#andrea was out for a bit yesterday but like AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HANDLE TRAVELLING ? WHO EVEN AM I!!!!!

[xo-lesserafim]

FALLING FOR YOUR SMILE AND EYES

EPISODE 7. TIL

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry I waa gone a little bit i had to plan because episode 7+ wasn’t following Xo Kitty’s timeline. Also thank you guys sm for 250 likes and 21 followers. You guys are so amazing. Anyways, enjoy<3

Bold: Korean

Italics: Over the phone

Both: Korean and over the phone.

Back to masterlist

Okay, so no coffee with Q.

It’s fine, I’ll just head to Jenny’s modeling place after I get coffee.

“Order for *coffee order.*” The barista said.

“Thank you, have a great day!” I said.

“You too.” They said.

I made it to the place, and I was amazed.

There was a lot of things happening at once, but it was AMAZING!!

“Andrea!” Jenny said.

“Hi.”

“I’m going to speak Korean mainly, is there a name you would like be to say when I speak Korean?”

“Ah-ri or Ae ri will do.”

“Do you prefer one?”

“Ah-ri when we are alone, Ae ri with other people.”

“Alright.”

“By the way., call me eonnie”

“Anyway…”

I was zoning out, excited for my new career.

A picture of the modeling.

TIME SKIP: 8 HOURS LATER

“I am so glad you called me before I went home to get ramen.” I said

“You’re welcome, anyway, how was modeling?” Q asked.

“IT WAS AMAZING!” I said excited.

I blabbed on all the amazing stuff that happened and the outfits!

“Wow, that seemed fun!” Q said.

“Boring, as ever.”

“Oof. How was Min ho and Kitty?” I asked.

“Kitty has been okay, she’s always asking if your okay, and she’s so worried. And Min ho, he hasn’t been himself, he’s only been himself if Kitty’s around.” Q said.

“Are you gonna come back to the dorms?”

“Maybe, I just don’t feel comfortable going back yet. Plus Jenny or Ji-ae eonnie’s house is really awesome! I wish you could come over.” I said.

“I wished curfew wasn’t a thing.” Q said.

“You should get back. Curfew is in 30 minutes.” I said.

“All right, see you Monday.” Q said.

KITTY’S POV.

“Q!” I said.

“Where were you?”

“I was out shopping.” He said.

“Couldn’t you have gotten the stuff you needed yesterday when we went shopping.”

“Yea, but I forgot something.”

“Okay..?”

ANDREA’s POV

I went to mini fridge for my skincare to do my skincare.

“Min ho wasn’t himself, weird!” I thought.

I looked on my phone and they posted me!

“I looked good!” I thought.

MIN HO’s POV

I looked on twitter and found a post about Ae-ri Song.

“She looks familiar,” I thought.

“But I can’t wrap my finger who she is.”

“But she is a beauty.”

“I hope we can meet soon.”

ANDREA’s POV

On Sunday, I went back to do a run through on the runway.

“She only got in because her cousin owns the place.” A girl said.

“Right, Binna.” The other girl said.

Binna? Hmm…

When it was Binna’s turn to walk, as she was walking she slipped a bit.

“Deserved!” I thought.

When it was my turn, I walked on the runway with a smile, but I was so nervous.

But I guess I had a confident aura, everyone started clapping.

“Nice job Ae-ri!” Ji-ae said.

“Thanks eonnie!” I said

“As a treat, we are going to get ice cream.”

“Really, thank you!

“Yea, you did a great job!”

At the ice cream shop, I saw Q, and….

KITTY AND MIN HO?

Thank God I had sunglasses and mask on, or I would have been fucked.

“Here’s your ice cream, have a nice day.” The worker said.

“Thanks, you too!” I said.

We went back home to eat.

I am so excited for the trip tomorrow.

MIN HO’s POV MASTERLIST NEXT EPISODE

TAGLIST: @chaewon-slays @cherrriesss

Copyrights © 2023 xo-lesserafim. All rights reserved. I do not own XO, Kitty , Netflix does. do not copy, translate, or repost anything without my permission.

#min ho x reader #sang heon lee #minho x oc #minho x y/n #minho x you #netflix #x reader #xo kitty #to all the boys series #x yn #min ho #min ho x y/n #min ho x you #min ho x oc #xo lesserafim #xo-lesserafim. #chaewon slays #chaewon-slays

[coochiequeens]

Another "male feminist" trying to mansplain feminism, on behalf of men in dresses.

By Julie Bindel APRIL 29, 2024

I am very familiar with men on the Left telling me I’m doing feminism wrong. The musician and activist Billy Bragg is just one in a long line of males telling me I don’t share their precious values. In an interview published yesterday, the double-denimed demigod was asked about his role in the debate on gender and single-sex spaces:

“My problem with people like [J.K.] Rowling, like Julie Bindel, is really who they are lined up with. [Rowling and Bindel] are people who I agree with about women’s rights. I agree with them about abortion. But we don’t agree on this.”

I can certainly say that Bragg and I will both support access to free and legal abortion, but I would imagine we hold these views for somewhat different reasons.

If there’s anything that benefits men, the likes of Bragg will declare it to be feminist. As my friend and comrade J.K. Rowling has pointed out, male Leftists tend to applaud prostitution and stripping, so long as women are doing it and men are in the driving seat. Surrogacy, lap dancing and slut marching are “empowering” activities — a word never ascribed to anything done by men. It is faux feminism for the boys.

Just like his bro Owen Jones, Bragg insists that trans women are women and, handily, this stance doesn’t seem to have any drawbacks for these men. They get cookies for being such great allies, and not an ounce of danger or inconvenience as a result.

Suggesting that silly women who object to men in women’s changing rooms, hospital wards and prisons have joined forces with the hard-Right is ludicrous. Left-wing feminists, such as myself and Rowling, have led the charge against gender ideology because we campaign against rape and domestic violence. For Bragg to bleat about how abortion rights and equal marriage are at risk as a result of these imagined alliances is a bit rich considering that he, as a straight man, needs neither.

Bragg doesn’t like the powerful, Right-wing men who agree with me and Rowling on the trans issue. The inconvenient truth is that neither Donald Trump nor Viktor Orbán would be au fait with feminist politics, but are each aware that there are only two sexes. If to Bragg that means I agree with those men, so be it.

Feminists — all women — have been deeply and profoundly betrayed by Left-wing men. They have preened and postured about being such good trans allies while we have been attacked, abused, harassed, libelled and shunned for standing up for women’s rights. They turned a blind eye when lesbians were told by transactivists that we are bigots for excluding men from our dating pool. These men clapped along as we were losing our jobs and reputations, agreeing with the zealots that we just needed to be more kind.

Men on the Left rarely prioritise women’s issues, and we are expected to dance to their tune in order to be deemed acceptable. As the late feminist author Andrea Dworkin wrote: “To Right-wing men, we are private property. To Left-wing men, we are public property.”

This problem spans many decades and continents. In 1964 Stokely Carmichael, a prominent Black Power activist, was asked about the role of women in the civil rights movement. He replied: “The only position for women in the movement is ‘prone’.”  It is precisely because men on both the Left and the Right displayed such misogyny that the Women’s Liberation movement was founded in the Seventies. Bragg is a modern-day Carmichael, and men like him will always put men first, whether they claim to be women or not.

#Another man who supports abortion access but doesn't care about other women's issues #Andrea Dworkin was right #To right-wing men we are private property. To Left-wing men we are public property

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here friend with my thoughts on Tuesday's episode and some other thoughts I'll get to. So the episode was amazing, emotional, so well acted, and basically hitting every kidnapped lover trope in the book to great effect. Slow, horrifying realization by their other half that something is wrong when no one else thinks so. Team up between them and a close relative who grounds them so they can crack the case. Kidnapped lover has a chance to escape but doesn't take it because it lead to

the other getting hurt. Performing CPR on the kidnapped lover because they FUCKING DIED!! Truly a glorious fanfiction come to life and I loved every moment of that part. It goes without saying that I would have gladly traded less Owen for more 126, but the TK and Gabriel team up was amazing. The serial killer aspects were pretty minimal so I didn't need to skip anything (ngl, after seeing the cookie thing in the preview i was terrified), hell Trudy was deranged but kinda sweet. So here we come to my salty thoughts so feel free to ignore if you want. As much as I loved the episode, it was hardly part of any sort of arc for Carlos, if we can even say that there was one. Aside from the basic setup, nothing in it relied on the previous 3 episodes. You could have had Tarlos fight for any reason and Carlos get kidnapped on a case and it would have played out the same way. So if there is any sort of arc for Carlos its in the previous 3 episodes, and I'm having trouble seeing it. An arc (to me) is character has a problem, things happen, resolution has character come out stronger on the other side (see the top tier Buck tsunami arc, Buck feels useless without his job, he saves Chris, discovers he has value to others outside his job.) So what was Carlos's arc? It was supposedly confronting his past but that didn't really happen. He's there for Iris when he thinks he hadn't been, but he would have been for any friend who went missing. If it was about confronting his reasons for getting married shouldn't we have seen a conversation with his parents? Right now the marriage thing isn't even necessary as backstory, we already knew Carlos had these issues in S2. If Tim was going to introduce 5 million plot holes with this info it needed a payoff. Maybe more will be said later in the season, till then i feel like 4x04 is a beautiful work of fan service to vaguely justify Tim's poorly thought out/executed headcanon.

Hello my friend and I'm sorry I'm so late getting to this! My mom had some issues at work and then got sick and then I got like, a weird (for me) amount of energy to Do Something Productive and spent about 6+ hours yesterday sorting The Box Of Important Papers I have been throwing shit into for years and I couldn't stop or I would never start again and it would remain half-sorted for the foreseeable future. But now I've got some time before I start anything else (or just lay around and read/recover for the rest of the day)!

The Tarlos of Tuesday's episode was sooooo so so good! We got delicious angst without being an over the top serial killer torture fest (and yeah Trudy was enabling her son but you can't look at the way he talked to her and tell me he wasn't abusing her and she wasn't just waiting to be the next one he killed the second she failed to "prove" her love for him. Also, am I the only one that assumed when she said his dad "left" and he burnt himself dissolving "something" that he murdered his dad? ANYWAY), we got some truly beautiful lines from both TK and Carlos about their love for each other, and Rafael really just acted his heart out all episode. I loved every minute of their stuff this episode. I was particularly thrilled with the TK/Gabriel scenes and the way he and Andrea just were SO happy to see TK even without Carlos, and were prepared to just have him over to hang out for a bit was SOOOO sweet and speaks volumes about how much closer they have grown. We love to see it! And the parallels to Carlos and Owen looking for TK when he went missing?! *chef's kiss* Get you a father in law who will listen to your concerns about their child and take them seriously and will follow your lead when you Know Something Is Up.

And honestly, Owen had some lines that did make me laugh! I actually think him and O'Brian play off each other really well and I enjoy their reluctant team up. I am just ABSOLUTELY bored to tears with this stupid storyline for them. One is a fire captain and the other is a motorcycle cop! HOW are they both just being totally removed from their first responder world to push this whole boring ass FBI investigation that, from a lot of the comments I've seen around, no one could give two shits about. There are SO MANY procedurals on that revolve around these investigations and a couple other "firefighter" shows that are more about the soap opera level drama than the fun/occasionally serious and painful rescue calls. The 911verse has always stood out for being different, more hopeful and fun, having drama but not being A Drama, and being full of fun and interesting rescues that tie in with what the main characters are going through. And both shows losing their way SO early in their runs is...disappointing. And frustrating that the people in charge have gotten a lot of feedback about what fans AND the GA tune in for (cool/fun emergencies! Some drama but not too OTT, focus on our main characters and their relationships to/with each other!) and have decided they would rather be like every other show out there than to deviate from what they personally want to do because the audience enjoys something they don't think is The Thing Everyone Should Be Enjoying This Much. (Or worse, turn those earnest things that people loved about the show into a joke because they resent their audience and fanbase that gives their show longevity and keeps it trending and pulls in new viewers for some reason. 🙃🙃🙃) ANYWAY, I am READY for this Owen storyline to take a back fucking seat to literally anything. I've been re-watching season 1 and the difference in TK and Owen's relationship then and now is so disappointing to see. I know Ronen said he and RL have a really good TK/Owen episode (or scene? I don't fully remember) so I'm looking forward to that but I really, REALLY need to see more emergencies and first responder moments on this *checks notes* show very specifically about first responders doing their jobs. VERY excited for Marjan to get a storyline this week!

As for your salty thoughts, I'm with you. I don't *hate* the "Carlos married Iris" storyline but it definitely could have been handled better/more seamlessly (especially watching season1 again and the clues they COULD have dropped without revealing what was going on but didn't), and honestly was not needed as a set up for this episode. Actually, as much as what we got was good, I personally think it would have been better being an entirely separate thing from Iris. Like, if they just wanted to have Carlos getting hurt and TK teaming up with Gabriel to find him, they could have cut the whole thing about Iris going missing and put more emergency calls into episode 3 and had TK and Carlos still in a tiff because they're both stressed about Iris not signing the divorce papers yet, and then had Carlos get trapped while at work on a call! He could have been trying to save someone, hell it could have even been Iris! And we could have seen him talking to this person (even BETTER if it was Iris!) about all this love he has for TK and about TK's love for Gwen, and fighting to get out but not quite being able to make it, and even going into cardiac arrest and needing CPR! He still could have been off-duty with no one knowing he was involved at first so TK could still have the talk with the 126 and the call to Grace, and a moment with the Reyes parents and the ultimate team up with Gabriel. I just think there was a way to tie it more into the premise of first responders while still keeping all the good stuff we got!

And you're right about it not really being an "arc" because we...didn't actually get that much from Carlos about HIMSELF. We got the scene where he first tells TK about being married and why he did it, but we still know NOTHING about if they had a true wedding and told everyone or if it's something that they did privately and it came up later when she disappeared, we have no idea if everyone in the family knew it was a sham wedding or found out later, we still don't know when they decided it was cool to date other people and if they ever lived together, or how Carlos felt about watching his best friend start to change and become someone he didn't recognize, we know NOTHING except it is a Thing That Happened and they didn't get a divorce before she disappeared because ??? "reasons" (even though no one batted an eye about her having a long-term relationship with someone else), then she was presumed dead, and then it was because the US healthcare system is a joke. We didn't get to delve much into Carlos' side of things, just hear his version of Iris's side of things! And as you said, if it was about him confronting his past, WHERE was a talk with his parents?! Where was the discussion about his choice to do this and what they did or didn't say or did or didn't know about it all?!

I'm hoping we get some more in the coming weeks because we still don't have a resolution to this arc since Iris still has not applied for an annulment or signed the papers, we haven't seen Carlos talking to his parents, and we didn't get a big growth moment or anything because we didn't get to see TK talking to anyone about how he was trying to be supportive but he was really reeling from the news and wanted to make sure Carlos felt supported and loved but he also needed to vent about it. Like, the only conflict is about if it can happen soon enough for the wedding in 8-ish weeks, because everyone is on board and everyone is fine with things. IDK it just feels like if this was going to be a big thing, it needed to be A Big Thing which you can do without the people in the couple being awful to each other, but you do kind of need to allow them to have big and occasionally messy feelings, and TALK about those feelings, and show some change from the start of the arc to the end. There was never any really true conflict here, so there is...nowhere to grow from. I don't hate this, I just think it could have been handled a little better and more interestingly but SO MUCH TIME is going to this Owen arc that everything else is suffering instead of giving this plot some room to breathe and filling up the time with more emergencies, and giving Owen a more central arc later on. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, thanks for your thoughts my friend! I'll be working on our song ask next!

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 lone star #lone star spoilers #tarlos #i think maybe it's frustrating because it's good but has the potential RIGHT THERE to be great #and it's soooo close #but instead we have to watch this side story about the FBI that has nothing to do with either of the character's jobs #or about first responders and what they do

[blazevillains]

being frontstuck is so shitty as a monocon system WHERE ARE YOU PPLLLLLL !!!!!

#andrea was out for a bit yesterday but like AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HANDLE TRAVELLING ? WHO EVEN AM I!!!!!

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VII

Sunflower, my eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

Sunflower Vol. 6, Harry Styles

A/N: okay so this part was so much fun to write!! it originally was going to have four more scenes but uh. as we all know. i am very wordy. so the other scenes I have planned will have to be split into what will probably become two more parts and you guys will just have to deal with getting another two chapters 😌 but this part is really exciting because we are getting a lil bit of angst mixed in with harry’s general dumbassery!! love to see it love to hear it!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep cranking out nearly 30k every one to two weeks!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.6k

content/warnings: another good dose of denial, Fajita Friday with a side of blended margs, waking up on the wrong side of the coffin, brutal analysis of niall’s non-existent love life, ribeye!y/n x rotisseriechicken!harry, a horrible impersonation of Bob Barker, “are you there, God?  it’s me, harry,” degradation, the violation of worksafe laws through the improper use of a ladder, mild pain kink, alexa, play ‘kiss it better’ by rihanna, and the rise of kinkrry (dir. j.j. abrams)

As Harry climbs up the stairs to Y/N’s apartment the next Friday night with a bag containing tequila, orange liqueur, and limes clutched within his jeweled hand, there are two thoughts flickering through his mind.  

The first, which weighs more heavily on the vampire, is if Y/N prefers her margaritas blended or over ice, as Harry feels that tells a lot about a person, and it would be such a disappointment to realize now that Y/N isn’t a fan of the blended beverage.  The second, which should weigh more heavily on his mind if he had his priorities sorted out, is how Y/N had managed to convince him to let her cook dinner for the two of them.

In reality, it hadn’t actually taken much convincing on the mortal girl’s part at all.  When she messaged him on her lunch break earlier that day, asking what he was up to that night, Harry had sat up on his couch, drawing Niall and Xander’s attention to him in a confused manner. He’d stared at the message for only three seconds before opening his phone and pressing on her contact name.  The action had come so easily to him that he didn’t even think about hiding his eagerness to speak to her, and instead pressed his phone tight to his ear as the other line rang three times before she picked it up.

“Harry?” Her confused voice rang through his phone speaker, the sound of the bustling cafe apparent in the background. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, love. I just, uh…just wanted to talk to you, s’all.” Harry had replied, shushing the questions he could see hanging off of Niall and Xander’s lips. “How’s work today?  Busy?”

“As busy as it always is on a Friday afternoon.” Y/N answered with a sigh, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips as he heard a loud slurp through the phone, leading him to picture a stressed out Y/N sipping the last remnants of her iced latte. “But I’m over halfway through my shift, at least, so… it’s all downhill from here.  In a good way.”

Harry had nodded slowly, as if the mortal girl could see him through the phone. “I’m glad to hear that.”

His friends, however, seemed to be less glad to hear it, and paused the golf tournament that was playing on TV to stare at him with incredulous expressions on their faces. 

“Who are you talking to?” Niall had demanded, kicking his foot into Harry’s calf with more force than what was necessary. “We’re going to miss the first swing!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Xander snickered to the Irishman next to him, a devious smirk lighting up his face. “It’s that human he’s been obsessed with for the last, like, two months.  His little plaything.”

Harry had stood up then, flipping the pair off with a pointed glare before turning towards the kitchen, intent on finding some peace and quiet where he could carry on his conversation without having to worry about Y/N overhearing something she shouldn’t.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your break,” He murmured, resting his elbows over the cool marble countertop of his kitchen island that was nearly the same temperature of his skin. “But calling you seemed easier than texting.  I’m free tonight—” He always kept his Friday nights free for her; had she not realized that by now? “So I was thinking I could be at your place around eight?  Or nine?  What works for you?”

And it was then that he had heard it, breaking through the cafe ambient noise that caught Harry’s inhuman ears, and the inquisitive whispering of Niall and Xander in the other room.  As clear as if it were really right in his ear, Harry had heard the sharp intake of breath, the slow exhale that followed, and the melodic voice that he’d become so familiar with, shaking ever so slightly.

“I was, um, actually thinking you could come over a bit earlier.” Y/N had replied, the tapping of her fingertips against her back room’s linoleum table reverberating around Harry’s head. “I got groceries yesterday, and I was going to make fajitas tonight, and I realized I had enough food for two people, and so if you don’t have anything else planned—”

Harry hadn’t meant to cut Y/N off— listening to her nervous rambling is one of his favourite things, and he’d never purposefully forfeit the opportunity to hear it (and that fondness aside, cutting off her speech would be rude)— but shock overtook his body and triggered the response before he could stop it. “You want to cook me dinner?”

“I—” The speaker crackled again, and Harry could practically picture the hesitation wrinkling across Y/N’s face, the caution in her tone a clear indication of how hard she was working to stay upright on the tense tightrope known as their relationship. “Yeah, I do.  I’m not a chef or anything, but my friends and I used to cook for each other all the time, and Fajita Fridays were one of my specialties, so—”

“I would absolutely love it if you cooked for me.” A slow grin had spread over Harry’s face, pulling the dimples from his cheeks in a way that he’d recently noticed only she could. “What time should I be over?  Do you want me to pick you up from work?”

“No, that’s fine.” Y/N had assured him quickly, the breathlessness in her voice leading Harry to picture the light rush of heat that was probably working its way over her cheeks. “You can come over around six, if that works for you…?”

Harry had checked the Rolex hanging off his wrist, which displayed the time of 2:33PM back to him. “Six is perfect.” He’d replied with an airy yet firm voice, nodding to himself once again. “Can I bring anything?  Is there anything you need me to pick up?”

“Oh, uh...no.  No, you don’t need to bring anything.  Just your appetite; I make a lot of fajitas.” The surprise that echoed in Y/N’s voice and the small laugh that followed had drawn an pleasurable ache from Harry’s dormant chest in a way he couldn’t explain. “Thank you for asking, though.  So… I’ll see you at six, then.”

“Sounds good, love.  I’m looking forward to it.” Harry had smiled again, despite no one being around to view it, and continued to smile even after he had hung up and made his way back to the living room, where his two friends had greeted him with an array of exaggerated vulgar motions and kissy faces.

He had waved them off, and though he’d glowered at them hotly and shrugged off their prodding questions, he couldn’t find it in himself to stifle the grin that the human girl’s offer had left behind on his cheeks.  She wanted to make him dinner. Just the two of them. It’d been so long since anyone had gone so out of their way for him like that, he hadn’t been able to help his giddy reaction.

As he reaches the final stair leading to Y/N’s floor of her building, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s pink lips.  He should’ve known better than to call her with his friend present, he thinks, as his footsteps echo around the empty hallway.  The moment he’d plopped back down on his couch, Niall and Xander had ignored his dismissive attitude and proceeded to continue to bombard him with a million questions about her, and a million more digs at his ego when he had later excused himself from their tournament to get ready for the dinner.  Although he’d normally be able to ignore their obsessive inquiries without so much as a second thought, he’d berated himself throughout his entire shower and get-ready routine, the harsh judgement ever-present in the back of his skull as he’d picked up his favourite ingredients for margaritas from the grocery store.  He should’ve known better.

It’s bad enough that he’s toying around with Y/N’s feelings just for his own selfish needs, but every time the topic of Y/N came up around his friends, it ended with the exact same question, just as it had earlier that day.

“So when do we get to meet her?  Like, officially meet her, and not just hear her moaning through your wall.” Niall had asked as he took a sip of his Guinness beer, layering a childish snicker on top of his curiosity.

“Yeah, I’d love to see the girl that domesticated you.  Always thought she’d be fictional, actually.” Xander’s laugh had matched Niall’s as the two of them watched Harry slip a fresh t-shirt over his head. 

A tightness had developed in Harry’s chest then, so tense that it had nearly stopped him from smoothing the shirt over his inked chest. “You don’t get to meet her.” He had replied curtly, shooting the two vampires a stern look. “She’s not something for you two to gawk at, she’s—”

Niall had interjected then, the mirth in his eyes refusing to bow despite Harry’s seething. “Your girlfriend?” 

Harry had stared witheringly at the Irish immortal. “No.  She’s not my girlfriend.  She’s just a friend I have an arrangement with.  An arrangement that will become much more complicated if she starts hanging out with other vampires and notices that there’s something… off about us.”

“Off?” Niall had questioned, grinning cheekily with a flash of his fangs, his blue irises dying blood red. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, mate.”

Pausing in front of Y/N’s front door, Harry takes a moment to swipe his hair back from his face, tousling his curls until they fall into just the right place.  His chestnut locks are beginning to get a little long again (they curl around his ears and tickle the nape of his neck now), but he can’t quite bring himself to cut them just yet; Y/N has a habit of reaching for them whenever he goes down on her, and the sensation of her tugging on his hair is too satisfying to let go of so easily.  As for the rest of his look, Harry has opted to keep it casual tonight, wearing a blue and pink flamingo patterned button down over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, paired with a rust-coloured pair of corduroy pants and his white vans.  If their usual routine is any indication, then Harry will be staying the night, and he’s learned over the years that it’s much comfier to leave the next morning in loose clothes than trying to yank on a pair of tight leather pants in a stranger’s bedroom.  Not that Y/N is a stranger; in fact, he could probably get away with bringing an overnight bag now.  But there’s something so presumptuous in showing up to a dinner date with a bag, and in a shocking— though fleeting— change of heart, the last thing Harry wants is to seem presumptuous. 

Harry raises his jeweled knuckles and raps on Y/N’s door in a rhythmic pattern, straightening his back and leaning against the frame as he waits for the door to open. 

Even through the wooden barrier, Harry can hear the old music floating through the bluetooth speaker that he knows sits on Y/N’s kitchen counter, the sizzling of peppers and onions in a pan, and Y/N singing to herself softly under her breath, the latter of which pauses as soon as Harry knocks.  Instead, it’s replaced with the soft padding of bare feet against the laminate floor, the click of a lock, the removal of a door chain, and the turning of a knob as the door swings open. 

And then Harry sees Y/N, and the sight of her catches the breath that he doesn’t really need. It lodges in his lungs and at the back of his burning throat, causing an odd sensation to churn the pit of his tummy as a sudden wave of heat pours into his cheeks. 

If Harry’s pride wasn’t as steadfast as he likes to portray, he would openly admit that it truly is frightening how just one glance at her can make his entire nervous system flare. 

It’s obvious that Y/N’s been at work all day; her mascara is slightly smudged beneath her eyes, and the ponytail bouncing at the top of her head is loose, with wisps of hair falling out and framing her face.  Her clothing, however, has been changed from her usual work polo and jeans to a cotton bralette that clings to her chest and displays a strip of her stomach that makes Harry’s mouth water.  Her black leggings have mesh cutouts on the side, and while that detail would normally draw Harry’s eyes by default, it’s the multicolour patchwork cardigan hanging loosely off her shoulders that really catches Harry off guard.  Or, more specifically, it’s his multicolour patchwork cardigan that catches him off guard. 

“Hi.” Y/N smiles up at him warmly with the edges of her eyes crinkling, her hands grasping the side of the door tightly. “Six P.M. on the dot, Holmes.  I’m impressed.”

“Solving mysteries isn’t my only speciality.” Harry matches his grin to hers, his dimples making an appearance as his expression grows. “Although speaking of mysteries… I think I just solved the case of my missing cardigan.” With his free hand, Harry reaches forward and tweaks a button on the article of clothing, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s bare tummy when he pulls away. 

A wispy giggle falls from Y/N’s cheeks as she opens the door wider to invite Harry in. “Right, that case.  I was about to call you about it, actually.  We got a big break-through last night.”

“Did we?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he steps into her apartment, shifting the fabric tote bag in his right hand to his left as he squeezes into the narrow corridor beside her. “And what was the big break, exactly?” 

Y/N wraps her arms around Harry’s neck as he snakes his now free hand around her waist, clutching her close to his cool body. “Well, I was trying to go to sleep, and I was cold, so I went searching in my closet for an extra blanket, and found this tucked in the back from when you let me borrow it last weekend.” She explains lightly, twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Case closed.  Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

“I thought that was my line?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as fond amusement dances through his emerald eyes, his cold palm giving one of her love handles a playful squeeze. “First you steal my cardigan, and now my catch phrase.  What’s next?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Y/N says with a shrug, her smile growing wider with every passing moment as she nudges his chin teasingly with the tip of her warm nose. “I could steal a kiss, I suppose?  That’s a very you thing to do.”

“Not quite.  Usually you’re the one trying to steal one, and I make you ask for it. Beg, even, if I’m feeling a bit meaner than usual.” Tilting his head to the side and shaking it slowly, Harry lets out a long sigh. “You’re losing your touch, Watson.”

“Tragic.” Y/N matches his sigh as she begins to untangle her hands from his hair, but when she tries to extract herself from Harry’s grasp, he just holds on tighter. 

“But for the sake of tradition…” Harry’s eyes fall to the mortal’s lips as he wets his own with his tongue. “How about a hello kiss?”

Despite the usual iciness of Harry’s touch, heat begins to blossom through Y/N’s chest as she tilts her head up to meet Harry’s mouth.  The kiss, unlike many they’ve shared before, is tender, and only lasts for a brief moment before Y/N settles back down on the balls of her feet. 

“Hi.” She whispers, her hands curling around the fabric clinging to Harry’s muscular shoulders. 

“Hi.” The vampire replies easily as he finally releases his grip on her waist, taking a step back from both Y/N and the bashful instance they’d found themselves in.

He allows her to lead him down the entrance hallway and into her living room, drifting behind her towards the kitchen and glimpsing over all the ingredients she has scattered around her counters.

“You look beautiful in my cardigan, by the way.” Harry throws out casually, admiring the way the article hangs off her figure in the most adorable oversized fashion. “If I didn’t make that clear enough before.  And,” the monster takes a sudden deep whiff for emphasis, “it smells delicious in here. Seems like Gordon Ramsey doesn’t have shit on you, huh?”

Although the initial compliment brings a flush of pleasure up Y/N’s spine, she chooses to focus on the latter half of Harry’s comment. “I’d like to think so, yeah.  Dinner is almost ready, if you want to take a seat at the table.  Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Actually…” Harry holds up the bag in his hand and bounces it jestingly, fully bringing it to Y/N’s attention for the first time. “I thought I’d make us margaritas to go with the fajitas.  Really commit to the theme, y’know?”

All of the previous drinks that Harry has made for her float through Y/N’s mind, and her mouth salivates at the thought of drinking another of his incredible creations. He really does have such a wise talent with liquor that she finds herself subconsciously wondering how that had come to be. “Of course; we can’t do Fajita Fridays halfway, now can we?”

“No, we can’t.” Harry agrees with a firm nod, setting the bag down on her small kitchen tabletop and unpacking the ingredients he’d toted with him. “Do you prefer your margaritas over ice or blended?”

The correct answer immediately rolls off the mortal’s tongue. “Blended— I’m not insane.” She states with a scoff, picking up her spatula to stir the pepper and onion mixture on the stove as she bobs her head towards the cabinet at the far end of the room. “The blender is just up in that cupboard there.”

The corners of Harry’s pink lips tug up at her response, and he nods to the girl as he drifts over and reaches for the cabinet she’d motioned to. “Gotcha.” He says, pushing back a few decorative serving platters before extracting the blender sitting on the back of the shelf. “Oh, this’ll do nicely.”

His comment is met with a quiet snort from Y/N, who glances at him from the corner of her eye as she turns her attention to the sautéing chicken in her skillet. “Oh, it will, will it?” She asks sarcastically, her lithe fingers adding pinches of seasoning to the dish. “Are you a blender connoisseur, then?”

“Of course I am, angel.  Y’have to be, to make a half decent margarita.” Setting the kitchen appliance in the counter, Harry studies it with a keen eye, running his fingers over the smooth glass and slightly worn buttons. “It has a little bit of wear and tear, but that’s to be expected; the rest of it seems to be in decent condition.” He unwraps the cord from the base of the blender, plugging it into the wall before pressing the pulse button a few times to make the machine roar to life. “Listen to that engine purr… A blender like this could bring a man to tears.”

“That’s good to know.” Y/N snorts again, shaking her head at Harry’s antics as he begins to prepare his ingredients. “If you need a knife for the limes, there’s one in the block there.  And ice is in the freezer—”

“That’s good to know.” Harry mimics her prior reply with a shit-eating grin on his face, his hand wrapped around a bottle of Don Julio he’d snagged from his bar shelves. “I was about to check the cabinet again.”

With a shake of her head, Y/N steps past Harry to open a cupboard and fetch a serving dish. “Alright, smartass.” She bumps her hip against Harry’s as she passes him, the motion sending a jolt of electricity across the vampire’s pelvic bones. “Keep it up and you’ll lose dessert privileges.”

Although she tries to step away, Harry twists a cool arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her back against his chest as he smudges a kiss over her pulse point. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low in an attempt to hide the smile brewing on his face. “I’ll be nicer, then.  I’d hate to lose dessert—it’s my favourite part.”

With his lips over her neck, Harry can feel the exact moment Y/N’s heart rate increases, his ears pricking with the now familiar and adored sound.  Her warm hand cups his over her belly, fingers tracing over the knuckles of his icy touch. 

“I know it is.” Y/N tilts her head to the left, trying to provide Harry with more access to her neck as his mouth continues to ghost over her skin. “So I’d hate to take it away.”

The human girl’s familiar and achingly sweet honey and lavender scent fills Harry’s nostrils as his nose brushes against her jaw.  When he refers to her as dessert, Y/N doesn’t know how genuinely Harry means it. “Alright.  I’ll behave.” He relents, but he squeezes her tummy tightly as his teeth graze her skin one last time before pulling away. “For now.”

When Y/N detangles from the cage that is Harry’s arm, she busies herself with cooking again, doing her best to hide the light sheen of sweat that is beading her forehead.  It’s almost embarrassing, really; despite only being here for five minutes, Harry’s already pulling reactions out of her that she didn’t even know she had.  If she doesn’t get a hold of herself soon, she’ll be on her knees for him before he’s had a bite of dinner. 

With that thought in mind, the mortal forces herself to focus on the tasks at hand, continuing her banter with Harry while making sure to keep the subject matter PG as she plates the food and Harry blends drinks for them.  Her tiny table, which she’s already set for two, is soon filled with dishes containing sautéed vegetables, chicken, and other various toppings, and Harry pours his margarita mix into two glasses before sitting across from her with a curious air. 

“So this is what you and your friends used to do back home, is it?” He asks, crossing his arms and resting them on the table as he regards Y/N with a tilted head. “Fajita Fridays?  Taco Tuesdays?  Meatloaf Mondays?”

“Meatloaf Mondays sound depressing.” Y/N shoots back with a scoff, her hand wrapping around her margarita glass and lifting it to her mouth to take a sip. “We weren’t that pathetic.”

Harry exhales a sharp but quiet breath from his nose once—the beginnings of a laugh— before offering a dry reply. “No, it doesn’t have a very nice ring to it, does it?” He says, watching eagerly as her eyes widen at the first taste of the drink rolls across her tongue. “Do you like it?”

Y/N clears her throat as she lowers her glass from her mouth. “It’s...strong.” Y/N replies slowly, taking another gulp and smacking her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “But yummy.  This is a repeat recipe, I think.” 

The praise warms the pit of Harry’s stomach as he raises his own glass, motioning to the girl before him before bringing the edge of the cup to his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He murmurs, setting his drink back down after taking a sip and letting his eyes roam over the food before them. “So how did you and your friends do this?  Everyone would just reach in at once, or—?”

“Oh, well, we—we used to say grace first, actually.” Y/N admits after a moment, her eyes momentarily flickering to the gold cross dangling from Harry’s neck.  Although his usual cross earring is absent tonight, his pearls out of sight as well, and he’s only wearing his opal and lionhead rings, that familiar cross necklace is present as ever. “And then we’d move everything around the table clockwise from the person who actually led saying grace.” 

Despite Y/N previously mentioning that she’d been a regular church goer in her hometown, this new information sparks an interest in Harry’s mind. “Really?” He quirks an eyebrow as the human girl reaches for a warmed tortilla and begins to spoon her toppings inside. “But you don’t do that now?”

“Nope.” Her lips pop on the final consonant sound of the word. “Did you say grace growing up?” She asks curiously, nodding to the chain around Harry’s neck. “You always wear that cross, so I was just wondering…”

“Oh, uh—yeah. Yeah, we did.” A crease furrows the space between Harry’s brow as he selects his own tortilla, keeping his eyes glued to the food. “My father used to lead it every night.” Although he could leave the comment there and be done with the topic, more words of explanation spill from Harry’s mouth without him realizing how much he’s actually saying, his gaze remaining trained on the way he’s filling his tortilla, almost as if it’s a monumentally difficult task that requires his utmost attention. “I liked to listen to him say it.  My father had a very calming voice; he could be loud and boisterous when he wanted to, but at home, he always kept cool and collected.  It was comforting.”

Y/N notes the use of past tense when discussing Harry’s father, but doesn’t comment on it.  With the knowledge that his mother had passed away in her mind, she assumes the same has happened to his father, and the realization twists her heart in a new and aching manner. “You speak like that, you know.” She tries to steer the conversation into a lighter direction, registering the sadness in his emerald eyes when he discusses his family. “When you’re telling stories about your life.  Your voice is low and even, quieter than usual.  It sounds a bit like a…lullaby, I guess.  Or like— like an audiobook, like someone’s reading some old poetry, or—” Her cheeks flame beneath her skin as she drops her eyes to her plate. “Sorry.  That, um, that sounds strange.”

The outpouring confessions from the girl across from him brings an awed expression to Harry’s face.  He had always assumed his voice was more of a siren song than anything— capable of luring his victims into a false sense of security before he showed his true monstrous form.  But if the stuttering of Y/N’s heart and the brightness in her eyes is any indication, maybe that isn’t quite the case.  She described him as a lullaby, yes, but she didn’t sound betrayed at the thought of him spinning stories in order to keep her pliable under his grasp.  If anything, her words give the impression that she enjoys it.

“I’ve heard stranger.” Harry murmurs after a moment, his unusually bare forefinger rubbing over his lips pensively as he waits for Y/N to raise her head again. “Thank you.  That’s a compliment, really, saying that I sound like my dad used to.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never heard your dad speak, so take it with a grain of salt—” Y/N forces out a laugh, despite her cheeks and neck still feeling uncomfortably flushed, “—but I imagine it’s similar.  After all, he raised you, didn’t he?”

Harry nods slowly, his mind so wrapped in his own memories that he doesn’t even think about the incriminating answer about to fall from his lips. “He did, yeah, but it’s been a while since I’ve been able to speak to him.” He admits, pinching his chin between his thumb and index finger as he lifts his left shoulder in an empty shrug. “Memories fade over time.  Things change.  People change.”

Although she can feel that they’re beginning to breach a more serious topic, Y/N doesn’t pull back like she did in the restaurant.  She rationalizes this action to herself as she sips her margarita and collects her thoughts, saying that it’s just because it’s easier to be honest in her apartment than a brunch restaurant. But the truth of the matter is that the longer she spends with Harry, the more Y/N wants to know him. Really know him, outside of their usual arrangement. 

“That’s true,” She agrees with hesitancy etched into her voice, keeping a measured glance on Harry’s body to read his reaction. “But you can’t have changed that much since you last saw him.  When…” Her words trail off when Harry locks his emerald eyes with hers, but she takes a deep breath and finishes her question in determination. “When did he pass away?  How old were you?”

In the immortal’s mind, the answer forms without any delay.  His father had been the first to go in his family; the combination of breathing in smoke from the forge and his age being four years his mother’s senior had stopped his heart before hers.  The news of his death reached Harry a few days after it had happened, and he had just made it back to Holmes Chapel in time to watch the funeral service from afar.  

Despite his appearance being frozen at twenty-six, as it always would be, Harry was nearly twenty-nine to the day of the funeral.  Gemma had been thirty-three by then, standing with their mother and a tall man by her side, who whispered what her brother hoped were reassuring words in her ear.  His sister's eyes had been nearly a perfect mirror of Harry’s, with the exception of a few crow’s feet beginning to show around them.  And his mother had been dressed in widower’s black, a veil pulled over her weeping face to allow her the bit of discretion that was expected in Victorian times.  Harry had been distressed when he saw the veil, despite expecting it to be there; he’d hoped he could get one more glimpse of her eyes before he had to leave that day.  He had entertained the idea of walking over, expressing his condolences, and compelling her to forget she’d seen her lost son, but the thought had twisted an ache into his chest that had nearly brought him to tears, and—

“I was twenty-one when he passed away.” Harry spits the sentence out, and the familiar lie burns his throat in an entirely foreign way than the thirst he’s used to. “He had lung cancer.” At least, that had been Harry’s assumption after he read up on the disease years after his father’s undetermined passing.  It made sense, given that all the grit and soot from the coal and metal grime had found its way into the air of the blacksmith’s shop, and after slaving away for years in order to keep food on the table, it had also eventually made its way into his father’s system… “It progressed quickly.” 

As he watches sympathy glaze itself over Y/N’s eyes, all he can think about is how undeserving he is of it.  Even though he’s compelled the mortal girl in front of him, gained her trust, been invited into her home, and is kindling a connection with her, all for the simple act of drinking her blood, Harry thinks that this might be the most monstrous thing he’s done yet— paint himself as a victim of circumstance, hiding all the wrong-doings he’s ever committed, and allowing Y/N and her softly-beating heart to feel sorry for him. 

The conversation moves to an lighter tone after that, which Harry does on purpose; the less he needs to tell her about his fabricated sob story, the better.  And, truth be told, he’d much rather hear about Y/N’s day-to-day life.  It’s been so long since he had human concerns, and when he did, his concerns certainly didn’t have anything to do with being betrayed by customers because the cafe wifi was down.  It’s almost amusing to him, listening to her rant about all these insignificant people, and he can’t help the way his dimples begin to peek out of his cheeks as she raises her voice at imaginary customers. 

“So I told him, in my most polite voice, that we were aware the wifi was down, and that we’d called the provider to let them know, and that they were sending someone as fast as they could to fix it. And do you know what he said to me?” Y/N widens her eyes in incredulous disbelief as she takes a bite of her fajita, chewing and swallowing quickly to continue with her story with more emphasis. “Do you know what he said?”

“No, I don’t.” Harry shakes his head in endearment, hiding the laugh forming on his rosy lips behind his margarita glass. “What did he say?”

“He said—” Y/N twists her face to mimic the customer’s expression, dropping her voice down five octaves lower as she speaks with a ridiculous tone. “‘Oh, well, can’t you just fix it?  You work here, don’t you?  What else do you get paid for?’ Can you believe that?” She states the last phrase in her normal voice, scoffing at the memory as she crosses her patchwork covered arms across her chest. “Like, I’m a waitress!  I don’t work at an internet company!  I’m trained to bring you water and sandwiches— which are more cucumber than anything with actual substance—  so it’s not my responsibility to figure out why you can’t load Candy Crush on your phone!”

A snicker finally breaks free from Harry’s throat as he watches Y/N angrily stuff a piece of chicken into her mouth. “Sounds like you had a rough day today.”

“That’s pretty average for me, honestly.” Y/N sighs again, rubbing her hand over her forehead as she polishes off the rest of her second margarita. “Ugh, it pissed me off.  I wanted to shove his phone right up his ass and ask if his wifi connection got better.” A small smile breaks out across Y/N’s lips in spite of herself as Harry stifles another giggle at her witty comment. “But I’ve talked about it enough.  How was your day?  What did you do?”

“I did a bit of work in the morning, nothing too noteworthy.” Harry replies, deliberately keeping his answer vague as he twists his lionhead ring around his finger. “And I was about to watch a golf tournament with Xander and Niall when you called.”

Harry thinks nothing of mentioning their names, but is surprised when Y/N’s brow cinch in thought. “Which ones are Xander and Niall?  Is one of them the long haired one?” She asks curiously, pulling her (his) cardigan off one shoulder as the tequila begins to course through her veins and heat her body. 

“The— no.  No, that’s Mitch.” Harry says slowly, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “How did you know that?”

Y/N feels a spike of embarrassment in her stomach, and shyly avoids Harry’s eyes as she answers. “There was a photo of you with a group of guys in your apartment, in the living room.” She mumbles, tapping her fingers against her newly cleaned plate. “One of them— I think he was next to you in the photo?— had long hair.  Another had blue eyes, glasses… and brown hair, I think?  I don’t really remember the rest…”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, quiet and low. “That was probably Niall.” He guesses, finishing his own margarita and setting the glass down gently. “If I’m thinking of the right picture, then Xander was the one standing next to him.”

Y/N pictures the faces in her mind’s eye, imagining the two brunette boys in the clothing from the photo, slumped next to Harry on the couch of his stunning condo, knocking back pints of beer and plates of nachos as they watch golf on TV.  It seems strange to picture Harry doing something so… normal.  She forgets, sometimes, that he’s a regular twenty-six year old man.  In her head, when she thinks of Harry, regular is the last word that comes to her mind— even when he’s sitting across from her in a casual outfit, doing something as simple as eating dinner while he asks her about her day, Y/N struggles to remember that this man is just that: a man.  

Maybe, she ponders, as Harry stands up with the explanation of making more margaritas falling off his lips, it’s because she’s only ever really been alone with him.  With the exception of the club where they met, and his friends interrupting their weekend a few weeks prior (her cheeks flame at the recalling of the embarrassing memory), Y/N has only ever seen Harry in her own context.  

As the blender whirs to life behind her, the human twists in her chair to catch a glimpse of the object of her thoughts.  Even beneath his opaque shirt, she can see the muscles of Harry’s back flexing as he bends down to slice a lime, squeezing the juice into the top of the blender while holding his jeweled hand underneath to catch any seeds.  When Harry is around her, he’s charming, cocky, self-assured, and— on the extremely rare occasion— vulnerable.  What’s he like around his friends?  

Just as cocky, Y/N is sure; she can’t picture Harry letting go of his signature smirk so easily.  But does anything else about him shift when exposed to different company?  Is there different vocabulary that slips from his mouth?  What about his tone of voice?  Does that change, too, like Y/N’s used to when she was around Bradley, or when she’s with customers?  He mentioned earlier that he’d been watching golf, and that was the last sport she'd ever think he’d have an affinity for, let alone one he’d enjoy enough to make a day out of watching tournaments.  What other personality traits and pastimes is he keeping from her?  If she were to be a fly on the wall while he was with his friends, would she see someone completely unrecognizable in his Gucci boots and translucent shirts?

The sudden lack of noise from the blender snaps Y/N from her thoughts, and Harry detaches the pitcher and carries it to the table, filling her empty glass with a smile. 

“There you are, miss.” He winks at her quickly before filling his own cup and standing back from the table with a grin, his free hand folded behind his back as he straightens his posture. “Now,” He begins, his accent slipping into a more posh tongue as he bows his head lightly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Despite her worries, a soft laugh rolls from Y/N at his impersonation of a server. “Yeah, actually.” She drops her voice lower again, plastering an angry expression onto her face as she reaches into her cardigan pocket and retrieves her phone. “Your wifi is down.  What kind of restaurant doesn’t have wifi?  Can’t you fix this?”

A loud snort echoes from Harry’s mouth as he sets the blender back down on the counter before sliding back into his seat across from her. “Sorry, love,” He laughs, his regular accent back in its place. “That’s a bit above my paygrade.  I can, however, offer you some compensation.”

Wrapping her fingers around the icy margarita glass, Y/N leans forward, resting her chin on her free hand as she appraises Harry with a kinked brow. “Is that so?” She replies in her regular voice as well, her interest piqued. “What kind of compensation?”

“It’s part of our Friday Night Special,” Harry slides his hand across the table and pushes the baggy rainbow sleeve of Y/N’s cardigan down her arm in order to brush his cool fingers up and down her bare skin. “And it features bottomless margaritas paired with cunnilingus from our most handsome waiter.”

A fluttering warmth begins to knot itself around Y/N’s core, but she does her best to keep her composure as she straightens her spine and glances around the apartment. “Sounds intriguing.  So where’s the handsome waiter?”

Harry’s pillowy lips plunk down into an exaggerated frown as he presses a hand to his chest, his other hand continuing to stroke over Y/N’s forearm. “Ouch, Watson.  That hurt.  Might need you to kiss it better.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N challenges, lifting her drink to her lips and sipping it slowly. “Where exactly does it hurt?”

Instead of answering her query, Harry simply stands from his chair and rounds the table to stop in front of Y/N, extending his hand to her.  She lays her fingers inside his cool grasp, allowing him to pull her from her seat.  He’s closer than she realized, she thinks, as her chest brushes with his and the intoxicating scent of his cologne fills her senses, only getting stronger as Harry nudges her nose with his own, his lips just barely gliding over her own. The copper specks around his pupils glitz under the muted lighting, electric from the alcohol, from the sensation of her close proximity, and from the ever-present intention of getting between her legs.

When Harry finally speaks, his thick cadence washes over her just as much as his tequila-scented breath, his free-hand tugging suggestively at the waistband of her leggings. “If we go to your bedroom, then I can show you.”

“Mm, is that so?” The girl gives in to his gesture, stepping forward as the vampire begins treading backwards towards their new— though entirely familiar— destination. “You’re gonna show me, then?”

“I most certainly am.” The boy keeps their bodies close, making sure that his lips continue to just barely graze hers as he moves, teasing her nerves into a frenzy. “I plan on showing you over, and over, and over…”

Y/N can’t bring herself to resist the offer.  She’s only human, after all.

///

The next morning, Harry wakes up tangled in Y/N’s sheets to two surprises: the sheets on Y/N’s side of the bed are cold and bare, and that Harry is actually waking up.  

Although he remembers falling back onto the scattered sheets the night before (after coaxing three orgasms out of Y/N and her coaxing two from him in return), he doesn’t remember drifting off into the sleep he so rarely needs, and because of that, Harry feels disoriented and groggy in a way he hasn’t in a long time.  He does his best to blink the haze from his usually sharp eyes, knuckling at them with his cool fingers as he attempts to get his bearings.

His sleep-fogged mind struggles to recall what had happened after Y/N had fallen asleep.  She’d drifted off easily and quickly, her sweat-soaked body tucked into Harry’s with her head resting in the crook of his neck.  That noted detail sticks out in his memory because it had made Harry pause before biting her.  She’d been so comfortable next to him, and in such an inconvenient position that Harry didn’t want to shift her to drink. After debating with himself for a few moments, he’d eventually decided on an alternative and had lifted her fragile wrist to his lips.

Even half awake, Harry’s lips quirk up at the hazy memory.  He recalls the feeling of her hummingbird pulse thrumming beneath her delicate skin, practically vibrating against his lips as he stamped a kiss over her vein before biting down.  Her blood had a weaker flow there, but that was alright; he’d just sucked a little harder to coax the liquid from her body, feeling his mouth overflow with her welcomed taste as well as with the supernatural chemicals that inject into her system and dull any pain his feeding might cause. He’d been careful to gauge his consumption by the strength of her heartbeat, and when he’d finished, he’d sealed the wound with a bit of his own blood, as usual. He’d made sure Y/N was healed and settled back in his arms before relaxing into the pillows to listen to her breathing, the soft pillows and her radiating body heat feeling more soothing than usual. Somewhere between counting the movement of her lungs and the sun rising, Harry had fallen unconscious.

It’s strange, being up after Y/N.  Harry has grown used to rising before her and making breakfast, or even just coffee, and there’s something disorienting about being in her bed alone, without her inherent warmth and soft skin, and only the ghost of her sugary scent left behind.  He briefly wonders if this is how she feels when she wakes up to cold sheets and no one beside her (although Harry suspects the lack of his frozen body would make the bed a more comfortable temperature), and thinks that maybe he should begin to lay in bed with her a little longer; if he’s going to fake a relationship with her, it should be a relationship where her partner wants to be around her, and isn’t awake before the sun.

And that’s another thing.  The golden orange light of the rising L.A. sun is just beginning to stream through the closed curtains, so what time is it?  It can’t be any later than seven— on a Saturday, no less— and at such an early hour, Harry would expect Y/N to still be dreamily dozing in bed.  What had drawn her away from her comfortable position in Harry’s arms?

As the sun continues to rise, the light begins to streak onto Y/N’s empty side of the bed and, instinctually, Harry begins to reach for the beam, craving the warmth she took with her when she abandoned the sheets.  Instead of the expected touch of heat, however, Harry is jarred by a burning sensation ripping across his icy flesh.

The vampire yanks his hand back in a flash, his face screwing in silent pain as he bites back a yell of anguish, but the damage has already been done.  The tips of his fingers are puckered with red blisters, which throb as he flexes his hand in the safety of the shadows. Harry digs his sharp teeth into his lip harder, forcing himself to inhale slowly through his nose and exhale shakily through his mouth.

It takes a few moments for him to collect himself, breathing deeply with his eyes closed as he does so, and as he counts his own breaths like he’d counted Y/N’s the night before, what should’ve been an obvious thought enters his mind: why had he burned?  He’s wearing his lionhead ring, which has eyes made of those precious crystals that protect his inhuman skin from sunlight, and as long as he’s wearing it, the sun shouldn’t be able to…

Harry’s sight snaps completely open as he jerks forward in bed, his head throbbing from the sudden movement.  When he’d first awoken, he’d attributed his grogginess and dry eyes to sleeping for the first time in weeks, but as Harry’s jade gaze settles upon his uninjured hand, he realizes the truth.  That disorienting feeling isn’t from sleep, but from the sunlight that had begun to seep through the curtains and affect his body, bouncing off the glossy walls of Y/N’s room and reflecting off her picture frames and furniture.  What would normally not be an issue suddenly becomes the bane of his existence, and what usually isn’t able to affect his body immediately does, obvious in the agonizing sweltering writhing through every single one of his dormant arteries. And all because his lionhead ring is missing from its rightful place.

Granted, Harry hadn’t worn most of his rings to Y/N’s apartment the night before, seeing as how they planned to spend the night in, but he’d kept his mother’s opal and the lionhead securely on his middle finger and pinky, just as he always did.  The former brings him memories of his mother, and helps him keep a piece of her— and who he once was— with him in this strange modern time.  The latter had been a rebirth gift from a family he’d rather forget, and if it didn’t keep him from flambéing himself every time he stepped into the sun, he wouldn’t wear it at all. In all honesty, he probably would’ve chucked into Hell, if he could. 

But the reality of his afterlife is that Harry needs that ring.  So why is it missing from his hand?

Cradling his blistered digits to his bare chest, the wounded vampire tosses back the covers, careful to avoid the streaks of sunshine beginning to light up the small room.  His icy chest soothes the burn in his fingers, which are taking longer to heal than Harry would’ve thought, but if the grating itch of his dry eyes is any indication, the effects of the sun aren’t just limited to direct physical harm, but are also stopping his body from healing itself as quickly as usual.

Harry presses his good hand to his dizzy head and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet onto the ground as firmly as he can to center himself, refusing to cripple under the extraneous circumstances. He fishes his grey boxers from their signature spot on Y/N’s floor, slipping them on slowly as even the smallest of movements seems to strain his muscles beyond reason. As the elastic band snaps around his hips, another frightening possibility seizes his body: his mother’s ring could also be gone. He yanks his hand away from his head, and it takes his eyes a moment to focus on the opal ring.  At least he can breathe a sigh of relief about one thing— if his mother’s ring had disappeared, Harry’s not quite sure what he would’ve done.  

And that thought brings his spinning mind back to the present.  His lionhead ring is gone, and he can’t so much as step into sunlight without undergoing intense, insurmountable pain, so how is he going to find it?

Another groan falls from Harry’s mouth as he rests his forehead in his palm, propping his elbow against his knee so he can shield his eyes from the sunlight by hiding in between his legs.  Daylight talismans are extremely rare; he can’t exactly waltz into the nearest Wal-Mart and pick one up.  The crystals that give vampires such cherished immunity all date back to the medieval era, when vampires were considered mythical legends instead of just plain myths, and what few of the crystals are left are hidden deep within old ruins in the remote wilderness of Europe.  If Harry hadn’t been given his shortly after he was turned, he’s not sure he would have been lucky enough to own one.  He remembers Niall telling him how he had to search every night for months before he found a crystal hidden inside a ruin in Wales, and Xander had once recounted the story of stealing his from the vampire that turned him.  Even Mitch had struggled with the crystals before; although his ring had originally been a gift from the vampire that transformed him, he had to crack the crystal in half and set it into a new ring for Sarah when she had met her untimely demise. 

Vampires have been known to beg, lie, cheat, and steal in order to get their hands on a daylight crystal, so if someone managed to sneak in and take Harry’s lionhead ring while he and Y/N were sleeping, then Harry is going to have a fucking hell of a time trying to get it back. 

As the thought enters Harry’s dazed mind, a chill runs down his back, crawling across his spine and down his tailbone in an unsettling shiver as he slowly turns back to Y/N’s empty side of the bed.  If someone— if another creature just like him, who would be the only other person capable of recognizing such a treasure— got into the apartment and took his ring, and found an unconscious mortal girl with the sweetest honey and lavender liquid pulsing through her veins, then…

The sheets and curtains of the room blow in a breeze as Harry jets off the bed, forgetting to control his inhuman speed as he throws the sliding door open and stumbles into the hallway.  More sunlight streams through the windows of the living room, and it’s taking all of Harry’s dulled concentration to avoid the beams as he staggers towards the kitchen.

It’s not until the immortal smells Y/N’s familiar fragrance and hears the beating of her heart, in tune with her quiet humming, that the fear Harry hadn’t realized had tightened his chest flows out of him in one fell swoop.  He does his best to force even breaths in and out of his lungs, watching as Y/N raises her coffee mug to her lips and blows on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

She’s dressed in his multicoloured patchwork cardigan again, buttoned up to provide her with warmth and modesty, but it slips down her bare shoulder in a way that allows Harry to see she’s wearing nothing underneath it.  Although the cardigan pools around her silky thighs— which are marked with bruises from the night before— Harry can see the tiniest peak of her panties beneath the fabric, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might’ve noticed how they’re not the pair she wore last night (that pair had been ripped right down the middle in his frantic attempt to get them off).  However, Harry’s eyes quickly settle on Y/N’s hands, which, after she sets down her coffee cup, pick up Harry’s lionhead ring and begin turning it around in her fingers.

When he sees the ring in her delicate grasp, a wave of sheer rage begins to rumble through Harry’s chest, and it takes every fiber of his undead being to keep it at bay as he approaches the mortal girl. “Y/N,” Harry rasps lowly, voice heavy with the exhaustion that his newfound vulnerability has stacked onto his shoulders. He stands in the one spot of shadow near the kitchen counter, trying hard not to glower. “What are you doing?”

When Y/N turns her head to look at him, her sleepy face smiles softly, eyes nearly as bright as the infuriating sun. Maybe that’s why, Harry thinks, it feels like it burns.

“Morning,” She says quietly, her own voice just as sleepy as Harry’s as she picks up a grey cloth from the table and begins to run it over the ring with precision and care. “How did you sleep?”

It’s a simple, innocent question, and Harry knows that, but his mind can’t think in simple and innocent terms right now.  As the light filling the room begins to pound his head even more, Harry’s thoughts revert back to his most instinctual behavior— rough carnal impulse. “What are you doing?” He asks again, his voice lower than before.  He sounds dangerous, and he means to.  How could she possibly think that taking something from him without his permission is fine?

“I’m polishing your ring.” Y/N keeps that good-natured smile on her face as she replies, but Harry can see the smallest waver in it as she begins to sense his distorted energy from across the room. “It was tarnished, and I have a polishing cloth, so I thought I’d—”

“Give it back.” Harry doesn’t mean to snarl the phrase, but he can’t stop himself from doing it as he thrusts out his hand expectantly; it’s taking all his concentration to keep himself from baring his teeth and letting his eyes bleed red. 

Y/N doesn’t fight him on it, and drops the ring carefully into his awaiting hand without letting her warm skin meet his.  She watches with confused eyes as Harry slips the newly shined lionhead ring onto his finger, a breath of relief sighing from his red lips the moment the metal meets his skin. He finishes twisting it into its designated spot, and he feels like he can actually breathe again.

The human girl waits a moment for an explanation from Harry, some spoken word or action to justify the hostility rolling off of him as he clutches the jeweled hand to his chest.  As the moments pass, however, Harry offers no explanation, or anything at all as he takes deep and measured inhales through his nose, as if he’s trying to relax. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N offers the words quietly, turning in her chair to properly face him with sincere eyes. “I just noticed that it was more tarnished than your other jewelry, and I thought I could—”

“You can’t take my rings from me.” Harry answers in a harsh voice, his face reflecting about as much warmth as stone on a winter’s day. “I thought I’d lost it.  You can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats the phrase again, gentler this time as she wraps her hands around her steaming mug.  She had guessed that the opal ring was his mother’s, but like Harry’s ruby ring and initial rings, she’d deduced this lionhead decal was more for decoration than anything.  If it was something important, one would figure that he’d take better care of it.  But it seems she’s not as adept at reading Harry as she’d like to think, because his explosive reaction had been totally unexpected.  For the first time since she met him, Y/N feels uneasy in his presence.  Had she really offended him that much?

The truth of the situation, unbeknownst to her, is that Harry’s reaction is no more purposefully malicious than Y/N’s intentions. Although the ring is back on his finger, and the crystals are beginning to protect him again, Harry’s thoughts are still muddied as he glances around the apartment, carefully surveying the circumstance like the top predator he pretends not to be.  There’s still a throbbing in his skull, and his eyes remain painfully dry, despite the fact that his healing has kicked in and mended his blistered fingertips.  In this moment, Harry feels weaker than he has in centuries; if someone were to attack right now, he wouldn’t be able to react quickly enough to protect himself. How could his aching head afford him any clear plan of attack?  How could his burning eyes show him every approaching danger?  How did he let himself become so relaxed— so stupidly lax— that he didn’t notice a mere human slipping off his most precious and needed object as he slept soundly in her bed?

“I really am sorry, Harry.” Rising from her chair with her quiet speech, Y/N steps towards him, hand outstretched to touch his inked forearm. “I didn’t know—”

Her hot fingertips against Harry’s frozen skin jar the vampire, triggering his fight or flight instincts as he tenses beneath her touch. “No—” He wrenches his arm away hurriedly, the searing graze reminding him of the sunlight that had harmed him just seconds ago, his wild eyes meeting Y/N’s in a feral frenzy. 

Although her chest barely moves, Harry can hear the stuttering breath that the girl sucks in through her teeth, her eyes widening at the severity of his actions. “I’m sorry.” She whispers the phrase again, her fingers jerking back from Harry’s arm in shock. “I…”

The more time passes, the more Harry regains control of himself, and as Harry melds his shattered composure back together, he can see the fear beginning to stain its way onto Y/N’s face.  The uneven beating of her heart pricks his ears, as does the scuff of the floor beneath her bare feet as she takes a step back from him.  When that uncertain fear reaches her irises, Harry is suddenly flashed back to their first date, when he’d been worried that she might be scared of being alone with him, and how delighted he’d been when he realized that wasn’t the case.  And now, as a sick feeling begins to settle in his stomach, he knows he’s blown it. 

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Harry urges himself to relax. 

“No, I’m sorry.” He softens his voice as much as he can muster in order to apologize, rubbing his charred eyes with one hand, hoping they’re still the canopy green Y/N is familiar with. “M’just half asleep still, and I was worried that— I’m sorry.” Harry extends his ringed hand in invitation, desperately craving the warmth of Y/N’s touch now that he’s leveled out, but not wanting to take it unwillingly. He wants her to feel safe enough to give it to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

There’s a moment of hesitation that flickers in her eyes, but it quickly passes as the mortal lays her hand within his. “You didn’t scare me.” She reassures him, but Harry can hear the falseness of her response immediately, and that guarded demeanor only intensifies the nausea rattling inside him.

Is she lying to save his feelings, he wonders, or to make herself look tougher?  No matter which may be the truth, Harry hates that she has to feel the need to lie.  He’d been upset, yes, but he should know better.  And he should know that she doesn’t know better.  She thought she’d been doing something nice for him; she has no idea about the torturous results his ring protects him from.  And she doesn’t know because Harry refuses to tell her— because he refuses to subject her to that perverted knowledge.  This is his own doing. 

“I did. I did frighten you, and I was rude, and I’m truly sorry.” Harry sighs heavily, dragging his fingers through his sleep-tousled curls. “My ring is just— it’s very important to me, and I don’t really like to take it off, so maybe just—just ask next time, yeah?” He murmurs the words in a soothing tone, his thumb sweeping over her knuckles in a poor attempt to make up for the way he’d berated her. “I know you didn’t have any bad intentions, and I’m not angry with you for taking it, but it just scared me when I woke up and it was gone.” 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats yet again, and although Harry can feel her melting into his touch, there’s still a hint of uncertainty lingering beneath her words. 

Harry forces a grin on his chapped lips, which he wets with his tongue before speaking again. “S’alright, dove.  No harm, no foul.  And no more apologies, yeah?” He brushes a finger over her cheek, trying his best to put on a lighthearted front for the girl. “It was rather tarnished, actually— needed a good cleaning.” 

A shy smile finally creeps its way onto Y/N’s face, and Harry has to stop himself from breathing an audible sigh of content at both the gesture and the lack of prying about why that ring was dirtier than the rest (the answer to said question is just as simple as it is complicated: it reminds Harry of someone he’d rather forget, and if he didn’t need it, he’d drown it in the deepest ocean he could find— keeping it clean is the least of his concerns).

“How about breakfast, hm?  It’s early, but we could make some pancakes, or—” Harry glances at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, reading the time with surprise before his gaze travels back to Y/N with a confused look. “It’s not even seven yet.  What time did you get up?”

“Around 6:15?  6:30?” She lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug, and Harry’s cardigan slips down her arm with the motion. “I don’t really remember.”

With his other hand still squeezing her own, Harry rugs the sleeve of the cardigan back up her shoulder, smoothing it over her morning-cooled skin. “It’s a Saturday, darling.  What were you doing up so early?”

Despite her heartbeat having not quite returned to its usual tempo, Y/N nuzzles into Harry’s touch as he pulls her closer to him. “Couldn’t really sleep, I guess.” Tucking her face into his neck for a moment, Y/N indulges a penetrating inhale, enjoying the remnants of his mahogany and vanilla cologne before stepping back and past Harry to the cabinet.  

Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N opens the door and retrieves a pink flowered mug before sliding down the counter to her coffee maker. “Want some coffee?” She asks, touching the glass of the carafe lightly to make sure it’s still warm. “There’s butter in the fridge, I think, if you want to make your disgusting drink.”

Ignoring the dig at his beverage of choice— which Harry has explained to her, multiple times, has many health benefits (not that he needs them) and just tastes better than coffee with cream— the vampire leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest as his brow furrows over his darkening eyes. 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He questions, his attention glued to Y/N’s actions as she seems to deliberately avoid his gaze.  He analyzes the dark circles under her eyes, apparent even from just her side profile, and a spark of concern ignites his chest.  Could this be his fault?  Is drinking her blood beginning to take a physical toll on her body?  His blood has been healing her bite marks, but what about her iron levels?  Is her circulation being affected?  Mitch has told him multiple times that drinking from humans is okay once or twice a week, as long as there’s a grace period in between feeding, but Mitch has also never had the same human for as long as Harry has had Y/N.  Have the weeks they’ve spent together begun to unravel her?

When Y/N simply shrugs in response to his question, and offers no other words of explanation, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he steps towards her, taking the now-filled coffee mug from her hands and setting it down on the counter.  He wraps his arms around Y/N’s shoulders, hugging the girl into his chest for a moment to get a gauge on her body’s response.  Her heartbeat stutters, yes, but that’s a usual response to being wrapped inside Harry’s embrace, and it returns to normal after a few beats.  Her body feels just as warm as it usually does, and her chest is rising and falling just as it should be.  Nudging his face into her hair, he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with her fragrance.  No, nothing smells out of place, and her blood had tasted as delicious and as strong as ever last night.  If she’s having trouble sleeping, the cause isn’t anything tangible. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Harry mumbles the words into her hair before lifting his head up, extracting the girl from his arms just enough so that he can see her face. “If something is bothering you and keeping you up, then you can wake me up, too.”

Y/N worries her pillowy bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes become entranced by Harry’s rosemary gaze. “I know I could, but I didn’t want to.  You—” She swallows hard in an attempt to clear the thickness from her throat as her cheeks begin to burn. “You were sleeping, and I never see you sleep.” Y/N’s voice retreats into a sheepish tone at the admittance, her eyes falling from Harry’s stare to the floor between them. “You always fall asleep after me, and you’re always awake before me.  You need rest, too, H.”

While Harry would normally laugh at that simple phrase— at the fact that Y/N doesn’t know how wrong she is— Harry’s dimples remain dormant as he focuses on the concern in her voice. “I—” His voice catches in his throat, and he has to clear it before he can say anything else. “I sleep just fine.  Better, in fact, when I’m with you.” He confesses, his thumbs brushing over the exposed skin of Y/N’s neck. 

And after Y/N has extracted herself from his grip to take a sip of her coffee, after she teasingly groans while watching Harry drop a pat of butter into his own steaming mug, after he begins to crack eggs into a pan as Y/N starts to lay bacon on a baking sheet, after all that, Harry finally realizes what lodged in his throat. It dawns on him just as Y/N slips a pink apron over his bare, faintly hickey-bruised chest to protect him from splatters of grease, giggling to herself as he poses with his hand on his hip and makes a vulgar joke about how this looks like the setup to a cheesy porno. 

The vampire comes to the realization that Y/N takes notice of him. 

She notices when he doesn’t sleep.  She notices his exposed skin that could potentially be burned while cooking.  She notices the expressions on his face, reads the tone of his voice, knows when to press a matter and when to leave it be.  And she’s concerned.  She’s concerned about not seeing him sleep.  She’s concerned about him accidentally getting hurt.  She’s concerned about the swings in his moods, the shortness of his answers.  And while Harry knows her real concerns should be about allowing herself to be in such close proximity to someone— something— like him, he can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest at the thought of her worrying about him. 

As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, he knows he’s not easy to be around sometimes.  He can be vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He can be selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  His mood can teeter at the drop of a hat, and he changes his mind like the weather on the best of days.  And on his worst of days, sometimes Harry wonders if anyone could care for him, or even stand to be around him, if it wasn’t a necessity. 

Although he’d never admit it, when Harry reflects on his friendships, he can feel a degree of insecurity in the threads that tie him to his crew.  He’s fairly certain that if he and Mitch met under different circumstances— circumstances when both of them were human— they would likely still be friends.  Maybe not as close as they are today, but friends, at the very least.  When it comes to Niall, Xander, and Adam, however… he’s not so sure.  Yes, he cares for them more than he’ll ever care for anyone again, and his loyalty to them is unwavering, but on his worst days, Harry can’t help but wonder if they would be friends if their connection hadn’t been forged on the basis of what they are, and understanding something that no one else can.  If being vampires hadn’t placed them in each other’s lives and sealed them in a bond of venom and blood, would they even have given the others a second thought?  Would any of them have wanted Harry in their lives?  Harry wants to think yes, but it’s not a question of what he wants; the truth is, Harry is uncertain. 

But when Y/N sits across from him with a smear of ketchup on her bottom lip, smiling softly at Harry as he wipes it off with his thumb, and he can’t stop himself from smiling back, he realizes something that’s never occurred to him before.  He’s able to be cared for by someone who is drawn to him for all the reasons humans are normally drawn to each other, and not because they have a mutual understanding of what it’s like to be an other.

Of course, he knows there’s a certain degree of falsity in that; part of his charm and addictive qualities come from what he is, and Y/N, like any other mortal, isn’t immune to that.  But instead of allowing herself to be driven away by the usual uneasiness that pairs with being so close to a vampire for so long, Y/N is leaning closer to him, laughing as he cracks a bad joke, kissing him over their breakfast, and showing evidence that she— against all odds— wants to know him.  And the thought sends a fluttering below Harry’s ribs. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could be capable of feeling the same. He wishes he could have the decency to give this girl the proper relationship she wants, or even the decency to break her heart quickly before she gets too attached to someone incapable of seeing her as anything more than a takeout meal.  He wishes he could get to know her— truly get to know her, without any ulterior motives.

But Harry is vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He’s selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  And he has his fangs too deep in this mortal to let her go. 

///

“Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” Harry slides his phone between his ear and his shoulder in order to snag his keychain from his pocket, fumbling for the right key before inserting it into his locked door. “I can just drop my groceries off and then swing by your cafe, love.  It’s no trouble.”

“No, really, it’s fine, H.” Y/N insists from the other end of the line, her voice nearly drowned out from the roar of L.A. traffic around her. “I already left work, and I’m nearly home.  I’ll be over at your place within, like, forty-five minutes, I think?  I just have to change out of my uniform.”

With his front door now unlocked, Harry grabs his phone from its perch on his shoulder before pushing open the door with his hand full of groceries, stepping inside his apartment and nudging the door shut with his foot. “I know, but it’s a long walk to my place, isn’t it?”

“It’s, like, twenty minutes— practically nothing.  And besides, I have to stop at the post office and mail a letter to my parents.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up as he rounds the corner to his kitchen, setting his grocery bags on the island before leaning his hip against the kitchen counter, his now free hand braced against the cool marble. “You still send your parents letters?  Can’t you just call them?” He asks, tapping a ringed finger against the stone.

“If you knew my parents, you’d send letters, too.” Y/N sighs into the speaker, and Harry’s inhuman ears can hear the jangling of her keys in her hand.  He can picture her searching for them like she did the night they met, digging into her purse until she’s elbow deep, her tongue tucked between her teeth in concentration.

Despite the distinctive sound of a lock turning, Harry can’t stop himself from asking about her well-being. He’s so used to doing it with his other friends, it slips out on impulse. “Are you home now?  Made it alright?”

There’s a hint of exasperated amusement in Y/N’s voice when she responds. “Yes, I managed to walk home all by myself.  Didn’t even get murdered.” There’s another thud, and Harry imagines her shutting her door, pushing her weight against it to lock it properly. “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, you know.  I have good instincts.” 

If she’s allowed him to get this close to her, Harry thinks, then her instincts aren’t exactly the caliber she imagines them to be, but he bites his tongue to stop himself from correcting her. “I’m sure you do, darling.” He murmurs the reply as he opens his fridge to begin stocking it with the items he’d purchased earlier. “Oh, by the way, make sure you’re wearing comfortable shoes, yeah?  We’re going to be doing a bit of walking later.”

“Right.  And you’re not telling me where we’re going because…?”

“Because surprises are fun.”

When Y/N huffs in response, Harry pictures the girl with a scowl on her face, her arms crossed tightly over her tummy as she gives him an endearing glare. “Not when you’re the one who’s being surprised.” 

Still, despite her protests, Harry hears the rustling of clothing as she pulls off her work polo, followed by the clanking of her belt, the snap of a button, and the familiar rustle of her jeans being peeled off her legs. “You just worry about undressing yourself, alright?  It must be difficult, since you’ve grown so used to me doing it for you.”

“Uh huh.  I’m hanging up now.” Y/N deadpans into the phone, but Harry can tell there’s a lingering smile underneath her flat words. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Alright, doll.  See you soon.” Harry sets a carton of eggs in the fridge before closing it, hanging up the call and slipping his phone back into his black slacks.  

It takes Harry a few more minutes to put the rest of his groceries away in his pantry.  He made sure to stock up on all the ingredients needed to make pancakes at the grocery store, as well as picking up a carton of the fancy pomegranate juice that Y/N had mentioned she was fond of.  In fact, as he was wandering the aisles of his local Whole Foods, he’d found himself seeking out the snacks that he’d seen in her cupboards.  He knows that humans need to eat much more often than vampires do, and seeing as how all the activities Y/N engages in at his condo are rather exhausting and energy-burning, he thought she’d need proper fuel.

After he folds the reusable cloth tote bags he’d brought to the grocery store and puts them back in the pantry, Harry climbs up his glass stairs to his bedroom.  He takes a moment to evaluate his appearance in the full length mirror hanging on the back of his door, sweeping over every detail with a careful eye.  His outfit is alright for what he has planned, he decides; his black slacks and scuffed white vans are comfortable, but more importantly, his white t-shirt embossed with a Hollywood Bowl print that clings to the muscles of his inked arms and broad chest, which Harry knows Y/N will enjoy.  His curls, however, need a bit of tending to, and Harry slinks into his bathroom to add a bit more product to his chestnut locks, getting rid of the little frizz that had developed in the L.A. heat in order to fix his curl pattern.  

As for his jewelry, he leaves on his usual rings: his gold initial pieces, his mother’s opal, his ruby, an engraved band, and his lionhead ring, which shines under the bathroom lights thanks to Y/N’s careful efforts the week before.  Once those are secure, he fastens his pearl necklace around his neck, and fixes the clasp of his cross before slipping a plain gold hoop into his pierced ear.  Once he’s satisfied with his accessories, Harry spritzes his favourite cologne across his body, giving his appearance one more look over as he leaves his bathroom and passes the full length mirror in his bedroom again.  

The Rolex on his wrist tells him that Y/N is due over any moment, and he’s just making sure his Gucci wallet is securely tucked in his trouser pocket when Harry’s ears prick up at the sound of two pairs of feet stomping into his condo downstairs.  It only takes him a moment more to identify the intruders based on their step patterns, and a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he checks the time again before sauntering down the stairs.

“And just what do you two,” Harry calls to his unexpected friends as he rounds the corner of the stairs, his eyebrow quirked in question as he steps down from the last platform, “think you’re doing here?”

“We wanted some change in scenery.” Niall quips sarcastically, emerging from the end of the entrance corridor with his hands in his pockets, shoulders shrugging casually. “And I told Xander you might be shirtless, which got him to tag along. But you’re not, much to his disappointment. Though I do think the way you’re about to burst out of that tee suffices. Isn’t that right, Xanny?” 

“That’s not true!” Xander snaps hotly, his cheeks blazing and glare electric as Niall cackles boyishly, stepping around him and towards the kitchen, like he always does when he walks into Harry’s apartment. The tanned man glowers at the other vampire as he makes a beeline for Harry’s refrigerator, slowly pinning his gaze back onto the owner of the condo. He clears his throat awkwardly before offering a solid explanation for their sudden visit. “Adam cancelled on pub trivia night, so we thought you might be available instead.”

Harry shakes his head with a sigh as he makes his way into the kitchen, as well— mostly to make sure Niall doesn’t reach for any of the expensive liquors he has arranged on his bar shelves; they took too long to collect for him to just allow a single person to down one bottle like a shot— and leans both elbows against the marble island. “Sorry, mate.  I’ve got a date with Y/N.”

“So bring her.” Niall pipes up from the fridge, a stolen bottle of Harry’s favourite beer already in his hand. Harry doesn’t complain— it’s a better substitute than his forty year aged scotch. “She went to uni, didn’t she?  She must be smart.”

“I’ve got better things planned for us than pub trivia with two obnoxious knobheads.” Harry retorts, his lips tugging into a smirk at Niall’s responding eyeroll. “That’s not very romantic, is it?  Taking her on a double date with you two?”

“And that’s not very nice, H. I’m offended you wouldn’t go on a double date with Xander and I.” The Irishman sniffles with fake sincerity, biting the bottle cap off his beer despite knowing that Harry keeps a bottle opener in the kitchen drawer to his right. 

Xander watches the spectacle with distaste, his nose wrinkling as Niall spits the cap from his mouth into his hand. “And I’m offended you’d think I’d date someone who does that.”

“It’s not like you have standards.”

“Hey!”

“But then again, no one sets a bar the way I do.”

“The only bar you set for me was potential alcoholism.” Xander mutters spitefully.

“I’d make a great boyfriend.” Niall interrupts with airy confidence, ignoring his friends bickering and taking a deep swig of his beverage, smacking his lips appreciatively. “But humans are too fragile to keep around for long, and most vampires are fucking psychotic. Unfortunately.”

“What about Charlotte?” Harry suggests nonchalantly, hooking his index finger into the cabinet beneath him and fishing for a coaster. He shuts the drawer and skims the item across the top of the counter towards Niall, just in case the man wants to put his glass container down. This is real marble, after all. “She seems pretty tame.” 

Niall glances at the coaster, but doesn’t make any conscious effort to set his drink down. Harry should’ve known; Niall isn’t one to put a pint down until it’s empty, but the possibility is there, nonetheless. It’s not his fault he likes taking care of his home. 

Niall sighs through his nose dismissively, following it with a light rattle of his head. “Charlotte’s too...smart. She’s a bit out of my league, and I feel like she’d get bored of me easily. Also, how would you know if she’s tame or not? You rarely hang out whenever she’s around.” 

“That’s because she hates me.” Harry states flatly, as if it should be obvious. And it should, considering the young woman had not held back on expressing her strong dislike towards the curly brunette. Harry has thick skin and words never hurt him, but Charlotte has a surprisingly vicious vocabulary; if he hadn’t been amused by her anger, she would have come pretty close to genuinely chipping his ego. 

Niall chortles softly. “Well, I mean, you can’t really blame her, can you? You’re kind of a prick.”

“A proper asshole, actually.” Xander chimes in, drumming his digits against the table’s surface and giving Harry a bright, innocent smile. 

The immortal momentarily casts his eyes towards the ceiling in mild annoyance. “Yeah, well, that’s just the way I am. If her and Miss Billy Ray Cyrus can’t handle some dark humor and dirty banter, that’s not my problem. Everyone else seems to like me just fine.” 

“That’s debatable.” Xander corrects. 

“You’re just mad I fucked you once and decided that was enough.” 

“Anywho,” Niall interferes, waving around his beer in order to catch his friends’ attention and prevent a catastrophic World War V, he proceeeds to swivel the topic back onto himself, “like I said, I’d make a great partner. I’m funny, I’ve got a whole shelf full of PS4 games, I like to think my oral skills are pretty decent, and—”

“Have you ever made a girl wet her sheets?” Harry prods with entertained curiosity, cocking an eyebrow questioningly.

Niall pauses mid-sentence with his drink perched to his lips, eyes flitting around thoughtfully as he shovels through cluttered memories of drunken one night stands and fleeting relationships. He relents with a sheepish scoff, shoulders sagging. “...No.”

“Then you’re not as skilled as you think.” Harry remarks passively, titling his head to the side with finality. “And I’m willing to bet Mitch’s next stock of O negative that eighty percent of your hookups probably faked it.” 

“Oi, bet, then.” Niall snorts, grinning around the spout of his beverage as he finishes his sip. He wiggles his brows playfully, squaring his shoulders proudly. “You can’t fake a leg-shake, darling.” 

“A leg-shake?” Harry inquires carefully, pursing his lips to keep from sputtering into pompous laughter. “You mean like this?” He then proceeds to dramatically buckle his right leg, immediately debunking Niall’s ridiculous theory. “Just like that?” 

The Irish bloke’s face drops into a scorned scowl as Xander and Harry break into a round of mocking giggles. He draws into himself with childish pettiness, narrowing his eyes pointedly. “Piss off.”

“Unless she couldn’t walk right afterwards, you didn’t really do what you think you did, Ni.” 

“It seemed pretty real to me!” The blue-eyed boy rebuttals sharply, cheeks tinging bright pink in embarrassment. 

“That’s the point.” 

“This is precisely why I’d never entertain a relationship with you, even as a joke.” Xander pipes up towards Niall, smirking cruelly at his friend’s bruised ego. “I like my orgasms to be real, and I’m not willing to put up an act to spare your fragile masculinity.” 

“Your dick’s probably small, anyways.” 

“Bigger than yours.”

“Is that a challenge? I’ll pull it out right now, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Well,” Harry cuts in loudly, not necessarily keen on watching two grown men compare penis sizes in the middle of his home, “it seems you two have some issues to work out, so the double date is a moot point, anyways.” His jade eyes flicker to his watch again; Y/N should nearly be here, and he doesn’t want these two goons present when she arrives— especially not with their balls out. That wouldn’t be a decent introduction, despite being an unforgettable one. “So I’ll talk to you two later, then.  Thanks for stopping by.”

“Hold up, I practically just cracked my beer.” Niall whines in return, holding up the chilled bottle in protest, leaning his backside against the marble countertop with a decisive motion. “Y’can’t kick us out yet.”

Harry laughs once, the noise sounding more strained than he would like. “Seeing as how I didn’t invite you over, I think I can.” He retorts, tapping a jeweled finger against the table. 

“The blood bag isn’t even here yet,” Xander reasons as he pulls out a chair from the kitchen island, taking a seat and making himself at home as if Harry hadn’t just told him to get the fuck out. “So what's the rush?”

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickles at the crude nickname, and the older vampire shoots daggers at the younger as he pushes himself off the marble counter. “There isn’t one, except I think hearing herself be referred to as ‘the blood bag’ may make her a little suspicious, don’t you?”

“We’ve referred to her as worse.” Xander shrugs offhandedly, kicking his feet up onto the bar stool next to him.

Harry’s brows furrow as he pushes Xander’s shoes off his furniture, dusting the leather cushion off. “Referred to her as what?  And when?”

Although Xander lifts one shoulder again as a vague answer, Niall smacks his lips loudly once again as he swallows the rest of the beer, and answers in a matter-of-fact tone. “In Vegas, after you ditched us to get your dick wet.  I think Xander called her a fuckable slab of kobe beef, and—”

“I said ribeye, actually.  Nice flavour, but a little chewy.” Xander corrects the Irishman, but has the decency to look halfway embarrassed when he catches Harry’s stony glare. “And it’s not like we’re wrong, right?  That’s all humans are.”

Niall gives an affirmative nod as he sets his empty bottle down on the marble counter, completely ignoring the coaster Harry had slid to him. “Don’t take it personally, H.  Xanny refers to his own dates as McDonald’s Happy Meal Twinks— at least a ribeye steak is expensive.”

“I’m not taking it personally.” Harry mutters the words in a low voice as his jaw twitches, tensing under the sunlight streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows. “But comments like these are why you pricks need to get out of here before she shows up, or else I’ll be feeding from one of you tonight.”

A beat of silence falls between the three vampires as the palpable tension flowing off of Harry thickens the room.  Xander and Niall glance between each other and Harry, hardly able to hold the latter’s eyes, before Niall offers a small comment.

“I don’t think Xander would mind that, really—”

“Out.” Harry points a jeweled finger at the entrance corridor with a firm motion. “Both of you.  Go bother Mitch.”

He can see the disappointment and frustration that lingers on Niall and Xander’s faces, but neither of them fight him as they rise from their perches in the kitchen and walk dejectedly to the front door.  Harry briefly entertains the idea of walking them out, but decides against it; there’s a strange buzzing sensation rising through his ribs, and he’s not quite sure what he’ll say as he bids his friends— he has to remind himself that, yes, they’re his friends— goodbye.  It’s safer, he thinks, if he stays where he is and cleans up the mess that they managed to leave behind in their short visit. 

He comes to regret that decision, however, approximately three milliseconds after he hears the front door creak open, and a familiar but unexpected voice echos down the entrance hallway.

“Oh— hi.  Sorry, I may have the wrong apartment…?”

Harry freezes with Niall’s empty beer bottle clutched in his hand, his grip contracting so hard that he hears the thick glass begin to splinter.

“No, no, this is Harry’s apartment.  We were just leaving.” The grin on Niall’s face is audible underneath his Irish accent. “You must be Y/N.”

“I am, yeah.” Harry can hear the tiny thread of surprise at him recognizing her in the human’s words, and the even tinier thread of pleasure that undercuts it.  “And you must be...Niall, I think?  And Xander?”

Niall’s smug reply grates against Harry’s frozen skin, even from down the corridor. “Harry’s told you about us, huh?  Only good things, I hope.”

“Oh, I—”

Harry forces his legs to move with inhuman speed, the beer bottle not even having hit the marble counter by the time Harry appears at Niall and Xander’s shoulders. “Hi, darling.” He says through a strained smile, digging his stony fingers into the back of the two vampire’s arms, an unspoken warning of behave. “Y’made it alright, then?”

When Y/N shines a warm— albeit, slightly confused— smile in his direction, Harry wishes that he’d been faster in shooing his friends out the door, because the action nearly knocks the unrequired breath from his chest.  

She’d dressed in comfortable and casual clothes, as per his suggestion, and is standing just outside the doorway in light washed denim overalls, with a black and white striped t-shirt layered underneath, and her familiar cotton candy pink vans on her feet.  But the detail that digs its way to the forefront of his mind— more so than her satin lips, her heated cheeks that are appled with her smile, and the tousled locks that are pulled back from her face in a low ponytail— is the shining silver cross pendant that hangs on a chain around her smooth neck.

It’s a new addition that Harry has never seen before, and while he knows he shouldn’t be surprised— after all, she’d told him how she grew up in a religious town, how she’d attended church, how she used to say grace before dinner with her friends— the jewelry still piques his curiosity.

“I did, yeah.  It’s really not that long of a walk, H.” Y/N replies, flicking her eyes between Harry and his two friends, who are still watching her every move as if she’s a specimen to be observed. “Sorry, am I interrupting…?”

The Irishman with glasses— Niall, Y/N reminds herself— opens his mouth to respond, but Harry quickly cuts him off as he pushes past his mates to take Y/N’s hand and step outside the apartment, fetching his keys and yellow sunglasses from the small side table by the door in one smooth motion.

“Not interrupting anything, doll.  Niall and Xander were just on their way out.” Although Harry is smiling at her throughout the comment, the mortal can’t help but feel like the last phrase was aimed at the pair still lingering in the doorway.

“We were just stopping by to see if we could steal Harry for a last minute trivia game, but he said he was already booked.” Niall answers with an accepting shrug, glancing at Xander next to him, who’s still yet to say anything to Y/N, though he is carrying an unreadable empty expression as he gives the girl a calculating once-over. “Apparently, whatever he’s got planned for you two is more interesting than a few beers and watching Xander struggle to remember all the battles in World War I—”

“That’s not fair,” The brunette finally chimes in, breaking his attention away from her body to meet the blue-eyed boy’s gaze. Y/N is surprised to hear an American accent fall from his lips. “I’m the only one who wasn’t there, so how would I know—?”

“And you two are already arguing,” Harry cuts over his friends’ bickering, shooting them an annoyed glance as he wraps a cool arm around her waist, cautioning them to watch what they’re saying. “Which will only get worse once you get alcohol in your hands, and that is why I’m not going to subject Y/N to a headache-inducing night of torture.” 

Y/N looks up at Harry with innocent interest swirling in her eyes. “I don’t know, H, it could be fun.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as a crease forms between Harry’s brows. “Don’t you think?”

Niall catches Harry’s eye, taking advantage of Y/N’s distraction to cheekily flash him his crimson irises for a split second, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm that only he can detect. “Yeah, Harry. Don’t you think?”

Jaw tensing, Harry bends down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, dampening his irritation down into a smooth and silky tone. “Don’t try to spare their feelings, love.  I’ve got something fun planned for us, I promise.” His teeth graze against Y/N’s skin, and he nearly drags his lips down towards her neck until he remembers her stuttering heartbeat can be heard by the other vampires in their presence.

The two creatures gawk at the image before them, utterly baffled at Harry’s unusual tenderness. It’s very out of character for him, that much is obvious. In all the decades Niall and Xander have been acquainted with the Victorian era immortal, neither have ever seen him be so gentle and touchy with another soul, let alone a human. It feels as if they’re looking at some type of warped parallel universe version of the normally stand-offish young man. 

Xander is the first to clear his throat, throwing Harry an annoyed grimace before pulling Niall out from the condo’s entryway. “We’ll see you later then, Harry.  C’mon, Ni.”

The Irishman offers a quick goodbye, gifting the strange girl a frail wave and a parting smile before being half-dragged down the hallway by Xander. Niall wrenches himself free and shoves Xander’s shoulder playfully as they round the corner to the elevator, their quiet voices— no doubt spinning juvenile gossip— fading out of earshot.  The look in Xander’s eyes had been concerning, Harry thinks, but nothing he needs to worry about right now.  If anything, he wants to forget that encounter as quickly as possible, and needs Y/N to forget it, too.

“So,” he pastes an easygoing grin onto his face as he locks his front door, turning to the mortal with a giddy twinkle in his forest green eyes. “Shall we be off, then?”

There’s a lingering look of confusion reflecting back at him, but Y/N doesn’t press the odd encounter as Harry intertwines his icy fingers with her own warm digits. 

“Alright.” She agrees, raising a questioning eyebrow back at him. “And just where are we going?”

///

“The Los Angeles Antique Mall.” Harry announces proudly when he opens Y/N’s door, extending a ringed hand to help her out of his low-riding car. “Twenty thousand square feet of vintage collectables, artwork, furniture, and anything else you could possibly want.”

Y/N stares up at the massive building in front of them, observing the worn wood facade and the collection of what seems to be (half faded) stained rocking chairs adorning the wraparound porch.  There’s also an impressive amount of wrought iron planters with various greenery scattered between the furniture, with groups of people milling between them as they enter and exit the giant mall. 

“You brought me antiquing?” She asks, an bemused look in her eye as she turns to Harry for an explanation. 

Wrapping his large grasp around her smaller one, Harry nods enthusiastically as he begins to lead her towards the door. “Yeah.  It’s fun, actually.  I’m always up for a bit of a treasure hunt, and I thought, since you’re still furnishing your apartment…”

“You know, now that you mention it… I could use some new curtains for my living room.  Maybe a nice side table.” Y/N allows, stepping over the wooden stairs to the door as Harry tugs her along. “But I’m surprised you like antiquing.  Doesn’t really seem like your thing, if I’m honest.”

A mischievous glint flits through Harry’s jade eyes as he treats her to a grin that’s all teeth. “I’m actually quite fond of antiques, truth be told.  I’ve got a good eye for vintage collectables.  And…” He lazily tugs on the handle of the door to open it, stepping to the side to allow Y/N to walk through first. “Maybe we’ll find a nice painting to replace that god awful tapestry in your bedroom.”

A scoff of indignation falls from Y/N’s mouth as she turns on her heel to punch Harry’s sturdy upper arm, nearly getting too distracted by the ropes of muscle beneath his tight sleeve to give a response. “I like that tapestry!  And, seeing as how you’re either sleeping or fucking me when you’re in said room, I’m a little offended that my tapestry is the thing you focus the most on.”

Harry bites his bottom lip between his teeth.  If only she knew how much time he actually spends staring at it. 

“Well, there’s certainly other things I focus on…” He replies with a casual air, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Y/N’s overalls to cup her ass suggestively, guiding her along the aisles of antiques. “But nothing ruins a post-orgasm glow like poor interior design, sweetheart. S’a bit of a buzzkill, y’know?”

“So is being patronized.” Y/N deadpans, extracting Harry’s hand from her back pocket as a hot flash begins to creep up her spine. “You keep mocking my interior design choices, and your orgasms are going to get a lot less frequent.”

The vampire belly laughs as he throws an arm around her shoulders, the action as natural to him as breathing once was. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.” He replies gleefully, smudging an open mouthed kiss to Y/N’s temple. 

“You don’t, huh?” The human girl raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to scan the towering racks of oddities all around them. “I wonder if we can find you a vintage fleshlight here?”

“Already got one, doll,” Harry rolls his eyes as he brushes his cool fingers along Y/N’s exposed collarbone, his eyes catching the cross pendant again and brimming with curiosity. “And it’s just the tip of the iceberg that is my toy chest, y’know that—” 

Y/N feels Harry’s arm suddenly tense around her, his muscles contracting as his touch jolts away from her collarbones, his hand flexing beneath the open skylights of the building. “Everything okay?” Y/N asks, all her teasing fading away, replaced with concern as she pauses her steps toward the shelves. 

“I—” Harry flexes his fingers again, slowly removing his arm from her shoulder to examine his hand.  The tips of his fingers are a bright red, crimson burns contrasting against his pink skin, and although it only takes a few moments for the marks to fade, the uneasy feeling bubbling in Harry’s stomach lasts. “Yeah.  My, uh, my hand just cramped.  But it’s fine now, I think.”

Who the fuck, he wonders as he cautiously slings his arm back around Y/N’s shoulders, wears a cross made of, not silver as Harry originally suspected, but polished iron?  

Iron jewelry had fallen out of fashion a century ago, and Harry had never been more thankful than when it did, given how his flesh scorches at merely brushing the metal. When he took his family’s trinkets as a way to remember them before he had to leave, Harry had snuck into his father’s forge in the dead of the night to dip the jewelry in gold that he’d stolen from a local merchant who cheated poor peasants out of their valuables.  It had been a tedious task, and rather dangerous due to the threat of being caught, but it had also been necessary; if he hadn’t taken the risk, he wouldn’t have his sister’s cross earring, or his father’s matching cross necklace.  His dad’s pocket watch, luckily, had been made of silver, and didn’t need a golden bath, but everything else had to be encased to protect Harry’s skin.  

Iron jewelry had been a deterrent to him in the years to come after he was turned; it wasn’t uncommon for him to find a pretty young girl from a village and sneak her away for a night of fun, only to discover an iron chain dangling from her neck when he leaned in to take a bite.  It wasn’t a permanent problem, of course, as there were plenty of other soft places he could sink his teeth into, but it had been an annoyance then, and it still annoys him now. 

Harry does his best to push the irritation to the back of his mind, he really does.  He shows Y/N around the twisting maze of antiques, and does his best to showcase one of his favourite hideaways in L.A.  He points to anything and everything that could interest her, and doesn’t hesitate when she asks him to reach something heavy perched on a high shelf, even if she just wants to examine it out of curiosity.  Harry pulls out typewriters, vintage cameras, tarnished cigarette lighters, and a pastel yellow bicycle with an attached wicker basket from 1941, presenting all of the objects with the enthusiasm of a showcase model on The Price is Right, spouting falsified information about each product in the best impression of Bob Barker he can pull off (“This ancient, rusted bicycle— once owned by the Queen of England herself— can be all yours for just one easy payment of $8.99! Taxes and shipping not included.”). 

And although all of that incites multiple tinkling laughs from Y/N, and lights a glimmer in her eye, and compels her to walk closer and closer to Harry until she lets him sneak his palm back into the backside pocket of her overalls, the mystery of her necklace still eats at the far end of his brain. And it’s that insipid, insistent pest of a thought that causes Harry to readjust his grip on the framed Monet print he’d spotted in the racks (Y/N had tried to deny how much she liked it in order to thwart Harry’s triumphant smirk, but she still asked him to grab it for her with a grumble) and spare another glance to the innocent looking cross resting atop her clavicle. 

“That’s a pretty little piece.” Harry slips into a nonchalant tone with ease, nodding towards the necklace as he navigates the two of them around a corner. “Why have I never seen you wear it before?”

Y/N brushes her fingertips over the iron cross with a gentle motion.  Her fingers don’t scorch with a mere graze of the metal, Harry notes scathingly.  Not that he expected it from someone like Y/N. 

“Because I don’t wear it often.” She replies, lifting one shoulder without a second thought. “It was my grandmother’s— not, like, originally, but she’d owned it, and gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, so I guess it counts as a family heirloom, huh?”

“Guess so.” The vampire murmurs in agreement, prickles of wonder still coasting against his skin. “So what made you drag it out today?” Did you subconsciously realize that your neck needs protection when I’m near? Harry tacks on in his head, his brow furrowing at the troubling thought. 

And at that question, Y/N’s eyes drop to the floor, as if her bubblegum pink vans need an audience for every step they take. “Uh, I was just a little homesick, that’s all.” She mumbles the reply, her shoulders sagging as a dark shadow passes through her usually dazzling eyes. 

Homesickness.  The one human feeling that Harry can still relate to. “I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” He removes his hand from her back pocket to wind it around her shoulders again, mindful of the jewelry in question. “Did anything in particular happen, or…?”

Y/N lifts her shoulders once again as she tucks her hands into her pockets, her posture closing off more and more with every passing moment. “Not really.  I don’t know, I— normally I’m fine, but when I addressed my letter to my parents today, it took me a moment to remember my ZIP code.  It’s the same ZIP code I’ve had all my life, but… I nearly forgot it.” She glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, and Harry realizes that dark shadow is guilt.  She feels guilty. “I’ve been in L.A. for less than six months, and almost forgot my parent’s ZIP code.  I didn’t think that could ever happen.”

Harry hums low in his throat, a noise of understanding and finality.  It’s homesickness, that’s all.  That’s explainable, and understandable, and should be enough information to silence the gnawing irritation in his chest. 

And yet...

“Do you believe in God?” The question escapes from Harry’s mouth before he can even think to censor it, his own eyes widening on his behalf as his grip on the Monet print nearly releases from the surprise. 

“What?” Y/N stops in her tracks, although she nearly stumbles forward when Harry’s sturdy arm catches behind her shoulders as her eyes boggle at him. “I don’t— what does God have to do with antiquing?”

If Harry didn’t have to worry about digging himself out of the whole he created, he’d laugh at the incredulous expression on his lover’s face. “I was just curious, s’all.” He struggles to keep his voice casual, steadying his feet against the wooden floor in an effort to ground himself mentally. “I know you were raised with religion, but you don’t really go to church here— not that church equals a belief, but—”

“Um, I don’t…” Y/N extends her arm to let her fingers graze over the shelf of old lunch boxes next to them, feeling each dip of every embossed cartoon character. “I don’t know.  I don’t really believe in, like, a concept of God— at least, not the one I was raised with.  But I believe in…” She trails off as she attempts to gather her thoughts, chewing on her bottom lip absentmindedly as she searches for the right words. “Something.  I don’t really know if it’s a deity, or an energy, or just coincidence, but… I think there’s something out there that guides us.”

“So you believe in souls.” Harry’s mouth presses into a flat line, his jaw clenching for just a moment as he grits his teeth and then reiterates her previous point. “The thing that allows us to be guided, that is.” 

Or allows her to be guided, Harry thinks bitterly, casting his eyes towards their path ahead of them to avoid Y/N’s prying gaze. That’s really the only reason he’d brought up this entire religion conversation— the only reason he ever brings it up: he wants to know if she believes in souls, because in order to be guided by whatever higher power supposedly exists, one needs a soul.  And Harry’s fairly certain his was stolen from him in 1837. 

“I suppose.” Y/N allows, tracing the embossed lettering of a vintage Wonder Woman lunch box. “A soul, an energy, an aura— they’re all kind of the same thing to me.  The thing that keeps your heart beating.  I don’t think it needs to be tied to a religion; there’s so many different religions, but everyone has a heartbeat, you know?”

Harry nearly laughs out loud at the irony, but manages to stifle the sound into a non-committal hum. “Does your something include heaven and hell, or is that too based in Christianity?” He asks, half out of curiosity and half out of necessity. “If someone were to lose their soul…” He knows he sounds insane asking the question, but it bubbles out of him before he can choke it back. “Would you think them damned?”

The mortal girl stares at him blankly for a moment, her mouth just barely open as she considers his words.  He shouldn’t have asked, and he knows that— he knew it the moment the first question fell from his lips.  But the more they discussed the topic, the more it nagged at him.  Y/N, with all her good nature, her listening skills, and her soft heart, are most certainly bound for whatever good lies in store when a soul actually leaves a body.  Harry, on the other hand… If the monster’s conscience were to ever leave this Earth, he knows it’s not for the metaphorical pearly white gates. And for some reason, that notion bothers him more right now than it has in the last twenty decades.

“Um…” A nervous laugh echoes from Y/N’s mouth, the smile curling the edges of her lips not quite reaching her eyes. “Okay, this topic is way too serious for me to discuss sober.  Can I take a rain check on the damnation questions?  I’m getting Sunday school flashbacks, and living through that once was bad enough.”

Harry wills a smile onto his own face, but the expression is more apologetic than anything as he grips Y/N’s hand in his to tow her down an aisle of antique kitchen equipment. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with such heavy questions. I guess I just wanted to get to know my partner in justice a bit more.” 

Y/N takes it in good stride, just as she usually does, her smile relaxing the moment she sees Harry’s dimples peek out from his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it, Sherlock.  I’d expect nothing less from such an established detective.”

As the pair pass under another skylight, Y/N’s cross glints at Harry as if to mock him. 

///

Y/N isn’t lost.

To the untrained eye, the mindless path she takes through the towering and twisting rows of the antique mall may seem like the wandering of someone who has no recollection of where they came from, nor where they’re going, but Y/N is adamant that she isn’t lost.  She isn’t, because when she split from Harry to take a trip to the washroom, he’d warned her not to get lost in the internal maze of the mall.  And Y/N, with a glare in her eyes and a scathing remark on her lips, had assured him that she, a grown woman, would be able to find her way back after she was done, and “Honestly, H, just wander a bit.  I’ll be able to find you easily.”

So Y/N isn’t lost, because she refuses to prove Harry right.  He’s already a cocky asshole with a huge ego, and she couldn’t bear seeing that ego enlarge as a triumphant smirk paints over his face the moment she calls him on his cellphone, admits defeat, and asks him to come find her.  She’ll do a lot of things for that man, but that isn’t one of them.

With that in mind, she turns down a corridor of the labyrinth of collectables, trying to find any discernible items that she could use to pinpoint her location in the labyrinth.  The yellow bicycle, maybe, or one of the vintage cameras Harry had pretended to photograph her with, or even the strange five foot carving of Bugs Bunny that she and Harry had agreed is probably possessed by a demon.  A haunted Bugs Bunny could lead her to her destination— or kill her, truthfully, but either option seems preferable over the solidifying future of having to call Harry.

After another five minutes of aimless ambling, Y/N retrieves her phone from her pocket, a grimace crawling its way onto her face as she opens her contacts to click on Harry’s name.  Her finger hovers just over the phone icon, mere millimetres from humiliation, when a few out of place piano notes float by her ears and catch her attention.

Y/N tucks her phone back into her overall pocket as her curiosity takes over, urging her ears to strain towards the distant melody, as well as for her legs to follow. It’s not long before Y/N is walking with purpose again, albeit a different purpose than before.  As the music gets louder, Y/N begins to pick out more details— how the piano notes that prick her ears are slightly out of tune, how the player begins and stops and begins again, dragging out different phrases, speeding through others with no clear intention.  The minor key of the piece makes Y/N feel like she’s walking into a memory as she wades through the shelves of long-forgotten belongings, old photographs of deceased people in Victorian fashions watching while the young woman falls back in time.

The music grows louder as Y/N reaches a dark corridor with wood paneling lining the walls, and a painted sign saying “Music Room” beckons her down the passageway.  She follows with slow steps, and while she knows that maybe leaving the main mall area and losing her way down here isn’t a smart idea, the music that’s beginning to grow impossibly sweet pulls her forward.  Y/N rounds the corner to find the oak doors to the music room swung open, and when she lays her eyes on the figure sitting at the mahogany ground piano, she recognizes the silhouette of Harry’s back and shoulders immediately.

Y/N’s gaze falls from his flexing shoulder blades to his inked hands, the jewels on his rings catching the low light of the room as his lithe fingers dance over the dusty ivory keys.  He coaxes a melody from the instrument without any difficulty, as if the music had been simmering beneath his skin for ages.  Maybe it has, Y/N thinks, as she watches from the doorway with quiet wonder, and although she plans on silently observing for as long as she can, Harry only completes a few more phrases before the music drifts to a halt.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d find me.” He murmurs, clearing his throat of the rasp that had settled in his vocal chords as he played. “Thought I’d be getting a scared phone call any moment now.”

The human girl steps into the room slowly, gliding around to the cut out of the piano and leaning across the lacquered wood. “I wasn’t scared.  And I would’ve found you sooner if you’d stayed put. I said wander a bit, not all the way across the building.” She retorts jokingly, trailing a finger along the smooth edge of the piano. All of the sarcasm in her voice melts right out, replaced by intrigue. “I didn’t know you played piano.”

“I, uh, I don’t.  Not much anymore, anyways.” Harry runs his digits between the keys again, using only enough pressure to dust the top of the ivory covers. “I wasn’t sure I’d remember how, honestly, but this…” He lifts an index finger to brush the dust off the gold embossed brand name. “It looks like the one I learned on, so…”

Y/N takes a seat on the wooden bench next to Harry, her shoulder bumping against his as she leans in to smudge a kiss across his cheek. “It sounded beautiful.” She assures him, noting the hesitation in his explanation. “What’s that piece called?”

“It’s one of Chopin’s Nocturnes, in C-Sharp Minor.” Harry curves his fingers over the keys, as if he’s about to begin again, but then relaxes the digits as he exhales harshly. “I don’t play it as well as— as the person who taught me.”

There seems to be a hidden story beneath those words, but Y/N doesn’t press it; if Harry wants to tell her, then he’ll tell her.  If not… Well, she’d rather not drag a sour memory from him in the middle of an antique mall.  Instead, she drags her fingers over his thigh, rubbing just above his knee in a comforting manner. 

“How long have you been playing?” She asks softly, tracing over a black lacquered key with her free hand.  When she pulls away, her finger is coated in dust, and she wonders how long it’s been since the piano has been touched by someone else.

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch, as if her question is particularly humorous. “A while.” He answers simply, and he tilts his head to the side to press his face against the top of Y/N’s head, inhaling the scent of her favourite shampoo. 

“A while?” Y/N repeats the vague answer to prompt further explanation, but when she gets none, she switches to another inquiry. “Can you play me something?”

The moment she utters the question, Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No, I— no.  I’m not that good, love, and I don’t really play for people.”

Surprise colors Y/N’s voice when she replies, lifting her head from Harry’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “This isn’t the time for false modesty, H.” She says, tapping two fingers against his knee as punctuation. “Since when have you been humble?”

A bark of a laugh escapes Harry’s chest in spite of himself, and he curls his fingers over Y/N’s to move her hand further up his thigh. “I’m not modest!  Don’t insult me like that, darling.  S’not nice.”

“Prove it, then.” Y/N massages over Harry’s inner thigh as she issues the challenge, baiting the vampire’s ego with ease. “Play me something.  Show off a little bit.”

Harry squeezes Y/N’s hand once as a quiet groan twists his lips into a pout. “You’re getting pretty good at manipulating me, y’know that?” He mutters, poising his lacquered fingertips back over the instrument. “Fine.  Do you want something sad or happy?”

Y/N ponders the question as she leans her head back onto Harry’s shoulder, her lips finding the edge of his jaw and pecking his cool skin for just a moment. “Both.”

“Both.” Harry repeats with a snort, shaking his head in exasperation as his hands drift to a new position on the keys. “Indecisive little thing, aren’t you?”

The mortal girl lifts her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, scratching her nails along the fabric of Harry’s pants. “Just play me something.  Please?”

It’s the simplest request with the most complicated implication, but Harry can’t find a good reason to refuse it. 

“This is, um, another Chopin piece.” He feels clumsy in his explanation, struggling to remember the details that he’d once memorized in an effort to seem impressive. “Another Nocturne, in E-flat this time.”

Harry’s fingers begin to dance over the keys, and Y/N listens in amazement as a melody that is both happy and sad begins to spiral out from the body of the piano, wrapping her inside the warmth of the music.  

Not every phrase is even— the more Harry plays, it seems, the more the music phrases, bending and shaping itself around his elegant fingers, rolling with his every movement.  As the music begins to get sadder, however, Y/N notices the change in Harry’s face, and how each phrase begins to get choppier as his fingers stumble their way over the keys. 

Y/N smudges another kiss against Harry’s jaw when his fingers trip up again, squeezing his knee with reassurance. “Keep going.” She murmurs, rubbing his leg lightly as the music stutters again. “It’s nice.”

“I—” The music halts with a jerk of Harry’s hands, which he retracts from the keys as if the ivory burns him. “I don’t remember the rest.” He mumbles, laying his stubbled cheek against the top of Y/N’s head. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.  I really liked it.” Y/N trails her own fingers over the keys, pressing a few of the lacquered notes with idle interest.  The melody she spins out isn’t nearly as nice as the one Harry played, and she laughs at her own expense. “I’m not nearly as good.  I took a few lessons as a kid, but begged my mom to let me quit.  I wish I’d stuck with it.”

“That wasn’t too bad.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he smiles boyishly, nodding to the keys with false reassurance. “That little tune sounded a lot like Mozart.”

“Uh huh.” The mortal girl rolls her eyes at the lie, bracing her palms against the polished wooden bench before rising from her seat. “Despite that praise, I don’t think I’ll be adding this piano to my shopping cart.” 

“Hm.  Too bad.” Her lover trails his fingers after her, reaching for her hand and intertwining her grasp with his. “It could make a pretty addition to your apartment, I think.”

“It would take up my entire apartment, more like it.” Y/N scoffs as she raps the fingers of her free hand against the side of the piano. “I don’t even think I could fit this in my living room.  Your apartment, however…” She raises an eyebrow as a grin works its way over her face. “You could fit it easily.  You should buy it.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he lets her hand fall from his palm, touching the keys one last time before shutting the cover over the keyboard. “I’m not buying the piano.”

“Why not?” Eyes widening in surprise, Y/N leans onto the instrument, gesturing with her arms the same way Harry did earlier as she shifts her voice to mimic Bob Barker. “It’s made of genuine mahogany, was once played by Beethoven himself, and can be yours, for the low, low price of—” She reaches around the side of the instrument to grab the tag tied around the leg. “Eight hundred and—holy shit, are you kidding me?”

Harry hums in response as he rises from the bench, shrugging his shoulders before crossing his arms around his tummy. “That’s actually a fairly good price for a used piano, you know.” 

Y/N blinks at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words. “I— okay, yeah.  Sure.  So you should get it, then, if you consider that a ‘fairly good price’.” 

“I could,” Harry agrees, his muscles flexing beneath his tight t-shirt as he reaches to pick up the painting leaning against the instrument. “But I won’t.”

Her brow wrinkling in confusion, Y/N watches as Harry begins to examine the other objects in the room, turning his attention to the book-lined shelves and antique lamps. “Why?” 

The man sighs as he fingers the tassels hanging from a— in Y/N’s humble opinion— particularly ugly lamp. “Because I already have one—”

“You do?”

“—but it’s been in storage ever since I got to L.A. And while I usually love things in excess… alcohol, statement jewelry, orgasms—” He flashes a toothy grin at Y/N. “I don’t think overly-heavy instruments fall into any of those categories.”

“Why is it in storage?” Y/N asks, bemusement laced through her voice.  Before Harry began to stumble through the piece, there was a look on his face that Y/N hasn’t seen very often; a serene air swirled through his eyes, hiding something beneath it that Y/N couldn’t quite make out.  And she wants to. 

“Because I don’t have any interest in playing anymore.  Honestly, darling, I haven’t thought about it in years.” Harry laughs in a nonchalant manner, moving from the antique lamp to the creaking rocking chair in the corner. “Y’can have it, if you like.  Probably do you more good than me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the deflection, turning her attention away from the topic at hand. “I’m good.” She responds dryly, drifting over to the floor to ceiling bookshelf bolted to the wall. 

Her eyes trail over the exposed spines of the books, reading over the variety of titles with piqued interest.  The amount of genres she sees is countless, ranging from trashy paperback romance novels to timeless classics embossed in gold.  The farther up Y/N glances, the older the books appear, and she gets more and more curious as she glides her fingers over the rippled covers of the books within her reach.

While the novels climb up the height of the bookshelf to the ceiling, Y/N can only manage to reach halfway up the length she needs to, even while stretching on her tiptoes.  She settles down on the balls of her feet with a pout playing on her lips, her attention turning to the wheeled ladder that runs along bars bolted to the bottom of the shelving unit.  It looks rather old— like everything in the antique mall— and Y/N isn’t quite sure it’ll support her weight, despite her test of gripping a rung and pushing on it.

“Harry, c’mere,” She calls over her shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the dusty ladder as she balances a foot on the bottom rung.

Upon her beckoning, Harry saunters over, the painted print she’d selected still grasped in his ringed hand. “Yeah?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in question. “What is it?”

“Can you help me climb up the ladder?” Y/N nods her head towards the far-reaching shelves, biting her bottom lip with pleading eyes. “I want to see what’s on the top shelves.”

Harry’s gaze follows Y/N’s gesture towards the top of the library wall, a look of trepidation flickering through his eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” Y/N answers curtly, lifting her other foot onto the bottom rung before moving from her original step to the next. “And it’ll be a lot easier if you help me.”

Despite his protests, Harry sets down the framed print and complies with the request, grasping Y/N around her waist with firm hands as she scurries up the rickety ladder.  She can feel his fingertips pressing into her love handles over the denim, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it, but she refocuses her attention onto reading over the embossed titles that she couldn’t see from below.

“Y’know, on second thought… take all the time you need, dove.” Harry calls from below her, the smirk evident in his voice as he squeezes her hips once with a laugh. “I’ve got quite the view from here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N releases one hand from the ladder to tug a novel off the shelf, examining the half exposed cover before sliding it back into its place. “I bet you do.” She retorts, wiggling her hips just enough to tease him without losing her precarious balance on the ladder.

Although the motion is meant to be a joke, Harry can’t stop the flash of genuine fear that ignites in his chest.  Humans are fragile, he knows, and a fall from the height that Y/N has climbed to could sprain her wrist, or injure her back, or crack open her skull like an egg, or—

“Careful there, Watson.” Harry attempts to disguise the worry in his voice behind a lighthearted joke as his grip on the human girl strengthens. “Wouldn’t want an accident to happen, now, would we?”

“That’s why I’ve got you, Holmes.” A tinkling laugh falls from her lips as she risks a glance over her shoulder at him, her eyes alight with amusement, before turning her attention back to the old novels. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, would you?”

There’s a nervous truth hidden underneath her words, and Harry knows it, but that doesn’t stop it from making his skin itch as the casual phrase sinks into his body.  In all his years, however, Harry’s gotten quite good at hiding his emotions, and this is no different.  

Instead of giving a sincere answer, Harry hardens his reply of “F’course I wouldn’t, pet.  Y’can never be too careful.” by letting one jeweled hand drift from Y/N’s hip to her backside, cupping it gently to support her, and taking delight in the way he can feel her body tense beneath his new touch.

It takes Y/N a moment to find her breath again, and when she does, all she can muster is a hum in the back of her throat. “Mhmm.” She sighs, trying her best to refocus on the books lining the shelves in front of her as she climbs higher. “Is that why your hand is grabbing my ass, you pervert?”

“Y’know, that seems to be your favourite nickname for me.” Harry’s smirk deepens as he contracts his hand, squeezing her fleshy backside after she takes another step higher. “I wonder why that is?”

“I wonder.” The flat response echoes from Y/N’s mouth as she pulls another book from the shelf to examine it before replacing it a moment later. “Maybe— and this is just a suggestion, so take it with a grain of salt, but— maybe if you didn’t act like a pervert, you’d get a nicer nickname.”

Although Y/N’s retorts are droll and to the point, Harry can hear the way her heartbeat begins to stutter each time he massages her, and it’s that fluttering rhythm that encourages him to grasp the sides of the ladder with both hands and pull himself up a couple rungs. 

“A nicer nickname, huh?” He breathes in her ear, pressing his chest to her back both to be close to her and to give her more support on the ladder. “Like ‘slut’?” Harry stifles the groan that nearly rolls from his throat when he feels Y/N stiffen. “That’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

“I—” Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, Y/N grips the sides of the ladder tight between her hands, her skin stretching over her tense knuckles as Harry’s breath begins to hit her neck. “Maybe. I...I suppose.”

Harry laughs quietly as he takes another step up the ladder, keeping himself braced against Y/N as he begins to smear kisses along the side of her neck, mindful of the iron cross that still hangs there. “You suppose?” He repeats, his tone slightly mocking when he hears the mortal shudder. “What about your other favourites?  Y’like when I call you my pretty little plaything, don’t you?”

The honey and lavender fragrance wafting over Harry intensifies as Y/N’s blood pumps faster and faster, the only sound emerging from the human girl being a quiet whimper from the back of her throat.

“There’s another one, though… another nickname…” Letting his teeth gently graze her earlobe, Harry whispers directly in Y/N’s ear, keeping his voice low and throaty as he does so. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, baby...” He suckles sloppily along her pulsing neck, delighting in the taste of her sweet skin in his mouth. “Remind me what it is?”

Already, Y/N’s breathing has grown ragged, and he waits a moment for the aroused girl to form a response, encouraging her with every nip of his teeth.  Just when Harry is about to ask again, she manages to choke out a reply.

“Whore.” She whispers, the embarrassment in her voice overpowered by the lust running through her veins. “I like it when you call me your whore.”

“That’s my good girl.” A satisfied smile tugs at the edge of Harry’s lips as he stamps a gentle kiss to Y/N’s jaw. “That’s another one, too.  My good girl.  And because you’re my good girl…” Harry snakes his right hand from the rung of the ladder to the buttons of Y/N’s overalls, deftly undoing the side snaps and gradually slipping his hand into the space between the denim and her clammy skin. “You’re going to keep looking for your books while I have some fun.”

Y/N lets out a broken gasp as Harry’s fingertips graze over her cotton panties, and her grip on the railing slackens as a rush of heat falls between her legs. 

“Careful, baby.” Harry cautions her, his left hand wrapping around hers and resetting her grasp on the ladder. “Can’t have any fun if you let go, hm?”

“We—” She twists her head to the side, straining to look over her shoulder and towards the entrance as Harry’s digits dance over the dampening spot on her panties. “Someone could walk in, Harry—”

Of course someone could, Harry thinks, but exhibitionism is so much easier to indulge when one has inhuman hearing that can detect the pounding of an approaching heart from fifty feet away.  He doesn’t disclose this information to Y/N, however, for a number of reasons, and instead chooses to scrape his teeth along the shell of her ear once more, his ruby lips soothing the marks instantly. 

“You let me worry about that, alright?” He murmurs lowly, sliding Y/N’s cotton panties to the side and dragging his index and middle finger through her dripping folds, enjoying how she shivers against his chest. “You just focus on finding the book you want and being a good little whore for me, princess.  Let me take care of the rest.”

When Y/N reflects on this moment in bed tonight, her clammy palms twisting around the sheets as she inhabits the memory of Harry’s mint-scented breath swirling around her as he massages two fingers around her throbbing clit with a teasing touch, one specific detail will stick out to her.  She won’t focus on how her heart is pounding so hard that she feels her chest might burst, or how her fingers shake as she reaches for another book on the shelf, per Harry’s quiet but intent instructions.  The thing that Y/N will remember in wonder and— on some level, self consciously— is how quickly the anxiety that spikes through her veins at the possibility of someone walking in and finding the two of them in such a compromising position bleeds into a high like no other.

Y/N likes to entertain the idea that she’s fairly adventurous, and has been open to a lot of things, especially since meeting Harry, but this— allowing him to finger her in a music room at an antique mall, where any customer or employee could discover them— is something so outside of her character that Y/N can’t think straight.  When Harry first slips his long middle finger inside her slick center, the girl nearly collapses, and Harry’s broad chest braced behind her is the only thing that keeps her upright on the ladder.

“Y’like that, doll?” Harry’s hot breath rolls over her neck as he purrs the words, adjusting his grip on the side of the ladder as his other hand skillfully toys with the human in slow and deep strokes. “Filthy little thing, you are, letting me play with you like this.”

The sinful remark draws a mewling moan from Y/N’s mouth as her head dips back onto Harry’s sturdy shoulder, her hands dropping all pretense of searching for a book and clutching the ladder like she normally clutches her sheets, or the headboard of whoever’s bed Harry has tossed her onto. “H-Harry…” She whimpers, her eyelashes fluttering as he circles his thumb around her clit. “Fuck…”

“You pretend to be so sweet, but you and I know the truth, don’t we?” The vampire sponges another kiss along her throat as he delights in the wet sounds his fingers make, which easily become drowned out by the quiet noises of bliss leaving his lover’s mouth. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Y/N nods fervently as she allows her weight to fall back against Harry’s sturdy chest, trusting him to support her as he thrusts another finger inside her. “Anything, H, I—” The desperate proclamation is cut off as Harry curls his digits, bumping against the spot in the pit of her tummy that sets her entire nervous system on fire. “Shit, right there, baby, right there…”

Harry’s smug voice rings in her ear as he slows his stride, dragging his fingers in and out of her hot core at a pace that’s nearly criminal. “Y’don’t need to tell me, I know.” He pushes himself forward again, flushing Y/N between his chest and the ladder with just enough room to continue his activities. “I know what you like, how you like it, where you like it… Know my girl so well.”

As Y/N adjusts to the newly close proximity, the bulge in Harry’s slacks grows more apparent, rubbing against her backside over and over with each plunge of Harry’s fingers.  She lets out a strangled whine at the feeling, carving her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to keep herself quiet. 

“You feel me, don’t you, minx?” Harry moans into her ear, catching his teeth along the shell before dragging them down her jaw to settle his lips just above her throbbing pulse point. “You feel what you’re doing to me?  How just a single whimper from those pretty lips, and one touch of your soaked cunt makes my cock ache?”

Despite her best efforts, a ragged sob breaks through Y/N’s self-imposed gag order, and her chest heaves within Harry’s tight embrace as her head lolls to the side. “I-I want it.” She pleads, her half-lidded eyes struggling to find Harry’s emerald irises in her haze. 

Those sea glass eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them, widen with fake surprise as his mouth curls into a smirk.  When Harry replies, his normally soothing dulcet voice is filled with insincere mocking. “Oh, you want it, do you?  You want me to fuck you in here?” Dropping his voice to its usual low resonance, Harry growls the next phrase in the human’s ear. “I know you want it, you fucking slut.  But you can’t have it right now.  So if I’m going to let you cum—” The conditional phrase pulls a sound of protest from her throat. “—then you’re going to have to do it around my fingers.” 

The begging girl cries out against his neck as her walls clench around his touch, the stifled pants that she gasps into Harry’s ear urging him to speed up.  Instead of giving her what she wants, Harry curls his fingers inside her, pressing deeper into that spongy spot to elicit another broken whine from her.  When he receives it, however, it’s accompanied by an unexpected blinding burn. 

The iron cross that hangs so delicately around Y/N’s fragile throat has slung to the side in her writhing pleasure, finding its way from her flushed collarbones to the base of Harry’s icy neck.  The vampire grinds his teeth as he feels the brand begin to form, choking back the sound of agony that fights its way out of his mouth.  His left hand clenches around the ladder, his knuckles stretching white as the waxed wood nearly splinters under his palm, while his right hand stutters its pace inside his lover, prodding harshly at her G-spot as a single grunt makes it past the cracks of his teeth.

Harry knows he needs to remove the cross from his skin, but he has no way of doing so without alerting Y/N to his discomfort.  If he lets go of the rung, both of them will tumble off, and Y/N has made it obvious how much she trusts him to keep her safe; that option is hardly an option, Harry thinks, struggling to keep his mind present as he fights through the pain.  The other option— the only one, really— is to retract his fingers from between the mortal’s thighs, feign some excuse as to why, and do his best to keep her from noticing the cross-shaped burn mark on his neck that will surely disappear within a few moments of the iron being removed.  It’ll be jarring, he knows, to pull Y/N from the subspace he can tell she’s beginning to slip into, and Harry hates it, but there’s nothing to be done.  His hand contracts inside her, desperately massaging her walls one last time before he retreats to—

The sharp action drags a mangled whine from Y/N’s throat, the sound more shattered than anything Harry has ever heard from her before, and it pulls Harry’s attention from the charring sensation of the cross branding his skin to the overwhelmed girl in his arms.  As Y/N lets her entire body fall against Harry’s chest, her eyes completely shut as she gives into the pleasure bubbling in her tummy, a realization dawns on Harry, searing him nearly as much as the metal on his inhuman flesh: he can’t let go of her.  He’s in too deep— literally, obvious in the way she tightens around his fingers— and if he were to stop now, Y/N would go into a sensitive daze that he can’t deal with in a public space.  If he lets go of her now, he’ll lose the connection he’s spent the last two months making. She might get over it, given that it’s just an orgasm, but subconsciously, there’s a possibility she could resent him for it. Especially in the extremely delicate phase she’s in at the moment. 

He knows it sounds stupid, but he can’t risk that.  He just can’t.  He’ll take burning agony over that any day. 

When Harry reflects on this moment in bed tonight, his jeweled fingers carefully combing through Y/N’s knotted locks as she shifts in his arms, the bite mark on her neck freshly faded to a light bruise, her chest rising and falling gently with quiet breaths, one specific detail will stick out to him.  He won’t focus on the blinding pleasure of Y/N grinding against his hardened bulge, her body moving of its own accord as she gives in completely to the sensations Harry pulls from her.  He won’t focus on the explicit moans that show she’s given up on attempting to quiet, her voice reverberating in Harry’s mouth as he inhales every desperate breath she exhales.  When Harry reflects on this moment, the thing he’ll remember the most is how the second he accepted his fate— that he’d have to bear the pain in order to keep Y/N happy, and he feels like there’s probably some deeper subliminal message hidden beneath that realization, though he refuses to indulge it— the mortal girl tilts her head to the side and begins to kiss Harry’s neck, soothing the scorched mark with her silky tongue. 

The relief is so sweet that Harry nearly cries out a fractured mewl, letting his head fall forward into Y/N’s shoulder to hide his desperate expression.  She continues to whimper into his skin, smudging kiss after kiss on his marked neck as if she knows how badly he needs it.  Even as her orgasm begins to rise in her belly, consuming her every thought, she continues to suck bruises onto his jugular, dragging her tongue over his cool skin repeatedly after every action.  Although the iron still stings, the sensation of Y/N’s textured tongue swiping over it turns the pain to pleasure, and it’s not long before Harry has himself centered once again, refocused on the task at hand. 

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, focusing on curling them inside her as his thumb rubs quick circles over her throbbing clit.  The sounds bouncing around the room are so lewd that Harry almost wishes someone would walk in, even if only to see how good Harry is capable of making his lover feel. 

“Y’can cum for me, baby.  Cum all over my hand.” He mutters in her ear, his teeth scraping against her fragile skin in desperation. “I know you have it in you.  Show me how good you are.”

Y/N feverishly grinds against his hand, all of her senses overwhelmed by the immortal as she licks across his neck. “So—so close, Harry—I—”

“I know, I know you are.” The vampire soothes her in a tone more gentle than he thought possible, palming her soaking cunt with as much pressure as he thinks she can stand. “Let go for me.  I’ve got you.”

The reassurance is the final thing Y/N needs to fall apart, and once she knows that she can, it happens with an intensity that shocks even her.  When the coil inside her belly snaps, a guttural moan tears from her mouth, and she grasps the pole in front of her as tightly as she can while collapsing back into Harry’s chest. 

“Fuck, there we go, yeah? Shhh, keep it down for me, angel. Don’t wanna have to stop until you beg me to.” 

Her grip on the ladder does nothing to support her, but as Harry’s hushed words ring in her mind, she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that.  Harry’s arms and chest are strong enough to do it for her, allowing her to sink into her pleasure as much as she needs to. 

When Y/N slumps in his arms, her neck finally shifts enough that her cross falls back into its designated position between her collarbones, providing Harry with relief from the scorching pain he’d been beginning to adjust to.  He can feel his skin begin to heal itself the moment the iron leaves it, and with that small fear tamped down, the creature can turn all his attention to the girl in his arms. 

He slowly and carefully retracts his hand from her panties, shushing the weak squeak that rolls from her lips at the motion. “Good girl.” He mumbles into her ear, kissing her temple softly as her breathing begins to regulate itself. “Shh, you’re alright.  Y’did so well for me, darling.”

The comforting praise comes easily to him, and as he continues to hold Y/N as she regains her previous headspace, Harry begins to wonder just how far he’d be able to push her before she reaches her limits.  How far into subspace can she go before she hits the point of no return?  Could Harry successfully guide her there and lead her back?  Could she ever trust him enough to submit fully to his every request, taking solace in the knowledge that he can take care of her as well as— or better, even— she can take care of herself?  Harry wants to think yes, but he can’t dwell on the idea any longer; Y/N’s beginning to shift against him again, and he’ll never be able to earn that wholehearted trust if he doesn’t tend to her now. 

Lifting his hand to his own lips, Harry wraps his tongue around his drenched fingers, lapping at the sweet wetness that coats them down to his rings.  He hums in appreciation, stippling another tender kiss to Y/N’s neck when he retracts his fingers from his mouth. 

“Taste so sweet, y’know that?” He whispers, the question half a test to see how aware Y/N is as her head begins to clear. “C’mere, I want you to taste.”

Y/N lazily tilts her head to the side, a small smile playing on her lips as they meet Harry’s for a slow kiss.  Trailing his fingers down her side, Harry skillfully buttons the side of her overalls again, adjusting the fabric to lie comfortable against her skin.

“How are you feeling, hm?” He murmurs, rubbing his large hand soothingly over her belly as her breathing begins to regulate again. “How was that?”

“I feel…” Y/N struggles to make sense of her swimming head, resting it against Harry’s shoulder as she tries to form a coherent response. “Good.”

Harry sighs with relief, smearing a quick kiss to her cheek as he grins. “Good.  That’s good.” 

With his right hand still wrapped around her middle, he carefully lowers himself and Y/N from the ladder, keeping a tight grip on the girl until he knows her feet are planted firmly on the ground. 

As the afterglow of her climax begins to fade, a heated flush begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine to settle on the apples of her cheeks. “I, um—” The corners of her lips tug upwards with a bashful tone, and she twists around in Harry’s arms to shyly meet his canopy green eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

“You didn’t do anything.  It takes two to tango, pet.  And, honestly…” Harry flashes a boyish simper at her as he yanks her closer to him by her hips. “I think I did most of the work.” 

“That’s true.” A breathless laugh stutters from Y/N’s chest as she curls her hands around Harry’s bulging biceps, steadying herself from the after effects of her orgasm, which are turning her legs to jelly. “I could, um…” She flicks her eyes from the door to the prominent bulge in Harry’s black slacks before capturing his gaze in hers again. “Return the favour?”

Harry snorts as he gives a quick shake of his head, his teeth catching on his bottom lip while he runs his hands down the back of her rumpled shirt. “Not here, baby.  How about we wait until we’re back at my place for you to show me how my sweet girl sucks cock, hm?”

“So it’s alright for you to distract me from my book search to finger me in a public area,” Y/N fakes indignation to distract herself from the ache that’s starting to pulse in her core again at Harry’s proposal. “But the moment I want to suck you off, you say ‘not here’?  What kind of double standard is that?”

Lips twitching in amusement, Harry stifles a laugh as he turns the girl in his arms, pressing her back to his chest once again before wrapping his arms back around her waist. “You’re right.  I distracted you from your book search. How rude of me.” He coos, nodding up to the shelf as he grazes his teeth against her pulse. “Think I see a pretty copy of Sense and Sensibility up there.  Y’think you can reach it, or do you need me to do it, sweetheart?” 

The shuddering of Y/N’s heartbeat contrasts with her heated reply. “I can reach it just fine if you behave yourself.” She shoots back, smacking the hand that’s beginning to wander towards her center again. “Or is that too difficult for you?” 

“It’s extremely difficult when I’m near you.” The reply, while truthful, sends a quiver down Harry’s spine, and he presses a chaste kiss to the human girl’s shoulder before releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll get the book.”

Y/N tugs the hair tie from her locks, shaking them out before pulling them back again in a neat manner. “You know, I never thought I was one for antiquing, but today was fun.” 

“Well, it doesn’t usually involve getting finger-fucked on a ladder,” Harry states bluntly, glancing over his shoulder with a dimpled smile on his face. “So I’m not really sure if today can be the marker for an average antiquing session.”

Y/N’s face boils at the brazen comment, and she tucks a strand of loose hair that she’d missed behind her ear as she swallows hard. “No.” She replies with a soft and timid laugh, shaking her head gently. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Harry hums in reply as he snags the old copy of the Jane Austen novel from the top shelf, climbing down the ladder effortlessly and landing back on the ground with a soft thud. “But I’m glad you had fun.” Harry steps towards Y/N with a satisfied air, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger as a teasing smile plays on his ruby lips. “And I’m even more glad we found a replacement for that terrible tapestry of yours.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she smacks Harry’s hand from her chin before snatching the novel from his hands. “Stop being mean to Amanda!  You’ll hurt her feelings.”

A snort boasts from Harry’s throat as he recalls the day she had told him what she’d named the piece hanging from her wall, and he bends down to scoop up the Monet print while shaking his head impassively, clutching it in one hand as he snakes the other around Y/N’s waist once again. “Well, I hope Amanda doesn’t have feelings, because I’m going to burn her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not, because I’m going to hang her over your bed, just so you can stare at her while you fall asleep each night.” 

Harry groans loudly as he guides his lover from the music room and back to the open space of the antique mall. “Please.  If anything is going over my bed, it’s a mirror, not a college freshman’s poor excuse of an attempt at interior design.” 

Y/N wrinkles her nose at the comment, shaking her head at the crude suggestion. “A mirror?  That better be a joke.”

“It was, but now that I’m thinking about it…”

“You’re disgustingly conceited.” 

“Oh please, you lo—” Harry catches himself just before the word love rolls off his lips.  Though he’s said it before when referring to certain aspects of their sex life (like how he loves the way her mouth feels, or how she loves the way he stretches her out), it just seems oddly repulsive to say at this very moment. Too intimate, almost.

Therefore, the creature bites back the offensive phrase and tugs her closer by the waist, covering up his sudden hesitation with his signature smirk. “You like that idea, don’t you, dove?”

Y/N keeps her face neutral as they pass by an older couple examining a grandfather clock. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Harry laughs sharply, nuzzling his face into the top of Y/N’s hair and pressing a casual kiss to the crown of her head. “Need I remind you that your request for my interior design skills is what started this whole thing?”

“And if you had suggested I mount a mirror over my bed, this whole thing would’ve been over before it even had a chance to start.”

“You say that now, but if you were to see the way my cock looks while it slams into your—”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, blood rushing to her cheeks as he guides her around a corner stacked with porcelain dolls. 

“Fine. No mirror.” Harry relents, a disappointed sigh falling from his lips as he palms Y/N’s waist closer to himself. “But the tapestry needs to be burned.”

“No.”

“Thrown away.”

“No.”

“Folded up and tucked under the bed?”

“Possibly.  And that’s as good an ending as you’ll get.” 

That night, after Harry has satisfied his craving for both Y/N and the sweet liquid that pumps through her veins, and has settled in for his usual nightly routine of rhythmically caressing her back to lull her into a deep slumber, and as he counts the breaths the mortal sighs between nightfall and sunrise while her soft snoring sings a lullaby to his ears, he can’t help but think that…

That yes, this really is as good an ending as he’ll ever get. 

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #vampire!harry #vampire!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles au #one direction imagine #one direction blurb #ysijwa #vampire au

[tngrace]

Hoodies are for Comfort

Based off the promo for 2.08 & helped along by @moviegeek03 . Girl your support means everything & I hope this fic delivers everything you want 

GTHB Masterlist; Read on A03

Carlos was currently holding his boyfriend on the couch with the TV playing quietly in the background. TK was currently wearing his favorite grey hoodie and over top of that was Carlos’s zip-up APD hoodie with sweats and two pairs of socks. TK always insisted he likes Carlos’s hoodies better because they always provided more comfort. So Carlos had done his best to find one that would fit over the one TK was currently wearing, even though his hoodies usually swallowed TK whole. TK also had every blanket from the living room laid over him, and he was still shivering a little. Carlos hated it; he just wanted to warm TK up. 

“Hey, you still awake?” he murmurs as he cards a hand through TK’s hair being as careful as possible of the stitches in the back of his head. 

"Mmmm," TK hums softly as he leans back on Carlos more.

"Mmm is not good enough," Carlos teases as he kisses the back of TK's neck.

"Babe," TK whines softly as he burrows further in the covers and hoodies.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I can't let you sleep yet. That's what we promised the doctor when he released you. Otherwise you'd still be there."

"I know," TK sighs. "But I just wanna sleep and it's too cold."

Carlos runs a hand to TK's forehead. "You're pretty warm mi amor." Hr reaches for the thermometer on the side table beside him. He holds it to TK's ear and watches the numbers rise filling him with more relief. "You're right below normal," Carlos tells him, showing him the thermometer.

TK nods as he relaxes more into Carlos. "Can probably sleep for a little bit," TK murmurs.

Carlos let's out a soft sigh. "Ok short nap. I'm waking you in an hour," he says as TK gets comfy, being careful of the bruises and stitches. Carlos tucks the blankets around him more, and sets an alarm to wake TK in an hour. He softly keeps his hand moving through TK's hair as TK falls right to sleep.

Carlos softly kisses his head as he thinks back over the most stressful twenty-four hours of his life.

When he'd gotten the call from Owen that the entire paramedic team was not responding and appeared off grid going on an hour and half, he'd felt worried. When he'd broken away from his dad with the excuse of a case even though he'd just clocked out, he thought they'd find them quickly. Only he discovered the empty parking garage, and TK wasn't answering his calls, texts or SOS messages.

They reported it like they were supposed to, Grace having already alerted her supervisors the paramedics weren't responding. His entire precinct was on the case, even some of his off duty friends coming in to help. The 126 team still descended on the parking garage as one unit, but split off into pairs to looks for their missing members not wanting to be left out of the search for their family. Judd declared he was going with Carlos, having taken on the captain role for Owen who was equally distressed he couldn't reach his son. Paul took Owen leaving Marjan and Mateo to team up.

Carlos nods knowing Judd is right, so they stop for coffee and a sandwich. Judd makes the comment trying to fill the silence and distract Carlos about wrapping TK in bubble wrap and never letting him leave the station again, and Carlos can't help but agree. He thought the medic job would be safer and he wouldn't have to worry about grey hair just yet. But TK, as always, is proving him wrong. "Hey, isn't your dad a Ranger?" Judd asks.

After three hours of looking and tracing every step they could think of with no luck, Carlos was at his wits in. Judd was making him take a coffee break, despite his instance to keep going. "Carlos, you're not gonna be any good to him if you don't take a minute for yourself. Believe me I wanna find him just as bad, but he's gonna need you in top shape."

"Yea. Why?" Carlos asks confused at the change in direction of conversation.

"Just thinking he might have some pull somewhere we could use."

Carlos nods as he thinks it over. It doesn't take him long and he's pulling out his phone making the call. He gives his dad the short version and agrees to wait for him at the coffee shop. "He doesn't know about us," Carlos tells Judd quietly not meeting his eyes.

"I know. TK told me. I won't tell your secret Reyes, but I hate to be the one to break it to ya. If your dad is anywhere as smart as I image he is, he's going to figure it out. You're not gonna be able to hide that emotion," Judd says gesturing to his face.

Carlos nods knowing Judd is right. They sit in silence for a few more minutes before he sees his dad's truck pull up behind Judd's. "Could you give me a minute with him? I'll tell him, then we can go."

"Course," Judd nods as he heads out to his truck, nodding at Carlos's dad as he goes. Carlos tells his dad the truth, that one of the missing paramedics is his boyfriend and that he'll explain more on that later, before he tells his dad all the case facts they know. "We'll find him," Gabriel says squeezing Carlos's shoulder. Carlos does his best to hold back the tears, but one does escape.

They leave the little coffee shop in Gabriel's truck as Gabriel makes some calls. As they drive around Carlos explains things to his dad, Judd having decided to follow them so Carlos could speak freely. He hates the pained look on his dad's face when he explains why he lied and how long he and TK had been a couple, but thankfully he doesn't press Carlos for more than he's willing to share just yet.

It takes another 2 hours before TK's phone location comes back on; it takes another 30 minutes for them to get to the location. Carlos and his dad go in guns drawn not waiting for backup having gotten a text Nancy covertly sent from TK's phone because his was the only one not busted. The rest of the 126 arrive not long after them. Tommy and Nancy appear unhurt, but shook up and terrified. When Nancy told Carlos that TK was in the freezer, he panicked. He opened the door and saw TK slumped against the wall passed out with blood on the back of his head. Thankfully he hadn't been in there too long Tommy informed them, but long enough his body temperature had dropped, and he had stopped shaking despite the cold.

Gabriel shooed Carlos into the back of the ambulance with the promise to talk to Andrea for him and to check on them soon. "Thanks Dad" Carlos says trying to hold back his tears as he climbed in the back with his boy. It took several hours in the ER for TK to get stitched up from being pistol whipped Carlos learned, and for his temperature to come up enough for them to be released. He had a concussion, six stitches and several bruises on top of almost severe hypothermia. They're discharged about eight am with strict instructions to take it easy and return if TK's symptoms worsen.

Carlos let's out another soft sigh as he kisses the top of TK's head glad his boy is safe in his arms once more. Today, well yesterday at this point, had been one of the scariest of his life. He didn't know what he'd do if he ever really lost TK. He knows he needs to call his parents too; needs to properly talk to them about the new bomb he just dropped on them, but he can't bring himself to do it just yet. He feels emotionally drained, but he can't sleep either, fearing something will happen to TK while he's asleep.

"You're thinking too much," he hears murmured as TK tries to burrow closer. Even though his temperature is almost back to normal, he can't shake the cold feeling.

"Sorry cariño," Carlos whispers as he adjusts to TK's wiggling. He tucks the blankets around him more, and before he can ask TK if he's ok, there is a knock at his door making him furrow his brow. He silences his alarm to wake TK, even though TK woke on his own, thankfully. 

"Who the?" He questions not happy about the interruption.

"Probably dad," TK sighs knowing Owen has asked for hourly updates, which he thought was a little ridiculous. He knows his dad wants to talk about his and his mom's previous behavior, and try to make amends, but TK just isn't ready to deal with his parents’ problems yet.

Carlos rearranges TK on the couch before he goes to open the door. Carlos is extremely shocked when he opens it to see his parents standing there. Gabriel is holding a crock pot that Carlos is almost positive is full by the smell, and Andrea is holding a rather large bag.

"Mamì? Dad?" Carlos greets as he opens the door wider at Andrea's expectant look.

"Carlitos," she smiles patting his cheek as she walks by.

"Don't try and argue with her mijo," Gabriel says heading for the kitchen when he sees the argument forming on the tip of Carlos’s tongue.

"Don't you dare," Andrea says to TK when she sees him trying to sit up and uncover. "I hear you've had a rather rough day TK. So please stay put," she says as Carlos stares on with the most adorably confused face.

She turns to her son next, "Well Carlitos not even a hug again?" She questions with a grin reminding them of the farmer's market day.

"Mamì," he groans but he does hug her. "What are you doing here?" He finally asks.

"Manners mijo! I raised you better than that," she scolds making TK giggle a little as Carlos blushes. He does finally make his way back to the couch to help TK prop up more as Andrea pushes him that way. He sits beside him, TK understanding Carlos is not comfortable with a lap full of boyfriend in front of his parents.

"Your dad explained everything that happened," Andrea starts as Gabriel joins them, and they finally sit across from the boys. "So I made your favorite Chile Verde for you two and brought a surprise," she says with a large grin as she finally digs into the bag she carried in.

"You really didn't have to go through all this trouble mam," TK says as Andrea starts pulling out a gorgeous quilt. He sees Carlos's eyes go wide and is slightly confused.

"Nonsense," Andrea says carrying the quilt over to the couch. “And you don’t have to ‘mam’ me even though it’s sweet,” she grins at him. Carlos still hasn't said anything, and it's really stressing TK out. "Besides I wanted to. Chile Verde is Carlos's favorite soup, and it will warm you right up. This will too," she says tucking the quilt around TK atop his mound of blankets. "This was Carlos's favorite, especially when he was sick. His Abuela made it when Gabriel and I got married. Carlos always told me he wanted it when he was older. His sisters all have one picked out as well, and I figured now would be a good time to give it to him."

"Mamì," Carlos finally chokes out his eyes filled with tears. TK sneaks a hand out from under all the blankets and lays it on Carlos's knee giving it a squeeze.

Andrea moves over and cups Carlos's cheek before kissing his forehead. "Shhh mijo," she whispers as she wipes his tears, hearing everything he can't say just yet. "We love you, and that's all that needs to be said right now," she whispers hearing her husband agree.

Carlos nods and let’s his mama hug him tight. He feels TK squeezing his knee. “Gracìas Mamì,” he murmurs as she moves back to sit by Gabriel. 

They stay a little longer, getting to know TK, which helps Carlos keep him awake a while longer. The soup is absolutely delicious, and TK praises Andrea for passing her culinary skills on to Carlos. When they see both boys on the verge of crashing from exhaustion, they decide to head back to the ranch. Andrea makes them promise to come out for Sunday dinner soon as well as call if they were to need anything in the coming days. Carlos promises they will, and promises to have dinner even sooner with just his parents so they can talk like they need to.

Once he sees them out, he helps TK up off the couch to go to bed. TK insists on taking the quilt because it is super warm and will look amazing on their bed. They curl up together, TK finally feeling warm and happy and Carlos feeling exhausted enough to sleep. Things might not always be perfect, but they'll always have each other and their family.

#911 lone star #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #gthb #good things happen bingo #writers life

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Baby, please come home - part 3

Part 3: 'Cause I remember when you were here

Day 16

(AO3 link)

“You look terrible.” He says as Aaron sits down.

“I’m so glad I let you visit so you can shower me with compliments. How’s Liv.”

“She’s fine. She’s going to work everyday and as far as I can tell she hasn’t had a drink since…” He trails off. It’s awkward mentioning Ben to Aaron, he has no real idea how he felt about the man. Everyone says they were in love but Robert knows as well as anyone that it’s easy to pretend. He just doesn’t know if Aaron was or not. “She um, I didn’t want to say on the phone, but she didn’t want to be alone in the house in case she was tempted so…”

“You’re back at home?”

“Well…it’s not my home anymore, but yeah. Is that alright? Because if it isn’t, I’ll find someone to…” He doesn’t know who, the options were pretty limited right now, but he wouldn’t burden Aaron with it. “She doesn’t have much support right now Aaron. Your Mum has rallied the troops and they’re all falling in line like good little Dingles, except Cain, Moira and Vinny. She’s in bits.

“I told Mum to back off, I called her.” He sighs. “I don’t need her kicking off while I’m in here and it won’t help Liv. I’m kinda glad she asked, I trust you to look after her. It’s good that she realises she needs help I guess.”

“When you get home, we’ll get her through this Aaron.” He reaches out a hand, hurt when Aaron sits back in the chair. “Sorry…wasn’t thinking.”

“Have you found out anything, any idea who did this?” He asks, ignoring him. “I know I doubted her but she didn’t do this did she?”

“No. She’s distraught Aaron. I don’t know much more, although…Charity said Meena brought Ben’s stuff over to you, tried to talk to you about him. Were you mates?”

“With Meena? No. Don’t think I’d had a conversation with her before that. Why? Do you think she had something to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but yesterday, and I only went along so I could have something funny to talk to you about, at the new neighbourhood watch thing Brenda and Wendy have set up, she was adamant it was you. Why would she be so sure, it doesn’t make sense. That and Vic said some stuff and everyone says she can be a little odd.”

“But she didn’t know Ben why would she do this?” Robert can see the tears in his eyes and this time he can’t help himself, he reaches out and covers Aaron’s hand with his own. “And let someone else take the blame. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. Maybe I’m completely wrong but I’m going to find out I promise. Did she say anything strange when she brought Ben’s stuff?”

“She wanted to know what the police had said but then everyone asked that. When I said I didn’t want to talk about it she just kept on, until I slammed the door in her face.”

“Well that’s weird in itself. For one thing, anyone in the village knows you don’t talk.” He jokes, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I don’t think she knows who I am though so that might work to my advantage. She was on the survival thing when Andrea died and Ben was suspended because of it, I don’t know maybe there’s a connection.”

“Yeah but there were loads of people there.”

“I know, but it’s all I’ve got right now. Maybe I can get closer to her. She doesn’t know who I am I don’t think.” Aaron nods but he doesn’t looked convinced. “Charity also said Diane had spent some time with her so I’ll ask her, see if it’s anything that’ll help.”

“I can’t believe you went to a neighbourhood watch meeting. It’ll be the knitting circle next.” He says a few minutes later.

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of knitting Aaron, it’s very…”

“Therapeutic, I know. So what else happened at this meeting then?”

“Apart from Brenda accusing Wendy of killing Andrea and Ben nothing much. That was brilliant actually. Took Wendy’s mind off glaring at me though so can’t complain.”

“Still causing trouble you, wherever you go eh?”

“Can’t let my public down now can I?”

_____

He’s no closer to a plan when he gets back to the village but he knows he can’t take long. Aaron had put a brave face on things but Robert could tell he was having a hard time in there. He had to get closer to Meena because the more he thought about it she had to be involved somehow. He didn’t believe in coincidences, especially when there were as many as there were here.

He decides to go to the pub, to tell Chas how Aaron is, even though she’s been pretty much ignoring him since that first meeting, but he’s her son and she deserves to know he’s ok, and in all honesty he still doesn’t want to go back to Mill. He’d wanted to help Liv but the reality of going back there, to the home he and Aaron had been so happy it hurts.

“How is he?” Chas asks before he’s even sat down.

“He’s fine. Talking to me now then?”

“I want to know how my son is!"

“He’s ok, Not too happy with you. You need to back off Liv. He doesn’t need any more worry Chas ok. Whatever you think it was his choice, not hers.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked how my son was.” With that she’s gone leaving him standing there.

“You look sad.” A voice comes next to him and he turns to see Meena standing there, a sickly sweet smile on her face. “Buy me a drink?”

“Ok?” Chas glares at him as he orders her drink but he takes no notice, he’s used to it now. He knows what she’ll be thinking but he can’t correct her very wrong assumptions.

“You’re new round here aren’t you.”

“Kinda. Been away a while.” He looks round makes sure no one is going to drop him in it. He leans in a little closer as if sharing a great secret. “I was in prison.”

He sees her eyes widen, and he expects her to back off, to look worried but she doesn’t, she’s almost eagerly moving closer. “Really? What for.”

“Oh this and that.” The act he’s putting on is taking a lot of effort, but it’ll be worth it if his hunch is right. “Managed to get myself out of a life sentence. No big deal.”

“Wow. What happened?” She leans on her hand, hair falling round her face and he can’t help noticing the bracelet she’s wearing, it doesn’t really fit the rest of her clothing. He shakes himself, he’s seeing things everywhere probably when they don’t exist.

“You know how it is, people say the wrong thing, gotta keep them quiet.” He hates talking about it like this, bringing it all up, almost making light of it all, but he has to, for Aaron. “Secrets, you know.”

“I’m brilliant at keeping secrets.” She flicks her hair and smiles again. “We should do something.”

“Like what?”

“Something fun, go into Hotten or something.” The mood change has thrown him and he has no intention of going anywhere with her.

“I’m alright here. Besides, aren’t you waiting for Billy or someone?”

“Can you believe he wants me to move back into the B&B? And after I offered to plan his Christmas. So ungrateful.”

“People are so inconsiderate like that. So, this night out. I can’t tonight, but some other time, yeah? Best go, got a job interview up at HOP. Kayak instructor, maybe.” He knows Chas is still listening, can only hope she doesn’t speak to Aaron and tell him all sorts.

“Poor Ben.” She sticks her bottom lip out, making a sad face and Robert just nods sympathetically.

“Indeed. Well, good for me, eh? I’ll see you around Meena.”

When he gets outside, he leans against the wall breathing heavily. There was definitely something going on, the fake sympathy for Ben and if anyone knew how to fake emotions it was him, he could tell a mile off, but clearly she wasn’t going to give anything away. He couldn’t stop though, he had to get to the truth. He really needs to talk to Diane.

_____

“Diane, is Vic around?” He doesn’t want her overhearing anything.

“No pet, she and David took the boys to the beach. Oh Seb is a such a love. When are you coming to see him, he misses you?”

“I miss him too but I have to help Aaron first.”

‘Robert, Seb’s your son and you and Aaron are…well you’re over aren’t you?”

“I know, but I’m not leaving him in there Diane. I can’t. Um…speaking of, Charity said something about Meena, that you’d been worrying.”

“Oh that woman, she’d blab to the stones in the street. It was nothing…”

“Diane, I…you can’t say anything to anyone but I’m beginning to wonder about her. Her name keeps coming up when I’m asking about stuff that’s been going on. I won’t break your confidence but if you know anything at all…it might help Aaron.”

She’s silent for a good minute and he begins to wonder if she’s hung up. “There was a bit of a do…she was in the salon and she cut her hand, it was like she’d squashed the glass, it just broke in her hand. Then she started telling me about her friend, she took her own life, her friend. She felt very guilty. It was odd though, I thought it might help her to visit her friend’s grave, you know, get some closure but when I suggested it she went mad at me for interfering. A strange girl.���

“Yeah. You don’t happen to know the friend’s name do you?”

“Nadine…oh what was it, she made some joke. Oh! Butler! I don’t see how this helps Aaron pet.”

“It might not…I just need anything I can right now.” He sighs. “I’ll call Seb later, and Diane…thanks.”

As soon as he’s hung up he opens his laptop, searching for the name she’d given him. He doesn’t find much, nothing really. Dragging his phone from his pocket he dials a number he’d not used in too long.

“Clive, it’s Robert Sugden. Yeah I know it’s been too long…I’m good…well I’m getting there. I need a favour. Can you see what you can find out about a Nadine Butler or Meena Jutla. No matter why, just do it. You still owe me, remember?”

Hanging up he’s satisfied that before long if there’s anything to find Clive will manage it. All he can do is wait.

_____

“What do you mean you’re going up there? Rob, don’t be stupid.” He’d waited until Aaron’s call before leaving, knew he’d worry if he didn’t answer.

“I’m close Aaron, I know I am. I spoke to an old mate, he found out there was some suspicion about her friend’s death. It all adds up, her lying to Diane about her friend. Why would she do that? What if someone found out about it? Andrea maybe and so she killed her.”

“Andrea’s death was ruled an accident.”

“Doesn’t mean it was does it? Ben could’ve found out something when he went up there. Maybe if I go up there I can find whatever it was.”

“And if she finds out then you’re in danger too.”

“It’s a chance I have to take if it means getting you out of there. I didn’t want to…I spoke to Billy again. He’d said something to me before and I didn’t really think anything of it, but Ben called him, that day when he was at HOP, said he’d found something, wanted Billy to look at it but he didn’t go, thought Ben was just trying to shift the blame you know. He doesn’t know what, something from the survival day.”

“So Billy could’ve…he could’ve stopped it?”

“I don’t know Aaron, but he couldn’t have know. You know I’m not his biggest fan but he couldn’t have.”

“Yeah. So, you really do think he found something?”

“It’s looking that way.” He can hear Aaron sniffing, knows he’s crying. “I’m sorry.”

“Just…be careful. I can’t…can’t lose you too.”

“I promise. Can’t get rid of me no matter how hard you try, you know that. Keep turning up like a bad penny me.” He pauses. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Robert’s not at all convinced. “Just be careful.”

_____

“Jai, can I have a word.” Robert waited until dark before he walked up to Holdgate. After the past few days he wanted to keep everything to himself, didn’t want anyone to see who he was talking to.

He’d met up with Meena again in the cafe after speaking with Aaron and she kept looking at him, as if she was studying him, trying to work him out. It was disconcerting, especially considering what he suspected. She’d been annoyed when he wouldn’t go into Hotten with her, but he’d listened to Aaron’s warning, had stayed in sight of others. He was still sure he was on the right track. He hadn’t managed to find anything else out but that day in the cafe kept playing on his mind. Why would she care if Aaron was in prison. From what he could tell she wasn’t a good friend of Ben’s, she wasn’t wanting revenge for him. It made no sense unless she wanted someone else taking the blame to cover her tracks.

“Come on in. What can I do for you. If it’s about Aaron…”

“No. Well yeah it is, but mostly Ben. He was up at HOP wasn’t he before he was killed. Do you know why?”

“He was angry that I’d suspended him and not Billy and Ellis. He thought I’d given him a bad reference but it was Liv.”

“Is there anything he could’ve been looking for? Anything from the survival thing still up there?”

“All the paperwork, the equipment is in storage, and the camera footage. But the police have checked it all as far as I know.”

“Would you mind if I went up and had a look?” Jai frowns. “Aaron didn’t do this Jai. I know it looks like he did, but think about it. Why would he be with Ben at HOP, why would he kill him when they were moving away? It makes no sense.”

“So you think someone killed him because of the survival event? That he would find out. Robert…”

“I know. I can’t believe it either, but I know Aaron didn’t do it, and I can’t think of another reason that Ben died. I didn’t know him but everyone I’ve spoken to said how nice he was, how everyone liked him.” It’d started to grate on him, that was all anyone was talking about and it hurt. He knew he did himself no favours in the village over the years but he could never imagine anyone talking about him like that. “I need help, because Aaron’s saying he’s ok right now, but he’s not going to cope Jai. I’m scared for him if he’s in there much longer."

“Alright. If anyone asks, I don’t know anything.” He hands him a set of keys and the alarm code. “You and Aaron, are you…”

“I doubt it, not after everything. Cheers for this. I’ll drop them back when I’m done.”

He hurries up to HOP, wanting to get this done as quick as he can. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for but he’s sure there’s something. It’s too much of a coincidence that two deaths in two months are connected to the same place. Aaron had said he was looking for evidence and after speaking to Billy he knew he’d found something, he just didn’t know what.

He starts in the office, he’d seen the CCTV cameras as he’d gone in but obviously they’d shown nothing from that night or the police would’ve found it. He looks around the office, wondering where to start. All he finds in the paperwork is Ben’s signature on the health and safety paperwork but he’d known about that already. The filing cabinet is locked and Jai hadn’t given him the key.

Lastly he checks the desk drawers, becoming increasingly frustrated until he gets to the last desk where he finds a memory card right at the back of a drawer. There are no others Jai said the police had checked them all but it was his last chance of finding something.

He taps his feet impatiently as the laptop on the desk boots up and he can connect the card. Finally it’s done and he starts watching. It’s so grainy and wobbly he can’t make out anything at all, certainly nothing that would incriminate anyone.

Then he sees it. He doesn’t recognise anyone but he sees enough to know it’s someone being held underwater. He goes back and rewatches, thinking he’s imagining it but he’s not. The police had obviously missed the card, but if this is what Ben found then whoever it was holding someone under was likely the one who killed him, and he firmly believed it was Meena after everything he’d found out.

He’s frantically trying to figure out who the people are in the footage when he hears a noise.

“Jai?” He calls, not loudly but enough to be heard if it is.

He knows he has to get out when there’s no answer because deep down he knows who it it, that he was right, but he’s not leaving without the footage. He shoves the card into his coat pocket, hoping it’ll be safe, that it’s concealed from whoever that is outside. Shutting the laptop he takes a deep breath before opening the office door.

The next thing he knows he’s flat on his back and he can smell smoke. He’d know the smell anywhere, has smelt it in his dreams for the past 16 years. He feels his head, feels wetness and realises he’s bleeding. He doesn’t remember walking into anything. Then he remembers hearing someone. He reaches into his jeans pocket for his phone, hoping he’s managed to dial 999. Then he drags himself to his feet. He has to get out.

“Hello Robert.” Meena. He was right. He wants to laugh at the thought popping into his head that Aaron would say there was a first time for everything. He shakes himself. He has to get out first then he can get hysterical.

“Meena! What are you doing here? Is there a fire?”

“I’m asking the questions. What are you doing here?” He swallows as he sees she’s wearing gloves as she picks up one of the ornaments that are on the office shelves, twisting it round in her hands, staring at him. He puts a hand up to his head and shivers, crossing his fingers the phone call he’d tried to make had gone through

“Didn’t I tell you that Jai had offered me a job, I was working today and he wanted me to lock up.” He looks behind her, can see smoke billowing through the door. “I should call the fire brigade. Did you see the fire…is it bad?”

“Of course I saw it. I started it.” She tells him slowly as if he’s stupid.

“What?”

“Robert, don’t treat me like an idiot. Did you think I didn’t know who you were? Of course I do. I saw your photo in your sisters house when I broke in…then I just followed you around when I realised you were getting close, and here you are.” She walks round him and he takes the chance to glance down, can only hope he dialled correctly and someone is listening. “It was a lovely photo. I love a good wedding. He doesn’t love you you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Aaron. He and Ben were so cute together. I bet you’re hoping you’ll get him out of prison and he’ll fall back into your arms just like a fairytale.”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re not the first psycho I’ve come up against.” He’s keeping one eye on the smoke that’s starting to come through the door, trying his best not to panic, hoping against hope that help will arrive in time.

“I could take such offence at that.”

“Don’t tell me, it’s a compliment. So…what’s your plan, keep us both here while the place burns down. Not that I’m criticising but that’s a rubbish plan.”

“You’re not very nice are you. You stand there, and you criticise me,” She puts her hands on her hips standing in front of him. “But you’re the one who’s been in prison for murder, not me.”

“So you admit you murdered Ben then.” He needed to hear it, needed her to actually say it in the hope someone could hear, then he could try and get out. Otherwise this whole thing would be pointless “Of course I did. So annoying, he kept snivelling.”

“What did he see or hear? Why him.”

“Why not?”

“Was it just him?” She stops, frowning at him. “Or were there more? Your friend Nadine? What about Andrea? You might as well tell me. I mean, you’re going to kill me too, right?”

“You’re clever, and a little demanding if you don’t mind me saying. All these questions are boring though.”

“Just curious. Come on, a little storytelling between friends never hurt anyone. Feels good doesn’t it, killing someone, for a minute, straight after.” He shrugs. “Why Andrea, what did she see? You were on the survival day with her, with my sister. It must hurt, her taking David from you.”

“She didn’t!”

“Well, he’s in Portugal with her and not here with you.” He points out before he can stop himself.

“Because of her. She took him from me!”

“Oh please. I’ve been there. Aaron tried all sorts to get me to leave my wife and I wouldn’t. In the end he had to spell it out for her so she’d chuck me out. If David hadn’t wanted to be with her he wouldn’t be.” He can hear Aaron in his head, asking him what he thinks he’s doing, why he’s winding up a killer. “So what was the plan, kill him for cheating? Been there.”

“Not him. Her!”

“It was you! You held her under the water didn’t you.” He clenches his fists, he doesn’t want to lash out, to hurt her because he needs her to face justice, to get Aaron out, but he hasn’t felt like this for over two years and it’s scaring him, the urge to protect his sister coming to the fore again. “What was Andrea? Collateral damage.”

“She saw me, just like Ben saw the footage…which I’m guessing you have too.” All of a sudden she darts forward, grabbing onto his jacket, reaching for the pockets. He twists away but slips on the floor, landing with her on top of him.

Rolling he gets away, decides enough is enough, he’s got what he needs, and runs towards the door, but the way out is blocked by a wall of fire, just a small gap clear to get through. All of a sudden he’s a kid again and he can hear his Mum’s screams. He forces himself to dart past the flames, aware Meena will be right behind him. He can’t let himself think, he just has to keep running, and hoping he’s going to right way. As he bursts through a door he can feel the cold air against his face as he runs into someone. Looking up he sees it’s a policeman and he just closes his eyes in relief.

“Took your time didn’t you?”

#robron fic #a fic a day in december

[yuichi-ro]

i love how i woke up at 3 AM, wrote this down in my notes and immediately went back to sleep but-

tr/jjk crossover; if reader learns how to cook/bake so getou has something nice tasting to look forward to, what if getou learns how to play an instrument or reads something for reader so she can relax and only focus on him after a long day??? thanks 3 AM sleep deprived brain, i love it.

getou needs less daddy dom content and more softness istg i will scream otherwise that man is made for twisted love and hurt/comfort i have said it before and i will say it again

also i caved in. i now have an inui/vampire! reader nsfw story planned😩 stupid ass blondes istg. idk if you have seen it or clips of it (god the clips, i recommend em) but there is this newer anime called “The Case Study of Vanitas” and the protag is like… super into his vampire love interest manhandling him and biting him despite him “hating” vampires and that just screams inui i am sorry. he would so be a vampire hunter for the sole purpose of fulfilling his kinks and i am equally unamused and equally here for it tbh

and! new owlhouse/amphibia episodes yesterday! they were both sooo fucking good man. can’t believe amphibia parodied midsommar tho, one of my fav horror movies it legitimately made me wheeze

welp thats all my chaotic brain can offer rn. man i should sleep more

take this hanma art whose artist i didnt see instead

-🌌momo

the way i just vividly imagined you snapping awake like squidward having a crisis, jotting all this down, then passing back out in a sea of pillows like you were possessed by the spirit of a literal ghost writer 😂

ok but reader who learns to cook with really strong flavors or unconventional dishes purely in search of something to mask the taste of curses?? Only having what Getou (poorly) explains eating them taste like. So you studious look into every flavor group there is. Switching them up often, sour to sweet to savory to salty and so on, so Getou's tastebubs never get use to it. In an attempt give him something to think about instead of the lingering taste of nasty curses. Leading to making him cute little bento boxes for lunch, elaborate baked goods and dishes that are ever testing your cooking know how but in a good way. Getou almost ending up pavlov'ed to expect your treats after a mission. Just shaving away the little bit of wretchedness his technique comes with. I'm sorry cooking/baking is my love language and Getou deserves it all 🥺🥺🥺

stupid blond libras not like I've been staring at Rindou or anything I hate blond libras so much I hate em

I've never heard of the show but tbh you know what that seems like canon Inui at this point. He's like those god awful clips of ghost hunters antagonizing ghosts on tape but he's trying to find a vampire basically to fuck. Vampire lady? Vampire dude? Doesn't matter if they suck his blood Inui is ready to do it for anything. This. This is the crap Koko is talking about. We were all scornful towards him for being homophobic. Nope, Koko just got tired of being the camera man to Inui's bullshit as he went to a cemetery at 3 am like "It's me, ya boi Seishu, and my neck is looking mighty tasty if there's any vampires out here." This, this is the reason Koko keeps telling him to leave him alone I know it 😐

THAT'S WHY THOSE STUPID GOWNS AND SHIT LOOKED FAMILIAR I KNEW IT WAS A HORROR MOVIE BUT I COULDN'T FIGURE OUT WHICH ONE (bc i am a weenie and do not like scary movies) ok but real talk? The way I almost snapped my neck and spit my coffee out when young King Andreas started talking and I realized it was Zeno Robinson. And he was using his Hanma voice 🥺 So great now I have to root for Andreas to not really be a bad guy and hope that he does the right thing in the end. Thanks a lot Zeno Robinson 🙄

Owl House though? I was surprised to see Rain (probably) working with Darius. Like I got him in a different light sure when he was tolerating/being kinda nice to Hunter in last weeks episode. But I 100% didn't see him possibly being a good guy honestly. Terra on the other hand every time I see her I hate her more. And if Eda and Rain don't reunite and kiss at the end of this bullshit I'm gonna flip my very gay table 😶

that's actually one of my favorite Hanma artist ♡ I found all their art via pinterest and I just really adore how they draw his face and his stature and all of it ♡ asdfghjkl idc if I'm having a rindou brain rot air. Hanma is my ride or die and I will move several different countries for this man 😤

#takes one picture of hanma #and im back on my shit #i love him im guilty i love that man and i would skip countries for him #yall can be mean about him being stinky and gross from being homeless but #still love him #will tenderly wash his hair and give him my soaps and my towel and wash his clothes for him #dont care if he's stinky he's my stinky and i love him #even if he smells like unwashed hair #asdfghjkl the way i vibrated when king anderas was zeno though #disgusting a thousand years jail for me #🌌.♡ #three.talks

[beeexx]

A meet the family moment that goes both very good and of course bad. Part 1/2

You can read it on my ao3 here too as well and read some of my thoughts at the bottom of that page.  Part 2 will be out shortly, but until then, here is part 1, happy fluffy and funny, next part is less so. 

Enjoy -------- TK is planning to spend most of his day doing nothing other than lay on Carlos’ couch, or at least until he comes back from his shift and they can do something together. This morning, like the responsible and horny person that he is, he even made sure to put the alarm on for 30 minutes earlier than they normally would so they could engage in a hot makeout session before Carlos had to leave for work. Those 30 minutes were definitely taken advantage of so to say, so much so that Carlos barely had the time to eat breakfast before he had to leave, 

and not before he almost puts his head through the wall by trying to put on his pants while he was brushing his teeth at the same time.

The memory makes TK smile though as he lies down on the couch, freshly showered and with a coffee in hand, content and at ease, when the doorbell rings interrupting his wandering thoughts.

“Awww.” He says, frowning at the interruption but gets up wondering who’s ringing the bell at this hour of the morning.

The answer becomes obvious when he opens the door and comes face to face with three women who are all waiting impatiently, all of them with the same brown eyes as Carlos and dark skin.

Oh shit.

“Erm, h-hey.” He stutters out, awkwardly. 

“Hello, is Carlos in?” One of the women says, the second oldest one, with a stylish outfit and long curly hair, making TK glaringly stand out in comparison to her with his oversized jumper that is Carlos and an old pair of sweatpants. 

“Eh no he changed his shifts around so he could take tomorrow off.” to spend it with me TK leaves out. 

“Of course my idiot brother would forget to tell us he did that.” The youngest one mutters.

Because yes, there is no mystery to whom these 4 women are that TK has stumbled upon this Friday morning on Carlos’ doorstep. His three sisters and mother are clearly waiting for him to say something and TK honestly feels like he’s about to freeze up on them on the doorstep, or close the door in their faces and run away. It could be either of the two, he hasn’t made up his mind yet which it is. 

“You want to come inside?” He asks though because it’s somewhat important that he makes a good impression on these people, even though he’s wearing more clothes that belong to Carlos than to him and his hair is wet and clinging to his face, and he’s in no way prepared for this. He’s immensely relieved he took a shower though. Smelling like sex and Carlos’ deodorant in front of his mother, who frankly looks terrifying, would have been disastrous. He steps aside and lets them in as they all mutter in agreement. 

TK feels his stomach drop as he takes in the state of the apartment which is in less than ideal condition. Yesterday’s dishes are still in the sink, and TK wants to die because that is definitely a pair of Carlos’ underwear lying on the floor just outside his bedroom.

Ugh.

“So, you must be the New Yorker?” The middle sister says. She’s wearing workout clothes, looking very different to the oldest sister but still manages to look immaculately put together and very pretty. The gene game is strong within the Reyes family and it’s a little unfair TK thinks. 

“Eh yes TK. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand in politeness and they all shake it. Elena is the oldest sister, then it’s Andrea, Carlos and the youngest one whose name he at least knows is Beatrice. They all look at him with mischief in their eyes, reminding him so much of Carlos it’s a little disconcerting and it makes TK want to die a little bit. When it’s time to shake Gabriela’s hand she looks him over and TK feels like she sees right through him, straight to the core, like there is nothing he can hide from her. He gulps nervously.

“You are a skinny young man.” She points out and TK stutters.

Beatrice rolls her eyes and he runs a hand through his wet hair nervously, not liking how studied he feels by her.

“Yeah, I was in an accident recently, so I’m getting back into it.” After the coma and his time off work he has gotten a little skinny yes but he’s trying really hard to put the weight back on that he lost even though it’s proving to be a little bit more difficult than what he originally thought it would be. But he’s definitely getting there, or that’s what his doctor is saying at least. It doesn’t help though that he has a ridiculously fit boyfriend either who he has trouble working out with because he keeps getting distracted by him and how hot he looks when he’s sweaty, it’s not unusual that when they are working out together, is interrupted for other things instead, which in TK’s defence, still revolves around losing calories. Gabriela’s eyebrow shoots upwards and TK wonders if Carlos’ family knows any of the details of what happened to him.

“I got shot.”

“What?” Elena asks and Beatrice lets out an “Oooooo” sound and looks at him with morbid fascination.

“An accident at work and then during the solar storm I engaged in some activities not appropriate for someone recovering from a gunshot wound.”

He realises too late how that sounds and if Andrea and Elena’s laughter and Carlos’ mother frown is anything to go by he’s completely messed that up. He blushes.

“No, no, I mean I saved a woman from drowning from inside a bus and had to lift up some rubble to get to her. Not something the hospital was too happy about.” TK winces again because now it sounds like he’s bragging instead. Ugh.

“Oh damn.” Beatrice says.

“You’re a fireman, did I get that right?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah, on leave now though but yes.”

“Are you doing any exercises for your injury?” Andrea asks and it takes TK’s brain a moment to catch up before he remembers that Andrea is a physiotherapist.

“Yeah some I got from the hospital.”

“Well the clinic I work at is pretty good if I may say so myself, so you want me to hook you up, I got you. I’ll make sure you see someone that’s not me.”

“Oh, thanks.” He says as she smirks confidentiality at his obvious nerves. 

“Is there any food in here?” Beatrice interrupts and walks into the kitchen, her mother following close behind inspecting each of the surfaces in what TK thinks is 20/20 vision. Bea opens the fridge and wrinkles her nose in distatate as TK rubs at his neck awkwardly. Elena joins them and they all seem to dissect Carlos’ kitchen inch by inch, judging him by the lack of food and messiness which cannot be blamed on anyone other than TK. He feels a strange need to defend Carlos and tell them it’s his fault which makes no sense at all as that would make his family possibly dislike him more than they already might. 

“Salted caramel popcorn? Since when does Carlos eat these?” Elena asks and holds the bag up. Beatrice grabs it aggressively out of her hand and pops one in her mouth.

“Those are mine.” TK says, his embarrassment growing with each second.

“They’re not as bad as you’d think.” Beatrice says and pops another one into her mouth.

“Ah, that explains it.” Elena says and gives TK a cheeky smile before she reproachfully rips the bag back from Beatrice and puts it back into the cupboard. 

“TK, are you hungry? From the state of this kitchen my son seems to be feeding you badly.” Gabriela says, her eyes sparkling and TK stutters again, so completely overwhelmed by all these women he doesn’t know how to handle being under the sudden attention. If there’s one thing TK lacks in his life it’s interactions with strong women, as the only reference he really has is his mother and she had left and not stuck around for too long so he’s not sure it counts. Not that he tends to be insecure around people in general, but this is Carlos’ family and they are going so steady at the moment that he needs to be liked. 

“He’s a much better cook than I am so he feeds me pretty well ma’am.” Beatrice laughs out loud and Elena and Andrea seem to struggle with holding back laughter too. Gabriela chuckles, but it’s not in a mean way at least. 

“Something my son took with him when he moved out.” She gives Elena and Andrea pointed looks.

“Hey, I cook just fine.”

“I’m a firm believer that all the men I date should cook for me. I’m not conforming to any gender roles mami.” Andrea finishes, much louder than Elena. Beatrice, now laying on the couch rolls her eyes harder than ever before. TK hasn’t met the Reyes family before, but he’s heard enough about them to be able to puzzle some pieces together. Elena is the high achieving one with good grades and borders on being a perfectionist, Elena is the gentle and kind one and Beatrice is the youngest one, sarcastic and moody a lot of the times but strangely enough the one Carlos seems to be getting along the best with. He adores her and according to him Bea’s sarcastic side is kept to a minimum around him which annoys the hell out of the older sisters as they have never quite been able to connect quite the same with her. If TK is going to be honest, it doesn’t surprise him that someone like Carlos has managed to melt Bea’s hard exterior, he’s impossible not to like, he has a way with people which makes him both a good cop, an excellent boyfriend and all around amazing person to have in your life.

“Just talk and talk and talk from you two. TK, I will cook for you and then when my forgetful son comes home I will make sure he has enough leftovers to feed you for a while.”

“Oh, thank you ma’am, that’s very kind of you.”

This time Gabriela rolls her eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Reyes or Gabriela works just fine.”

“You’re a polite one, aaww.” Andrea cooes and TK blushes. He really isn’t used to being surrounded by so many women all at once it’s completely throwing him off his game. 

“More stylish too than the last one, please get my brother into something that’s a bit better than those clothes he insists on wearing.” Elena adds, but it’s a joke TK can tell. At the same time it doesn’t surprise him that it comes from her either, she seems, out of all the siblings to be the most put together, her clothes extremely fashionable and complimentary of her figure. Andrea is in what seems to be her working clothes, and TK knows she and Carlos tend to work out together and Beatrice is in high waisted mom jeans and a cute crop top, definitely giving off student vibes in that outfit. It’s interesting in a way that all siblings in outer appearance seem to be very different from each other, something that is new to TK, who grew up alone. 

But he just smiles and doesn’t comment on the fact that he prefers Carlos without his clothes on anyway and it doesn’t matter what he wears because he would look good literally wearing a plastic bag.

“I’m just going to get changed.” He announces and before he can wait for their replies he hurries into Carlos’ room, making sure to grab the boxers off the floor and not to slam the door shut too loudly, because that would be too embarrassing. He leans against the door and revels in the silence and privacy of the room. He really isn’t ready for this. Meeting Carlos' family seemed to be something he’d do along the lines of dating for 3 months rather than a little over 3 weeks into their relationship. He is not prepared for this. In desperation he texts Carlos. 

-SOS 

The reply comes almost immediately.

-What’s happened?????

-Your mother and sisters are here. Help!!!!

-Oh shit, TK I’m sorry I forgot to tell them I moved my shifts around and we were supposed to meet up and cook together.

-Yeah no shit, I am dying here.

-I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s not that bad.

-Your mother scares me…..

Carlos sends laughing emojis his way before he types out another message.

-That’s latina women for you. Also I am the only son of a big family, ‘her baby needs to date someone worthy of him’ end quote.

-That’s not helping at all!!

-Well, just be yourself, it will charm them in no time, I’ll be home for lunch. Just entertain them with firemen stories and I’m sure you’ll be fine.

-’Just be yourself’ is the worst advice in the history of advice.

-Worked wonders on me, see you soon.

And that’s the key the conversation is over and it has not calmed TK down as much as he had hoped. It will likely be two more hours before Carlos is home and TK really has no choice other than to put his game face back on and go meet his fate with his head held high. 

He starts by getting dressed, in yesterday’s clothes unfortunately, but thanks the heavens he wore jeans at least and not sweatpants when he got here. He borrows some of Carlos’ deodorant and fixes his hair with some stuff he’s left on another weekend long stay. He looks better than he did earlier and that’s literally all he can do. He walks back out and braces himself for what’s to come. 

“Not that you didn’t look nice before but I can totally see why Carlos is into you.” Elena says teasingly and TK blushes. Even Beatrice looks at him with something that looks a little bit more like respect than before.

“Was it that bad before?” 

“No, no, no.” Elena and Andra reassures him and Gabriela looks reproachfully at her daughters who at least look a little sheepish from their mother’s intimidating eyes.

“Don’t mind them TK honey, would you come help me in the kitchen?” 

“Yeah sure of course, what can I do?” 

“You can shop the onions, smallish bits please.” She hands him a cutting board and a knife and he gets to work, this at least being something he can do without failing too hard.

“You three, get to work!”

TK hides his smile, Gabriela sounding eerily similar to when Carlos puts on his demanding police officer voice. Maybe he picked it up from his mother? Not that Carlos has anything on this woman though, she walks into a room, small as she is and demands respect and attention. TK envies that a little bit. 

“So do you have any siblings TK?” Gabriela asks as the kitchen fills with the sound of chopping, laughter, frying and honestly an all together wholesome feeling that only cooking can do, bringing people together, something TK is not too familiar with. As great as his dad is, cooking together at home was not an activity they used to do. 

“No, I’m an only child.”

“Ah.” She says and raises an eyebrow. “Parents still together?”

“No, they’ve been divorced for a long time now.”

“And what do they do?”

It’s feeling more and more like an interrogation to TK, except that Gabriela has soft features and seems to be driven by curiosity rather than to undo him and pull all his secrets out of him to use against him. It doesn’t mean that TK in this moment does have the urge to lie or escape from this room and he has to remind himself that not everyone in this world is out to hurt him, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes. Carlos has been nothing but kind and supportive even before they got official, there’s nothing saying that his mother is not exactly the same, kind and caring and sweet.

“My mother is a lawyer and lives in California at the moment so I see her every now and then and my dad is a firefighter too. Owen Strand the Captain over at the 126.”

“Oh, yeah I heard he ripped the whole place up.” Beatrice adds.

“It’s really nice though. I went to see Michelle a few months back and he’s really pulled it together.” Andrea adds, sounding deeply impressed and TK nods. 

“Yeah, natural light and nice showers do wonders for morale.”

“Is that your dad’s words?” Elena asks and TK nods.

“Yeah.”

“And you TK, have you always wanted to be a firefighter then?”

For some reason TK doesn’t think bringing up the doubts he’s had about the life he’s chosen is the best thing to do at this moment, so he settles for the reply he always goes with, which these days is pretty much the truth anyway.

“Yeah, always.” Gabriela smiles at that, kindly, and TK finds that even if she scares the living daylight out of him, she seems to be a pretty wonderful woman too. 

The Reyes seem to lay off him a little bit, focusing instead on talking to each other. TK finds that the sounds filling up the kitchen settles something inside of him. His life has never been like this, where people stop to spend time with one another, and enjoy the company of each other when they are at home. Not that he thinks his parents did a bad job, but being an only child in a busy family often made him feel lonely, and he didn’t grow up with a lot of home cooked meals that were made with love, so this, this is nice. 

When Carlos finally comes home for lunch TK isn’t dying as much as he was before, and he’s thankful for that.

“Ah, there is my forgetful son.” His mother chides him immediately when he steps inside.

“Sorry mami.” He says and kisses both of her cheeks, before he ruffles Beatrice’s hair who glares murderously at him and hugs his two older sisters. Lastly he walks up to TK and for a moment he seems to hesitate about what to do and it makes TK roll his eyes because while they tend to be pretty light on public affection outside of the house, his family is already aware that they are dating. TK raises up on his toes and places a kiss on Carlos’ cheek, Carlos’s hands coming to gently grab at his waist and making sure to give his sisters the finger while they ooo and aaaaww in the background. Carlos steps away and steals a piece of chicken that is cooking and his mother swats his hand away with a spatula chiding him in spanish.

“Is everything done or?”

“If you’re asking if you managed to miss all the chopping and cooking then yeah you did you sneaky bastard.” Elena says, sitting on the kitchen island by the cooling dulce de leche that she keeps stealing off when her mother isn’t looking in her direction. TK had a taste of it too earlier and it’s absolutely delicious so he doesn’t blame her. 

“Nope, that was not what I was asking.” Carlos says and pushes her off the now clean counter, she glares at him but doesn’t even try to push back at him, their size difference not to her advtange which Carlos knows. He sticks his tongue out cheekily and she mutters under her breath that she’ll get him back. TK hides is laugh, can’t help but be affected by the sibling rivalry they’re displaying. He likes seeing Carlos like this, teasing and funny and a little mean with his sisters, it’s so very unlike him on most days and it’s nice to see another side to him. 

“TK, will you help me set the table?” Gabriela asks.

“Yeah absolutely.”

“Carlos we need a bigger table, do you have the extensions still?” 

“Yep, come on.”

“As if you couldn’t carry them yourself?” Andrea rolls her eyes but starts walking to the back of the condo, Carlos following behind but not before he kisses his mother’s cheeks affectionately again. She says something to him in spanish that TK only catches the end of but he’s pretty sure it’s about him and judging by the look Carlos sends him it’s not bad.

When Carlos and Andrea come back TK and Gabriela have finished setting the table and even Bea has gotten off her phone to come peek interestingly at everything that is laid out before them. TK hasn’t seen this much delicious food in a long time and he already loves Carlos’ cooking, if he learnt from this woman it’s going to absolutely blow his mind. They sit down, Carlos beside him, with their mother at the end of the table and the rest of the sisters on the other side and TK lets the sound wash over him, enjoying how comfortable the family is around each other. He manages to escape the attention, but only for a while.

“Soooo, how did you meet then? Carlos has been vague about the details.” Elena of course asks after a while. TK shoots Carlos a look and he indicates for TK to talk.

“On the job actually, on my first call, a car accident.” Elena leans forward, clearly very interested and in the corner of his eye he can see Carlos shoot her a reproachful look.

“How romantic.” She comments and Carlos throws his napkin at her, Gabriela only needing to glare at them both for them to stop.

“Did he ask you out by the car accident?” Andrea wonders and it makes both TK and Carlos chuckle.

“Please, I have some manners and style, you should know this by now.”

“Do you though?”

“I do actually.”

“Okay, continue the story, shush Andrea.”

“Erm, well there isn't much of a story.” TK really doesn’t feel like getting into the whole drama caused by him because everything has been going so well, so if he was about to tell them how he had run out of a dinner with Carlos, gotten into a bar fight and then kind of been a dick for a couple of weeks by avoiding Carlos and then getting into the whole accident he would lose whatever standing he had with the Reyes family immediately.

“We hit some bumps in the beginning but it worked out in the end.” Carlos covers for him cryptically and if he hasn’t told his family about the mess TK essentially is, he must care a hell of a lot about him. TK feels his face heat and his heart beat faster and having a little bit of a breakdown or just the urge to drag Carlos away from his family and into the bedroom to kiss him stupid, then no one has to know. He swallows down a bit of tomato and tries not to think about it too closely, even though Carlos’ thigh keeps brushing up against his when he moves. He is going to ignore it and get through it.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve worked it out.” Gabriela adds smoothly and Carlos gives his mother a grateful look and then the conversation moves along to other things and TK ends up having a lovely but very intense day, one he will remember fondly for a long time.

………..

When the door closes TK sags in relief against the counter, allowing Carlos’ side to take half of the weight.

“That was intense.” He mutters, making Carlos chuckle as he puts his arms around him.

“That’s the Reyes for you.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a week.” TK tucks himself closer against Carlos’ side, nosing at his neck looking for affection. Carlos rolls his eyes fondly, but takes pity on his cute but bratty boyfriend and unexpectedly sweeps TK off his feet. TK lets out an indignant little shriek that he will definitely deny he ever made later on as Carlos puts him over his shoulder before he makes his way over to the bedroom. He puts TK down gently on the bed before he lies down too, mostly on top of TK and sighs in content. TK chuckles before he runs a hand through Carlos’ hair, sending a shiver down his spine. He noses at TK’s neck, and rests his head there, feeling his pulse point flutter underneath his lips. 

They lie in silence for a while, enjoying it after the hectic morning and day. 

“You want me to move?” Carlos asks. TK just shakes his head. Carlos knows TK likes to be pinned to the bed, sometimes definitely, sexually yes, but oftentimes it’s more about the sense of grounding it makes him feel when Carlos will cover him completely. Carlos could understand that and was often happy to comply with the request, even though in the beginning he was definitely worried about crushing TK. 

“Your family is something else.” TK says snapping Carlos out of his wandering thoughts. He chuckles in agreement. 

“They are.”

“I like it though, the noise, the laughter and banter, it was always so quiet being an only child, as well as it was lonely.”

Carlos hums and kisses TK softly on the neck.

“Yeah, our house was anything but for most of the time I grew up. The only time it was ever quiet was when something really bad happened.”

“Like?”

“When my abuela died it was horrible for a while.”

“Yeah that must have been rough.”

“It was… another time it was quiet was when Elena got arrested.”

“She got arrested? For what?”

“She smacked some old white lady up in a bar for being a racist.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, well it also got quiet when I came out.”

TK winces, Carlos feels it go through his whole body.

“Did they take it badly?”

“Not badly, but I’m the only boy in a family of three sisters, so it wasn’t great at first. But all my sisters rallied behind me and my parents both came around eventually. They just needed some time to sit with it all. But it’s fine now.”

TK strokes a hand down his back in silent support that Carlos appreciates. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry you had to go through it, even if it turned out alright.” TK whispers, and Carlos smiles sadly against his neck. He knows that in a perfect world he wouldn’t have had to worry about coming out to his parents, or to his co workers or to his friends. But this isn’t a perfect world so...

“Thanks.” He whispers back. TK hums and continues stroking his fingers through Carlos’ hair and down his back, the motion making Carlos melt against him. 

“Who knew cooking could be this nice.” TK says after a while and Carlos chuckles but can’t be bothered to lift his head, he’s way too comfortable.

“Should we make it a thing then? Instead of me cooking for you all the time we should start cooking together instead?” 

“Well, maybe not all the time, I would distract you way too much in the kitchen for you to get anything done.” He teases and Carlos agrees, kisses his throat gently a fews times before he lies down again. 

“True.”

“But maybe I will help from time to time.”

“I’d like that.” Carlos whispers.

“It was never like this for me growing up, loud and happy and people joining together to ask about the other person’s day. Or cooking for that matter. It’s nice, I’m happy you had it.”

Carlos knows some of TK’s past, not all of it but some of it, and he rarely pushes, just often lets TK come to his own conclusions about stuff. Well sometimes he pushes just a little but when it comes to talking about TK’s life before Texas he knows it’s a bad idea to approach it that way. And he knows TK has been making an effort too about being a little bit more forthcoming and he appreciates it endlessly. So it’s nice to hear him talk like this and Carlos waits it out, let’s TK get it off his chest.

“Thanks, it was nice, you can come to every family dinner from now and then maybe you’ll tire of it.”

“I don’t think I could tire of it, tire of you.” He whispers and Carlos lifts his head up, smiles goofily and brighly and TK rolls his eyes but makes a little indication he tends to do when he wants a kiss. It’s Carlos’ turn to roll his eyes but he leans forward and gently places one on top of TK’s nose, making him scrunch it up looking ridiculously cute. He chuckles but kisses him on the mouth next and TK hums happily into it.

………

Carlos must have fallen asleep, because when he blinks his eyes open he’s surprised to find it’s almost evening. His body is sleep warm and languid with TK still wrapped up around him. He yawns and lifts his head, coming face to face with TK who has a pillow crease on his cheek but green eyes alert and awake. 

“I wasn’t the only one who was tired then?” He teases and Carlos can’t be bothered to snark back and instead lays his head back down on TK’s shoulder before pressing his lips to his neck. TK sighs in contentment and Carlos repeats it, but a little more meaningfully, letting his lips linger before biting gently. TK squirms underneath him and Carlos chuckles against his skin before he moves further up. TK exhales shakily before he shifts, putting Carlos’ lower body a little closer to his crotch. Carlos helps out and puts himself in between TK’ legs, who eagerly grinds upwards, already half hard, making Carlos bite down on TK’s neck to prevent his own very loud moan from escaping from the friction. They had a go this morning before Carlos had to rush to work for his shift, it was fun but rushed and even so Carlos is pleasantly surprised that his body keeps having such a powerful and potent reaction to TK’s grinding against his dick. But with his appetite seemingly not diminishing anytime soon he isn’t exactly going to complain either, because they have been having a lot of sex recently, amazingly good sex, so if he is going to be able to get off 3-4 times a day then he definitely isn’t going to complain.

TK’s hand pulls at his hair as Carlos makes his way up towards his face, lips never living skin and watches goosebumps erupt all over TK’s body. TK, breathing unevenly by now, pulls at Carlos’ shirt impatiently and Carlos chuckles before he lets up and unceremoniously throws it off. TK sits up a little, gently places his hands around Carlos’ waist and places a trail of feather light kisses just above the waistline of Carlos’ jeans. Carlos bites at his lip, can think of a lot of other places he’d like for that mouth to be on before he pulls TK’s t-shirt off him and throws it in the direction of what he thinks is his own shirt and then gently pushes him down again. TK goes willingly, Carlos is well aware that if he wouldn’t have wanted that he would have let Carlos know, and so he puts his full weight down on top of him and kisses him hungrily.

Carlos and TK have during the weeks they have been together had a lot of talks about boundaries and consent, what is okay and what is not okay. It was different when they weren’t exactly official, but ever since then Carlos has had that nagging feeling in his head that it’s important he understands and gets to know exactly what TK likes and doesn’t. TK had scoffed at first and said everything was fine which Carlos had not believed for a second and he had spent a lot of time trying to show to an ever hesitant TK that he wasn’t going to walk out and leave TK just because he expressed a line of thought that didn’t always align with what Carlos thought or felt, and that included everything from bed related things to basically living together, which they basically already were, as the last time TK spent a night away from Carlos’ bed was over a week ago. Yes he was keeping count. There was a toothbrush that was TK’s in his bathroom, he had a packet of those sweet popcorn in his cupboard that he thought were disgusting and TK loved and a package of oat milk in his fridge for TK’s coffees, there was a pair of running trainers in his hallway and hair stuff on his counter that belonged to TK, so by all accounts, TK was living here more than he was living with his dad. They had somehow managed to take things both very slow and very fast at the same time but TK seemed happier than he had in a long time, Carlos had been told that in secret by Owen at the station one evening and Carlos had felt his heart flutter in utter joy to hear it.

TK grabs the back of his head, angles it so that the kiss deepens even more and Carlos thinks he would be a happy man just doing this forever. He moans when TK’s tongue traces his and TK snickers delightfully. He moves his mouth down to TK’s throat, leaves sloppy open mouthed kisses on exposed skin, feels TK grab the sheet and squirming underneath him and he doesn’t let up until he reaches his ear, sucks on his earlobe before he leans in close.

“Baby.” he whispers and TK groans. “What do you want?” When TK doesn’t answer he starts sucking on his earlobe again like a tease. “Baby, use your words.” He teases.

“Yeah, y-yeah. It’s very hard doing that when you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He teases and starts to suck a hickey on his neck instead, just below where his shirt will hide it and TK moans, grabs at his hair again and pushes one of his legs up and around Carlos’ waist.

“Words baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, please fuck me.” TK finally says, sounding strained and breathing hard already. Carlos feels a thrill of excitement go through him and he kisses the small bruise on TK’s neck before he gently kisses TK on the mouth, smiling brightly at him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” TK rolls his eyes without heat and Carlos moves a little so he can reach the lube he keeps in one of the drawers. 

………

It’s hours later and they are both lounging around on the bed, still not having left the bedroom after the sex they had ages ago. TK’s in a pair of borrowed boxers, draped halfway across the bed on his front, giving Carlos a nice view of his ass, as he distractedly tries to read while TK looks to be playing candy crush. Carlos just rolls his eyes fondly and goes back to his page when TK’s stomach rumbles loudly in the comfortable silence. Carlos lifts an eyebrow looking at TK over the page while TK has a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Earlier activities make you hungry?”

“If I had an app that counted calories I’m sure it would say we burnt a lot from what we did.”

Carlos chuckles.

“True.” He agrees. “Well there are a lot of leftovers from earlier still in the fridge if that suits you?” He’s already getting up, not bothering to put on any other clothes than the boxers he’s wearing. He feels TK’s eyes trail his behind as he leaves the room for the kitchen his mother had thankfully forced them all to clean up afterwards. It’s feeling like a blessing at the moment. He heats some of the leftovers on two plates but before he makes it back TK comes and joins him, plastering himself against his back, placing a kiss on Carlos’ shoulder blade.

“Hi.” He laughs and TK hums.

“Did you get bored?”

“I was missing you too much.” TK admits and Carlos feels a thrill of joy rush through him, unable to help it. He turns around and puts his arms around TK and pulls him close, rests his head against his forehead and stays there for a moment, the world feeling completely still just then, narrowed down just to him and TK.

“I missed you too.” He whispers even though it’s cheesy but the brilliant smile he is rewarded by tells him TK feels it’s anything but. 

Carlos thinks about telling him right then and there. He’s so close to opening his mouth and blurting it out, but regrets it at the last minute and places a gentle and sweet kiss on TK’s mouth instead. 

Carlos knows he’s an idiot, knows it’s way too fucking soon to tell TK that he loves him, but he fucking does, he feels it in his whole body. But he really doesn’t think that TK is ready to hear it and while that doesn’t diminish what Carlos feels for him, it’s not the right time to tell him.

But he hopes that it’s soon, because while it might be foolish and rushed and stupid of him to feel that way about this beautful mess of human being, Carlos has always been one to fall fast and hard, it’s just who he is.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fan fiction #911 lone star fan fic #tarlos #tarlos one shot #tarlos fan fiction #fan fiction #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #carlos x tk

[wizardofahz]

Introducing Grim

A/N: Just a little bit of silly to get back into writing. This is a follow up to Fulfilling the Lie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I think someone’s going to die.”

The panic in Nia’s voice has Kara shooting straight up out of bed though she manages to stop before crashing into the ceiling. Still hovering in the air, she asks, “Did you have a dream? Are you okay? Where are you?”

It’s the middle of the night--3:52 AM according to her phone--which makes the dream scenario most likely. Hopefully that means Nia is safe at home. Still, Kara mentally prepares herself to change into her super suit and fly out the window.

“I’m at home,” Nia responds, speaking a mile a minute. “I dreamed that there was this big black dog, like you know the Grim in Harry Potter? The omen of death? And I think Alex was there, but I don’t-- I didn’t get the sense that she was in danger? But I don’t know. It’s the Grim, right? I keep thinking about Ron’s Uncle Bilius and how he saw a Grim and died. And I know that’s Harry Potter, but, I mean, the messages in my dreams come in symbols, right? So maybe my powers are finally trying to communicate with me in a language that I’ll understand, and maybe that means that someone else is going to die even though I saw Alex, and--”

“Oh,” Kara says once Nia’s words register. All the adrenaline dissipates from Kara’s body, and she sinks back down onto her bed. “No, you dreamed about Alex’s cat.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Nia sighs with relief. “I was really worried. Like I said, I didn’t think Alex was going to die, but I’d really hate to be wrong about that. You know how hard it can be to interpret my dreams.”

“I get it,” Kara says, and she means it. If there was any sign that something would happen to Alex, anything at all, and there was something Kara could do to stop it, she would. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too,” Nia says with a shaky laugh. “All that freaking out, and it was just Alex’s cat.” A brief silence. “Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Since when does Alex have a cat?”

Oh, right. After they left the animal shelter, their day had been a whirlwind of pet supply shops and cat-proofing the apartment, and with Alex and Grim’s matching lack of enthusiasm for attention, they hadn’t really told anyone other than Eliza, J’onn, and Kelly. Oops. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Almost literally. “Today, or I guess, technically yesterday. It’s a long story, but his name is Grim.”

“Okay,” Nia says in a tone that indicates that she doesn’t really understand but she’s willing to go along with it for the moment. “No one’s going to get hurt, and that’s what matters.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kara mutters, thinking about the unfortunate mismatch between sharp claws and soft human flesh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

...

Kara’s breakthrough moment with Grim comes entirely by accident. 

Her mission for the evening is to keep Grim away from the kitchen while Alex and Kelly finish preparing dinner. Unaware that Kara is an invulnerable Kryptonian, Kelly had given her an apologetic look upon hearing her assignment. Kara doesn’t mind the teeth and the claws. She just hopes Grim doesn’t get too mad at her. She’s still trying to get on his good side.

“I’m sorry. You can’t,” Kara says, intercepting Grim as he wanders in the direction of the kitchen. She crouches in front of him and tries to redirect him. “Alex is busy. How about the cat tower? Want to climb on that instead?”

He does not.

After a few repetitions of this, Kara brings Grim to the couch, holding him in her lap as he tries to wiggle free. He meows his discontent and begins to claw at her.

“No, no, no,” Kara whispers quickly, grabbing a blanket and pushing it between them. “You can’t. Kelly doesn’t know.”

Normally accustomed to a Kara who’s willing to play scratching post, Grim looks up at her in consternation. He paws at her tentatively, testing her reaction. His claws sink into the blanket instead. He pushes into her and then pauses as if processing the feeling. He flexes, stretching his toes out before grabbing the soft material again.

Kara joins him, running her hands through the blanket as well. “I know. It’s nice, right?” 

Grim begins to knead the blanket in earnest. 

“They’re so cute,” Kara hears Kelly whisper from the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Yeah,” Alex whispers back.

It’s one word, and a quiet one at that, but it’s so full of love and happiness. Kara knows how important family harmony is to Alex, and Grim is part of the family now. She knows, without Alex having to say anything, that Alex has been waiting for this moment.

She is going to hug Alex as soon as she can.

... 

J’onn J’onzz is a cheater. Of this, Alex is convinced.

After meeting Grim, he initially keeps his distance, but after a while, J’onn seems to know exactly when Grim will tolerate being pet--not to mention exactly where he wants to be pet--and when he’s feeling antisocial. Alex has no doubt that J’onn is reading Grim’s mind.

Because of this, J’onn and Grim establish an understanding faster than anyone other than Alex.

That is until her mom arrives.

“Mom, this is Grim,” Alex says. Grim is currently in her arms for everyone’s safety and comfort, but Alex kneels and places him on the ground between them.

Eliza kneels opposite her. “Hi, Grim. It’s nice to meet you.”

Grim looks to Alex, who nods with approval. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s just Mom.”

Grim takes a tentative step towards Eliza. She reaches out a hand to let him sniff her, and it’s not long before she’s allowed to pet him, scratching him gently behind the ears.

“What? How?” Kara whines. “That’s not fair.”

“Apparently Alex is only deferential to Eliza,” J’onn says. “He can sense it.”

Alex’s eyes narrow. There it is, evidence of her suspicions. “How do you know that? Are you reading my cat’s mind?”

“I may not work for the DEO anymore, but I still find it prudent to investigate and track potential threats.”

“Hey!”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Eliza says, joining Alex in coming to Grim’s defense. Years of raising Alex has taught Eliza to recognize when someone is reaching their limit. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can go.”

Grim scampers off for the moment, but he returns to her regularly throughout her visit for more head scratchings.

...

Trust has to be earned.

As a therapist, Kelly is very well aware of this. She has a lot of practice ensuring that her patients grow to trust that they will be listened to and not judged.

The problem is that she has done this by communicating in English, a language that Alex’s cat Grim does not speak, and Kelly, being allergic to cats as she is, does not have a lot of experience speaking cat.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” she insists to Grim, who is scowling at her from Alex’s side.

Kelly is using her lunch break to check on Alex, who has had a long couple of days vigilante-ing. Sure enough, upon letting herself into the apartment, she was met with the sight of Alex asleep on the couch, still in her outfit with the tight suit and boots on.

Kelly had simply thought to wake Alex just long enough to get her to change and into bed, but Grim seems to be taking offense to the idea of disturbing Alex’s rest.

Ironically one of his growls nudges Alex into consciousness. She drowsily blinks a couple of times before recognizing her visitor.

“Kelly?”

“Hey,” Kelly says gently. “I thought you might want to change out of that outfit and get into bed. You know, be more comfortable?”

Alex looks down the length of her body. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea.” She instinctively reaches for Grim. “Come on, dude.”

When she slides into bed, Grim settles beside her again.

“Do you need anything?” Kelly asks before she leaves. “I can refill Grim’s bowl. I noticed it was empty.”

“Ye--” Alex yawns. “--ah, that’d be great. Thanks. You’re the best.”

After several repeat occurrences, Kelly can tell that Grim is growing to trust her more.

The ultimate show of acceptance comes when she’s staying at Alex’s because of a cold. She wakes up feeling better but with a weight on her chest. That weight is Grim, curled up and purring up a storm.

Kelly smiles and reaches out a hand to pet him. “Thanks, Grim.”

...

Grim backs away from Nia with a hiss.

“Maybe try again with a little less enthusiasm,” Kelly says. “Less is better with him.”

Alex keeps an eye on the three as she talks to Brainy. She has finally been coaxed into bringing Grim to game night to meet the rest of the Super Friends. She trusts Kelly to make sure Grim is all right, the only reason she isn’t glued to his side.

Brainy is a question machine. He asks if Alex met Streaky, the differences between Grim and Streaky, the differences in cat personalities, inherent cat behaviors, and the logistics of cat care. Alex is sure Brainy has additional questions, but Kara and J’onn are approaching from the kitchen area with the drinks, and Grim is starting to look overwhelmed by all the people.

Alex is about to rescue him when she catches the look on Lena’s face.

Lena is looking at Grim with an expression of horror in multiple senses of the word, maybe half foreboding horror like one watching a horror movie and half distasteful horror like someone being given a rancid fruit and being told it is an exquisite solid wine.

Alex finds that latter half offensive.

“You cannot use my cat as an excuse to restart Non Nocere,” Alex says, startling Lena.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Lena says, her voice entirely lacking in conviction. In fact, her face says that if she hadn’t been thinking about it before, she’s started thinking about it now.

William is running late, and by the time he arrives, Grim has disappeared into the shadows. 

That’s not to say that William doesn’t meet him.

Sort of.

When William goes to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing is followed by a scream of surprise from William and a series of yowls from Grim.

Kara and Alex run for the bathroom and skid to a stop as William stumbles out of it.

“Kara, you were right about the cat.”

...

By the time Andrea comes to her first game night, Grim has gotten used to socializing and learned how to let people know he’s had enough in a non-threatening manner.

Kara helps Lena welcome her to the group and introduce her to the few people she has yet to meet. Alex and Grim give Andrea identical wary looks. It is one of the cutest things Kara’s ever seen. That doesn’t stop her from steering Andrea to the other side of the room.

“Uh, maybe you should sit over here.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #nia nal #eliza danvers #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #et al. #moments in the life of superfam #i'm sorry i barely stopped being lazy enough to write this #i still have enough laziness to not tag all appropriate parties

[equisetumspn]

Party at Victor’s

”Cas, come on man. It’ll be fun, I promise. Everybody will be there,” Dean pleaded with Castiel. “Listen, I know we said that we would stay at home and watch movies with Sammy and Kevin like we did last year and the year before, but this could be our last chance at celebrating New Year’s with our friends. This time next year everything will be different and maybe people won’t even come home for the holidays. Please?”

Castiel sighed. How could he deny his best friend anything? He never could, and it had only gotten worse in the past year and a half. Ever since he realized that he not only had a crush on his best friend but was in hopelessly love with him.

They had been down by the lake the day that Castiel’s feelings caught up with him. Castiel had been sitting on a blanket, trying to concentrate on his book and listening to Dean and Sam laughing as they had chased each other by the edge of the water. Dean had flopped down on the blanket next to him, water droplets coming off him and landing on the page of Castiel’s book. Castiel had looked up at Dean. The sun had hit him, making his green eyes sparkle in the light and emphasizing his new freckles that had come out in the summer sun. He had said something but Castiel hadn’t heard a word, too distracted by the boy in front of him. It had been like he had never seen Dean before. Dean had needed to repeat himself two times and ask if Castiel had been alright, before Castiel had registered that Dean had been asking about going to go get some ice cream. Castiel had tried to blame being too engrossed in his book and an unexpected plot twist in it, but he hadn’t been sure if Dean had bought it since he had kept looking questioningly all the way to the ice cream stand.

That evening, Castiel had paced back and forth in his room, trying not to panic. Falling in love with his best friend was such a bad idea and it was such a high school cliché that he had felt his cheeks burn red when the realization had hit him all over again. But it wasn’t like he could just as sudden fall out of love with Dean and he didn’t want to risk the friendship, so after he had considered his choices, he had decided to suppress his feelings. It hadn’t been easy, and he had spent the last eighteen months pining and feeling jealous when Dean flirted with someone else or went on a date. He had told himself a million times that he was over it, that it was behind him, but then Dean smiled and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and his heart flipped in his chest.

“Cas?” Dean was still looking at him with a small smile. Castiel felt the last of his resistance fade away.

“All right let’s go to Victor’s party. But I still want to see that movie.”

“Yes! I’ll ask Sam if they can wait with it until tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at nine, see you then!” Dean bounced out of Castiel’s room. Castiel could hear him scurry down the stairs and then the footsteps stopped and turned back up again. Dean popped his head back into the room “It’s gonna be fun, Cas, I promise!” Dean smiled at him and disappeared again.

Castiel fell down on his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He wished that they could have spent the New Year’s Eve with Dean’s younger brother and his best friend like they had the last few years. Instead of a night filled with popcorn and joking around while watching action movies, he started to mentally prepare himself for a long night filled with loud music, speaking with people he wasn’t particularly fond of, and, worst of all, probably seeing Dean dancing with someone else, maybe kissing them at midnight. Castiel hated the feeling of jealousy. He had no right being possessive of Dean. He told himself yet again that if Dean got together with someone he was going to be happy for him, a true best friend would be happy. He thought of Iago’s line in Othello, the one about the green-eyed monster that feeds on the meat while mocking it and he knew that if he saw Dean kissing someone at midnight, his heart would break and his own green-eyed monster would consume the parts. Castiel sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

 *********

 Dean turned onto Cas’ street a couple of minutes before nine o’clock. He parked across the street from his house and texted him to let Cas know that he was there. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of ‘Ramble On’ that blasted through the Impala. He got so into the song that he didn’t see Cas leave his house and jumped high in his seat when Cas knocked on the window on the driver’s side. Dean leaned over and opened the door on the other side, trying to glare at Cas who laughed at his reaction. It almost worked, until he felt his breath hitch when he saw that underneath the trench coat, Cas was wearing the soft button down in the particular shade of blue that brought out his eyes even more than usual. All of a sudden, he felt way too underdressed in his flannel. He scratched at the back of his neck and lowered the volume on Led Zeppelin. 

“Shut up Cas.” He started the car. “So are you ready to party?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Listen buddy, we don’t have many parties left before high school is over, so I’m glad we’re going to this one tonight. But, like, I also know that these aren’t really your thing so if you truly want to leave, you just come tell me. Okay? If it gets too much for you then we leave. Don’t want a repeat of what happened two years ago, okay? Promise you’ll tell me if you need to leave?”

“Dean. I can leave by myself in that case.”

“Nah-uh. That’s not how this friendship works. If you need to leave, we leave together. Capiche?”

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

  When they got to the party, the street was filled with parked cars and the music streamed out of the open door as people entered the house. They walked into the kitchen and found Victor distributing drinks to those who’d just arrived.

“’Course Cas.”

*

“Soda is fine, thank you.” Cas got his drink and left the kitchen, saying something about going to find Aaron to talk about a documentary they both had watched. Dean just shook his head and turned back to Victor.

“Hey Winchester! Good to see you man! Here,” Victor handed Dean a beer. “Novak, you want a beer too? Or a soda? Got plenty of both, and some stronger stuff too.”

“So, Vic, did you have a good time in Aspen? You got back yesterday didn’t you?”

“Yeah, the snow was perfect. It was great actually. It’s nice to spend time with family and do something fun, you know? But there’s like a limit on how much time you can spend with your parents and younger sister before you start to go a little bit crazy. Just glad I convinced them to let me have this paaartyyy!” Victor hollered the last word and the kitchen filled with loud whoops in response.

*

  “So Jo,” Dean said and cocked his head to the side. “Midnight’s getting closer. Any plans on who you’re gonna spend it with?” Dean smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Dean had a great time. He was only a little bit drunk, the kind that just made the world seem like a happier place and made everyone funnier. He talked with Jess about her plans on becoming a nurse. He checked in with Cas. He stood next to Stevie and cheered for Charlie against Gabriel in what must have been the world’s most equal game of beer pong. Charlie finally won, but it was really close. He checked in with Cas. He danced with Lisa for a bit and then with Benny and Andrea. It was a good evening.

*

“Seriously Winchester?” Jo leveled him with a flat look. “You and I? Not gonna happen again. We tried that when we were fifteen. It was a total disaster, we even swore to not talk about it again, remember?”

Dean flushed at the memory. It had felt so wrong and things had been really awkward between them for a while after the kissing incident before they had decided to put it behind them. He grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right. Besides, you and I both know that there’s someone else you want. And have wanted for a really long time.”

 “Wh- I… Uh… Wha- What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even try to front, Dean.”

Dean hung his head and looked down at his feet. “Am I really that transparent?” he asked quietly.

“No, you’re not. I don’t think other people know how you feel, but I’ve known you all our lives and I guess I just know how to read you.” Jo squeezed his arm and what she said made Dean feel little more relieved. Maybe the entire school wasn’t laughing at him and his ridiculously huge crush on his best friend behind his back after all?

“Dean don’t worry. I really think it’ll work out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find Victor before midnight.” Jo winked at him and then she spun on her heel and walked away.

   He peaked into the kitchen but the only people there were those needing to refill their drinks. Dean couldn’t find Cas in the dining room where Charlie was obliterating people at pong again, nor among the dancing students in the living room, nor in the den where Aaron and Chuck played a video game that seemed to require a lot of tactics. Dean cursed Victor and his family’s way too big house, making it impossible to find people while he ran up the stairs to the top floor, taking two steps at a time. At the top he met Benny who come out from one of the upstairs bathrooms.

Dean blinked a couple of times, trying to process the last few minutes. Had he really suggested to Jo that they should kiss again? Jo liked Victor? Jo knew about his feelings for Cas? But most importantly, did she really imply that he might have a chance with Cas? He looked around the room and saw that several of his friends were already starting to pair up, even though it was almost ten minutes left until the clock turned twelve. Scanning the room, he realized that he hadn’t seen Cas in a while and he suddenly felt a rush of urgency to find him. Even if he probably wouldn’t be brave enough to kiss him at midnight, he still wanted to spend the last minutes of this year and the first of the next with Cas.

*

“Benny have you seen Cas lately?”

“I think I saw him walk out into the garden a little while ago.”

“Thanks man!” Dean ran down the stairs again and through the kitchen where Bela smiled dangerously at him and tried to stop him, but he tore past her out the French doors. The doors slammed shut behind him as he stepped out on the patio.

“Cas? Are you here?” Dean squinted out in the garden’s darkness. He walked down the steps onto the lawn. “Cas?” He called again.

“I’m over here Dean.”

Following the sound of his voice, Dean found Cas sitting on a bench by a hedge at the far side of the garden.

“Hiya Cas.”

“Hello Dean.”

“What are you doing out here?” Dean sat down on the bench next to him.

“I just needed some air.”

“Are you not having fun? Are you okay? I told you to come find me if you wanted to leave…”

“No, it’s been fine. I needed a little break, that’s all. It got so loud.” From out here, all that could be heard from the party in the house was the base from the music and the occasional excited yell. “Isn’t it close to midnight now? Shouldn’t you be in there? I bet there are a lot of them who’d want to spend midnight with you Dean.”

As if on cue, the music got quieter.

“Nah. I’d rather be here with you.”

Dean looked at Cas. Loud counting was now coming from the house. Before Dean could second guess himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas’. He felt Cas tense and Dean wondered if he had done something really, really stupid and ruined everything just because he lacked self-control for a moment, but then Cas melted into him and started to kiss him back. The shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ came from the house. Dean finally tore himself away from Cas’ soft lips and leaned his forehead against Cas’.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“No, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas. “Wait. What?”

“Dean, I’ve been in love with you since the summer before junior year.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him. “Well then I have you beat, Cas. I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen.”

“Oh. Really?” Cas looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Mhm. Really, really.” They looked at each other and this time neither of them could hold in their laughter.

“Man, we really are a couple of dumbasses!” Dean said and looked at Cas’ eyes, shining with happiness.

“Maybe. I just wish we hadn’t wasted so much time…”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. I vote for us stop wasting time then.” Dean leaned in again.

Cas smiled into the kiss and when they broke apart, he asked “So what do we do now?”

“I say we kiss some more, you know, just to make up for lost time and then tomorrow I’m gonna take you on a date. A real one.”

“The first of many.”

“Yeah obviously.” They both smiled into the next kiss.

#destiel #fic #fanfiction #destiel fic #hs au #nye #first kiss #supernatural fiction #i tried to do an fiction #suze says

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 3

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two more chapters left of Season 3! Like I said before, I’m most likely going to go back to posting once a week once we hit Season 5, unless you guys want me to keep going with twice a week? Let me know~~ Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 9

The next day after Andrea had visited the prison, offering to set up a meeting with the Governor, Rick took Michonne and Carl out on a run. He had mentioned the night previously after Andrea had left that they needed to stock up supplies, more specifically weapons, for when the Governor attacks. Glenn, Hershel, Beth, and Judith were in the cell block while Maggie and Carol were both on watch. Daryl was outside having a smoke on the picnic table outside as Merle was lounging about in the connecting hallway of Cell Block D; Maggie and Glenn didn’t want Merle always hanging around outside their block so Rick and Daryl agreed to move him to another cell block. Gloria was at the kitchen area washing some dishes from lunch. As she put the last dish away to dry, she wipes her hands on a cloth before hanging it over the sink. She’s about to walk back to the cell block when she hears a whistle emitting from where Merle was. Gloria rolls her eyes as she looks over to the man who was already looking at her through the gate. 

“What?” she says, not amused.

“Listen, I jus’ wanna talk.” Merle tells her, he raises up his arms to show her that he’s not being hostile, “no tricks or nothin’.”

Gloria ponders for a moment before nodding and follows his lead to his own cell block. She knows that Merle can’t beat her in a fight, injured or not, Merle still only has one hand and Gloria was able to beat him up when he still had two. Plus, she had her daggers on her. 

Once in the cell block, Merle lets out a sigh and turns around to face Gloria but is met with her fist. He stumbles back at the punch, not at all expecting it. Before he’s able to shout for her to stop, she knees him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“That was for beating up Glenn and taking Maggie to the Governor!” Gloria seethes in anger, she then strikes his back with her elbow then pushes him to the ground.

Merle groans in pain, “an’ what was that for?!”

“All the times you pissed me off.” Gloria huffs then leans on the wall, crossing her arms as she looks at him.

Instead of being angry, Merle laughs at her answer then sits on the ground, leaning back on his hands and pauses a bit before he starts talking, “‘M sorry. For what I did to your brother and that farmer girl. But I do have to let ya know, if it weren’t for me, Glenn’d be dead.”

Gloria rolls her eyes and scoffs at his words, “Do you actually think I’m going to believe that you saved Glenn by beating him up? You were going to execute them! You think I’m stupid?!”

“If it were anyone else, Glenn’d be dead. They woulda killed him, I jus’ dragged it out! Had to make it look realistic or they’d jus’ shoot him straight up!” Merle defends and Gloria eyes him, not knowing whether to believe him or not, seeing this, he sighs, “look, I didn’ want Glenn to die ‘cause o’ what ya did for me on the roof. Ya stayed. Even if it was for Daryl, ya still stayed.” 

Gloria’s face softens at his words, hearing the sincerity behind them, “you still threw a walker at Glenn...” 

“Come on, I knew he could take it! Kid’s a ninja!” Merle exclaims causing Gloria to scoff.

“Ninjas are Japanese, Merle.” Gloria corrects him.

Merle rolls his eyes at that, “hey I’m tryin’ ‘ere, a’right? Gimme a break.”

Gloria chuckles then lets out a breath, “is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I wanted to talk to ya about Daryl.”

Gloria frowns, confused. Why would he want to talk to her about his brother? She looks at him, Merle’s expression unreadable but serious as he looks back at her. 

“My baby brother,” he starts, “he cares a lot ‘bout ya. I know jus’ by the way he looks at ya, I’ve never seen that look in his eye before, not wit’ anyone. But you, you’re the reason he came back to this prison.”

Gloria ponders his words, “he... did he tell you that?”

“Hell nah! He’d never admit that shit!” Merle chuckles, covering up for Daryl, “but he didn’ need to, I jus’ know, I raised him after all!”

A sense of guilt raises inside Gloria, she doesn’t know what to think. A few days ago, she had yelled at Daryl for leaving, saying that he didn’t care at all about her or the group. Sure, they were words of anger but Gloria was trying to convince herself rather than him as a sense of protection in case he ever left without a word again. Now, Merle was here vouching for Daryl, telling her that he cares a lot about her in particular. 

“Jus’... take it easy on my brother, a’right?” Merle says with a heavy sigh, “he ain’ good with words an’ ain’ ever been good at relationships, hell, he doesn’ even know the love of a parent... but he’s tryin’, ya know? He’s tryin’ for you.”

Gloria looks up at him, a thoughtful look on her face, “why are you telling me all this?”

“‘Cause you’re the only broad I can see worthy o’ takin’ care o’ my brother. Ya sure can pack hell of a punch, and if ya can keep ol’ Merle in check, ya definitely can keep Daryl in check.” Merle says with a genuine smile. 

Gloria’s about to respond but both of their attention is taken away from each other as they hear quick paced footsteps emitting from the hallway. They turn their heads to look at the door and Daryl and Glenn emerge with worry written on both their faces. However, their look of worry is soon replaced by looks of confusion as they survey the scene in front of them. Gloria was leaning on the wall, unscathed, while Merle was sitting on the ground with a split lip and bloody nose. Glenn and Daryl glance at each other, communicating without words on who won the fight. Daryl makes his way over to help Merle up as Glenn goes over to Gloria who pushes herself off the wall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Glenn says, his tone full of disapproval.

“Getting revenge for you.” Gloria shrugs then follows Glenn back to their cell block.

Daryl pulls Merle up to his feet and gives him a onceover, “she beat ya up again?” he asks, trying to hide a look of amusement.

“Ya got one hell of a woman there, little brother.” Merle chuckles as he watches the blush creep up on Daryl’s face, he then places his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, making the younger look at him, “she’ll come around, and when she does, ya hold on to her. She’s a keeper, that one!”

Wanting to hide his embarrassment, Daryl scoffs and pushes Merle’s arm off him, “shut up.” 

Merle laughs as he watches Daryl walk out of the cell block back to his own. He shakes his head at how flustered the younger man can get. Smiling to himself, Merle retreats to one of the many cells and rests.

---

The next day, Rick, Daryl, and Hershel had left the prison to meet with the Governor for possible negotiations. When Rick had come back from his run with Carl and Michonne, he had brought back a full artillery of weapons to fight the Governor. Andrea had told them that they were to meet up at noon the following day, but for precautions and to scope out the area, the three of them had left in the morning. Gloria and Carol were on watch together on the watch platform leaving everyone else back in either the cell block or main area. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Carol asks, giving Gloria a smile.

“It’s good,” Gloria glances over at her bandaged shoulder then back at Carol, also with a smile,  “doesn’t hurt anymore, so I’d say it’s healing well.”

“What about things with Daryl? Are they also healing well?” Carol asks, curious while also giving Gloria a knowing look.

Gloria blushes slightly at the question then looks away into the courtyard, “I had a chat with Merle about Daryl yesterday. He says that Daryl... he really cares about me and that I’m the reason he came back.”

“Do you believe him?” Carol questions, more for Gloria than her own curiosity.

“I don’t know... I mean, he didn’t sound like he was lying but...” Gloria lets out a sigh and looks down.

“It’s okay, give it time. I don’t think you should give up on Daryl, people and feelings are all we truly have these days. And what you have with Daryl is special,” Carol puts her hand on Gloria’s shoulder as Gloria nods, “have you forgiven him yet?”

“Honestly? I don’t even know.��� Gloria purses her lips, “whenever I think about how he just left, I still feel mad, but I am glad he’s back. I’m happy he’s back with us. I just don’t know when I’ll stop being mad at him for leaving.”

Carol nods, understanding and gives Gloria’s shoulder a light pat but before she can say anything in reply, a gunshot sounds from the direction of the cell block. Both women glance at each other, exchanging looks of worry before bolting off to the cell block. Once they open the door to the prison to the main area outside of their cell block, they see Beth holding a gun aimed to the ceiling and Merle on the ground wrestling with Glenn. 

“What the hell is going on here?!” Gloria shouts, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Merle wants to intrude on the meeting with the Governor,” Maggie explains while glaring at Merle, “but Glenn isn’t letting him go.”

Gloria sighs and goes down the steps, “Merle, get off of Glenn, now!”

Merle, who is still pinning Glenn down on the ground, glances up at Gloria then back at Glenn and pushes himself off the ground, freeing her brother. He takes a few steps back from the other man as Glenn gets up as well, both men eyeing each other. 

“All o’ ya say ya wanna beat the damn Governor, but ya ain’t doin’ shit to beat him! We know where he is! We can ambush him and kill him there!” Merle shouts.

“Merle, you know that puts Daryl and the others in danger too, right?” Gloria asks rhetorically. 

“And them three goin’ doesn’ put ‘em in danger? How do we know that the Governor didn’t bring his entire army to this meetin’?” Merle yells back, his worry evident in his voice.

“You’re right, we don’t know that. But what you’re suggesting is too big a risk to take.” Gloria takes another step down on the steps so that she’s level with the others, “think about it, Merle. Regardless of whether the Governor took his entire army, if they have a lookout and catch us trying to ambush them, Daryl, Rick, and Hershel are still with the Governor. They could turn it into a hostage situation and it puts them in even more danger. You may not care about Rick or Hershel, but I know you care about Daryl and you want to look out for him, but wanting to ambush the Governor does the complete opposite of that.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’ve all been trying to tell him but he just doesn’t get it with that thick skull of his.” Glenn says, still glaring at Merle.

His words provoke Merle as he growls, lunging at Glenn but only to be stopped as Gloria unsheathes one of her daggers and presses it to Merle’s throat, making him freeze in place. 

“Keep moving and see what happens.” Gloria challenges him.

Merle glares at her but moves back, he can’t help but admit to himself that he’s quite impressed with how badass Gloria is. Still huffing in anger, he backs off from Glenn and the others. 

He then looks at Gloria, “I didn’ wanna cause trouble, like ya said, I only wanted to help Daryl.”

“You can help him by shutting up and waiting for them to come back.” Gloria says as she puts her dagger back into its sheath then turns to Glenn, “and no more bitter retorts from you either.”

Glenn crosses his arms and huffs, not saying anything else as he knows he was guilty of provoking Merle. He lets out another breath before making his way to the door and going outside to get some air. Merle goes to the hallway connecting his cell block to the main area and sits along the wall. Gloria looks over at Carol and they both sigh, glad that the damage of the altercation was somewhat minimal to say the least. 

---

Next Chapter

A lot of Merle in this chapter hehe so yeah I might have grown a soft spot for Merle, at first I hated him but after rewatching the show over, I grew to like him, in his own twisted way, he does care for Daryl! That and he’s also Mary Poppins hahaha sorry there wasn’t many Gloria Daryl moments, but I needed this chapter, what did you think of Merle’s interacts with Gloria though?? Let me know!!!

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep | @letsstarsfalling | @molethemollie | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox | @womanup22 | @jodiereedus22 | @theonlyone-meeeee

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon Imagine #Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #TWD #TWD Fanfic #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Imagine #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead Fanfic #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Imagine #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #Glenn Rhee #Fated: Season 3 #Fated: S3: Chapter 9

[tk9336]

My Curatorial Internship at MSI Part 2

In a very bittersweet conclusion, I finished my internship this past Thursday. It culminated in a visit Friday, August 6th with my family and friends getting a VIP tour of the Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago. My younger brother and his Australian co-worker flew in from D.C. and we picked them up from O’Hare on the way to MSI. We met with Director Kathleen McCarthy first thing after getting and to my utter disbelief got us onboard U-505 as a thank you for all my help this summer. She then let me run the tour onboard a German U-Boat... I am still feeling beyond honored for a privilege like that. She then let me give the tour of Collections and it really brought my short time with MSI full circle. I was asked to continue working on a project regarding a “Reichkriegsflagge” flag someone emailed us that they believe is linked to U-505. So as you can imagine I am thrilled... I broke down the history we have on the flags MSI has in storage and on exhibit. I emailed no fewer than four separate institutions; the German Maritime Museum, the US Naval Academy Museum (who has U-505′s actual War flag it was flying when captured in 1944), the Smithsonian, and to Keith Gill who was the chief Curator of U-505 when it was restored and interred in it’s final resting place within the 37 million dollar McCormick Foundation Exhibit.

What will follow is Weeks 7 - 9:

Week 7: 7/19-22/2021

Monday: I was not feeling well and decided to email Voula at 8AM as I got back home from the train station. I am glad I made this decision because I had a stomach that was in knots and there was plenty of material to work on from home. I worked on the U-505 artifacts list.

Tuesday: I came into the office and had my normal weekly meeting with Voula at 10 AM. We discussed the past week and the week ahead. Fortuitously since I had finished the massive transcription I was available to help on a more pressing issue that came up. The U.S. Navy was coming to give inert certificates and certify any munitions we had that still needed them. This was great because it was an opportunity to work with the Registrar Deanna, and do registration/collections management work. I got half way through the huge U.S. Navy loan files. I will continue next week in office, as tomorrow I am not working but will be on location.

Wednesday: I am not working Wednesday, as I am taking a long time friend and his family from my organization, the 501st Legion downtown. I will hopefully get to show them what I do in Collections; my office, the staff who are in my department and a brief walk through storage. I can't wait to see their faces... they have been following the posts I have been making to share my excitement of this incredible opportunity. The visit went well, and the parents Neil and Andrea are big World's Fair fans (both Colombian Exposition and 1933 Century of Progress.) They were former patron members of MSI before COVID.

Thursday: Working from home I was tasked with making a list of the artifacts on exhibition from the transcription of the U505 exhibit. So taking out the artifacts and making it into a separate word doc that I am sure helps the team when needing quick reference to what is on the floor.

Saturday: I continued the work from the U505 artifacts list and now am porting it to a excel workbook which seems to be the preferred file extension used by Kathleen and Voula (and perhaps Collections in general). Not strenuous academic work (since I already did that) but a lot busy work plugging, copying, pasting, etc.

Week 8: 7/26-29/2021

Monday: I came into the office today and resumed my work on going through the large U.S. Navy loan folders Deanna gave me in a effort to find relevant materials on the German, and American torpedoes as well as a Soviet Cruise Guided Missile, the "STYX." I gathered all my materials and presented them to her, and she looked through and helped me reduce the gathered documents for the most relevant to inertion. I found an actual donation file for the STYX to MSI from the Navy... not everyday you find a piece of paper saying this million dollar, surface to ship missile from the Cold War. This took me to the end of the day.

Tuesday: I came into the office and had my weekly meeting with Voula. This would be our last in person meeting as she is going to Greece with her family this Friday. I made sure to really emphasize how much this opportunity meant to me and that I was going to go the extra mile to wrap up all my projects and try to be as much use to MSI as possible. I had finishing helping Deanna yesterday with the inert reference materials to help her with the U.S. Navy guys coming in next Monday.

Wednesday: I worked from home since I have no shortage of stuff to work on. Voula tasked me with writing labels for the Fire Fighting artifacts I that I made a long project of at the beginning of the internship. Since I created all that in a long, well organized word doc, I can then, like a professional curator, work from my research to create 1-2 sentence labels for each item. I will take that and then input it into a excel workbook which seems to be the preferred file extension for reference purposes.

Thursday: We had another MSI Zoom round-table, and this time we how to brand, and what branding means professionally speaking, and to Museums like MSI specifically. Thankfully being Zoom was able to attend while working from home, which is an absolute godsend (in regards to not having to commute to Chicago, from Wauconda, IL... not that I don't like being at MSI- the commute is long.) I continued buttoning up and polishing all that I worked on so far. This isn't the normal college assignment where I don't re-read it once and make quick improvements (being honest here!) I re-read them about 3 times each, as I am very proud of what little I can contribute to MSI.

Week 9: 8/2-5/2021

Monday: I worked from home buttoning up and polishing all my work for MSI that I've done this summer in addition to finishing the label writing for the Fire Fighting artifacts list. I will port that into a Excel workbook like the U505 artifacts list, just to be consistent (as providing a word doc copy as well.) Long day in front of the computer... I worked roughly 10 hours. I just really want to leave a good, and lasting impression on MSI as a show of the supreme gratitude I have for them and this opportunity.

Tuesday: Today I came in feeling a little bit disappointed it is my last week, and endevour to take as much advantage of it as possible. With my Zoom meeting with Voula (who is in Greece right now) we discussed any last questions I had, and she wanted to say that she will be available as a reference and contact for me going forward which means the world over. Today is my day to talk, and work with the Registrar Deanna. She let me know my work on the Russian Cruise missile STYX was very helpful to the gentlemen from Navy doing the inert certifications. That felt really good. Kathleen also forwarded me a project involving one of the flags of U505! The very SAME one I took a photo with learning how to handle textile artifacts. I am over the moon, call it fate that I sought that flag out earlier. (As a former Combat Arms 11Bravo serviceman, holding the captured colors of an enemy combatant captured in combat is nothing short of incredible. So much so the words escape me. A significant emotional experience for me, personally.) We handled the additional two flags, both of which are the correct dimensions for being a port flag, meaning it was flown in dock, and around friendly waters when not on patrol. We handled both, and I took photos showing the measuring tape next to the artifacts to certify these are what they appear to be, the real McCoy. I will follow up with the author of a book about Hans Goebeler, one of the U505 sailors and find out more about this additional Reichskreigflagge he signed! To be entrusted to do this by Kathleen is very empowering. To help Deanna she had me scan all the Black Creativity Juried Art files from 2020 from artists. These were receipts of artwork we kept, or returned. The scanner allows you save files in it that are available to the department computers via wifi. If she has to pull a receipt on a artwork it is catalogued. Not the most exciting work, but work that needs doing. Glad I got to get a flavor of what it entails to be the registrar and put on a different hat, albeit a simple busy-work one for me to get a grasp at how her work differs from the curators.

Wednesday: I had to work from home this day because of issues with my car. Normally not an issue with the battery but with my dad being out of town for work I didn't have a back up vehicle. I still had plenty to work on to finish up.

Thursday: This is my last scheduled work day for the Curatorial internship at MSI. It is completely bittersweet, bitter that it is over, and sweet in the way that I have all these contacts and incredible experiences under my belt. I have a tour scheduled with Mike Welsh whose in charge of facilities, buildings and grounds. Additionally we will have the opportunity to do a in person round table with Chevy Humphrey, President and CEO of MSI. The day began with a little party/meeting hosted by Kathleen for the new assistant curator, registrar and preparator to help with the projects being undertaken by each position. We also celebrated my last day which was very nice. I got to help unpack a 3D photo studio that was massive, and will be a big help photographing these artifacts for cataloguing and being put online. The meeting with Chevy went well if a little underwhelming because I was the only one asking questions! But, hard to pass up a mostly 1:1 dialogue with the CEO and President of MSI. I came back to collections in which Kathleen presented me some gifts from MSI in appreciation of my help for the summer. What a grand and wonderful experience.

Friday: I took my Family, family friends Mike and Kathy, as well as my visiting younger brother the Assistant director of marketing and communications for Atlas Network in DC with his Australian co-worker Vale to see MSI from top to bottom. It began with Kathleen getting us ONBOARD U-505 and let me give the tour. I had never been so honored, and not to mention the onboard for the sub is temporarily closed for COVID. This meant the world, and it was so very cool to share this with my family. It's one thing to talk about a German U-Boat... it's another to be inside a REAL one. She then took us to Collections and again let me give the tour in Storage and was very generous with her time. I then took them to the Henry Crown Space Center, then into the Smart Home Park to grab a drink. I took them to the Science of Storms exhibit and then used the special staff elevator to speedily get me back to Collections to use my work laptop to do the final meeting with Studio Institute. I had to leave the meeting right near the end because we needed to get home and take care of our 14 year old dog Ziggy, and equally old visiting Griffin. It was great to share my presentation with the rest of the Chicago/Memphis interns. This was the first time Chicago was included on the program and I believe the stars aligned to put where I am today, and what I got to do this summer. Thank you. I will try to make an album on Tumblr of images of my internship this summer and I took them with a storyteller’s eye. It’s a pretty cool linear progression of what I found over the course of the internship!

[wwwafflewrites]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 4—Dead in the Water (Part 2)

You tapped your pen on your lap.

Things were looking pretty bleak. You had an hour before the Winchesters tried to talk with Bill. And you knew it was going to be exactly like your dream had played out. 

Was there any reason to stop it? The Winchesters knew you were here already, so what difference did it make?

Bill was going to say that you were there, in his home. And if everything hadn’t broken apart already, it would then. Any part of the Winchesters that still believed you could be innocent would be gone—brushed away by the stacking evidence of your guilt. Your shot would be missed.

Especially if you let Bill Carlton die.

You sat in your car for the longest time. Just staring at your sad little list.

A. Destroy the dam.

B. Save Will from drowning in his sink.

C. Stop Lucas from touching the lake.

D. Salt the lake?

You hadn’t even put Bill the list. Probably because you had just assumed Will would have been the domino to keep him from killing himself.

In all honesty, the possibility of you failing to save him hadn’t crossed your mind.

Everything you did, it felt like a higher power was deciding otherwise. Or maybe the bastards just wanted to mess with you. Because once again, the Winchesters now had pretty good evidence that you were behind all of this. Why wouldn’t they think that?

Dipping your head, you scrawled another bullet:

E. Save Bill Carlton

///

When you made it to the Carltons', the police were gone, and the Winchesters had left. You could see Bill sulking on the dock. 

You made your way up to him, not sure what to say. So you said nothing, even when he saw you come up. You gave him a good ten feet of space and sat down on the dock, staring at the water. You thought, maybe, some silence would be a good way to start this conversation. 

Then, you started small. "I can't imagine," you said softly. "What it is like to lose your children."

"Then why are you even here?" His voice was raspy from crying. Desperate to be alone.

"Because I know what it's like to be without your family. I know what that's like, Bill." When he said nothing, you sighed. "And I know what you're going to do today. And I want to help you get through it. I want to keep you from making this mistake."

"There's no point anymore. My world is gone," he said. "They've taken everything from me."

Your shoulders sank. Didn't that sound familiar. "Please. Please, just let me help you."

"You can't."

Here come the tears. Frick. You couldn't help it. Even in front of this grieving man, you began to cry. At first, you tried to control it, but soon your breaths were shallow and your shoulders shook with ugly sobs. 

It was a delayed breakdown—one you should have had the first day you showed up in this godforsaken universe. But it hadn't happened until now. Because you were always either in the midst of danger, where you were forced to keep your emotions in check, or you were exhausted from a day of running around.

"Please," you managed to hiccup. "I just need one—one win today. Let me help you."

You can feel his stare at the back of your head. "Why would you even want to," he said. "You… you hardly even met us yesterday."

Embarrassed, you composed yourself. He was supposed to be the emotional one. It was just… shit. "There—" you paused l, cringing at the crack in your voice. "There's um… there's a saying." Your tears were working against you, and you blinked to contain them. "It’s 'Always Keep Fighting'."

Bill was quiet.

"And… I've been trying. I have. It's so hard to keep fighting through this… this mess that I'm in. And I'm struggling. I keep thinking, what the hell is the point of running in circles like this? It will never work out. Everything is already gone. What the hell am I even still doing this for?" You took a breath. "If you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you I don't know. But I think I've figured it out now."

"And what is it?" he asked.

"Saving people," you said. "I was… hopeful before. Thinking maybe I could… maybe I could actually do this. But after…" you trail off.

"After..?" he questioned. Then, he realized. "After Will?" he murmured.

You nodded your head. "I failed Will," you admitted. "I had this… whole plan in my head. But I really hadn't considered failing." You closed your eyes. "I am… so sorry about your son. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

There was nothing for a while—just the hum of the breeze in your ears.

"It isn't your fault."

You looked at him, taken aback. Your lips part for a moment, not sure how to digest that yet. "I…" You weren’t sure if you should share that you know about his past. You did anyway. "I know about what happened. Um... years ago, I mean. When you were a kid. With Peter." Before he could say anything, you cut him off. "But I still want to help. I still want to keep you from doing this."

"Why?"

You finally turn to him fully. His expression is a mixture of emotions. "You… you made a mistake."

"I still killed him."

"You were a kid. You didn't know better."

"He's just going to keep taking everyone I love."

"Not if I can do this right."

He sent you a sad, questioning look.

"Peter's ghost is tied to this lake. It can get into the pipes in this town, but that's its limit. Theoretically, if you left, he wouldn't be able to reach you or the sheriff. The lake won't be here in a matter of six months. It shouldn't bother you ever again." You rubbed the back of your neck. "I… I can't bring back your kids, but I could keep it away from you for good. You could rebuild."

He looked to be contemplating, still torn on whether he should just get on that boat. "I don't know," he said. He looked so hopeless. "It will still be out there, waiting for me to come by again. I've already lost everything. You can't ask me to do it again."

"Actually... I might have an idea how to solve that," you said. "Any chance you have a computer?"

///

It was the first time you'd seen Bill actually look a little alive. Maybe some company was helping. Maybe it was the thought of saving the sheriff's family from going through what he had gone through. Regardless, he was actually pitching in a little.

You’re scrolling through news articles on the dam. "So, they've relocated all the fish to drain it. And…" you freeze, clicking on a link in excitement. "No way."

"What is it?"

"They're going to purify the lake. The town isn't so keen on using the water that three people have died in. So they're going to filter the whole thing when it drains. Do you know what this means?" You look up, a smile lighting up your face. "It means no more ghosts in the water."

"It will be gone? For good?"

"No ghost can get past salt. I should get trapped in the dam. And I have an idea for that, too."

"What?"

"When the sucker is done draining, I'm going to blast the dam down. Or… someone who's better at covering their tracks will do it for me." You wrote your notes down, nodding to yourself. "Bill, I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell those… agents you saw the other day that you came up with this plan. Don't tell them it was from me. If they ask, you came up with it.”

“They’ll buy that?”

“If it goes how I think it will, they'll gladly go along with the plan. Can you do that?"

Bill still looked pretty beaten down. This certainly wasn't going to bring back his family, but you could tell he was fighting now. "I can do that."

You ripped out a new sheet of paper and handed it to Bill. "You think you can write these down in your own handwriting? I don't need anything hinting that it was me."

Bill watched you. "Are you running from these guys or something?"

"Or something. We don't exactly get along."

"I don't see why not. You seem to have the same goals."

You laughed a little at that. "Yeah, well… we had a misunderstanding. And right now, they don't like me so much. It would… make my life easier if you didn't give me the credit on this one."

///

You knew the Winchesters were going to show up soon.

Instead of finding Bill on the boat, they were going to find him with a plan. You just hoped that Bill would pull off the whole 'look'. As in, like he'd rather ‘take action’, than mope around his house like he had been before. 

It wasn’t probable that the Winchesters would fall for that bit... they'd probably be suspicious, but it was the best you had. If they could blow the dam up once the lake had drained six months later, which was already damaged, then the ghost would be gone. It would be thoroughly salted and burned.

You asked Bill to leave town for that time. In fact, you suggested he check out the Roadhouse in Nebraska. Sure, it was a while from Wisconsin, but it might take his mind off his kids and set him in a place that could relate to people. The Roadhouse certainly had a lot of old stories to share. 

You weren't asking Bill to become a hunter. No way. If it came around to that, that was his choice, and his way of coping. You’d respect that. 

Simply, you thought that he might find comfort in an environment he would empathize with. Besides, the Roadhouse wasn't a hunter-only bar. It was just... hunter-popular. Normal people went there all the time.

Tonight, you knew Andrea was going to almost-drown in the bathtub.

You thought for a minute, though. When Bill died, the Winchesters had gone to speak with the sheriff, Jake Devins, who kicked them out of town. Then Lucas tugged on Dean's arm, alerting him to come back…

But since Bill didn't die… did that mean that hadn’t happened? Would you need to save her yourself because the Winchesters wouldn't know about it?

Crap.

There were two ways this could go down. One, they didn't know, you showed up, and you might not be strong enough to save her. Two, they did show up and save her, but you're in deep crap… because Winchesters.

Double crap.

///

You showed up at their place way too early, hidden in the trees. The bicycle was probably beneath your feet.

You sat on a nearby log, positioning yourself to hide from the main view of the road, but with enough of a window between the trees to watch the house and its pattern of lights.

You noted where Lucas's bedroom was, and where the hallway to the bathroom was, and then where Andrea's bedroom was. You didn't have a terrible view. You could see the bathroom's hallways pretty well from there.

Then, after a few hours passed, the lights shifted. She was going to take a bath. You sat up, watching and waiting. Should I go? I should just go, right? You struggled to decide, standing and hesitating to walk forward.

Before you grew enough courage to move, though, deus ex machina—the Impala—drove up.

You sat down, crouching behind the trees to hide yourself better. You watched it unfold from the shadows.

If you had gone out there just a minute before, they would have seen you. 

Frick, were you nervous. You needed to calm the hell down. They were going to save Andrea now—there was nothing to get worked up about. 

Still, you felt your anxiety heightening, so you brought out a granola bar to munch on, and tried to let your mind wander elsewhere.

First of all, they did end up seeing Lucas again. Which meant that they did go to see the sheriff, who didn't kick them out of town. Which meant they probably went to discuss the dam after getting Bill's note. Which, you supposed was good.

That meant they'd taken the note seriously, at least. It meant it was a decent plan in their eyes. So that was hopeful.

You could breathe again once you saw Andrea, very naked and very afraid, but alive.

Your heart began to calm, and you were able to get more comfortable against the log. Your vision began to blur, staring at the warm yellows and the calm manners of the Winchester brothers trying to console Andrea.

It was enough to lull you to sleep. 

You saw a figure in the distance. A trenchcoat that swayed in the calmest of breezes.

You feel dizzy and out of it when you stand, pushing through the trees to reach the figure. “Castiel?” you ask. It becomes harder to stand, harder to focus on keeping balance. Your feet feel like lead. “Cas? Cas, help me.”

“I’ve been getting your prayers.” He turns, peering down. He reaches out, steadying you. “Things are going to get more difficult. I need you to understand this.”

But you don’t understand. “Why?” you ask dumbly.

“Your car will hold the necessities for your next trip. I can’t explain it to you. There isn’t enough time. It is difficult enough to contact you as it is,” he looks up, into the distance with alarm. “You need to wake up.”

Sunshine seeped into the world, and you blinked at the blinding nature surrounding you. Everything was so bright. “Cas?” you ask, desperate and terrified. “Cas, I don’t under—”

“Wake up.”

You do. Abruptly. It takes a second to catch up with your surroundings. It’s morning and your back feels like a slate of concrete. You choke on a small sob as you sit up, hand immediately reaching for your back.

You see the Winchesters talking with Andrea, and then Lucas looks in your direction. 

Where the bike is.

Oh shit. You scramble and run deeper in the wooded area,where they won’t see you. You have to throw a hand over your mouth to conceal your heavy breathing. You watch the confrontation between the sheriff and the Winchesters, your heart half beating out of your chest.

From the corner of your eye, you see Lucas’s figure nearing the lake, and you don’t even hesitate to sprint past the Winchesters. 

You had to choose what was more important to you. It wasn’t even a competition. You couldn’t go through what you went through with Will. Not again. 

So you straight up tackled the kid on the dock. 

You were panting and tense with adrenaline, Lucas pinned beneath you to keep him from reaching out for Peter’s ghost. 

Everything seemed alright for a moment. Despite the Winchesters racing at you and Lucas, nothing moved.

Then the dock creaked.

Your eyes widened and with freak strength, you tossed the kid at Sam Winchester, who barely managed to catch him against his chest.

Nothing moved. Not you, not the Winchesters, not Lucas, not the sheriff, not even the ghost. 

“I just tossed a kid,” you said, hysteria breaking into your voice. “I just tossed a…” You shook your head, then looked back up at the stupefied Winchesters. “Keep him out of the water. Um… I’m gonna leave now.” Breathless, you made an escape on the motor boat.

The Winchesters finally came alive. “Wait!” Dean shouts, running up to the dock, but it’s too late. “Sam, she just... what the hell?”

You were far away by then.

///

You got to your car later, which, thankfully, the Winchesters weren’t tracking yet. It offered you a place of refuge and slight comfort.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the bag sitting in your passenger seat. It was so conspicuous that they might as well have placed it on the roof of the car. “Do you want me getting robbed?” you muttered.

So... your dream had been somewhat real. Castiel really had visited you. But what were his intentions? It was only Season 1, after all. You couldn’t be sure that Castiel was on your side. 

If it was Season 4 on, you could probably judge where his loyalties lied, but so early, you couldn’t be sure. You’d just have to be careful, it seemed.

You unlocked the car and pulled the bag to you. Several things shifted in the bag. First, you grabbed the money. It had a note on it, reading,

For the flight.

Well, that actually helped a lot. Plane tickets were expensive.

Curiously, you fumbled with the box inside. What else is in here? You pulled it out, staring at the box, dumb-stricken.

“What the hell, Cas?”

#supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfic series #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #sam x you #sam x reader #sam x y/n #dean x y/n #platonic? #probably #i dunno if the author could handle a relationship AND the plot #we'll still put slow burn because wth it might be #slow burn #castiel #castiel x reader? #castiel x reader #castiel x you #we'll seeeeeee #meta #very meta #I love meta stories #fanfiction #fanfic

[thewalkingdead-fan101]

In This Hell Daryl Dixon X Reader Part 4/??

Hey Guys! Part 4 is here! I really hope that you guys enjoy it! I also apologise if something isn't written correctly. :) Warnings- General Walking dead warnings, Blood, Gore, Swearing.

Opening my eyes, I sit up uncomfortably as I stretch. 
Last night, the group had a restless nights sleep… well more so than usual.
Daryl left in the middle of the night, to look for Sophia, and still hasn’t come back. Carol was up all night crying… 
Not that I blame her, Her daughter is missing.
"Morning." "Morning Carol." I smiled softly. "Where's Daryl?" She asked watching the door behind me. "He left last night, and went looking, still hasn't come back that I know of.” "Oh.. My, I am so sorry." "Don't be.. He is a grown man, he can handle himself." "I really do appreciate this." "I know that if it was my child out there you'd help to find them." She softly smiled nodding, then hugged me. "I'll see what's going on." I smiled and walked out.
I look out and seen Daryl, leaning against the traffic barrier, exhaling smoke.
 We locked eyes from across the car wrecks.
“At least he is okay.” I said under my breath.
I walked over to where the everyone was gathering supplies for their search party.
“Morning Glenn." I smiled, walking past. "Everyone. Come here." We all walked towards where Rick was. He unfolded an arsenal on the hood of a car. "Everybody takes a weapon." "These aren't the kind of weapons we need. What about the guns?" Andrea asked, "We've been over that. Daryl, Rick and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles." My brother answered "It's not the trees I'm worried about." "Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it." Shane said. "The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek... It's her only landmark." Daryl said. "Stay quiet, stay sharp. Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other." "Everybody assemble your packs." Shane announced. They better not think that I'm staying here. "Shane" I ran after him. "Yeah?" He asked.
 Before I got the chance to say anything, arms wrapped around me and started to carry me away. I didn't scream because Shane was laughing as soon as it happened, so it wasn't a walker. I was put down away from everyone. "How-" My back was pushed against a car, and his lips crashed to mine.. I bit his lip, not hard but not soft. "What was that for?!" "For not letting me know that you were okay…” I said sweetly. “Ya don’t need to worry about me.”
“I do though… I worry about you.” "I'll see ya later." He said softly kissing my neck. "Huh?" "You're gonna be staying here while we look for Sophia." He continued. I rolled my head back. "Okay… I will see you when you get back.” I closed my eyes and the sensation stopped. My eyes shot open to see Daryl, running towards the group. I scoffed when realisation hit me. He hit me where I was most vulnerable… I smirked, that asshole. I walked back to the RV. "Why are you so happy?" "That man... Deserves an award for that." We looked at each other and laughed. "Where's Dale?" We both got up and looked atop the RV. "Ain't you supposed to be fixing that radiator? What if they come back with Sophia and Rick wants to move on right away?" "I had it fixed yesterday." "What? What was all that rubbing and sanding for then? That just bullshit?" "Yeah, that's one word, another word would be pantomime. Just for show… No one else needs the know that." "Pantomime…” T-dog sighed. "If the others know we're mobile-" "They'd just want to go." I answered. "So you don't think they're gonna find Sophia, that it?" "I'm just guarding against the worst. Sooner or later, if she isn't found, people will start doing the math. I want to hold off the needs-of-the-many-versus-the-needs-of-the-few arguments as long as I can." "That's one tricky hose, huh?" "Very." Dale smiled. "Look I'm going to look around for a bit, is there anything I need to look for?" "Not at this moment. But please, please stay close." Dale said. I grabbed a duffel bag I found laying on the ground earlier, slinging it over my shoulder. "Stay safe." "Will do."
 I was walking around for almost two hours and the bag was almost full. I heard a shuffle behind me and turned quickly, only to see a rabbit run across the highway, I smiled and sighed when I heard a snarl. I looked back to see a walker coming my way I looked down and saw a stick, ducking down and picking it up I lodged it into its eye, over and over again, it's blood splattered all over my shirt, neck and face. I decided to walk back and as I arrived I over-heard Dale and T-dogs conversation. "What are we doing?" "Pulling supplies together." "No, I mean.. What are we doing? People off in the woods, they's looking for that poor girl and we're here. Why? Because they think that we're the weakest. What are you, 70?" "Sixty-four." "Uh huh. And I'm the one black guy. Realise how precarious that makes my situation?" "What the hell are you talking about?" "I'm talking about two good-old-boy cowboy sheriffs and a redneck whose brother cut off his own hand because I dropped a key.. Who in that scenario you think is gonna be first to get lynched?" "You can't be serious... Am I... Hey, am I missing something? Those Cowboys have done alright by Us. And if I'm not mistaken that redneck went out of his way to save your ass… More than once." "And don't forget about Andrea. Kills her own sister." "She was already dead." "Then wants to blow herself up. Yeah, she's all there." "She's having a tough time. What is wrong with you?" "The whole world is having a tough time. Damn, man! Open your eyes. Look where we are! Stuck in this mess here!" "Shhh." "Let's just go.. Let's just take the RV." "You've gone off the deep end." "I mean it, man. Why are we on the side of the road like live bait? Let's go, you and me and (Y/n). Let's go before they get back." "Oh, my god! You're burning up. Give me that! Come on! Here, take these. We've got to knock that fever down....where the hell are they?" "Dale, We are the weak links. An old man, a black guy and a little pregnant (Y/S/T) girl." I took a deep breath in and what was being said. 
“Nice to know what really goes on in that head of yours Theodore.. There should be some drugs in the bag." I said throwing the duffel bag at him.
 As the bag landed in front of Theodore, I noticed the two of them slowly stand up. 
“Oh, my god! Is that blood?" Dale rushed over. "Yeah. I took down a walker. It’s no big deal.” “No big-“ dale started but was interrupted by a loud scream erupted from the forest. Both Dale and I hurried to the Forrest line. All of a sudden it was quiet. After about 10 minutes of standing there waiting, I was about to walk away.
 "They're back." Dale said. "Carl's been shot." Glenn said stepping over the railing. "Shot? What do you mean shot?" "I don't know, Dale, I wasn't there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori." "And you let her?" Dale asked. I hugged Carol as she shook her head, after a few seconds she left for the RV. "Climbed down out of my asshole, man. Rick sent her, she knew Lori's Name and Carl's." Daryl said walking past, not even acknowledging that I was there. "I heard screams, was that you?" Dale asked Andrea. "She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call." "Andrea, are you alright?" She looked at him and the look on her face showed pure annoyance. "Let's go." We started to walk back when all of a sudden Daryl burst out of the RV, running towards us. Next thing i know is that I was being crushed in a hug. "You do know that if I can't breathe neither can the baby." I laughed softly. He pulled back mumbling something when he looked down. "Why are ya bloody?" I stayed silent. "Answer me." "I was attacked by a walker, and before you go and yell at them for it, I decided to look for supplies." "You are on lockdown, from now on, you ain't being alone." "Daryl, I’m not going to be a damsel in distress, or bait. Im not going to be in lock down.” "You're on lockdown! You ain't gonna be Bait and you ain't gonna be alone." “I guess that there is no point in arguing?” “Nah, there ain't. This conversation is over.” 
We both returned to the group.

“The girl on the horse, Maggie, she gave us clear instructions on how to get to the farm. We could all relocate there.” Glenn suggested.
“I won't do it. We can't just leave.” Carol defended. “Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak.” Dale tried reasoning. “What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen.” She argued “If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.” Andrea cut in. “Okay. We got to plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.” Daryl spoke. “If the RV is staying, I am too.” “Thank you. Thank you both.” Carol smiled softly at Dale and Daryl. “I’m in.” Andrea nodded. “Well, if you're all staying then I’m-“ “Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee.” Dale argued “Me? Why is it always me?” “You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most important, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics, the ones that (Y/n) found won’t help for much longer. Because if not, T-Dog will die, no joke.” Dale stated. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Daryl walk over to Merle’s motorcycle. “Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle. Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X. Don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers. Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.” 
He tossed over a bag of assorted drugs, then pointed at me. “You, get ya stuff. You’re going with Glenn and Dog.” 
“Excuse me?”
 “You heard me.” He said walking away.

I ran after him. 
“Daryl, I want to stay, I want to be here for Carol.” 
“I don’t care what ya want.”
 “Why are you acting like this?”
 “Im already babysitting the others. Im not babysitting you too.”
 “Are you being serious? I don’t need to be babysat!” 
“You’re an easy target out here. It’s almost dark. You’re going with them.”
“Daryl-“
 “I ain’t arguing with ya. Get your shit.” He stalked off. I sighed in defeat and entered the RV, grabbing my backpack, making sure that I had the book that has become my new best friend, along the journey.
 As I exited the RV I noticed Glenn helping T-dog into the Cherokee.
Making my way towards the car, I was pulled aside and into a hug.
“Thank you. For everything.” Carol sniffled into my shoulder.
 “Hey, we’re going to find her.” I responded hugging her closer. I could feel her body softly shake against mine as she sobbed.
 “You’re so strong Carol, Sophia needs that when she comes back. She needs you at your best.” I pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheek. “I will see you again soon.” I smiled softly. “Please, Make sure you tell Lori that I’m praying for Carl.” “I will. Stay safe.” I walked over to where Glenn was talking to T-Dog and Dale.

“You’re coming?” T-dog asked. 
“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” I sarcastically laughed. “It may be the safest place for you. Especially in your predicament.” Andrea stated.
“In my predicament?” I scoffed “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Andrea sighed pulling me in for a small hug.
“It’s fine.” 
“I think it’s time for you guys to hit the road, while there’s still some daylight. Dont want to be taking any wrong turns.” Dale smiled. “Dale, Just remember, Backtrack to Fairburn road, the farm is two miles down. The mailbox says Greene.” Glenn stopped.
 “Fairburn, two miles down, Greene.” He nodded. “Where’s Daryl?” I asked hopeful. “Im not sure.” Dale smiled sadly.
 “Make sure you’re all safe please… Thank you.” I replied hugging him, getting into the car, behind T-dog. 
“I will.” Dale nodded. 
Glenn put the Cherokee in reverse, slowly peeling out before turning around.
As the car was turning, I spotted a pair of eyes watching, leaning against one of the trees. “Fairburn isn’t that far. Maybe 10 minutes?” Glenn spoke up, trying to fill the silence.
“Is this really a good idea? I mean we don’t even know who these people are.” I responded. 
“They seem normal. I mean why would Rick send someone to us if they were going to hurt us?”
 “Crazier things have happened.” T-dog muttered. “Come on guys, we need to be positive. They’re helping Carl. They don’t need to.” Glenn stated.
 After turning onto Fairburn Road, we continued on for the two miles. 
“Glenn. I think we missed it.”
 “What?” 
“The farm, I think we missed it…”
 “Are you sure?” He asked pulling up. “I think so? We’re looking for Greene right?” I asked. 
“Yeah.” He sighed. “How far?” 
“Not that far… I think it’s the one behind us, I’ll go check.” I went to open the door. “No. Daryl will kill me if something happens. I’ll just back up.” He smiled nervously. 
He put the car into reverse, making sure to shine the headlights onto the mailbox when it entered our view.
 “You were right… Greene.” 
“Ill get the gate. There’s no walkers around, and it looks safe to me.” I smiled, jumping out and walking toward the gate, not leaving any time to argue. 
“(Y/n)! Get back in the car! Glen whisper shouted from the driver side window. Unlatching the chain, I pushed the gate inwards and followed through. 
“Glenn, hurry up and drive in.” 
The car slowly started rolling forward, stopping a metre away from the gate.
I pushed it closed and re-latched the gate before jumping back into the car. “Lets go.” I smiled. Glenn shook his head and T-dog chuckled. We drove down the road, leading towards a beautiful farm house.
Stopping the car we all got out and walked up the front steps.
 “You okay T?” I asked looking over as he shivered, only for him to nod.
We all stopped and looked at the front door. “So do we ring the bell? I mean it looks like people live here.” Glenn looked at us. “We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we? Having to be considerate.” T-dog asked. “Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?”
I jumped, looking over to where the voice came from, watching a young woman with short brown hair, stand up and walk toward us. “Uh, hi. Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again. We met before briefly.” Glenn rambled. “Look, we came to help. There anything we can do? It's not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though.” “We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here.” “We have some painkillers and antibiotics. I already gave him some. If Carl needs any…” “Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat.” She smiled at us.
We followed her inside, to see Rick and Lori standing in one of the door frames.

“Hey” Glenn patted him on the shoulder. “Hey” he returned it. “Um, we're here, okay?” Glenn nodded. “Thank you.” Lori sighed. “Whatever you need.” T-dog added, stepping aside for me. “Lori.” I pulled her in for a hug.
“(Y/n/n).” She hugged back as hard as I did.
We pulled away.
 “What are you doing here?” She asked. “I was overruled by Daryl. I wanted to make sure that you guys are okay…” I smiled softly pushing her hair out of her face. She laughed softly, her eyes rimmed red from the tears.
 “How is Carl? What’s happening?” I asked. “He was shot, the bullet, it, it broke. A fragment has caused internal bleeding. He is having seizures and its terrifying me. This man Hershel, he is going to operate... one of his group shot Carl, he is with Shane trying to find a respirator I think... I could lose my boy.” She responded tears streaming down her face.
“Oh honey.” I puled her back in for another hug.
 “You Grimes’ are strong. He will pull through. Go, be with your husband and your boy. I’ll be out here.” I smiled as she nodded. “Thank you.” She said looking at me before disappearing into the room. 
I followed the direction Glenn and T-dog went, entering a kitchen/dining area. “(Y/n), this is Maggie and this is Patricia...” Glenn introduced me. “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for your hospitality.” “You got here right in time. This couldn't go untreated much longer, ‘Merle Dixon’,  Is that your friend with the antibiotics?” Patricia asked, looking after T-dogs arm. “No, ma'am. Merle's no longer with us. Daryl gave us those, his brother.” Glenn responded. “Not sure I'd call him a friend.” T-dog muttered. “He is today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life. You know what Merle was taking it for?” She asked. “The clap. Um, venereal disease. That's what Daryl said.” Glenn nodded “I'd say Merle Dixon's clap was the best thing to ever happen to you.” She lightly joked. “I'm really trying not to think about that.” “Lighten up T.” I smiled softly, patting his shoulder.
I left the room, walking towards the front door. “Where are you going?” Glenn stood up.
“To get some air, I’m only going to the porch. I promise I’m not going far.” I smiled. He reluctantly sat back down. Taking a seat on the top step, I look out over the fields, closing my eyes, taking in the night air. Hearing gravel against wheels, I open my eyes and look up, seeing headlights making their way to the house. 
I run inside and poked my head into the room Rick and Lori was in.
“-Rick, Lori, you may want to step out.” The man I assume to be Hershel finishes. 
“I’m sorry for interrupting but they’re back.” “You stay here with him.” Hershel told Patricia.
I followed Rick and Hershel outside.
 Rick and Shane shared a hug.
 “Carl?” Shane asked “There's still a chance.” Rick responded. “Otis?” Hershel asked. “No.” Shane shook his head. “We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her.” We all nodded.
Hershel rushed inside with the bags of medical supplies. 
I looked over to my brother and hugged him, I left Shane and Rick to talk. 
Finding Lori, I sat with her and grabbed her hand, running my thumb across the back of it. “He will pull through…” I nodded.
Maggie, Glenn and T-dog has joined the living room, now waiting room. After 15 minutes Rick returns with Shane.
Waiting another 15 minutes he stood up.
“Is there anywhere I can clean up?” Shane asked. “Ill take you.” Maggie stood up, Shane following.
After an hour or so the door opened. “He seems to have stabilised.” Hershel emerged. “Oh god.” Rick breathed. “I don't have words.” Lori said huddling close to her husband. ��I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?” “You go to Carl. I'll go with Hershel.” Rick told Lori.
Hershel and Rick left, leaving, Lori, myself and the others.
Lori looked over to me.
“Go, see your boy.” I smiled.
Glenn and T-dog were celebrating.
I smiled as they laughed, even joining them before leaving the room.

My head turned and I seen Patricia sitting at the table, where she not long ago treated T-dog.
 I could hear the muffled voices of Hershel and Rick, then the gut wrenching sound of desperate sobs throughout the house. 
My heart breaking for the woman, the woman whose husband won’t ever return.


Series Masterlist Next Part

#daryl dixon #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd

[wxrgirl]

Verse Update: Fate. The Winx Saga.

Here is a quick bullet point list of the things I already know of Marian's Fate. the Winx saga verse. Beware of spoilers! I will work on this a little more because I only saw the first season yesterday, but feel free to approach me for plotting.

tw: blood, death, kidnapping before we start with the verse description I would like to point out that I am aware of the issues in the fandom considering the casting and the lgbtq+ representation, they left a sour taste in my mouth and I hope the series will do better next season.  I am considering going a little canon divergent when it comes to the timeline because I think having Bloom and the others be around 20 years of age instead of 16 would have taken a little bit away from the weirdness ;) I am trying to keep this as close to her main verse as possible. 

Marian's mother was an Earth Fairy her father a Blood Warlock. They were not in love but it is rather believed - by herself and other witches - that Marian's conception was part of a twisted ritual to bring spring forward. Marian was hidden in the mortal world, where she was raised by a man named Bram, who had discovered a portal to the Otherworld when he was younger and found the little baby girl in a forest. Her powers became apparent when she was at the age of seven and Bram was no longer able to hide her from her enemies.

A secret coven of Blood Witches found her and brought her back to the Otherworld but at the beginning of Season 1, when Bloom returned, the coven was attacked by the Solarians by order of Queen Luna and Andreas of Eraklyon.

Marian was the only one to survive that attack and she remembers Andreas' face quite vividly. Her powers are dark and twisted though, she is not in control, for she grew up without a mentor figure that could have taught her how to access her fairy magic. The sacrifices and blood rituals the witches taught her have almost quenched the Earth magic in her veins and she is often unable to access it, hearing whispers when she is close to hidden wells of Magic or in the middle of a forest. Both sides of her magic constantly fight for the upper hand inside her mind.

She had extended family in Aster Dell, but her parents and she lived a little further away. She was not affected by the attack of the Burned Ones nor by Rosalind's actions. 

She has never been to Alfea before, but she is wary of faries of any kind. Part of her only wants to find a portal to the Mortal World so she can return to Bram. Part of her wants Luna and Andreas to pay for what they have done.

She is intrigued by Beatrix, suspecting the other girl is a Blood Witch, too, and hoping she can find someone who might help her gain control of the powers that fight within her.

She has heard a rumor when she was with the Blood Witches that the primal faerie powers that created the Burned Ones are, when combined with the sacrifices of Blood Magic, able to bring even the dead back to life. She is more than intrigued by this, she wants to study these creatures and their dark magic. Her efforts even grow after she finds out about Bram's death. 

#me: Burned Ones are super creepy #Marian: I WANT ONE #v7 when I stepped out of your shadow I found a world full of light v Fate The Winx Saga #x priestess of death and daughter of spring x backstory