or so she thought. 

“Hey,” a vaguely familiar voice knocked Clary from her thoughts and when she glanced up from the snow-wet cement, Heidi’s childhood girlfriend, Izzy, stood in front of her. 

“Uh, hi,” Clary said nervously, wiping beneath her eyes to ensure it wasn’t obvious she was crying over her dinner a few moments earlier. 

“We meet again,” Izzy teased, widening her eyes playfully. Clary huffed out a laugh, grateful that she still had the ability to do so, and nodded slowly. 

“Yeah,” Clary agreed lamely.

“No Heidi?” Izzy asked and Clary nodded quickly, gulping down the leftover emotion in her throat. 

“No, uh, she’s with her family? I’m gonna meet up with her in a little bit!” Clary said overly enthusiastically because she couldn’t really say anything else without sounding completely pathetic. She glanced down at the bag Izzy was holding and changed the subject easily, “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s--” Izzy cut herself off and glared at Clary with a teasing glint in her eye. “I can’t tell you that because it’s for the Yankee Swap,” Izzy said, hiding the bag behind her back and out of sight. 

“Oh, you go to that?” Clary asked. It wasn’t that she cared that Heidi’s childhood love was still so close with her girlfriend, but it definitely seemed strange that Clary didn’t know that before the trip. 

“Yeah, our families get together every year, unfortunately,” Izzy said with a roll of her eyes. She seemed to notice who she was speaking to and corrected, “I mean, it’s like the best party of the year!” Clary couldn’t help but laugh again and Izzy laughed along with her, both of them nervously rocking back and forth on their heels. It was like neither of them wanted to go their separate ways, but Clary knew they couldn’t stay.

“I’m, um, really glad I ran into you, actually,” Clary began in mock seriousness, “cause I’m having this thing where if I stick my finger in my eye, it, like, really hurts.” She finished with a joking smile on her face. The one conversation they had prior revolved around people asking Izzy for ridiculous medical advice the second they found out she was a doctor so Clary had to play around with her a bit. She thought for a moment that Izzy hadn’t remembered their talk until she replied.

“Oh, hmm. That sounds like a classic case of,” Izzy looked up in thought as if scanning through years of textbooks in her mind before glaring back at Clary, “contact stupiditis. Because it’s a stupid thing to do.” 

“Wow,” Clary said, mock impressed as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah, very dangerous. Once you get to the finger-poking stage, you’re pretty much on your deathbed,” Izzy said, looking almost regretfully at Clary. 

Giggles bubbled out of her again and before Clary could think about it, she blurted, “I would really like to drink some alcohol. Do you know where I could do that?” Izzy considered the question and glanced up at the sky before her gaze met Clary’s again. 

“Yes, but only if I can tag along?” Clary nodded because there was no way she was drinking alone again. 

The last place Clary expected the small bumpkin town in upstate New York to have was a bar complete with drag queens. When they walked in, Clary grinned at the two women up on stage with their makeup impeccably done and their wigs perfectly placed. She had always appreciated good art and drag makeup definitely counted as such. They were playing what sounded like joyful Christmas music but Clary was pretty sure the lyrics were probably raunchy. 

“What can I get you both?” The bartender said as they walked up to the counter. 

“I’ll have a whiskey and coke,” Izzy shouted with a wink and Clary held up two fingers to tack on a duplicate drink for herself. She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for, but whiskey sounded like the best way to drown her sorrows and warm her frozen body. They both watched the queens perform, laughing and clapping along to their wonderful songs, the tension easing from Clary’s shoulders every passing minute. 

“Alright, so, you have to tell me,” Izzy began once the bartender handed them their drinks and gestured to the newly open booth a few feet away.

“What do I have to tell you?” Clary asked as Izzy held out a hand, gesturing for Clary to head over first. They sat down together on the same side of the booth so they could both see the performers and Izzy glanced at Clary consideringly. 

“What are you doing here with Heidi?” Izzy asked with no hesitation in her voice. Clary choked on her drink and sputtering, grabbed at the napkins on the table. Before she could get a hold of them, Izzy held her chin in her grasp and wiped at her face gently with her thumb, a teasing smile on her lips. 

“I can’t believe you just asked that!” Clary mumbled, not making a move to pull away from Izzy even if she knew she should have. Izzy looked so good from up close. Heidi’s eyeliner was always overdone and she never wore any lipstick, but Izzy was the exact opposite. There was barely any makeup on her eyes, just mascara darkening her already stunning brown eyes, and dark red lipstick drawn flawlessly on her supple lips. Still, Clary was drawn to her beauty in almost every way she had presented it. 

Izzy laughed and leaned back, sipping her own drink before she said, “She must have told you that I was a straight-to-the-point kinda girl. You and I are alike in more ways than one.” Clary looked away, unsure how to tell Izzy that there wasn’t much Heidi told her besides the bare minimum to prepare her for their eventual meeting during the trip. She was supposed to hate Izzy on principle, but she found that it wasn’t that easy. 

“I mean…” Clary trailed off and sipped her drink slowly, already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol easing her nerves. She stared over at the drag queens, wishing it was enough to drop their current subject, but she should have known Izzy would push it. 

“She--” Izzy gaped at Clary who held back her laughter by pressing her lips together. “What has she told you about me?” Izzy asked. Clary couldn’t blame her. If she had her ex’s current girlfriend in reach during her last relationship, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from getting all the dirty details. 

“How are we alike?” Clary countered, but when Izzy said nothing further, she sighed. “She told me that you were her first girlfriend in high school,” Clary offered, “that’s about it.” Izzy seemed to consider the lack of information for a moment and chewed on her bottom lip like she wanted to say something. Clary prompted, “Is there more?” 

“Yeah, a little,” Izzy said unhelpfully. She continued to stare at Clary and after a few moments, she sighed as if relenting to Clary’s pleading gaze. Clary was glad her pity was clearly evident on her face. “We were inseparable as kids. Best friends turned lovers turned almost enemies in the matter of a few years.”

“Enemies?” Clary asked. When Izzy glanced away, Clary reached out to grab onto her hand, lacing their fingers together in what could have been seen as a friendly gesture if she hadn’t hidden them underneath the table. 

Izzy nodded and continued, “We kept it a secret - obviously - and when one of our others friends found out, Heidi, she, uh--” Clary squeezed Izzy’s hand tightly, reassuringly, needing to hear the story almost as much as it seemed Izzy needed to share it. “She wasn’t ready and that was okay for me, but she told everyone I was bi. She tried to tell me later that the only reason she said anything was because she thought I was ready to come out, but--”

“But it should’ve been your choice, not hers,” Clary finished. All Izzy did was nod in acceptance, but when Clary said nothing further, she spoke again. 

“Everyone found out. I mean, small town high school meant everyone knew everyone’s business, you know? And they were so awful. I mean, I had my siblings - Alec and Jace, you haven’t met them yet - around to beat up anyone who made a noise about it, but that didn’t stop me from knowing what was happening. Kids are cruel,” Izzy finished, holding her glass up for a cheers as if pretending the past didn’t hurt her as much as was evident on her face. 

Clary clanged their glasses together and muttered, “I’m sorry. I-- I’m really sorry.” She knew it couldn’t make much of a difference, but she still felt like she needed to apologize for Heidi. Having the choice to come out on your own terms taken away was horrible, especially when it was by someone a person thought they loved. 

“Yeah, so…” Izzy cleared her throat like the conversation had gotten just a bit too serious for her to handle, “what I meant is that we’re alike because we were - or are in your case - in love with someone who’s too afraid to show the world who they are and brings us down with them.” The word hit Clary like a ton of bricks, freezing her heart and causing her stomach to tighten. As if sensing her discomfort, Izzy squeezed Clary’s hand before she added, “But hey, that was a long time ago and--”

“No,” Clary interrupted, removing her hand from Izzy’s. “It might have been a long time ago for you, but that insight just proves that Heidi is exactly the kind of person she’s been proving herself to be this entire trip,” Clary explained, tossing back the rest of her drink just as one of the drag queens wandered over to their booth. 

“What are we celebrating, gorgeous?” She asked, twirling a strand of Clary’s fiery hair in her perfectly manicured finger. 

“I am celebrating the end of my unhappy and unhealthy relationship,” Clary cheered, glancing over at Izzy who shook her head with a wide grin on her face. Izzy gulped down the rest of her drink in solidarity and laced their fingers together again. Izzy’s hand felt like it was meant to fit in hers and Clary wouldn’t dare to let go. 

“And you?” The performer asked, leaning across the table and resting her very real looking breasts on Clary’s arms. She laughed loudly in pure enjoyment and felt the alcohol heating her skin and muddling her brain already. It was the first time in the entire trip she felt pure joy and it was all because of Izzy. 

“I’m celebrating being able to take this beautiful woman home with me tonight without any qualms, if she’ll let me,” Izzy tacked on, shooting a questioning glance at Clary. The shyness in her chocolate eyes had Clary’s heart warming out of its frozen state and her stomach erupting with butterflies as they gazed at one another. 

Clary hoped that the passionate kiss she pressed to Izzy’s lips was enough of a resounding yes. 

Send me WLW prompts for Femslash February

#clizzy #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #shadowhunters #femslash february #happiest season au #my writing #AHHHH THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AKJSDFKL;AS #OMFG #THANK YOU FOR THIS AKLSDJFAL;S #ALSO YOURE THE BEST #AND IM HAPPY I MET YOU!!! #villiageidiot #answered #prompts

[solangelover]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Solangelo Week 2020 - god swap / body swap @solangeloweek 

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

A/N: (Ignore how late this fic is) I recently realized that I love the tag “crack treated seriously” and then I was like, wait is that what I write?? Oh well XD

“Ugh, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh gods, what are we going to do??”

Will and Nico were behind the Hades cabin, but not for the reasons they’d like to be.

Currently, Will was looking at Nico and Nico was looking at Will, but they were also staring at themselves. Because they were in each other’s bodies. Because why not.

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose (Will’s nose?), sighing, “This is ridiculous.”

Will was a little more panicky than his boyfriend. “Oh my gods, how and why is this happening? We can’t be stuck like this! Can we be stuck like this? Oh my gods, what if we’re stuck like this???”

The boys had woken up from a nap together (a literal time of sleeping together) in the early afternoon, only to find that they weren’t quite themselves. They also found a note on the nightstand that said, “Don’t tell, or it’ll take longer to wear off!” signed with a simple red heart. The situation was pretty straight forward, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle.

“Solace, calm down. We’ll be fine. This is either a prank from the Aphrodite kids or Aphrodite herself. I don’t think any children of Aphrodite have ever had precise enough control of their power to extend the time of their curses, though I’ve also never heard of any body or mind swaps from them either…” Nico tapped his chin in thought.

“So you think this is directly from a goddess??” Will flailed his arms for emphasis. He had not been still since they woke up switched.

Nico held up his hands placatingly. “Will, I said to calm—”

“When has that ever made anyone calm??”

Nico’s eyes flicked to the ground behind Will, noticing some movement. He immediately recognized the shadows reacting to Will’s panic, swirling around his feet and slowly pulling upward like a barrier. Huh, so that’s what that looks like, Nico thought, finally seeing what other people saw. He could admit that it was slightly terrifying.

“Okay! Okay, Will, just, breathe with me. Remember, like you taught me?” Nico drew in a deep breath, emphasizing the movement with his hands. He exhaled loudly. “In 4, hold 3, out, like, 5. Right?”

“What, no, do you even listen to me? It’s in 4, hold 7, out 8. Like this,” and Will proceeded to do several slow breaths. Nico was grinning even as he copied Will. He also realized how different he looks when he’s not frowning while doing the exercise. He should probably pay attention to his facial expressions more.

After a few more breaths, Nico ventured, “Better?”

Will blinked a few times before letting out a chuckle. “Oh, I see what you did there. Sneaky Death Boy.” He smiled at Nico, which, again, was a very different sight to Nico. Not that he didn’t smile often, but for some reason, Will made his smile look brighter.

Instead of saying this, Nico replied with, “Well, actually I think you’re the Death Boy now, Sunshine.”

Will face palmed while Nico laughed. It was weird to hear Will’s laugh ringing in his own ears, knowing that Nico himself was the one laughing. Switching bodies was a real out-of-body experience.

Nico jolted and then groaned to himself. “Will, please tell me you don’t think in puns.”

Will immediately straightened up and asked desperately, “What was the pun? Please tell me, I haven’t thought of a single one this whole time.”

Nico sighed. “Just how this is a real out-of-body experience.”

Will burst into laughter immediately. “Oh, that’s a good one!” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Yeah, puns just pop into my head. I don’t know if it’s a gift from Apollo or what, but I love it and already miss it.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I hate you. Or me. I hate this body and brain. It’s stupid.”

Will hummed. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Will, I swear to the gods, stop taking flirting tips from Cecil and Lou Ellen. They make no sense coming from you. I didn’t even see you yesterday!” Nico wrinkled his nose in disgust as he watched his boyfriend waggle his eyebrows suggestively with his body. “Also, don’t make me say or do dumb things. It’s wrong.”

Will’s face lit up, which really made Nico look his age instead of like the 80-something year old he truly was, and he proceeded spin around and flail his arms. Nico knew this to be Will’s version of dancing.

Will abruptly stopped and pouted at Nico. “No fair. I can literally feel your body being graceful even when I’m controlling the movements. I can’t make you dance badly if I tried!”

“Don’t test that theory,” Nico chuckled despite himself, glad to see that Will had calmed down and was actually having fun in this scenario. He’d hate to ruin the good mood, but, “How long do you think this will last?”

Will sobered up quickly, folding his arms in thought. “Hard to say. Like you said, we’ve never heard of this kind of prank being pulled before. So, if it really is from the goddess of love… then we just have to not make her mad so she lifts the curse, or at least, doesn’t extend it.” His eyebrows furrowed quizzically. “Why did she curse us in the first place?”

“I bet she was just bored,” Nico shrugged. “Anyway, her note also said that we can’t tell anyone, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this for longer. So…” he trailed off, unsure of where that left them.

“Basically, we have to be each other for however long, without telling anyone directly what’s happening.” Will swallowed.

The boys let that sink in. And then simultaneously groaned.

“I was supposed to teach a sword lesson in a few hours,” Nico grumbled, imagining just how much could go wrong with Will handling a sword. Granted, he’d be in Nico’s body, but still.

“And I have a shift at the infirmary through dinnertime,” Will ran a hand through his hair, distracted momentarily by the silky black locks he combed through instead of his normal wiry dirty blonde hair. At least Nico had helped in the infirmary enough to know what Will did and where things were. But he did not have the medical training and experience Will had. What might happen if a camper got seriously hurt?

They sat in silence for a bit as they thought this over. Could they pull it off?

“…”

“…”

“This is bad.”

“This is doable,” they said at the same time. Nico looked up in concern, thinking his boyfriend was overestimating his sword skills, while Will looked mildly offended as he thought Nico was doubting his own knowledge of the infirmary.

“Neeks! You can totally take a shift at the infirmary. My siblings will be there for anything major,” Will stated with his hands on his hips. He had to look up slightly since Nico was a few inches shorter than Will, which was definitely a new experience for Will.

“Okay,” Nico looked doubtful, but continued. “But I don’t think you can run a sword lesson. No offense,” he tacked on with an apologetic smile.

Will hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably true. We can cancel it, though, right? Or ask someone to take it over?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t want to cause suspicion or upset the love goddess for any reason,” Nico frowned. “… I think we might just have to… do this.”

They stared at each other for a moment more.

“Oh gods,” Will buried his face in his hands.

“Merda,” Nico glared at the sky, the bright blue like Aphrodite herself was mocking him. She probably was.

---

*At the arena*

“Okay, guys! Um, today we’re going to shake things up and have some fuuuuun!” Nico was absolutely going to kill Will for making him sound like an idiot, but he didn’t know what else to do. Six kids between eight to ten years old gazed up at him with varying levels of excitement and confusion. Will distractedly realized how much he’s sweating (though more from nerves than physical exhaustion) and understood why Nico did his usual training shirtless. But Will was highly unsure about being so close to his shirtless boyfriend’s body, regardless of who’s brain was controlling his movements. So, the shirt stayed.

“What are we doing that’s so great, Mr. Nico?” An eight-year-old Ares girl looked a little too excited about sword-fighting class for Will’s comfort.

“Um,” Will rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he spoke. He was reaching for any way to circumvent dangerously pointy weapons when an idea struck him. “Oh!” He smiled at the kids, who looked quite off-put by the expression. “Today, we’re going to discuss basic medical knowledge to know when you’re on the battlefield!”

The groans he received put a damper on what he thought was a very practical lesson that he’s immensely proud he came up with.

“But that’s what infirmary class is for! Mr. Will taught us!”

“Yeah, I wanna fight with swords!”

“Ah ah ah!” Will interrupted their grumblings before it got out of hand. “Mr. Will teaches what the medics do once you can leave a fight and be treated properly. This will be quick fixes while you’re still fighting. It’s important that you can quickly assess wounds and determine your next course of ac—”

“Ugh, you sound like Mr. Will!”

“Yeah, you never talk this much, Mr. Nico.”

“Maybe he’s not the real Mr. Nico.”

These kids were getting dangerously close to the truth, and Will almost wanted to tell them so they’d stop complaining. But no, couldn’t do that. Hm, how do I make them interested while sounding like Nico…

Will lit up when he finally realized what to do. Really, he should be better at this, he has so many little siblings. But he and Nico didn’t exactly behave in the same way. Nico didn’t like coddling kids in any way, especially not in his class. That’s probably why they loved him so much.

“Okay, okay,” Will said loudly, cutting off the students’ whispering as he sat down in front of them. “How about I tell you a story?”

Immediately, all the kids cheered and sat down as close to him as they could, stars shining in their eyes.

“Haven’t you fought werewolves?”

“Do you see ghosts?”

“You fought with Percy Jackson! Tell us about him!”

“What kind of powers do you have?”

“Oh, tell us about defeating the Titans!”

“Are zombies, like, super gross?”

Will laughed at how excited they all were. He almost forgot that Nico was a famous war hero instead of his dorky boyfriend. “Okay, listen closely. You may learn a thing or two from my heroic tales!” He puffed out his chest dramatically, drawing adorable giggles from everyone. He then launched into a story about one of Nico’s many battles, throwing in how he used his medical knowledge to patch himself up and continue fighting. Needless to say, everyone paid attention when Will brought out some bandage rolls for them to practice with.

---

*At the infirmary*

“Will, what in Hades are you doing?”

Nico jumped at Kayla’s voice sounding behind him. His head knocked into a shelf, spilling supplies on the floor. He was not hiding in the supply closet.

“Um,” he began eloquently. “Inventorying?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Bro, you did that yesterday. And we don’t have that many people coming in here, so I highly doubt we’re low on anything.” So maybe she was just exasperated with her brother and didn’t suspect anything weird was going on.

“Well, you know me,” was a phrase that Will never said and yet it’s all Nico could think of. He shrugged apologetically at Will’s sister.

“Whatever, come on, Cecil just came in with some burns on his arms. I’d say it was from the lava wall, but he probably exploded something in his face.” She led the way out of the supply closet and toward the front of the infirmary. Where Cecil, Will’s best friend, was waiting and would surely notice something off about Will.

“What are you going to do?” he asked Kayla.

She eyed him with some suspicion. “… What do you want me to do?”

“Oh, uh,” Nico was confused. “Um, nothing? Whatever you normally do?”

“… Huh.” (Will had definitely given her a task to do that morning.)

She was about to respond when Nico blurted out, “You can end early, if you want.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. That was not a common thing for the head medic to say, for sure.

“I mean,” Nico floundered for any sort of reasoning. “You’ve been working hard recently, and I just thought you might like a little extra free time.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And you’re taking the cabin to dinner tonight since I’m working, which is hard enough.”

At that, Kayla laughed and seemed to relax. “Yeah, no kidding. You want me gone? I’m gone, no problem.” Nico sighed with relief. Then he realized that if anyone came in majorly injured, he’d have no help. He thought about taking it back, but she was already out the door.

With another sigh, Nico headed toward the bed Cecil was currently lounging on, not concerned in the slightest about the mild burns on his forearms. He picked up his head as Nico approached.

“‘Sup, Will!”

Nico shook his head, feeling Will’s blond wisps tickle his face as he did so, and gave his friend an exasperated smile like he’d seen Will do a million times over. “Here again, Markowitz?”

Cecil threw his head back and laughed. “Markowitz? I thought Mr. Doom-and-Gloom was the only one who used last names like the old-timer he is?”

“Uh,” Nico fumbled. “Yeah, I was just… testing it out?”

“Okay, Doctor Solace,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “I just need the magic bandages and I’ll be on my way.”

Right, healing magic. Something Will should be able to do. But Nico doesn’t know if he can make his powers work properly. “Right, I’ll just… get some bandages.”

Cecil didn’t seem to notice or care about the healer’s apparent hesitation, simply leaning back on his bed. “Sure thing. So, how’s life, my friend?”

Nico scoffed, “Don’t we see each other every day? Multiple times?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how you’re doing. Is it so wrong I want to hear from my best friend, my buddy, my pal?” Cecil was so dramatic sometimes.

Nico just hummed in response as he came back with some bandages and burn ointment. Thank the gods he had helped out in the infirmary many times in the past. Will taught him the basics at least, and he’d taken care of minor injuries like this before. Hopefully, that was enough, and Cecil didn’t ask for any actual hymns.

“Soooo,” Cecil drawled. “How’s the boyfriend?”

Nico choked on air.

“Oh, come on, Will,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “You should be used to me asking by now. You know I’m nosy!”

“I, um,” Nico didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Cecil continued. “Remember when you used to talk my ear off about Nico? I can’t say I miss those days, but it’s so much harder when I have to pry for information.”

Nico was suddenly much more interested in this conversation. “I didn’t used to talk that much… did I?”

“Oh,” Cecil sat up straight, jostling his arm that Nico was trying to wrap. “Don’t even give me that. You know you did. All I heard was Nico’s so cute and he’s so strong and did you know he used to play Mythomagic? That’s adorable!” He mocked Will’s voice and practically swooned at the end. Even while blushing furiously, Nico had to hold in his laughter. He’s not surprised that Will said those things, but hearing Cecil complain about it made it even funnier.

“I did not,” Nico said indignantly like he’d heard Will do so many times. He wasn’t a good liar.

“Yes, you totally did! Must I recount the many laments of Nico’s beauty and grace?”

Nico really hoped his smile didn’t come off as mischievously as he felt. “Oh, please do.”

---

Will came by the infirmary with a plate of food toward the end of Nico’s shift. The place was empty except for Nico sweeping the floor. Will had to pause in the doorway for a second, his mind still confused when he saw himself doing the sweeping. Is that what I usually look like? But, no, probably not. Because Nico was scowling hard at the floor as he worked, which was an odd look to see on the son of Apollo’s face.

“Knock knock!” Will called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention. Nico blinked a few times at Will, probably jarred in the same way Will was upon seeing himself.

Then he scowled again. “Don’t say that in my body—I look dumb.”

Will gasped in mock offense, then twirled around with his plate of food. “I think I make you look good, Sunshine.” He winked at Nico for good measure, who in turn groaned and dropped the broom where he was.

The boys settled down at Will’s desk, Nico taking Will’s usual seat in case anyone came in. They didn’t want any questions, no matter how innocent.

“So, do you think this body swap business is almost done?” Will asked as they started eating.

Nico could only shrug. “Hopefully. A day is the average length of a curse around here, but who knows?”

Will hummed in agreement. After a few more moments of silence, he asked, “How was the infirmary today? Everything went okay?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, only Cecil came in with some burns.” He then smirked at his boyfriend. “He also told me some stories.”

“Oh no,” Will muttered as he buried his face in his hands. “About what?” He was afraid to know the answer.

“You know, just about you… and how you used to gush over me all the time.” Nico was fully grinning now. Will didn’t know he could look so evil.

“Ugh, whyyyyy,” he groaned loudly.

“I have so much blackmail material now.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Nico piped up again. “So, did you kill anyone in my class?”

“Psh, I’ll have you know, I am an excellent teacher,” Will puffed up.

Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, but your sword skills aren’t exactly up to par.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we didn’t use swords today.” Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything, Will leapt out of his chair and struck what he probably thought was a heroic pose. “I regaled your students with tales of your bravery,” he trumpeted in a deep, dramatic voice. “While also interjecting some medical advice and emphasizing the importance of field medical knowledge.”

A beat of silence, and then, “Please don’t tell me you said it like that.”

“Just like that,” Will replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

Now it was Nico’s turn to groan, cheeks flooding red with embarrassment. “Will! I have a reputation!”

“Which I have elevated, you’re welcome.” He bowed as he returned to his seat.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

#solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #fic #fanfic #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #my writing #that's all I'm doing for solangelo week 2020 #body swap #solangelo body swap #solangelo week 2020 #solangeloweek2020 #my post

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

#sometimes always fic #charles vane fic #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #charles vane x oc