#because my neighbour from above sleeps with the heating on and the window open in fucking JUNE

[lalalaugenbrot]

i suffered so much from [society norm x] :(

but i'm gladly going to reproduce it now :)

#✌🏻 #i need to stop getting angry about random shit #but i am tired (both literally and generally) #i woke up at 5 am today because my heater made whirring and whisteling noises #because my neighbour from above sleeps with the heating on and the window open in fucking JUNE #so i just got up and went to the office #and then i sat there at 7am picking out spotlights to light a hideous column-statue in front of a conference hotel in hessen #and i'm just #why can't people just be more... rational??? 😭 #i know that is an insane wish to have but #then i would not have to be angry all the time 🙂🙂🙂 #anyway can't go to bed bc i have to do uni stuff ✌🏻

[missmoonfrost]

Mr. Dangerous - a wolfstar microfic

April 18 - Neighbour AU - 567 words

@wolfstarmicrofic

The yelling wakes Remus up. The voice is distant, but loud enough that he can make out some words.

“Fucking whore, fucking bitch”

And, oh. That is definitely a woman crying.

Remus pulls the pillow over his head and tries to think of an excuse. He doesn’t know which apartment it is coming from. Maybe it’s even just someone passing by outside?

No. He can't ignore this. He won’t be that kind of person. With dread pooling in his stomach, he pulls a cardigan over his worn-out T-shirt and pyjama pants and wearily steps out into the staircase.

He freezes as he spots Mr. Dangerous, as Remus has named him in his mind. The neighbour with long black hair and tattoos winding up his neck, whom Remus lets play loud music late at night because he doesn’t dare complain. For a moment he thinks the yells must have been him. But then he fixes Remus with a concerned look.

“Did you hear it too?”

“Y- yeah. I don’t know where it’s coming from.”

As on cue, they hear a new tirade of curses.

“It must be from above.”

Remus silently agrees and follows Mr. Dangerous up the stairs. They stop in front of a door and look at each other. Mr. Dangerous knocks hard. The voice gets silent. The man that opens reeks of alcohol.

“What do you want?”

“Is everything ok?”

The grumpy man grunts. “Trying to sleep here.”

That’s hard to believe as he is fully dressed. Remus waits for Mr. Dangerous to say something more, but he doesn’t. Remus suddenly realises he looks scared and not dangerous at all, so he puts a foot forward.

“Can I come in? I lost my cat and I think I saw it through your window.”

The man grunts dismissively and starts closing the door.

“Let us in!” Mr. Apparently Not Scared Anymore springs forward. “I know karate and I –“ He gets a punch in the face and stumbles backwards.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Are you ok?” Remus grabs his shoulders and pulls him back, but the door is already closed.

“Fine. It’s fine.” Mr. Stupidly Brave presses his hands to his face.

“I’m calling the cops.”

“Already done.”

And sure enough, Remus can hear sirens in the distance.

After an hour of drama, both of them having been questioned by police officers, both the wife-beater and the poor woman having been escorted out by police and all nosey neighbours that suddenly did hear after all having withdrawn again, Remus finds himself in the staircase alone with Mr. Hero Of The Day.

They look solemnly at each other. Until Mr. Hero Of The Day smirks. “I lost my cat?”

Remus rubs his neck with heating cheeks. “Worth a try, wasn’t it?” He laughes along. It's liberating after all thay have just been trough.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “I know karate?”

It’s Mr. Hero's turn to huff and squirm, but they both laugh loudly again.

“I will not be able to sleep any time soon.”

“Me, neither.”

Remus jerks his head in the direction of his door. “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”

Suddenly the good neighbour who Remus had started to relax around looks like Mr. Dangerous again, sizing him up with his eyes squinting and arms folded.

“Only if you don’t want to come to mine for a shot of whiskey.”

Remus laughs again. “Sure. I could use one.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius × remus #wolfstar muggle au #neighbour au

[noyasboxdye]

Notes: Welcome to the first day of kinktober this doesn't have a lot of knife play bc i don't really know how to write for it but i tried my best :)

Word Count: 2,016

Pairing: Tendou Satori x Male! Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, home invasion(?), knife play, CNC (?), death threats, praise, oral sex (reader receiving), power bottom tendou.

Tendou Satori loved you. He thought you knew. You obviously didn't thought with the way you were hugging and laughing with Ushijima. To be fair though he hadn't confessed. But you still should've known! After all the things he's done for you he can't believe you would betray him like this.

Going out to coffee with him and alone at that! Something could've happened to you. He could've hurt you and he still could. But you were to naive. He couldn't blame you honestly nor could he get mad. For several reasons the main one being that he cared to much. The other being that you couldn't help it after all you were just cute little y/n.

So when he'd saw you in that coffee shop with Ushijima letting him touch you like that he'd decided to do something. He had to do something bigger to let you know you were his. Obviously being a gentleman along with the occasional flirting wasn't doing that. How could you know though because once again you were naive.

He'd just have to come on a little stronger. He couldn't do that now thought you both had class. And his class was out of your way so he'd just have to wait till you got home. Oh he was so excited! The day dragged on for the both of you. He couldn't stop thinking about how excited you'd be to see him. He'd decided to wait until you got home to coming in.

You'd gotten home from school hanging your coat in the closet setting your bag down on the table and going into your room. Getting undress and wrapping your towel around yourself taking your soaps into the bathroom. Turning the shower water on and putting your shower cap on. Getting in the shower and sitting under the water.

Your muscles relaxing under the hot water. Allowing yourself to calm down. Tendou on the other hand was tense. He was here now! He couldn't figure out how to get in though. He didn't want to set off your alarm and have you possibly hear him. But he couldn't think of another way in. Your window might work but they were usually closed and he couldn't go through the front.

The neighbours could see and call the cops. Your room window should work though. You usually sleep with them open because sleeping in the cold with the heat on is easier. Going to the side of the house and seeing that the window he climbed onto of the patio table. Climbing his way into the window. Peaking into the bathroom to make sure you were in the shower. Seeing that you were in the shower.

"Perfect they're getting all clean for me." he thinks sneaking past the door as quietly as he can before making his way into the kitchen. Grabbing a (bigger) knife. He was hoping he wouldn't have to use it. He was hoping you would be just excited to see him here as he was you. Because he knew you loved him and you knew he loved you. You just didn't think straight sometimes.

A perfect example would be this morning before class. You went on a little coffee date with Ushijima. You loved him he just had to remind you of how much you did. And he would do just that. He would make sure that you never forgot about either of your love ever again. Going back into your bedroom. Taking off all of his outer wear.

Cleaning himself up a bit wiping himself off and fixing his disheveled shirt. Making himself comfortable on the bed patiently waiting for you to come in. Trying to decide what to say, how to say it, and when. He knew you'd be a little startled by him coming unannounced but you'd also be delighted. After all who wouldn't be delighted to see their love surprise them at home.

Especially after a stressful day at school. It was a while before you'd finally got back into your room and when you did you were definitely surprised. He'd just been sitting there trying to explain himself. While you were yelling at him to get out.

He'd sounded like a mad man to you and to make matters worse he had a knife near him! You'd started hitting and kicking after he grabbed you. Pushing him off of you and running to the bed so that you could grab the knife. But he'd gotten a hold of you and the knife first. He never thought he would have to but he pinned you down and pressed the knife to your throat.

Pushing your hands above your head and into the mattress before putting his thigh in between your legs against your groin. You'd whimpered a bit and prayed that he didn't hear you but he did. A smile grew at the noise you let out. You'd sounded so heavenly. Like music to his ears!

He wanted- no needed to hear more. He had to hear more of those pretty little sounds again. And louder. He wanted to hear you say his name in that way. He had to hear it. He'd do anything he could to hear it again. So he did it again. He pressed his knee into your groin. Another whimper falling from your lips as he pressed into you.

You didn't know if it was because of the pressure or the fact that he had a knife to your throat that was making you feel this way and you hated it. But you loved it as well. The thought of your life being in such danger made your stomach curl. It made you crave him. You unconsciously grind into his thigh as you think about the situation more. More whimpers and now moans leaving you.

Leaning down Tendou kissed you lifting the knife from your throat. Setting it down on your bed and kissing his way down to your neck. Sucking and nipping at the skin. You wrap your arms around him as he makes his way down your neck. Taking your shirt off and immediately finding his way back to you lips and neck.

Kissing down towards your chest. Grazing his hand against your nipple testing the waters. His stomach did flips as he heard you whimper his name. He'd dreamed about this on numerous occasions and he always knew what to do when he'd done it with other people. But now that he'd actually had you in his grasp, and was doing these things with you he didn't know what to do.

You were so perfect with the way you grabbed at the nape of his neck toying with the little hairs, softly moaning his name in his ear, and wrapping your legs around his. He needed more though, he needed to be in you. And with the way you grinder your hips against him you were practically begging him to fuck you. And who was he to deny you a good fucking?

If you wanted to be fucked that's what you would get. Kissing his way back up your body he removes his lips sitting up before taking off his shirt and removing his pants. He'd never been more eager for something in his life! "Tendou- baby please." you moan reaching out for him pulling him back down to you stroking his cock through his boxers.

He let out a deep groan at the feeling. Pulling him self away once again to pull your pants down, dragging your boxers down with them. Throwing them in a random corner of the room and forgetting about them as he strokes your cock. "mmm- Tendou- fuck... please." you say your back arching off of the bed slightly. "Nuhuh you got to tell me what you want hun alright...? Use your big boy words baby." he says as he rests his head back into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting on the skin.

He smiled at the sight. His hand moving faster making you stutter out even more nonsense than before. "Fu- fuck me-! Tendou please fuck me." you say getting impatient, humping at the air as if it'll give you the relief you need. "Good boy! Using your big boy words for daddy!" he says smiling at you. You moaned at his words.

Finally he stood up grabbing the lube out of his jacket pocket and pouring a generous amount onto his hand before strolling your dick once again. Making sure that your dick was wet enough. Straddling your lap and lifting his hips he slowly sunk himself down on your length. A series of moans leaving past his lips as he reached the base, slowly grinding against you as he waiting for himself to get used to your length.

Slowly bouncing on you as he pinched and twisted at your nipples. High pitched moans coming from you as you begged him to go faster, trying to thrust your hips up to meet him. You reached over at nothing his head following your hand as he bounced on your dick. "Oh can't have you getting to this now came we darling?" he says tauntingly as he rolling his hips making a point to grind down harder and fit more of you into him.

You felt him squeeze at the base of your cock and it made you go wild. "Fuc- Tendou! Please!" you moan. He rolled his hips as he bent down to kiss you. You were becoming so desperate for him. You'd try and fuck up into him but every time you tried he'd just press the knife into your neck.

"Mm~ I guess I can give you what you want... just use your big boy words for me baby? Please?" he says sucking on your chest. "Fuc- fuck me! Please- please fuck me." you say. A smile pulls at the ends of his lips as he kisses your forehead resuming his previous pace. "Mh-m shit! You feel so good." you moan.

He rested his hand on your chest while the other held onto the knife, applying pressure to your neck with it every few minutes. "Mm- daddy 'm gonna cum~" you say gripping onto the bedsheets your knuckles going white. "No you aren't baby. You're going to hold it for daddy like a good slut aren't you?

Wouldn't want the knife to slip and cut up your throat now would we..?" he says pressing the cold metal further into your warmer skin. Chills going down your spine, and your cock twitching inside of him at the idea. "N- no sir." you whined as he fucked himself onto you again. "Good boy." he says.

Dragging himself up and down on your length as moans fell from his lips. Throwing his head back as he came to a full stop whimpering as his cock twitched beads of precum leaking from the tip. "Fuck~" he moans softly as he starts bouncing again. Not noticing that the knife was starting to pierce your skin tiny beads of blood making their way to the surface of your neck.

The euphoric feeling of your warm thick length in him while he listened to your pretty little whimpers and moans had him on cloud nine. "Mmpf- fuck i'm gonna cum!" you exclaim. "Ye- yeah me too- fUck~!" he moans as you fuck yourself up into him his movements coming to a halt as his hand grips at your skin dragging his nails down your chest as he throws his head back, his warm seed spilling all over your stomach.

"Daddy- daddy please, please let me cum!" you beg tears pricking your eyes. Getting off of you and immediately going down to put your dick in his mouth. Sucking on the tip while he uses his hands to get to the rest of you. "Fuck fuck fuck-" you say cutting yourself off as you cum. Tendou hums softly smiling to himself as he swallows your cum, licking any extra off of you to make sure it doesn't go to waist.

#noyas.works #haikyuu !! #haikyuu smut #haikyuu tendou #tendou satori #tendou smut #tendou x male reader #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n #tendou x you #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

[dolcezzasfantasy]

a good kind of fire

prompt | Character A runs a flower shop downtown. Character B is terribly allergic to flowers. ~ for @wkemeup's writing challenge for 9k

pairing | bucky barnes x reader, modern!au

word count | 2.5k (i am now emotionally invested in these characters)

warnings | bucky and reader being awkward as hell, chaotic texting, innuendoes (blink and you'll miss it)

notes | i didn't know i could still submit entries to the challenge haha, i was rlly upset i'd missed the train on it

you'll find out why this is the gif i picked when you read it 😭💀

it was a peaceful spring morning. you heard the chirping of the birds from almost every window in your apartment. sunlight was also seeping in through every window. it was a good start to the day.

today was the day you went into work late. when you had quit your job at an office as a receptionist to pursue your dream of being a florist, you thought you would be working on your own terms. while that was still true for the decorating and choosing flowers part of your job, it certainly wasn’t for the timings. if anything, the timings were more strenuous now that you had to manage shop all by yourself.

you would have to go in at 6 in the morning and leave at 10 in the night with a total time of 17 minutes free throughout for an entire year, before you realised how unhealthy it was for you. you had quickly drawn up a schedule for yourself. once a month you would come in late, and one more time that month you would leave early. it worked well for you.

you would look forward to these two days in a month: the first tuesday of the month being the one you left early and the third wednesday of the month being the one you came in late.

usually, on the days you came in late, you’d sleep in. but today, you wanted to change it up. the morning was a beautiful one, it would be a shame to spend it all inside.

you decided to go to a cafe that your friends had recommended on more than one occasion. good coffee, delicious snacks and cute baristas. you shook your head disapprovingly at how dirtily their minds worked. sometimes, you couldn’t believe you were friends with them of all the 2.6 million people in brooklyn.

you stepped out of your apartment. as you walked out, you waved to your elderly neighbours. back when you had first opened shop, they were your regulars. they’d keep buying even if they didn’t need flowers. you didn’t know where you’d be without their help.

after fifteen minutes of walking and checking the directions on your phone to see if you were going on the right path, you found it. the howling brasserie.

the moment you entered the shop, you realised your friends were right. not about the coffee or the snacks — not yet, anyway — but about the bartenders. holy shit, you thought.

there was a tall blonde man with a smile that could kill, another tall black man who you just knew was incredibly charming and a beautiful red haired woman who looked like she had a flirtatious demeanour. but one man in particular caught your attention.

he was a tall man — six feet tall, at least — with broad shoulders, messy brown hair and crystal blue eyes. you gulped. pull yourself together.

you took a seat at the table furthest away from the baristas. you did not need to come into work flushed and distracted.

you hadn’t been sitting at your table for one minute when you heard a voice above you.

‘ma’am, your order?’

you looked up. oh, my god. it was the same blue eyed man. calm down. he looked even prettier up close. your eyes fell to his chest — you tried your best to stop that from happening, you really did — and you noticed how the t-shirt he was wearing was doing absolutely nothing to conceal his muscular form.

‘ma’am?’ he repeated, a small smile on his face. maybe he noticed that you were staring. he was probably used to it.

‘uh, right, sorry,’ you cleared your throat. you wanted to jump off the golden gate bridge. ‘um, what would you recommend?’ oh, my god, stop embarrassing yourself! you yelled mentally.

‘uh,’ he looked behind to the board with all the products the cafe offered, ‘are you more of a coffee or a tea person?’

‘coffee, absolutely.’

he laughed. you felt your cheeks burn. his laugh was just as pretty as him. dear lord, y/n, what the hell is wrong with you?

‘aren’t we all?’ he joked. ‘anyway, the cold coffee here is splendid. and i’m not just saying that because i work here.’

you had never really fancied iced coffee much. maybe it was time to change that. ‘oh, okay! yeah, i love iced coffee! i’ll take that.’ your voice sounded a lot higher than it normally was.

‘alright, i’ll be right back.’

he left to go behind the counter and make your coffee. sweet mother of everything that is pure, you thought as your gaze fell upon his muscular arms. you tried to push all the unwelcome thoughts in your head that followed.

you were just regaining your composure when he showed up again, this time with your coffee in his hands.

‘here ya go,’ he said, placing the cup in front of you. ‘enjoy,’ he smiled.

if you were standing, you were a hundred percent sure your knees would have buckled under you and made you fall.

you smiled back. ‘thank you.’

the moment he walked away, you picked up your phone and frantically texted your best friend, wanda.

| cUTE GUY ALERT

| what?

| i’m at that coffee shop you recommended

| howling brasserie?

| YES OMG THE BARISTA HERE IS SO CUTE IM GONNA DIE

| lmaoooo calm down bestie

| HOW

| describe him pls

| he’s like six feet tall, messy brown hair, pretty blue eyes and he is so muscular i-

| omg go for it

| r u out of ur mind

| why

| he is sO OUT of my league

| ugh you’re no fun

| :/

you downed the last of your coffee and walked up to the counter to pay for it. thanks to your luck, the cute barista was also handling the cash register.

‘hello again,’ he grinned.

‘hi, um, how much do i pay?’

‘this your first time here?’

‘yep.’

‘on the house.’

‘what?’

‘yep. don’t worry about it.’

‘that’s too kind, i can’t!’

‘you absolutely can,’ he smiled.

‘let me leave a tip at least.’

‘don’t worry about it, doll.’ the nickname, oh, my god, the nickname. ‘you can pay the next time you visit.’

‘right, of course.’ maybe you should make visiting this coffee shop your ritual. and take more breaks, like your regulars insisted.

he waved you goodbye.

as you walked to your shop, you realised you hadn’t caught his name. you had been too enamoured to check for a name tag. damn it.

the next wednesday morning, you went again. you had wanda take care of the shop. you let her take 10% of the proceeds when she was working as compensation.

when you entered the coffee shop, your gaze traveled all over the place. you couldn’t find him. maybe he had a different shift. you considered walking out, but that would be rude. so you sat down in the corner you had last time.

you saw the red haired woman walk towards your table, but when she was less than three metres away, the door swung open. it was him. he was carrying a box. his gaze landed on you, then the woman, and he rushed to drop the box.

you saw him approach the woman and tell her something. she handed him her notepad, and walked to the kitchen. he then came to your table.

‘i’ve been waiting all week for your money,’ he teased.

you laughed. ‘and you shall get it soon.’

‘the same?’

‘yep.’

his gaze lingered at you for a few more seconds before he walked back to the kitchen to grab your coffee.

that day, when you were about to leave after you paid for your coffee, just as you were about to walk away, he rushed up to you.

‘hey,’ he said, in between laboured breaths.

‘hi,’ you said. what? ‘you okay?’

‘yep. absolutely.’

‘gotta get that morning jog in, i suppose,’ you joked.

‘right,’ he laughed. ‘i just, um, for some reason, thought you should know my name.’

‘oh?’ you squealed mentally.

‘yep. it’s bucky, by the way.’

‘bucky,’ you said. ‘right, i’m y/n.’ you stretched your hand out.

‘pleasure to meet you, y/n.’ your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say your name.

‘the pleasure is all mine,’ you managed to say without stuttering.

it became a tradition for you to come every week. wanda was more than happy to let you shoot your shot. you may or may not have led her to believe you planned on asking him out soon. which you didn’t. it was a ridiculous idea.

you stopped leaving early each month to make up for the lost time. it was worth it, because soon meeting bucky had become the best part of your day, week and morning.

it was your fourth trip to the cafe when you and bucky had a full conversation.

he had just brought you your coffee, when you noticed he stood around for longer than usual.

‘i’m sorry, do i pay now?’ you asked.

‘no, no. i just, um, i have a break right about now.’

‘oh, good for you,’ you smiled.

‘yeah. would you, um, mind if i sat down here?’

‘with me?’

‘yeah.’ he ran his hands through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

‘yeah,’ you felt your face heat up, ‘yeah, absolutely.’

‘great.’ he sat down in front of you.

you felt him look at you as you sipped your coffee. ‘do you want to talk?’

‘god, i’m sorry, i have a bit of a staring problem, or at least i’ve been told.’

you laughed. ‘it’s okay.’

‘so, um, tell me about yourself.’

‘what do you wanna know?’

‘what do you do for a living?’

‘i own a shop downtown.’

‘really?’

‘yep.’

‘what do you sell?’

‘maybe you should come find out.’

‘mysterious. i like that,’ he chuckled. ‘text me the address and i’ll stop by someday.’

‘alright.’

he stared at you for a second.

‘staring problem,’ you reminded him with a smile.

‘right, sorry,’ he laughed. ‘just, uh, how are you gonna text me?’

of course. ‘um, i don’t know.’

‘maybe i should give you my number.’

‘maybe.’

he wrote down something in a messy scrawl on his notepad, tore the page, folded it up and slid it across the table to you. checking his watch, he said, ‘as much as i hate to leave you here, my break has ended. until next week,’ he smiled.

‘until next week,’ you nodded. you unfolded the paper.

his number was there. below it, messy handwriting read, you can call me if you want too <3

you were almost completely certain you were grinning like an idiot.

he came to visit the next day. you were helping an elderly woman pick out what to get for her grandson’s wedding when your phone rang.

‘go on, take it,’ the woman told you.

‘i’m so sorry, i won’t be long.’

you headed behind your counter. it was bucky.

‘hey. isn’t there a rule for this in the bro code or something?’

‘not to my knowledge, no.’

‘the rule where you’re not supposed to call someone if it’s been less than three days?’

he laughed. ‘how do you know that?’

‘i have a few guy friends.’

‘anyone i should be worried about?’

you chuckled. ‘nope.’

‘the rule doesn’t apply to special people.’

‘you flatter me.’

‘i'm glad.’ you just knew he was flashing his thousand megawatt smile at the other end. ‘anyway, what’s your shop’s name? i’m here but i don’t know where your shop is.’

‘oh, it’s the one called blooming shield.’

‘interesting name.’

‘i came up with it when i was drunk,’ you laughed.

‘it’s still pretty good.’

you spotted him out the window of your shop. his back was turned to you.

you rushed out of your door, still on the phone with him. you tapped him on the shoulder.

‘oh, god,’ he practically yelped. you winced and cut the call immediately.

‘sorry about that.’

‘it’s alright.’ his features softened into a smile.

‘do you wanna head inside?’

‘yeah, sure.’ he had an uneasy kind of look on his face, but you brushed it off.

you took him inside.

‘so, why’d you decide to become a florist?’

‘um, i just really like flowers, i suppose. nothing too profound,’ you laughed.

‘interesting.’

‘yeah.’ you led him through the aisles.

‘hibiscus is my favourite flower,’ you told him. you saw him breathing deeper than usual, and his nose was turning slightly red.

‘hey, are you alright?’ you asked him.

‘yeah,’ he almost wheezed, ‘i’m great.’ then he sneezed. ‘oh, my god, i am so sorry.’

‘bucky, are you allergic to pollen?’ you asked him, the worry prevalent in your voice.

‘no,’ his gaze landed on the floor. ‘maybe.’

‘dear lord,’ you said as you practically dragged him out of your store. ‘why didn’t you tell me?’

‘i’m sorry.’ it sounded more like i'm sowwy.

‘bucky, i’m gonna take you to my apartment. is that okay? i have a bunch of antihistamines and decongestants there.’

he nodded.

you put your arm around him. it must have been a strange sight, to see someone of your stature almost carry a man that broad shouldered and taller than most through the streets.

when you reached the apartment, you opted for the elevator for the first time in your life.

‘bucky, why didn’t you tell me?’ you said in the elevator.

‘i didn’t want to let you down,’ you barely heard his murmur.

you took his face into your hand. ‘you would’ve been okay with me almost killing you, though?’

‘you didn’t almost kill me,’ he smiled.

‘i could’ve.’

‘maybe.’

you laughed.

when the elevator reached your floor, you pushed him out — with great struggle — and almost threw him onto the couch when you opened the door.

‘god, i am so sorry,’ you said, frantically, as you looked in your cabinets for the medicine.

‘it’s okay, i deserve it.’

you almost tripped over yourself as you ran to where he was sitting.

‘okay,’ you handed him a glass of water, one yellow pill and one white pill, ‘take these.’

he downed them quickly.

‘are you better?’

‘a little.’

‘that’s good.’

‘you really should have told me.’

‘i know, i just didn’t want to ruin it.’

‘i think you dying would’ve ruined it.’

he laughed. ‘you really are never gonna let this go, are you?

‘nope.’

‘i’m sorry i almost died on our first date.’

you looked at him with wide eyes. ‘was this?’

‘what?’

‘our first date?’

‘was it not? jesus, i misinterpreted it, argh, i’m sorry—’

‘no, i, uh, like the sound of that,’ you smiled.

‘well, now i’ve just ruined it beyond repair.’

‘maybe you can swing by for dinner and we can watch a movie afterwards,’ you suggested.

‘really?’

‘yep.’

‘that’d be great. what movie?’

you thought for a second. then, with a smile, you said, ’mean girls is good.’

‘right, i’ve heard quite a lot about that one. haven’t seen it, though.’

‘oh, my god. you haven’t seen mean girls?’

‘nope.’

‘where were you in high school?’

he laughed.

‘we have to watch this movie.’

‘alright.’ he grinned wide at you. your face was on fire. but a good kind of fire.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you so much for reading! feedback is so, so appreciated! <3 please do not repost my work on any platform. reblogs are fine!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

[fishnets-fingers]

Six Months - Part Fifteen

Summary - Layla desperately needs a vacation and her Aunt and Uncle come to her rescue. So, at twenty two, she packs her bag and jets off to America. Harry took a break from education and is now a full fledged content creator on OnlyFans. At twenty, he makes more money than almost all of his friends. What ensues when these two meet and realise the windows in their rooms face each other? How will paper airplanes bring them closer together?

PAIRING - camboy!harry x indian!oc

a/n - hope you all have a lovely time during the holiday season. happy 2022. may this year be kinder to us than the last. i’m opening up this story to include any ideas or requests you have so i can incorporate into the series. please leave your thoughts once you are done. some people asked me about a schedule for posting new parts, i’m sorry, i’m so chaotic and unreliable that i do not have one. once every three to four weeks is my goal. reblog and like as always. have a wonderful weekend. happy reading!

Word Count - 10.3 k

Warnings - fluff, angst, mentions of smut

Masterpost (find previous parts here)

There’s no one home. It was just Layla on the bed, her feet were sticking out of the bed sheet but her icy toes were the least of her concern. The air was stagnant, almost lifeless. The white colour that was chosen for the walls of the guest room seems to mock her current inert aura. Her throat is turgid, her tummy was brewing the feeling of perturbation and it simply felt like it was going to fall out of her body. The dust particles were static, like they’d forgotten how they used to whirl away in the sunbeam that came in through the window.

The Gameboy Advanced rests on her sternum, the device penetrating warmth into her skin accompanied by fuzzy tingles, the muted vibrations from the sound ports, seeps through the thin sleep shirt she was wearing - essentially a baggy black t-shirt with a small Winnie the Pooh illustration messily embroidered on her left breast bone and loose sleeves that came up to her elbow with the length that stopped right above her knees. The device’s screen is dimly lit displaying the title card of Contra, taunting her to pick the number of players so it can load the first level. But it's not doing a good job at goading because all she can see is darkness that comes from the inside of her closed lids. She draws in a shaky breath, and exhales through her parted lips.

She hates this. She hates the power it has over her. But, most of all she hates the anticipation that comes with it.

 She’d been painting one of her commissions, upstairs in the swing room when her phone rang. Her grandmother’s face filled the screen. It wasn’t odd for her grandmother to be calling her at the dead of the night from India, because she suffered from Rheumatism and with that came pain and insomnia. So, whenever she couldn’t sleep her grandmother would immediately call to talk to her and tell Layla she misses her chaotic loving nature in the space they had shared. What started with gossiping about extended family members and neighbours turned into her grandmother inevitably circling back to update Layla about her parents. That’s when the dread in her core started bubbling, the minute she heard her grandmother tell her that her parents have been having a heated spat for the past two days. She continued with the rest of the conversation with a nonchalance that only she could muster, in order to not worry her grandmother. But the minute she hung up, she abandoned everything at her workspace and her feet led her to the mattress. She tried to switch on her handy gaming system to distract herself but soon found herself being pulled back into a very familiar feeling to no avail. A feeling that can be described as teetering on a tightrope with piercing spikes on the floor ready to be impaled. But not knowing when she’s going to fall.

Her palms come to rub at her face - the stench of turpentine flooding her nostrils, as her hands make their way to to end the overheating misery of the device that was currently begging for a morsel of attention from her. She hears the door open as her nimble fingers prod the side of the device looking for the power slider button.

“Hope you aren’t deleting my Harvest Moon progress,” his boyish voice floats through the room. The teasing undercurrent apparent in his tone.

She blinks back the thin film in her eyes as she tries to bring herself to focus on the stark white of her ceiling. “Don’t worry. Not doing that,” she replies trying to bring back that nonchalance that she has spent her life mastering to not worry others.

 A weak chuckle escapes her body, as she takes in his appearance. Her Snoopy t-shirt and some jogger bottoms with the little claw clip that sat at the top of his head holding his messy brown ringlets off of his forehead caught her attention. Her claw clip. The one she picked up from Target. Most of what he was wearing today belonged to her. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He questions. Something about her felt off today, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. Her eyes were irritated, and her disposition was clouded by something else. No snarky comeback for his teasing. He quickly comes to sit by her side on the bed and notices her dolphin stuffie plopped right next to her shoulder on the other side.

Worried seafoam eyes meet her dark ones and he presses the back of his hand against her neck to check if she’s running a temperate. He’d feel like absolute shit if he managed to pass on his cold to her. His eyes flit to her shin that was covered under the sheets. 

“I’m not sick. Just tired. I’d been staring at my phone and the canvas for hours now,” she says smoothly. It wasn’t a total lie. 

“Worried me there for a second.” He bends down to steal a kiss from her mouth. She tastes like licorice. The black tea she’d discovered at the local supermarket. Harry discovered that it’s something she drinks only while painting. He even picked up a box of Pickwick's for her while going on a grocery run for his mum. It tickles the back of her throat and it feels nice is what she told him. Plus whenever she drank oat milk, Harry noticed how her nose ever so subtly scrunches up but she was too polite to drink regular milk in front of him. So his hands automatically went to drop that in the cart along with Twinings without a second thought. 

“What brings you here, thief?” She questions, her eyebrow arched as she turns to her side to face him. 

“I beg your pardon,” he scoffs. 

“Well, two out of three things on your body right now, you’ve stolen from me,” she giggles. 

He rolls his eyes. “Oh no, what heinous crimes have I committed,” his tone was nothing close to that of repentance. 

“I can hear police sirens in the distance,” she teases him. 

“I’m sure they’ll bring their finest pairs of handcuffs to arrest me,” he chuckles. “You’d like that now, wouldn’t you.” He nudges her shoulder. 

“Very much so. Although I don’t think the admission board at UC San Diego would like that very much.”

“You are such a dickhead sometimes you know that.” He shakes his head with a lopsided smile on his face.

“I also know that you’re hopelessly in love with said dickhead,” she responds cockily. 

“That I most definitely am,” he tells her leaning to kiss her forehead. He lingers there for a moment letting his senses be invaded by her. 

“Wait, how did you get in?!? I thought the house was locked.” She says suddenly, alarmed eyes meeting his. 

“Shh.” He mumbles into her cheek. “I used the spare key. I also bought you these.” He picks up the sheets of A4 that he’d put on the floor and hands it to her. 

“Thanks.” She flits through the sheets, making sure everything is printed out properly. “You didn’t have to come here. I could have picked it up if you told me it’s done.”

“Yeah.  Yeah.” He mutters dismissively, as he climbs into bed to lay next to her. “The driveway and the front walkway looks good.” He tells her. When they had got back from Vermont, Layla came home to a newly constructed front lawn with a brick walkway and lights. 

“Hmm. Aunty said they managed to do all that in three days.” She puts the sheets of paper down on the bedside table that was closest to her, so she doesn’t wrinkle them. 

“Baby,” coos into her ear. One hand finds hers on her belly and he delicately weaves them together. 

“Yeah?” 

“We’re always honest with each other, right?”

Layla nods. 

“Are you really okay?” He prods, his eyes flit to the folded bed sheet draped on her shin. 

She lets out a broken sigh, eyes closing shut to stop him from going further. “How did you know?” She asks quietly. 

“I can tell. You don’t have to hide with me, Lails.” He peppers kisses along her jaw. “Plus, I sent you a paper airplane an hour ago and I don’t think you even noticed.”

“What?” She gets into a seated position to search the floor for the tiny airplane that flew into her window. There’s no way she could have missed that. But the paper airplane that landed on her shin, on top of the bedsheet, proved her otherwise. 

“Oh.” Is all that she manages to get out before she picks it up to look at the folded piece of paper. Her eyes scan over the messy black scrawl he’s made on a wing.

 Miss you. Wanna lunch?

P.S - I know it’s only been 20 hours and I can’t help but miss your face okay.

A chuckle escapes her. He was such a simp and she loved that. “I’m sorry.” She breathes out and turns to face him, worry apparent in his face by the way his eyebrows knit together and small lines make their way through the surface of his forehead.

He remains quiet. Not wanting to interrupt her. Giving her the space.

“It’s just- just…it’s nothing new really. I don’t want to talk about it. No point in worrying now,” she says, flopping down on the feathery mattress. 

“You sure?” He asks, taking a stand of hair in between his fingers and tucks it behind her ear.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Promise.” Her tone was earnest, a hand came to cup his cheek, thumb absentmindedly tracing the mole near his lips. She has been down this road multiple times and she came out perfectly fine.

“Alright then,” he mutters, bending down to kiss the pad of her thumb.

“Sorry I got you worried though.”

“Eh.” He brushes it off. “I kinda printed out the pictures you wanted, just so i can have some excuse when I keyed in here. I texted you too.” He settles down by her side, hands wrapping around her middle, nose prodding along her neck.

“My phone’s upstairs in the swing room,” she mumbles sheepishly.

“Were you painting a commission?” He asks in a drunken stupor. His eyes were half lidded as he took in her scent. If he could bottle this scent up he would in a heartbeat. Baby soap, coco butter, sweat with a hint of coconut and turpentine. That’s all it takes for Harry to fall into his Layla drunken stupor.

“Yeah. This woman asked if I could paint her cats in a very cottage core aesthetic. I said yes, because I love painting fur - it’s quite easy really. So, I sent a couple of my animal paintings and she did want something more adorable and less realistic. I’ve taken it upon myself to surprise her, so I’m putting her kitties in babushkas. I finished the first cat and was doing the second today.” She explains.

“Bet that’ll look adorable,” he kisses her shoulder.

“They do! They actually turned out better than what I pictured it to be.” She beams. “What did you get up to yesterday, babe?”

“I finished editing the pictures we took. It’s ready to hit OnlyFans next month. I was also texting Mitch and Sarah, they’re quite excited for our FaceTime double date soon. Oh, also as of this morning all of mum’s colleges and friends have RSVPed yes. All I have left is to invite your folks and Earl, zero in on the menu and decide on our costume.”

“Our costume? Didn’t realise we were going to be a singular entity for the duration of that whole evening.” She teases.

“Please,” he responds sassily. “We both know that if you’re gonna pick someone to meld into one, you can’t do better than me.” He brings his finger to poke at her dimple and she sticks her tongue out at him. “But I was actually thinking along the lines of a couple's costumes.”

“Couples costumes?” 

“Er- I uh… we don’t,” he stumbles. “We don’t have to if you don’t. I just thought it’d be cute.” His cheeks flush with colour, confidence dissipating from his body. 

“Babe, I’d love to do a couples costume with you. Of course,” she mumbles into his hair, planting a kiss to the top of his head. He hums into her neck, those vibrations sizzle in Layla’s body as his fingertips dance across her bare arm. 

“Whew,” he dramatically sighs, properly putting on a show for her. “Now that the hard part is out of the wa-“

“Slow down there, earth boy,” Layla interrupts. “I think the hard part is the two of us coming to a consensus about the costume,” she chuckles. 

She wasn’t wrong. Although they enjoyed each other’s movie tastes, they were on different planes. Harry loved some science fiction, romance, and obscure indie films. Layla on the other hand loved horror, gore, and Disney. Sometimes Harry didn’t appreciate the gore and Layla inevitably snoozes through almost all of his romance flicks. Finding a middle ground was going to take some time, especially if that middle ground is minuscule. 

“We’ll Venn diagram it.” He assures her as trails his nose and lips from the base of her throat to the shell of his ear. 

She twitches as the ticklish sensation from her ear spreads through her system. “I’m excited for our date tomorrow.”

“Me too. Are you gonna tell me where you’ll be whisking me away?”

“Just bring your best artist self that’s all,” she responds. 

“Easy for you to say,” he snorts. 

“Nonsense. It’s a new activity for me too. We’ll both be at a disadvantage.”

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” he mutters. 

They spend the rest of the hour in silence. Their limbs lax, muscles basking in the rush of peace, hearts thudding sluggishly against their ribs. Soft touches - ones akin to cotton candy and sea foam that brush past your feet as the waves lap the shore - lulling each other. Harry ghosting his lips against his girlfriends collarbone in a steady circuit and Layla sneaking hand under his shirt to draw aimless teardrop outlines against his skin with the blunt edges of her neatly filed nails, each spreading a blanket of tranquillity as neurons fire off in their brains, making a dopey smile tug up the ends of their lips. Harry looks into her eyes, dark irises that camouflages calamitous oceans but not for him. For him her eyes are an abyss. An endless pool of devotion, a pool in which he feels weightless - like all the burdens of the world dissipates and all he feels is safe, with her.

“I love-” he begins to whisper against the corner of her mouth but is soon cut off by a loud grumble of his stomach.

A tinkling giggle comes from her, making him groan out loud. Mentally cursing his traitorous tummy for rumbling and ruining their moment. 

“I take it that you haven’t had lunch yet,” she asks, booping his nose. 

He shakes his head with a bashful smile. “Was kind of hoping my girlfriend will join me, you see.”

“Crap, forgot that you came here to ask me over for lunch,” she says. That’s why he was here in the first place. He sent a paper airplane - seeing her feet poking out of the sheets - and after no response, resorted to texting. When that garnered no response, worry crept up on him. A possibility of her napping crossed his mind as a valid explanation, as he was printing out the pictures she asked for, but he still felt the urge to check on her. 

“It’s okay.” His knuckles caresses her cheek reassuringly. “How would you like a seafood foil boil?”

“Foil boil?” 

“Yeah. Mum used to make it all the time before she went for her shifts. So, when I came home all I had to do was pop that thing in the oven for a few minutes,” he explains. “It’s just whatever seafood you want with butter and salt in aluminium foil.”

“As delightful as they sound, do you add anything else to it?” She asks. As much as she loved delicious dishes, like casserole, lasagne, pot pie, and the occasional curry Anne had made,  she just can’t bring herself to be excited about butter and salt - as much as she loved it on popcorn. 

“Sometimes I dab a little bit of  Worcestershire sauce. Why?” He questions. 

Her face floods with heat. 

“Oh I see,” he teases. “Miss. I travel with hot sauce, needs her heat huh.” He kisses her chin. 

She shrugs in response. 

“I bet you can’t top the butter, salt and pepper. You can jazz up yours however you like.”

“Perfect. There’s a bottle of unopened Sambal in the fridge begging me to break the seal,” she does a little dance in glee. 

He laughs as he gets out of bed begrudgingly, missing their cocoon of warmth. He offers his hands to pull her out of bed and she takes it. 

“Can you please put this upstairs and get my phone from upstairs? I need to use the loo real quick,” she mutters, handing him the papers he’d bought. 

“Sure, baby.” He kisses her forehead and turns to head out of the room. 

Her hand comes to grip on his wrist, halting him . He turned around to face her, eyebrows arched in a questioning manner. 

“I believe you were going to say something,” she tells him shyly, eyes cast downwards, looking at his mismatched socked feet. 

“Was I?” He asks. He could have passed that off but the giant smile that breaks across his face is a dead giveaway of what he’s trying to do. 

Layla nods and squints his eyes in response, his thumb and forefinger coming to rest on his chin - dramatically appearing to think hard. 

“You got cut off by your tummy rumbling,” she prompts. 

“Don’t recall really,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

She rolls her eyes. He wants her to say it, so she exhales a sigh of defeat. 

“Tell me you love me, fool,” she mutters, hands encircling his middle as she looks up at his face. His dimples make a flamboyant appearance as his pearly teeth shine, bunny teeth on display in a wide grin. 

“Oh that.” He comes to rest his forehead against hers. “I love you, sweet girl,” he coos, leaning in to steal a kiss from her mouth. 

“Alright off you go now,” she shoos him away. 

He walks upstairs to the swing room. Layla’s Uncle had been kind enough to set up an old desk and a rolling chair there, so she didn’t need to break her back painting and it could serve as her temporary office while she starts teaching soon. She decorated that room with her folks, temporarily until she was there. Her aunt gave her full permission to make whatever changes Layla saw fit in the guest room to make her feel like home but she didn’t want to mess up the transitional aesthetic her aunt went with for the whole house. So, the room they didn’t get to decorate became her playground. The three managed to find a fluffy white rug, a houseplant, and a small fabric chaise single sofa bed to tie up the small space together.

He places the papers on the light pink sofa bed and moves to pick up her phone that was on her desk. He looks at the half done canvas on her desk and is surprised by her talent -  the piercing blue eyes of the Himalayan Siamese cat and the silver wispy whiskers really highlighted her attention to detail. The red babushka was still half undone, so he could see the pencil lines she’d once made to draw an outline.

There was a completed piece of a Ginger tabby cat lying on the floor, on top of some newspapers she'd spread on the floor. Its expression mirrored her own during the housewarming, if he was being honest, when he met her for the first time - cute with an awkward expression on its face, wanting nothing more than to get out of there.  A chuckle escapes his lips as memories from their first encounter comes to the forefront. He pulls out a tissue from the box to carefully wipe off the small paint smudges on her transparent phone case before he closes the door of the swing room.

////

"Please tell me that you washed the zucchini before cutting them."

"I did," he responds, catching himself from widening his eyes - not wanting to give her any hints to pick up that he lied through his teeth.

"Really?" She turns around to face him from the counter, with a knife in her hand. Abandoning her finely chopped shallots, she moves over to where he was standing, by the pot of boiling water with potatoes and quartered corn cob.

"Yeah. Yeah. I most definitely did," he says again, like he's trying to convince both himself and her.

“I see,” she responds, sucking her lips inwards as her eyes flit to the chopping board. She steps dangerously close to him, invading his personal space, knife tip resting on his abdomen. She looks up at him and extends her index finger outwards, then immediately curling it towards her, beckoning him to bend down. When he does, she whispers in his ear, “You see, earth boy, I think you failed to consider that washing requires water.”

A frisson of exhilaration runs down his spine, and the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up straight. His breathing accelerates and it takes him a while to process what she’s saying. Shit. Of course. The cutting board is dry, he mentally smacks himself. Layla watches the way the cogs turn in his head as he figures it out, and smirks when he gives her a sheepish smile.

“Here’s a life lesson, maybe next time it’s best to not lie to the person holding the knife,” she razzes him, pressing the flat side of the blade against his abs for additional emphasis.

“Er- oka- yes, ma’am.” He stumbles.

She giggles at him. “Alright, now that the chopping is out of the way. Show me how you do it,” she says, moving to the counter where he’s thrown in some prawns, clams, and vegan sausage into two squares of aluminium foil.

Harry leans against the marble top staring at her in disbelief, jaw slack, dragging in heaving breaths. He had no idea how this one girl had so much power over him. He was beyond turned on by her in barely three volleys of conversation. She looked so innocent, waiting for him to do his thing, still in her sleep shirt and a ponytail. Like she just didn’t make his dick semi erect with a knife and a hint of condescension. It wasn’t like this with anyone he’d been with. She had this force field around and he was naturally pulled to her, like a moth to a flame or the way the earth moves with ease around the sun. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and clears his throat. 

“Yeah.” He throws in a small cube of butter in both, using the salt and pepper mill to grind some on top of the protein. He fishes out the zucchini, par boiled potatoes and corn and tosses some in both their portions, drizzles some olive oil and massages everything together. Layla quietly watches the way his fingers move with ease, veins in his hand apparent when he uses his thumbs to press the corn cob making sure that each ridge was coated. “That’s it.” He says, stepping back to watch her perched on the stool, gnawing at her lower lip, breaking her trace from his hands. He smirks, he knew exactly the effect his hands had over her. He’d caught her shamelessly staring at them one too many times whenever he did inventory, as he counted flowers one by one, at Earl’s shop. 

“So, now I can add my stuff?”

He nods. She slips out of the stool and begins to open the sambal jar. She spoons some in hers and adds some shallots, and  bruised lemongrass. She opens the spice drawers and pulls out a few containers. She sprinkles some old bay, cayenne, and paprika. The symphony of flavours makes its way to Harry’s nostrils. As much as he hates that he’s going to eat his own words, he has to admit his girlfriend knows her way around the kitchen - she literally just improvised something that he’s been eating a long time instantaneously. 

“Can you do that to mine too, please?” He asks her quietly, hands coming to scratch the back of his neck. 

Layla grins, eyes fixed on the food in front of her, as she nods. “Of course.” She knew this was going to happen. She cut extra shallot and lemongrass because he’d want the same thing as her. 

Once she is done, Harry massages all the new spices she’s added and wraps them up into a ball. He pops that in the oven, and Layla can’t help but deliver a stinging clap to his bum cheek. 

“Heeey,” he whines. Hands coming to run at the spot while he closes the oven door. 

She gives him the least apologetic shrug, which makes him roll his eyes. 

“Careful there,” he whispers, pulling her to his chest. “You’re giving me an impression that you are more obsessed with my butt than I am with yours.”

“Highly debatable.”

“Please,” he drags. “Make your case.”

“Remember what we were doing a day ago. You literally couldn’t decide between my tits and my ass.”

“What can I say? If it’s on you then I’m game for anything,” he replies, bending down to rub their noses together. She laughs and Harry could feel her body tremble against his chest. 

“How long is it going to take?” She asks, nodding to the oven. 

“Twenty minutes.”

“And what are we going to do to kill time until then?”

“I have a plan. Go wait for me in the dining room,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

She pads into the dining room, as Harry barrels upstairs, the room is very much the same as before. Dark walls, oblong cream dining table that housed a teal ceramic pot with lavenders growing out - it really gave the power to turn a person’s sour mood to one of exuberance - in the middle with velvet dining chairs in different shades of pink, retro looking bulbs that drops from the ceiling in gold coloured furnishing - that ties with the gold legs of the velvet chairs, large French windows that opened into the garden,  a neon sign that said ‘heart of the home’ and lit up a hot pink when switched on, a small bar cart with different coloured glass bottles containing various spirits. Peace lily and pink anthurium sat in their pots on white stools at both ends of the windows. The only thing different about it was the decorations on the mantle of the faux fireplace. There were different whimsical figurines of witches, with colourful striped tights, puffy dresses, pointy black shoes, waif-like bodies with a Burtonesque face -large eyes, pointy noses, hollow cheeks, silvery hair, and thin lips - placed on it tastefully along with some ceramic pumpkins, conkers and pine cones that looked like they had been collected from the community park. Bat streamers tangled along with orange fairy lights were skilfully stung along the mantle. The candle holders, at were at both edges, were replaced with black ones and on it were these half melted purple candles. The picture of Anne and Harry on the boat was now dusted with cobwebs on the sides of the frame. This truly was the heart of the house and Layla’s favourite room. She wishes she could one day see, or maybe even join in when Anne’s decorating.

But the thing that caught her attention was the open leather bound journal that sat atop the table, the ones that were pliant and could be wrapped around by a leathery rope. An almost empty coffee cup, the ceramic snail one she’d gifted, was placed next to it. There were dried coffee rings on the cream marble table top. No doubt a result of him not using a coaster. It looked like he’d forgotten about them. She got closer to the opened book, black ink stood as a stark contrast against the ivory papers. ‘The time for hot chocolaty mornings and toasty marshmallow evenings,’ was scratched in Harry’s script. There were other words written below but were scratched off. 

Why is he quoting Winnie the Pooh? Her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. Is this the same one that he was writing in when she woke up the other day? Her curiosity gets the better of her as she reaches to close the journal, her eyes scanning over the brown leathery cover. It looked like it had been lived in, with the colours fading here and there from his touch and scratches and indents from when certain objects were pressed up against it. The stars were drawn haphazardly on the top right in a black sharpie, and on the flap it said ‘she thinks she doesn’t deserve his heart.’ There were also two triangles, one with an open eye and the other with a closed one inside them. 

She lets her fingertips trace over them, feeling the grains of the very medieval looking journal underneath. 

“I know I don’t have my record player but-“ Harry says, walking into the room. The side of his shoulder smacks into the doorframe. Always klutzy as ever. He stops when he sees her next to his journal. His eyes fly between Layla and the inanimate object right next to her. Three circuits, like his brain needs time to fully process the scene in front of him and what the implications could arise. 

“I wasn’t snooping!” She says defensively. 

“Umm.” His hand comes to scratch the back of his neck. “Did you read anything?” He quietly asks. 

His shoulders drop when he sees her shake her head. 

“No. It was opened on the table and I just closed it.”

“I kinda forgot I left that there to be honest,” he tells her, coming to get the journal from where it was placed. 

“I read the quote from Pooh’s Grand Adventure.” She blurts out. “Only because it was on the page that was open. I didn’t flip through anything else in your diary.”

“It’s not my diary,” he chuckles. 

“Any reason why you picked the quote?” She questions. 

“I didn’t know it’s from Winnie the Pooh. I was looking at autumn quotes online for the invites for mum’s thing,” he lies smoothly. He was indeed watching that movie because he felt bad because he didn’t know anything about it when Layla would reference it sometimes. He thought he should divulge into this favourite of hers, especially because she was well versed with his favourite cartoon, Scooby Doo. 

“Ah, I see. I’ll have you know that it’s not any random quote, it’s from the movie.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he chuckles. “Especially with this.” He points to the embroidered yellow bear on her t-shirt. 

“I did it myself you know,” she beams at him. “My grandma took on this mission that she should teach me how to embroider as soon as I told her I’m going to take a break from studies. This was the first one I did. Pretty basic though but there’s where my skill stops because I’m too impatient to learn the complex stitches.”

“I’ve seen your ‘I need to be extremely skillful at this task I’m just learning or else I’m done’ rage,” he chuckles. He pushes his journal away from them, and it glides along the surface till it gets to the other end of the table.

Layla slowly lifts her hand up, giving him the finger with narrow eyes. 

“Alright. Alright. Let’s do this before we end up pissing each other off,” he tells her, putting down a vinyl of Fleetwood Mac’s The Dance. “You remember when you were assembling my record shelf?”

“How could I forget? You basically pounced on me,” she giggles.

“Hey, I can’t help it if my girlfriend using a screwdriver to screw together a shelf for me was too distracting that I couldn’t alphabetise my collection properly,” he throws his hands up in defence.  It didn’t help that he was shit at handiwork and his plans of doing it all alone was shot to hell, when the corners of the shelf wobbled unsteadily after he used all the screws in its place. So, he ended up texting her to come do it instead - warning her that he would throw a hissy fit if she touched any of his records, Earl being the only exception.

“Distracting enough to basically tear off my clothes?” She really couldn’t believe him that day. She was just minding her own business in her black skinny jeans, an oversized flannel shirt, five day unwashed hair held together by a claw clip, bangs pushed back by his workout headband so, her giant shiny forehead was on full display with all the pimple patches, screws held in her mouth as she was busy securing one of the hinges into place when he attacked her and it surprised her to no extent that Harry was already painfully hard.

He shrugs. “Speaking of that, how are the bruises today?” His hands come to rest on her hips, gently stroking the skin through the thin material.

“Considering it’s been less than twenty four hours. Still purple,” she replies.

“Shit. If I knew you bruised that easily-”

“I still would have asked you to hold on to me tighter.” She interrupts, reassuring him.

“Can I see, please?” He gives her puppy dog eyes, as his hands creep down to her thighs to grip the hem of her t-shirt.

She nods and he pulls up the fabric, holding the bunched up material under her boobs, leaving her in nothing but her granny panties. He drops to the floor on his knees to examine the dark purple bruises that covered her hips and waist. Bruises that were shaped like his fingers and palm. He presses a soft kiss to the one that looked the most angry.

Her hand, that wasn’t holding her garment, comes down to scratch at his scalp soothingly. “Doesn’t hurt. Didn’t hurt when you were doing it and certainly doesn’t hurt now. I quite liked  that you held me so close,” she smiles. 

“Yeah. But that doesn’t make me stop feeling bad when I see these,” he mutters, lips trailing across your stomach.

“So, don’t.” She pulls her top in place and pulls him to stand. “It’s funny how you have no qualms about leaving hickies on my boobs,” she chuckles, hands coming up to rest on either side of his neck. 

“True but with that I knew what I was doing and when to stop. I didn’t anticipate this,” he says.

“That’s because you were too busy otherwise occupied when I was too busy sitting on your face. You really couldn’t exactly see. Never mind, why did you bring one of your treasured vinyl downstairs?” 

“Well… you were putting together a shelf and I was alphabetising my records and when I came to this one in particular, I just knew I had to do this with you.”

“Do what?” She asks, as she watches him fiddle with his phone and stick his earphones into the port. 

“Dance to this,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m at the stage where I can stick this into a record player but-”

She silences him by sealing his lips with hers. “You’ve made wonderful progress so far. I’m proud of you.” She tells him, kissing him once again.

“I know.” He gives her his shy smile, as he pops one of the ear buds into Layla’s ear and the other in his, sliding his phone into his pocket after pressing play. 

Sweet girl starts playing and Stevie Nicks’ voice echoes through their ears as Harry wraps his arms around Layla. She wraps her hand around his neck and presses her face into his chest. His arms tightens around her waist as he leans down to place his cheek at the top of her head as they sway from side to side in the dining room.

////

“Edward and Vivian from Pretty Woman?”

“No! I’m not going to dress up as a hooker for your mum’s party,” she hisses. 

“Noah and Allie from The Notebook?” 

“I’m sorry to break this to you but I literally had to fight the urge to sleep with every cell in my body while watching it with you.”

“I thought you liked The Notebook! It’s one of the reasons why I liked you,” he exclaims.

“Too bad, fool. Too fucking bad.”

Earl was trying his best to not laugh at the tennis match that was happening in front of him. Layla was behind the till fluffing up the bouquets Earl had put together and writing them down in his log book. Harry was mopping up the floors. Harry had invited Earl and he was more than happy to come to the party, he needed to fill up on his social meter. He leaned against the back door frame; he’d walked into the two bickering when he came back from the greenhouse after checking up on the bug situation. There was a nasty problem with sawflies that kept nibbling on his leaves, and he is in the middle of treating it with horticulture oil. 

“Agatha and Zero from the Grand Budapest Hotel?” He asks.

“Not bad but let’s keep that as a back up. How about Coraline and Wybie?” She suggests.

“No!”

“Rapunzel and Flynn Rider?”

“I’m not dressing up as that jerk Flynn Rider!”

“He’s not a real person! Stop being so fucking jealous, you ding dong!”

“Fine, I’ll agree to another Disney movie where you don’t salivate over the prince,” he hisses.

“Flynn Rider is not a prince. He’s the king of parkour and charm.” She groans out loud. “Fine, what about Prince Naveen and Tiana from Princess and the Frog?”

“That would require us to both do a blackface and I’m not a racist.” He puts the mop back into dirty water, folding his arms.

“You don’t have to paint your face black just because we’re dressing up as characters who happen to have darker skin.”

“I’d like to commit to my costume and racism is where I draw the line.”

“You’re so annoying.”

 “Okay! What about Margot and Richie from The Royal Tenenbaums?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Mia and Wallace from Pulp Fiction?”

“Too mainstream,” she replies. “Victor and the Corpse Bride?”

“No! No characters who are dead or zombies. I’m not going to paint my face white.” He vehemently shakes his head. 

It was hard for Earl to believe that these two were the same people who walked into his shop an hour ago. Excited to tell him about their Vermont trip. Harry showed him a million pictures he’d taken of his girlfriend on his phone. Those two in the pictures looked like they were goners for each other, absolutely swept away with a certain fondness that reminded him of the connection he’d shared with his wife. Now they looked like they were minutes away from maiming each other. 

“Kids,” he steps in trying to diffuse the tension. Considering, they have a pottery date planned in three hours. “I’m thinking of dressing as Carl from Up.” The three of them watched that movie a month ago after dinner. He’d taken a liking to it, considering he was usually the last person to enjoy anything animated. “Maybe you two could dress up as characters from the movie. So we’d be a posse at the party.”

The two look at Earl as they process what he’d said. They slowly turn to each other and nod. 

“I want to be Russell!”

“I’m Russell!”

They both say at the same time and groan out loud in exasperation. 

“Carrie and Tommy from Carrie?” Layla asks after a few minutes pass. 

“Too much blood.”

“But I’ll be the one with fake blood on!”

“I know it’ll end up on my shirt by the end of the night. How about Doc Brown and Marty McFly? We both love that movie.”

“I’ll agree to it only if you agree to being Doc because I don’t want to wear a wig for grey hair.”

“Ugh, I thought I could be Marty. Nevermind. Let’s drop that,” he huffs out.

“What about Chucky and the Bride of Chucky?”

“You know dolls creep me out. No! I barely got through that movie with you, and I was practically in your lap when we watched it.”

“Wuss,” she says under her breath, but loud enough for Harry to pick up on it.

“You are so infuriating!”

“No, I am not! You keep wanting to dress as absolute weirdos. This is my first Halloween that I dress up for and I want to make it a good one,” she reasons with him.

“Yeah, it’ll only be good if you dress up as a hobbit,” he says, rolling his eyes, shaking the mop towards her.

“You take that back right now and get that mop from my face!”

“Fine! I’ll dress up as a hobbit,” he says in an exasperated tone. 

She smiles at him in victory. She puts the pen in the book and closes it, so it serves as a bookmark, and it would be easier for Earl to mark off when the deliveries get picked up. 

“But,” he cuts before she could do a little victory dance in her head. “I get to be Frodo.” The indents on his cheeks make an appearance. 

“That would be weird. Then there'd be two Frodos at the party. We can’t walk around as Frodo and Frodo. As much as I love Sam, I don’t want to be him.” She pouts. 

“Fine. You be Frodo and I’ll be Bilbo.”

“Then we’d be uncle and nephew. Thought you wanted to dress up as characters who are friends or a couple,” She tells him. 

“Baby, we’re going around in circles here. Let’s take five to settle down,” he says. 

“Good call. I’m about seconds away from ripping those stupid curls off your head,” he chuckles. 

“You know instead of all this hullabaloo, why don’t you have a theme for the party? Something Anne adores. This way everyone who’d come to the party can work in tandem with it,” he tells Harry. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Har.”

“Thanks Earl. Mum actually adores musicals. Wizard of Oz is her favourite.”

“It’s settled then. Now come on up. It’s time to lock up and head upstairs. Seeing you two argue made me hungry,” Earl says. 

“I'm hungry too,” Layla tells them, walking from behind the till. 

“I’m pretty sure we got that snippy with each other because we were both hangry,” he chuckles. 

“Highly likely,” Layla agrees. 

“Layla, honey, I bought a ton of zucchini from the farmers market and I need you to give me ideas on how to finish them before they go bad,” Earl asks. 

“We could make zucchini kimchi pancakes. I saw this recipe on Instagram and it’s really easy.”

“But I don’t have any kimchi.”

“How about I walk to the store and get one. You and Harry could start grating the zucchini by then,” she tells the two of them. 

////

“Lails?” They were both at a small pottery studio. Layla planned a pottery painting date for the two of them. They were in a room with six other people who were in the room with them. It was a wine and paint session but since Harry was not twenty one, Layla and Harry opted to sit far back in the room to paint on their own - essentially creating a small bubble of their own. They both each picked one premade clay object that was arranged neatly on shelves. 

“Hmm?” She hums inattentively. She was mixing colours together in a tiny plastic pallet that was given to them, trying to get the exact blue she wanted. 

“I just realised that I don’t know what your middle name is?”

“That’s because I don’t have one. It’s just Layla Sathish.” She answers, wiping her brush in a paper towel after she’d rinsed it in the mason jar. 

“Is that common?”

“Yeah. No one in my family has a middle name.” She yawns. 

“Oh. Are you the only one in your family with a Westernised name?”

“Pretty much. Amma (Mum)  named me after some actress who was in like four films,” she chuckles.

“Was she your mum’s favourite?” Harry asks, wanting to know what her name means. 

“Nope. It was the first name she could think of. It was supposed to be Laila but Appa (Dad)  wanted to throw in a cool letter. So they took out the i and replaced it with a y.”

“Interesting.”

“I love how you’re asking me this now.” She giggles, reaching forward to wipe a small splotch of red paint from the back of his hand. 

“Just popped into my head. Aren’t you gonna ask me where my name came from?”

“You have the most common of British names. I’ll pass.” She laughs. 

“Dickhead.”

She yawns in response, one hand coming to cover her mouth, the other coming to rub at her eyes but she immediately catches herself from doing that when she remembers she has eye makeup on. 

“You’ve been yawning a lot. Did you not sleep?”

“Heidi called and woke me up at five in the morning.”

“Is she still alive?” Harry teases, he knows better than to wake her before eight in the morning. 

“Yup. Dropped a bombshell on me and proper woke me up. Her dad asked her if he could start looking out for potential grooms now that she’s going to finish her degree in December.” She tells him. 

“She’s okay with it?” He asks. 

“Yeah. It’s going to take a while for her Dad to zero in on a few people and it’s not like they are going to force her to marry someone she does not want to.” She picks up the gold with another brush and she starts going around the edges of her dish, giving it a beautiful accent. 

“How long will that take?” He asks, he was curious how marrying someone before getting to know them works. 

“Depends really. Sometimes a few months and other times years. Plus, it’s going to be hard for her Dad to do it all alone.” She says. 

“Is her mum against marrying her or something?” He chuckles.

“Her mum passed away during our first year of college. Acute leukaemia. It was so quick, they barely had time to process the diagnosis. Aunty was so vibrant. She’d stuff us with so much food that I’d have to roll on the floor to feel human again. It sucked when we got to know.” She sighs. 

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“You didn’t know, that’s okay. I know you and my friends send each other memes on Instagram, so just a heads up, Heidi doesn’t like talking about it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And by the way, I don’t just talk to your friends. We have our own group chat where we send each other the freshest of memes.” He picks up some white directly from the bottle of paint and starts painting small circles. 

She rolls her eyes. “Why am I not a part of this group?”

“We unanimously decided that we’re too cool for you,” he shrugs. A breathy laugh escapes Harry when he sees Layla shake her head at him. 

“Yeah. I mean she is the goody two shoes of the group so it makes sense she says yes to  an arranged marriage first. She’s told her dad that she’d like to start working for a year at least before marriage and Uncle said yes.”

“That doesn’t seem that unreasonable,” he adds. 

“Yeah, giving a woman a false sense of agency is not unreasonable,” she says sarcastically.

“You’d rather she didn’t work?”

“I’d rather she works without the family giving her a grace period to have her semblance of autonomy,” she replies immediately.

“Sounds like you are projecting,” he comments.

“I totally am. She’s completely okay with the proposition. I feel like my generation is stuck in this limbo where we have to appease the people around us and somehow make it work with our wants.” She huffs out frustrated, dropping the paintbrush on the table. “Indian families are more concerned with saving face than listening to their own children’s wants and needs.”

“I used to think that it was a stereotype until we watched those short films on Netflix the other day and you told me that honour killings are surprisingly common and swept under the rug.” Layla was silently weeping at for the last two short movies, until he had to physically remind swaddle her in a blanket and rock her back and forth until she calmed down, it was then that she told Harry how her mother had told her that anything Layla accomplished didn’t matter until Layla listens exactly to what she says with no questions asked. She’d also made it very clear to Layla that she would not hesitate to kill her if she didn’t. It didn’t hit home for Harry until that day why Layla chose to be docile and subservient with her mother until that day. 

“Exactly. Can’t believe that I’m going to dress up for a wedding in the future and it’s gonna be Harshidha weds blank,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Harshidha?”

“Oh. Her name is Harshidha. Heidi is a nickname that her parents gave her because she was obsessed with that cartoon as a kid. It sorta stuck. On paper she’s Harshidha but everyone refers to her as Heidi.”

“That’s cute!”

“Very,” she agrees. 

The rest of the date goes by in silence. Not a thick silence that made people in the room uncomfortable but a comfortable silence, where the two would just bask in each other's presence. Not needing to say anything, soft glances exchanged conveying what they each needed to know. Grouplove’s Tongue Tied started playing through the speakers and Harry can’t help but smile when he sees Layla bopping about in her seat mouthing the words, focused on the way she smeared the paint from the brushes onto the dish. 

“Ooh, I really like what you’ve done with the hedgehogs. They look so adorable,” Layla says looking at Harry’s final product, when she’s done with hers, a satisfied huff escaping her parted lips.

“Thank you! I tried my best. I figured I would stick to the basics. I only asked you to help me mix the colours for the body. I’m proud of it,” he tells her. 

“And you were telling me how you had zero artistic merit. I think that would disagree,” she says, pointing to his mushroom ornament. He picked it so he could add it to his mum’s fairy garden. It was a small mushroom with a hole in the middle with a tiny hedgehog living in it and another small hedgehog nearby. He did a good job with painting, giving the base of the mushroom a cream colour with a bright red top with white spots. 

“Would you tell me what you are doing? Now that you’re done,” he gestures to her. 

“It’s a ring dish. For you.” She says with a shy smile, her dimple barely peeking out. She picked up a wonky dish and painted it beige before moving on to paint a combination of white roses and daisies, Layla’s and Harry’s favourite, along with some abstract blue flowers. She’d used gold for the edges of the dish, wanting to highlight its imperfections. 

“For me?” He asks her, surprised, the little craters in his cheeks come out. 

“Yeah. I thought it’ll be much easier to keep track of your rings if you have a place to keep them. You nearly turned your room upside down searching for your rose ring and later finding it wedged below your mattress,” she tells him. 

“Thank you, baby.” He breathes out earnestly. If they weren’t in a room full of people, he’d lean across the table, grab her by the back of her neck and kiss her passionately. He rarely met people who didn’t judge him with what he wore. The people he hooked up with or even dated would always look at his rings as something that emasculated him. He’d often not wear his rings and opt for plainer clothes going out with them. His clothes, his rings, and his OnlyFans weren’t effeminate parts of masculinity, it was his masculinity - devoid of the many toxicities that society created. Yet, here she was, aside from Mitch and Sarah, she was the only one who truly knew him and supported the way he presented himself. Often nudging him to do things he’d always wanted to but hesitated. So he settles, by bringing her hand to his lips and placing a kiss. 

“You can thank me after two days. That’s when we get them, remember? They need to put it in the kiln and cool it before we get to take it home,” she reminds him. 

“Right. I’ll be picking them up. Sucks that our date has come to an end. This was so much fun.”

“Well.. we could just go to yours after this and watch something. I need to be home by eleven though,” she tells him. 

“I reckon I could squeeze a proper cuddle out of you before then. Before we go, take a picture of me with the cutest thing I’ve ever made.” He’d already taken pictures of Layla and the two of them while they were painting. 

“Alright. Let me get my phone from my bag. Hold on.” She tells him, wiping her hands on a clean paper towel. 

“Here use mine,” he says, using his chin to point to his phone on the table. 

She picks up his phone and turns the phone towards his face for the FaceID. Once the phone unlocks, she turns the screen towards her to search for the camera icon. But she finds herself staring at the wallpaper. She’d never seen his home screen before, his lock screen was a beautiful picture he’d taken in Italy, cerulean waters over a rocky cliff. 

“You have my picture as your wallpaper?” She asks with a small pout. 

“Yeah.” He says in a tone that made her seem like she couldn’t comprehend that gravity exists. She’d been his background ever since the first night at their Hobbit hole getaway in Vermont. 

////

It was the second Tuesday of September, a promising sunshine over an expansive blue sky. Harry drove Layla to Cape Hatteras. The four and a half hour car journey was filled with giggles and deep conversation. Harry learnt that Layla had a bleak view on life and regarded life as a giant distraction from death. She also gave him a ten minute speech about how they were tiny little specks floating on another speck that sat in another speck in a constantly expanding universe. She went on to another speech about how Nietzsche was not a nihilist himself but simply wrote about solutions to combat this. When he’d told her on the philosophies he sided with, Layla called him a hedonistic stoic. 

They were the only ones at the beach, considering it was midday. A reluctant guide showed them in and around the lighthouse and explained how it was the tallest in the United States. After their tour, the two found themselves by the shore, Layla’s excitement to be at a beach after a whole month was palpable as she let the cool water kiss her feet as Harry bent down to pick up a few seashells. They were both sitting on the gritty pale sand, seagulls screeched in the distance, the deep blue majestic sea lapped the shore as white foams appeared, humid air flit past their faces as the smell of the sea cascaded around them. 

“So you’re telling me that rich people shouldn’t fund climate science research?” He asked her in an offended manner. Is she really going to tell me about something I know better, he thought.

“Yeah.” She replied with a cocky smirk, rolling the violet she’d managed to pluck, from a small herbaceous plant with scalloped leaves that sprouted in a crack on the cemented pavement, from the outdoor seating area of a local diner, where they had dinner. The flower had five petals that were upswept, two at the top were violet and three at the bottom had a light wash of blue with deep violet spots, the centre was a beaming yellow. 

“Please make your case,” he gestured with his hand, metaphorically giving her the stage to plead her case. They had just unanimously agreed that most activism for climate change by celebrities were highly performative and scrupulously curated by their publicists to gain more social currency and status.

“Easy. We shouldn’t give a few people the power to green light the projects they deem fit,” she said with a shrug, tucking her wild flying hair behind her ear as her gold huggie earrings glint against the light from the sun.

“So you’re saying is, rich people shouldn’t spend their money on what they see fit?” He clarifies mockingly, as his eyes linger on her ear rings. 

“No,” she chuckled. “Donating very little of what they earn to avoid taxes is questionable. But sponsoring research projects and grants are necessary. Unfortunately, money plays a huge part in advancing our scientific knowledge. But the problem lies when they get to decide what they want to fund. They will probably fund research that aligns with their motivations. I mean, as I’ve established, people don’t work from their inherent goodness. The more a rich person funds whatever, the more likely they are going to slap their names on whatever that arises from it and make more money from it. They feed this saviourism complex, giving these technologies to countries that cannot afford it but making sure they benefit in terms of the capital gains that arise from it rather than a local corporation who could offer the same solutions but not at a cheaper price. The more power they have the more likely they are going to indirectly sway the local politicians into creating reforms that would benefit them in the long haul. Essentially, being an active participant in neo-colonisation. Plus, it creates this narrative of equalness when it comes to the cause of climate change when it’s proven that the wealthy countries, individuals and the companies bear most of the load of emissions. This is just a way they get to slap a band aid on it and get free publicity.” 

“So essentially you are arguing for capitalocene,” Harry replied as he took in what she’d just said.

“I don’t know what that is,” she told him.

“For someone who doesn’t know the word or the concept, you sure did a wonderful job arguing for it,” he chuckles, picking up the violet from the sand that had been accidentally discarded by Layla when she was wildly gesturing with her hands. He shook off the sand and tucked it behind her ear, feeling the heat rise in her face underneath his fingers. When he was sure he secured it he gave her a shy smile. He tried his hardest to be friends with her this past month but somehow his crush only got reinforced every step of the way. Having spontaneous intellectual sparring matches on philosophy, and capitalism currently, only cemented those feelings.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “Would you mind taking a picture of me in front of the lighthouse before we leave? I’d like to post one on Instagram.”

“Want to showcase a lighthouse that matches your emo soul,” he laughed as he looked at the black and white lighthouse standing tall to their right.

“Obviously.” She’d giggled along with him, looking at the little valley that creased on both sides of his cheeks and the crinkles on the side of his eyes a little longer than she originally intended.

When they got up to leave Harry did take a few pictures of her. But his favourite one he managed to capture was the one of her laughing - at him, when a pesky seagull decided to shit on his hair, her hair was flying in the direction of the wind, the violet was a stark contrast against her long dark hair securely tucked behind her ear, hands in the back pocket of her denim shorts, a black tank crop top with an unbuttoned oversized cream shirt with thin crimson horizontal stripes. The same picture that graced the screen of his phone. The same violet that Layla had left behind on the dashboard of his car when they got home. She invited him sweetly over for a movie the next day that turned out to be Evil Dead, kissing him on the cheek as she mumbled out a thank you for driving her to and fro. The same violet that Harry had picked up and kept it pressed in between the pages of his leather bound journal. Little did the two know - if they would have if they paid a little more attention to the small chart that was hung in Earl’s flower shop - that the violet represented all things innocent and modest being the symbol for true and everlasting love.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR / SEND IN A REQUEST!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #onlyfans!harry #camboy!harry #indian!oc #fishnets-fingers #six months #fishnets fingers #COME SAY HI #please leave tags if you reblog

[marvelfansince08love]

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader 

Warning: uhh some implications of sex 

A/N: Hi, a big big sorry to you all on the late updates to this. I have no self control and have far too many WIP rn and keep forgetting to update this one as I’ve almost finished it! Happy reading! Apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes x

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @creepingwolfberry @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @minavenable @pearplate @r0an0ke @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @venablemayfairgoode @chewbacca0805 @pluied-ete @supremeinlilac @nyx-aira @witchxaf @black--widxw @fireflyglass @cordeliafoxxe @d14n4ol @bluevelvetbitxh @amethyst-bitch @lezzzbehonesthere @msvenablezcane @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @mooreashes @violentwavesofem0tion @cordeliass  @women-am-i-right @paulsonpills @goodeday2u @sm0ke-and-m1rr0rs @daisybri7

Hey Neighbour! - Part 8 

You had avoided the Mayfair-Richards home for the past five days unable to face the woman you had fallen in love with. Old wounds and insecurities had opened up causing you to retreat from your neighbours, Amelia had also picked up on your change of mood which caused the guilt to amplify. The two young children still saw each other at school leading Amelia to mention how Oz had told her how sad his mother looked whenever she did the dishes at night, to anyone else they would have been bewildered by the statement but for you it was like a stab to the heart. Ally had tried to call and text you to ask if you were okay, your short texts back and actively declining calls must have given her the hint that you didn’t want to be contacted because after the first three days she stopped trying. You hated yourself for doing this to her but you couldn’t help but fall back into the familiar withdrawal habit whenever you felt this way, no matter who you hurt in the process. 

“Mama, I’m finished!” Amelia announces, smiling proudly at her empty plate. You’re startled out of your thoughts as you look towards her matching her wide smile with a forced one. Your brother sits next to her as his eyes stay fixated on your form, concern evident within his gaze. 

“Well done, Amelia-cakes! Why don’t you go wash your hands and brush your teeth for bed,” you instruct softly, watching as she nods and dashes out of the room. You quickly make eye contact with him as you lean forward keeping your voice low so to not alert Amelia of the intense situation..

“I wish you would stop looking at me like that,” you whisper harshly, he only shakes his head mutely before responding. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re making yourself and her miserable, you clearly like each other a lot. Don’t ruin this just because you’re allowing your negative thoughts to take over,” his voice soft and gentle causing you to falter, expecting a harsher response. Sighing you relax back before taking a sip from the wine glass. 

“Will you please help Amelia upstairs while I clean up here?” you ask instead, attempting to avoid the current topic of conversation. He sighs in defeat before dutifully leaving the room to find his niece. 

You stand from your chair and collect the empty plates before moving towards the sink, as you begin to clean the dishes you notice a slightly dimmed light across the way causing you to tense, slowly you look up from your task and towards the light. Ally stands at her kitchen counter, even from here you can see how tired she looks causing that familiar guilt to creep up into your chest once more. She looks down for a few moments before placing a large piece of paper into the window, words written in black ink for you to read. 

‘I think we need to talk’ The words cause you to gulp as you nod back before searching for some spare paper to write back on. 

‘Garden in ten?’ you try to smile hoping to ease the situation but falter when she doesn’t return it and only nods back in acknowledgment. 

Wiping your hands on a dry towel you hurriedly move upstairs to inform your brother of your plan, he reassures you that he’ll be fine with Amelia while you go to talk to Ally giving you an encouraging smile before shoving you back towards the staircase. Grabbing your thick jacket and shoes you make your way towards the front of Ally’s home, waiting patiently for her to let you in. Your breath catches in your throat as you take her in, the urge to reach out and hold her becoming stronger with each passing second, brown tired eyes scan your face before silently standing to the side allowing you to move in. You head straight for the kitchen and into the garden area sitting down in your usual spot, you wait for her to join you. A hot cocoa mug appears in front of your view causing you to smile sadly as you take it from her hands muttering a quick ‘thank you’. It’s quiet and dark out except for the porch light that glows above you, both sitting quietly as you take a sip of the hot drink.

“Ally I-” 

“Why weren’t you honest with me? If there was something wrong you should have told me instead of practically falling off the face of the earth,” her statement catches you off guard, causing you to falter as you stare at the mug in your hand. 

“After she left me and Amelia I was struggling for a while, I couldn’t cope with working and looking after a baby full time but I had this beautiful girl to look out for so she became my top priority over everything, my job, my friends. It took me years before I could trust others outside of my family to take care of her. I’m not good at having these healthy relationships that are good for me and I am so sorry that I’ve treated you this way, you deserve better than this,” you mutter, tears gathering within your blurred vision.

“I understand how hard it can be to trust people, I mean you know about Ivy and how she betrayed me, betrayed Oz. I get why you got scared when things were looking serious, I’ve had my moments with that too but Y/N I’m not like her and you aren’t like Ivy.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing. 

“We are good people and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was you who so happened to move in next door… that night after the fair apart from Oz I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life, I want to be with you and I want this to go somewhere but I need you to speak to me and be honest with me,” Ally tilts her head as if seeking your gaze before reaching across and grabbing your hand. 

“I’m so so sorry, Ally. I should have spoken to you about my worries, I’m not used to someone caring. I just looked at how comfortable we all were in your kitchen that morning, how domestic it all was and my god I couldn’t have fallen further for you but my mind was screaming at me that if I allowed Amelia to become closer to you and you decided to leave… I can’t have another person walk out on her.. On me,” you stutter over your words as you feel your throat tighten, holding back a sob. Ally moves from her seat and crouches in front of you placing your mug onto the table she takes both your hands into her own, squeezing them with reassurance. 

“I love you y/n. This week has been tortuous the amount of times I thought about walking over and forcing you to speak to me, but I knew you needed time to collect your thoughts. I may not have been obvious with it but I could tell something had spooked you that morning but please come and talk to me whenever you feel trapped into a corner, okay?” her dark brows arch, as she waits for your response. As you nod Ally reaches upwards and captures your salty lips with her own, her warm comforting hands cupping your face in place. 

Tears continue to fall between you both as Ally presses gentle kisses along your jaw and cheeks seeking out that comforting touch, you realise that you were wrong. Ally isn’t like the rest of them, she’s kind and caring but most of all she understands you in a way that no one else can relate to. You quickly capture her lips, a heated kiss needing to feel her close. 

“Is Oz upstairs?” 

“No, he’s staying at a friends house,” she mumbles, against your lips. Pulling back you look into her slightly glazed eyes and demand the thing you need most. 

“Take me to bed, Ally.” 

With that, Ally grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house. The moonlight glows throughout the room giving you a clear view of Ally’s face as you allow her to look after you, whispering soft reassurances against your exposed skin leaving trails of wet kisses along your body, closing your eyes you surrender yourself to this woman finally allowing yourself to be loved without restrictions. 

***

Bright light beams through into the bedroom causing you to stir and groan at the invasive light cuddling into the softness of Ally’s chest enjoying her warmth and secure form wrapped around you. Lips graze against your hair as the brunette whispers a ‘Good Morning’ causing you to smile as you watch her fingers brush over your forearm that has stayed wrapped around her waist all night. 

“Good Morning, Honey. Did you sleep well?” your fake-innocence doesn’t pass Ally as she chuckles deeply, her hand moving to tilt your chin upwards causing your lips to brush against her swollen ones. 

“Deliciously actually,” her hoarse voice, makes you shiver before you capture her lips once more enjoying the sounds that escape her throat. 

The sound of the front door opening downstairs and quick footsteps making their way upstairs causes you to part suddenly, blindly reaching for your scattered clothes recognizing those footsteps from anywhere. 

“Mom!!” Oz’s voice shouts from the hallway, causing you to quickly cover up and head for the en-suite bathroom needing to freshen up before the poor boy sees you. Ally’s eyes follow after your retreating form in light amusement as she tucks on the woolly jumper and ties the string around her joggers. 

“Mom I’m home! We had such a cool night! Jeremy bought over his new racing car you know the one with the remote it was awesome!” Oz’s excited voice trails into the room as he runs straight for Ally’s legs hugging her tightly, she places her hands on top of his crazy blonde curls and smiles.

“Well it certainly sounds like you had fun! So where is Sam’s mom? You didn’t just run from her car without saying thank you did you?” Ally’s tone makes you smile as you peak through the gap of the bathroom door always infatuated with her motherly side. Oz tries to hide his expression but with one raised eyebrow from Ally the boy slumps and sighs before nodding. 

“It’s okay Ally! He was just excited to see you! Oz I’ve left your bag by the door okay,” Sam’s mom shouts from the staircase before the sound of the front door closing reaches your ears. Taking this as your cue you leave the bathroom just as the sound of screeching reaches your ears, a small body colliding with your own making you stumble. 

“Woah! Hey Buddy!” you greet with a groan, laughing as you place you cup your hand around his jaw cradling him close. A sense of guilt lingering within your chest, the realisation what your actions could have done to the poor boy being the same fear you have for Amelia. 

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into your stomach, you crouch to be eye level with him and give him the biggest smile you could muster. 

“I’m sorry for not being around much, silly adults and silly work has been keeping me busy. I promise to make it up to you,” you murmur, watching as he nods accepting your apology before turning to leave to grab his backpack from downstairs. You stand from your position and fold your arms across your chest, that unsettling feeling still present, Ally steps towards you and places her hands onto your cheeks before kissing your lips. 

“Stop, I can practically hear the gears turning in that beautiful head of yours. Now let’s go downstairs. I want to see my girl.” Her words cause you to raise a question eyebrow as your lips twitch into a half grin. 

“Oh?”

Ally grins wickedly, before stepping towards the door. “I meant Amelia silly.”

With that she winks and takes her leave leaving you agape. 

“Well I know my place then,” you grumble playfully before running after the mischievous Senator. 

As if on cue the sound of the front door stops you both in your tracks midway down the stairs, Ally moves to answer the door and beams when she sees Amelia stood with her Uncle who has a very dirty grin on his face as his eyes move from Ally to you wiggling his brows as Ally crouches down and fronds over Amelia who seems to be enjoying the attention from her favourite person. 

“Uncle Rupert said you guys had a sleepover without me, Ms. Ally!” she exclaims, a small pout forming onto her lips and you bite your own to stop your laughter. From the shakes coming from Ally’s shoulder the woman seems to be doing the same. 

“Oh sweetheart I’m so sorry, I promise we can have soon okay? Just me and your mom needed to have a grown-up sleepover to talk.” 

“Yeah I bet you did,” Rupert mumbles, amusement evident within his tone. You glare at him from your position as Oz comes running from the living room area, he instantly goes to hug his friend as he drags her further into the house telling her all about his sleepover. Rupert waits by the door as Ally gives him a shy hello before following the two leaving you to talk privately to the smug man.

“Not a word,” you demand, making sure to punctuate every word, it only seems to make him grin further. He shrugs putting his hands up in surrender as he steps through the door meeting you at the bottom of the staircase. 

“So are we back on then? Oh and no need to thank me for looking after the devil's spawn last night, I swear she just knows what to do to make me crumble. I didn’t even know you still owned a Nintendo Wii,” he rants, as you both walk towards the kitchen where Ally sits with the two children all drinking from their respective mugs. Rupert goes to sit next to Amelia as he steals her mug to take a sip as she glares at him. You shake your head at the two before clashing eyes with Ally who winks over her mug gesturing you over which you gladly do. Stood behind her you wrap your arms around her shoulders and listen as they all converse amongst themselves enjoying these rare moments that you will hold dearly, smiling you kiss Ally’s temple before relaxing joining in on the conversation. 

Now relaxed you allow the past to stay at the back of your mind as you look forward to the future, a secret plan up your sleeve you allow the details to rail off within your head excited to show Ally just how much she means to you and how do you do that?

By going official, of course.

#ally mayfair richards x reader #ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair imagine #ally mayfair x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ahs cult #american horror story #hey neighbour! series #my work

[harrysweasleys]

are you ticklish? // c.d

summary: can i request cedric diggory baking with the reader? i just need a lil fluff in my life 🥺 i LOVE U AND UR WRITING SO MUCH I HOPE U KNOW THAT! THANKS!

warnings: there’s no plot. its just fluff, my friends.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: sorry this is so late! i have been having writer’s block for like two weeks now so production has been slow here lol. thank you all for being patient! (also i’m sorry this doesn’t involve baking per say, but i hope you enjoy anyways!)

——————

The smell of warm, gooey cookies filled your shared home with Cedric as you sat yourself in front of the oven, impatiently staring into the little window and counting down the fifteen minutes until they would be ready. It was hard to stay away from them, you thought. The smell was just teasing you — taunting you, as if saying ‘the cookies are in progress, but you can’t touch them just yet.’

Cedric, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his tea, fought the urge to chuckle as he watched you, seated comfortably on the floor with a blanket wrapped around you and a silly grin on your face.

Oh, how he adored you. Every little thing about you. From you desire to crack jokes only to see people laugh, to the way small things — like baking — would render you utterly happy. He had fallen for you all those years ago at Hogwarts, and never regretted a moment of it. You captured his attention as much now as you did all those years ago.

He watched, content as ever, while you eyed the timer above the stove.

“Come sit with me,” you reached out to him, giving him a soft smile that he knew he couldn’t say no to even if he wanted to.

He placed his mug down on the counter and leaned down, sitting on the cold floor and scooting as close to you as he could. His heart did a little flip as you lifted your arm and wrapped your blanket around him — he could smell you and feel the heat radiating off of your body. He really did love it.

“It smells nice in here,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He nodded softly before leaning his head against yours, lifting his hand and placing it atop your knee, “It does. Bet they’ll taste better than they smell.”

“Well, of course they will,” you scoffed, poking him in the side and causing him to jump slightly at the ticklish sensation, “Cookies always taste better than they smell. Besides, smelling them doesn’t put them in my belly.”

Cedric couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled within him, the vibrations from his body causing you to let out your own laughter. He found your laughter infectious — unique in its own adorable way — so your laughter only egged him on to laugh harder.

The two of you were just sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and staring at an oven, giggling away while the clock on the wall flashed 2:34am.

“Reckon we’ll have any left tomorrow?” Cedric found himself asking after a few moments of silence, the comfortable air in the room not previously needing to be broken by conversation.

“Nope,” you replied rather quickly, lifting your head off of his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin, “I’ll eat them all while we go watch telly in bed.”

Cedric had recently introduced you to a Muggle service called Netflix — which you had to admit, you really liked. It was hard to go to sleep without watching a few episodes. The two of you had recently started a new series and were up late binging it — only, you had had no snacks. 

That’s how the two of you ended up in the kitchen at this hour of the morning, the smell of chocolate cookies wafting through the quiet apartment and the low rumble of your stomach signalling your impatience.

Beep!

Cedric stumbled over as you jumped up, picking your wand up off of the counter and opening the oven. He was eye-level with the blast of heat that emerged, causing him to grimace and stand up hastily, waving his hands in front of his face.

“Oh, the smell of joy,” you grinned, eyeing the cookies as you lifted your wand, lifting the tray out of the oven and placing it atop the stove. The smell was now ten times stronger that they were out of the oven, and even Cedric couldn’t fight the hungry grumble in his belly.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, “They don’t smell as good as you, though.”

He grinned to himself as a blush rose on your cheeks, the corners of your lips curving up. You always became rather flustered at his compliments — one of the many reasons he loved showering you with them any chance he could get. The way that your cheeks and ears turned pink as the shy smile grew on your face — it was one of Cedric’s favourite things.

“Oh, such a smooth talker, Ced,” you giggled, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, his still wrapped comfortably around your waist. You could feel the heat coming off of him, surrounding your flushed body comfortably and making the dingy tile floor feel less freezing against your bare feet.

“You know it,” he smirked, leaning forwards and pressing a light kiss against your nose, “Theres no one else I’d want to make cookies with at 2am.”

You nodded your head, “Same here.” And it was true — there was no one else you’d want to do this with. Cedric was it for you, no one else would ever come close. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. They were familiar and warm, but they didn’t fail to make sparks fly in your belly no matter how many times you kissed. The feeling of kissing him was intoxicating — intoxicating enough you nearly forgot about the baked goods sitting on a tray behind you.

Cedric, however, couldn’t care less about the cookies at this point. He was utterly lost in your touch, in your kiss, in your smell. He didn’t want to stop and there was nothing in the world that could change his mind.

“They’re gonna get cold,” you pulled away from him slightly, mumbling against his lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t care,” he replied, wanting to pull you closer and continue kissing you until the sun came up and brightened the dim kitchen. 

You giggled, lowering your hands down from his neck to his waist, poking him in the sides and causing him to jump back. He screeched slightly at the ticklish sensation, pulling his lips away from yours and glaring you down.

“Well,” he brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, “That’s not fair.”

You raised and eyebrow, winking at him, before turning around to face the cookies, “They’re gonna get cold!”

Without waiting for him to retaliate, you picked up a cookie off of the tray, the softness and heat of it causing it to crumble slightly in your hand before you shoved the whole thing in your mouth.

You had been utterly wrong about them getting cold, however, because the second the cookie hit your tongue, it felt like it was on fire. The chocolate was scalding and your tongue felt fuzzy immediately. You let out a small cough and opened your mouth.

“I’m going to guess by your expression that they’re not cold?” Cedric smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

You gave him a glare, eating the cookie with your mouth open to cool it down, “I have made a terrible mistake.”

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips, “Karma for the tickling.”

You continued awkwardly chewing your cookie, glaring him down with narrowed eyes. His smirk never faltered, however, and the second that you swallowed your burning cookie, he lunged forwards with his arms out and his hands went straight to your sides.

You let out a loud yelp at the feeling, the ground beneath your feet disappearing as he lifted you up, wrapped you in his arms, and tickled you like there was no tomorrow. His laughter was bouncing off of the small kitchen walls as you began kicking and pushing him, hoping to get some sort of relief from the ticklish torture.

“Ced! Stop!” you gasped for breath through your laughter and shouting, hoping your neighbours down below wouldn’t hate you too much for causing such a ruckus at this early hour. Your laughter echoed through the small apartment as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Stop!”

“Fine, fine,” Cedric sighed dramatically, placing you down on the ground and standing above you. You finally touched the floor with your feet and let out a sigh of relief, the ghosting feeling of his hands on your waist making a shiver run down your spine. Cedric had always loved tickling you every chance he could get — but you, on the other hand, enjoyed it a little less.

You looked up at him, his eyes bright and his smile practically radiant. You couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend to be mad at him with that look on his face. He looked like a giddy child — a giddy child that had just received the exact gift he wanted on Christmas morning. And for some cruel reason, tickling you had been the gift he had longed for.

“Tickling should be a form of torture, you know,” you pulled down the hem of your shirt from where it had ridden up moments before, “I’d spill all of my deepest darkest secrets.”

His eyebrow cocked up and a glint of playfulness was evident in his eyes, “Oh, deepest darkest secrets, you say?”

Immediately regretting how close you were standing to him, you dodged his hands and took off towards the living room, Cedric’s loud footsteps letting you know he was chasing after you.

He was a rather quick runner, this you knew, but luckily he was in a playful mood and therefore was letting you outrun him as you darted down the hallway to your shared bedroom, continuously avoiding his grabby hands and the mischief in his eyes.

Unfortunately for you, the cookies had now long been forgotten.

——

taglist

@grierpilots​

@hxfflxpxffs​

@mikumana​

@msmimimerton​

@pit-and-the-pen​

@diary-of-an-onliner​

@theweirdsideofstuff​

@thoseofgreatambition​

@theweasleysredhair​

@haphazardhufflepuff​

(message me to be added!)

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory one shot #cedric diggory one shots #cedric diggory fic #cedric diggory fics #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory reader insert

[darter-blue]

So, it is the fair @hannah-stagram 's birthday!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH!!!!!

And seeing as you are the most absolutely gorgeous person, and my partner in crime, here is a little gift from me to you... a hot neighbour, coffee, shrunkyclunks au. To give your day a meet cute kinda start 😘😘😘😘

Love you Hannah banana. Hope you have the best day darling ❤❤❤

Bucky Barnes has been living in this cul-de-sac for three years. And he has never, never, seen this man before. 

This man, who is currently collecting mail from the box next to Bucky’s front gate. This man who is too hot to be real. And is currently waving at Bucky. 

Bucky would wave back but he’s frozen. In his oversize t-shirt and his tartan pyjama pants and a pair of ugg boots that were forged at the dawn of time, his hair in a messy bun on his head - not artfully messy, but messy like an ‘i just got up and have no fucks to give’ rats nest on his head. And his hand is on the handle on the outside of his self locking front door. And it will. Not. open.

Oh shit.

He looks down at the handle, he looks at Alpine who has just run off and left him in her little cat paw dust, and he looks back at the very tall, very built, very hot man who has stopped waving and is just holding his hand up and staring at Bucky.

Bucky is going to die of embarrassment. 

Does he wave, and smile and then casually step down the porch and around to the side of the house and try to break in through the bathroom window?

Does he pretend he hasn’t seen the man and then walk down to Wanda’s as if that was his plan all along (and hope she won't kill him for waking her up after her late shift)?

Does he close his eyes and hope very hard that the earth will open up and swallow him into its fiery depths right here and now?

Oh, he’s going to do none of the above. Because hot neighbour man is now walking towards Bucky with his eyes wide, eyebrows raised in concern…

‘Hi,’ he says, slowly, carefully, as if Bucky is perhaps a skittish wild animal, ‘Are you… are you okay?’

‘Oh I’m great,’ Bucky says, turning fully around to put the door at his back, ‘Yeah, absolutely peachy.’

‘That’s good, that’s good. It’s only that, well… you’ve been standing there staring at your door for an awfully long time, and I’m wondering if you maybe needed some help?’

‘Ummm… no, no. I’m ah. I have this all under control.’ His voice is husky and scratchy from sleep and his fresh made coffee is inside on his kitchen bench. 

Getting cold.

Urgh why is this his life.

‘Sure, I’m sure you do,’ hot neighbour says, nodding his head, but his pretty pink lips are turning up into a smile, ‘But ah… it’s actually, if you like, being that I’m new to the neighbourhood and ah, you know, trying to meet people and be neighbourly, maybe you would let me help you get that unlocked?’

Bucky looks at the man, with his ridiculous shoulders and his full red-brown beard, and his swept back dirty-blond hair and the strange dark one piece uniform he seems to be wearing… like he’s going into space… 

And he wonders what exactly he’s getting himself into.

‘Okay, yeah, I ah… may have locked myself out, but I’m just weighing up my options.’

‘And what are they, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Breaking back in through the bathroom? Waking up my friend three houses down and borrowing her phone to call a locksmith? Hoping the ground swallows me whole and I don't have to worry about it.’

‘How do you feel about adding, “asking your new neighbour to pick the lock for you,” to that list?’

‘You can do that?’

‘Sure,’ Hot neighbour says, shrugging a giant shoulder like it's no big thing.

‘Uhh… I guess I could consider it.’

‘Great!’ Hot neighbour smiles like he’s just won the lottery. And then he pulls some kind of long thin picking device from one of his many pockets and kneels down in front of Bucky’s door.

Bucky nearly bites through the inside of his cheek.

It takes hardly a second before the door pops open and Bucky is distracted anew by the ease with which his hot neighbour has just broken into his house.

‘Huh, look at that,’ Bucky says, staring at the door as it opens wide. 

Hot neighbour is bouncing back up on his feet like a happy puppy, his smile still wide. Eyes fixed to Bucky.

‘All done!’ He sweeps his hand out to indicate what Bucky can already clearly see for himself. 

And Bucky is probably looking a little like a deer in headlights right now. ‘Yeah, that was… wow.’

Of course Alpine chooses that moment to come streaking past them, a white fluffy blur, escaping back into the house and meowing with glee at having caused this drama in the first place.

‘Absolute menace,’ Bucky says, watching her go. And when he looks up, hot neighbour is still staring at him. His hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Oh, he had said he was trying to make friends… be neighbourly. Maybe Bucky is supposed to ask him inside for coffee. 

‘Did you, ah… would you like to come in for coffee?’ He gestures inside with his head, putting his own hands into the pockets of his pyjama pants. Oh god. He must look like a bum. 

‘I love coffee!’ the man says, and then he frowns, ‘I mean, actually I used to love coffee. I haven’t had it for a while.’

‘Oh, well. I guess you can come in and see what you think of mine?’

‘I think yours will be excellent.’

And Bucky has to laugh at the sincerity with which this total stranger has complimented coffee he hasn’t even tasted yet.

‘Well, actually coffee’s one of the only things I ever manage to get right, so you're probably not wrong about that.’

‘I’m not usually wrong about anything.’

And Bucky laughs again, because it doesn’t seem to be a line, it’s like the guy is just stating a fact.

‘Well, I’m usually wrong about everything. So I guess we’ll balance each other out.’

‘I’d like that.’ And oh. The guy’s voice has gone low and rich like butter as he says that. And yeah okay maybe that is a line.

And they’re standing on Bucky’s porch in front of the open door just staring at each other. 

'I'm Bucky, by the way,' he says, pulling his hand free from his pocket to offer the man.

'Steve, I'm Steve,' hot neighbour, Steve, says in reply, grabbing Bucky's hand eagerly and shaking it very firmly. 'It's nice to finally meet you.'

'Finally? Didn't you just move in?' Bucky asks, wondering why he's never seen this guy before today. 

And Steve, hot neighbour Steve, starts to flush a pretty attractive shade of pink.

'Oh, I may have been weighing up whether to buy here for a little while…'

'Scoping us out?'

'Something like that.’

‘And we measured up did we? Happy with what you found?’

Steve looks Bucky up and down - Bucky in his sloppiest outfit, barely dragged out of bed - and smiles. But this time his smile is full of delicious heat. ‘Oh definitely,’ he says. 

And Bucky is blinking up at Steve with an open mouth and a broken brain.

‘So… Coffee?’ Steve says, clearing his throat.

Bucky shakes himself, ‘Yes, yes, coffee. Right,’ and ushers Steve into the house.

Has to be forgiven for the way his eyes slide down to the roundest, tightest ass he’s ever seen. 

And then again for almost swallowing his tongue when Steve turns around and catches him staring.

And winks.

Oh god. Bucky is going to be ruined.

And he honestly can’t think of a better way to go.

#happy birthday gorgeous hannah #here have a tropey stucky fic #my gift to you #stucky #hot neighbour #bucky barnes #nomad steve #shrunkyclunks #my writing

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

Can be found on my AO3 (Use title above)

Word count: 4.2K

Chapter 3 under cut

Tick

Tick

Tick

Ethan, the blonde father, had bundled himself up in a thick cover he had taken off his bed in his new home. The night had only begun to take over, the rain storm outside had pattered against the roof and windows of his den. It was times like this that he had slight regret over the fact he could have just tried to convince Chris to place him and his daughter somewhere else. Maybe then this night wouldn’t be cold because of the timed heating system in place- maybe he just goes over and ask Dimitrescu if he could sleep over with Rose.

That thought he quickly shook out. As far as he was concern, he didn’t want to get too friendly with his neighbours. He still had his walls up, ready to attack if it meant his Rose could be safe. The father was already worried about the fact that his daughter would also ned to have tests run on her. The thoughts simple didn’t sit right with him, but it wasn’t like he could just straight up disagree with whatever the BSAA wanted to do. He was no match for any of them...or maybe he was?

A ring caught his attention, vibrating his thoughts out of his skull. Drifting brown eyes caught onto the rotary phone. ‘Heisenberg’ The father thought, a hand itching to grab the phone. With finger tips just glazing over the phone, he quickly withdrew his hand back to his chest and cradled it with the other. “Should I though?” He pondered out loud, watching as the phone carried on ringing. “To hell with it.” Ethan had reached and grabbed the phone before the ringing could stop. Reaching the phone to his ear, he held it and waited for the other to speak.

“Ah papa! Thought you would never answer,” The gruff voice came out, a little glitch but that was due to the rain outside.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to.” The truth spilled out with Ethan moving to lay back against the armrest of the couch and pulling his feet up to rest on the cushions. A laugh came out from the other side, making a twitching smirk come up upon the young male’s lips.

“Ah, feisty as ever still. Relax, I won’t call you every night. More or less 6 calls at most a week.” Ethan rolled his eyes playfully, well aware the other couldn’t see but he liked to think he did. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to call you on this fateful night.”

“Hm,” Ethan hummed, “It never crossed my mind but go ahead, seemingly you’ll just keep calling if I placed the phone down now.”

“That’s the spirit papa, I still have an hour and 25 minutes anyway! So, I want to learn.” It took a few seconds for Ethan to process the others words. ‘Learn?’ Why would Heisenberg, the fourth lord and creator of walking armed zombies want to learn?

‘“Okay...What do you want to learn about?” The line had gone silent to the point Ethan had moved the phone a little away from his ear and craned his neck back as though the problem would be shown. His body soon jerked up when the familiar voice had answered back, startling the man.

“I want to know your interests.” A simple answer, yet eerily uncomfortable to Ethan. He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Licking his lips as a way to calm his beating heart, Ethan relaxed back in his position and sighed through his nose.

“And why do you want to know my interests now?”  

“Isn’t it obvious. We are neighbours, bond to be for probably the rest of our lives so we might as well start getting homely with each other!” A prompt scoff and click of the tongue came from Ethan as he changed his position, with a little struggle, to sit back straight on the couch with legs dangling off the front and back pressed against the back cushions. He rested his elbow on the arm rest and placed his head on his hand.

“I am not staying here forever Heisenberg. After these tests, I’m going back to a normal life with my daughter away from all this.” Unknowing to Ethan, Karl had taken much a liking to his protective nature. It was rather...tempting to mess with, to see how much further the male could go for his daughter- even after a close death.

A chuckle came from Karl. “Now, now Ethan. I’m sure you’re aware that we're stuck here till then. You’re different Winters, just like the rest of us. You really think they’ll let you go after some tests? We...what did they call us again,”  

“They called us bio weapons Heisenberg...”  

“Ah yes! We are bio weapons. Now, I’m pretty sure weapons aren’t allowed in your society now are they. So, Winters, are we really going to be free after everything?” A flash memory appeared in Ethan’s mind, back to the start of the day when his arm had been covered by the mould. How it didn’t come off, how it felt like it was stuck forever so him...the weird boiling sensation that washed over him.  “I’ll take your silence of you knowing I’m correct.”

“So, what!” The sudden snarl had caught Heisenberg off guard, making him take the phone away from his own ear. Even then, he could still hear Ethan’s voice loud and clear, a realisation that he had angered and frustrated the other. “Maybe I am some weapon but some of us have lived through a normal life for that to be taken off us. I may not understand half the shit you’ve gone through but dammit I could still be a normal person for all I know.” Ethan had stopped to take a breath. Luckily his voice being raised had not awaken the sleeping child but it did awake something else.  

“Ethan...” Karl asked after hearing the line go silent for a second too long. “I-I understand your angry at my words but-”

“AH FUCK GET OFF ME!”  

…

Karl stared at the phone in his hand. A long deafening sound came out of it, a single beep carrying on for generations ahead. Working up a cold sweat, Karl had slammed the phone onto its stand and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair he was sat on in his own small kitchen. Silently, he was thankful for still wearing his boots as he had rushed out of his home, knocking a plant that was on a table top inside the home on accident, then proceeded to stampede his way through the dirt road to get to Ethan’s home. He hadn’t even managed to get his second arm through his coat before he was at Ethan’s front door pounding against the wood. “For fuck's sake Ethan, Open up!”  

Pressing up against the door, Karl rattled the handle about only for the door to open with him falling in behind. The rain drops that was collected on his clothing had splattered amongst the wooden floors of Ethan’s home. Trying his best to get up and not slip, Karl had successfully stood up and chucked the door shut behind him to stop any more water entering the Winters resident. Bracing himself, Karl had steadied himself straight as he stood his ground and closed his eyes, trying to hear the man who lost connection. A quiet groan was heard from the left room closest to the front door. “Ethan!” Karl called, running in that room and looking about.  

“The fuck you-ack!-doing in my home,” Karl turned his sightlines to stare at the floor, he then walked around the couch to see the man he was looking for on the ground, turned away from him. Tugging his hat off, Karl placed the wet material on the armrest close to him and then settled down to the ground, sitting on his knees.

“I’m here because you randomly screamed and left. Are you okay?” Bringing comfort to someone was never and never will be Karl’s strong suite but hopefully his presence there will somewhat calm the other.

“It’s nothing. Just go back home,” Ethan’s voice came out as a whine, on the contrary it also sounded desperate. Karl looked down at his lap fiddling with his fingers. He furrowed his brows and snarled.

“I'm not leaving till you tell and show me that everything is okay.”

“Why would you care, go home Heisenberg.” The sneer that came back from the other in response to Karl’s words had him annoyed. He wasn’t going to sit here and let the man who gave him somewhat a freedom turn him away. He wasn’t going to leave Ethan no matter how many times the other will try to push him away. Making a bold move, Karl reached over and grabbed Ethan’s shoulder harshly, before pulling him backwards making the taller blonde male collide on his back. Karl looked down at the fallen male and loomed over him. Ethan had shut his eyes as his back had hit the ground, a hushed cry came from between his lips as he tightened his grip on his shoulder.  

“Ethan,” Karl breathed out, steadily thrusting his hand to hold Ethan’s as he tried to pry it away from his shoulder. “Ethan everything will be okay, just breath.”  

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” Ethan had opened his eyes and spat out his words, breathing harshly through gritted teeth. “Ow” He cried out, letting Karl take his hand away from his shoulder. Once removed, Karl peered down to see black taking over half of Ethan’s body, it was just beginning to move onto his wrist that was just seen appearing before the end of his pyjamas top sleeve.

“Woah, don’t you look a lil different.” The amusement in Karl’s voice sent Ethan over the edge. The father had raised his hand and made a quick slap on the others face before pulling himself back up and pushing his back to rest against the couch.

“Just leave. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.” The flat voice of Karl had Ethan turning his head with a scrunch up nose.  

“Yes, you will- ahm- leave.” Karl shook his head, growing annoyed at how Ethan had discouraged his advances of staying with him. Then, a great idea popped into the mechanical man’s head. Snaking an arm around Ethan’s waist, the Lord had brought Ethan to his side and held him tightly. His fingers dug a little into the thin frame of Ethan, rubbing soothing circles into his side.  

“Just relax. It seems whatever is happening is reacting to your emotions. Stay calm.” For once, just for this time only, Ethan couldn’t help but agree in his mind that Heisenberg was correct. All this happened after he lost his temper or was saddened greatly. He had to do this. Do this for Rose.

Inhaling deeply, Ethan tried his best to relax in the other’s grip. Going as far to even turn to rest his head on his shoulder. Together they sat, only a few sparks of quick pain passed through Ethan’s muscles. He felt like his body was trying to cave in on itself, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t feel it physically doing that, it was his brain telling him different stories. ”That’s it. See, being calm is good for you. Especially a lion like yourself.”

“If you carry on talking, I will bite your throat out.”

“Kinky.” Another slap, this one a little lighter, came across Karl’s chest. Realising that Ethan had hit a blow on him, he laughed at the thought that was behind it. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, luckily for you I enjoy a bit of biting.”

Ethan hit head against Karl’s shoulder, groaning loudly at his words. On the other side, Karl had bit his lip and scrunched his eyes up, holding back more laughter at Ethan’s reactions. ‘Gosh he’s cute’ Karl kept his thought to himself, gazing down at the other who seemed a lot more at peace with himself and not groaning in pain- but rather annoyance.  

Time passed, both of them sat in the same spots, bathing in the others presence. ‘Maybe he isn’t all bad.’ Ethan stared at the sleeping Lord, who was snoring loudly within his ear. Although Ethan wasn’t ready to fall asleep after all this, he allowed himself to settle next to the other. “You better not get sick.”

The next day had seeped in quicker than the father had wanted it to. All night he had been laid against the sleeping lord, who after the first bird tweeted, had wrapped both arms around Ethan and fell to sleep on his lap. Ethan had to use all his willpower to reframe from smacking the other awake, instead he decided to run his fingers through his mangled hair- being careful for the knots.

His eyes felt heavy as he drifted in and out of conscious. It seemed that over the hours the mould had once again disappeared. The metal man was right, he had to control his emotions better if he was going to protect his cub. He didn’t need to get worked up and harm her by accident. The thought made him shiver.

Just as his eyes had clamped shut, a bang against the wooden door had startled both men. Karl lifted his head up at world record time, his forehead colliding with Ethan’s chin. “Ow, what the- OH gosh. My bad” Karl scrambled out of his mouth as he moved away from Ethan. Ethan rubbed his chin, looking towards the other and hummed. They calmed their breaths before another knock was heard at his door.

Grumbling, Ethan rubbed his eyes and stood, making his way into the front of his home. Letting out a yawn, Ethan had swung his door open to come face to face with Redfield. “Where is he?” He simple asked, before barging into the Winters home.

“HEY!” Ethan called out, slapping Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t just walk into my new home, and what do you mean ‘where is he?’”

“Heisenbug Ethan. Where is Heisenberg?” Chris wasted no time to walk into Ethan’s living room, only to stop his movements at the doorway leading to the living room and cough loudly.

“Hey there.” A sheepishly voice said, no doubt feeling awkward with the situation.

“No time for sleepovers you two, get in the car Heisenberg. Your testing remembers?” Chris stood aside, letting Heisenberg walk past him with his hat on this time. Just as Karl saunter past Ethan, he tilted his hat down and winked, continuing past Ethan who rolled his eyes at the other’s flirty actions. He watched as Karl left his house, purposely jumping down the steps on his front porch and entered a black BMW with armed security- nothing like what Ethan had.

A hand was placed on Ethan’s shoulder, shaking him around. “What was he doing here?” Chris asked, looking into Ethan’s sleep-driven eyes. Ethan gave a shrug of his shoulders and leaned against Chris’ shoulder closing his eyes. Out of instincts, Chris wrapped his arms around Ethan and steadied his feet so he could support the weight of the blonde.

“Something happened but I think I know why now...” Chris hummed, a sign for Ethan to continue talking. Firstly however, he let loose a yawn. “When I get really...emotional, the mould takes over. However, it only takes over half my body so I think if I let my emotions come unstable...well you know...”

“So, Heisenberg came over because?” Ethan let loose another yawn and completely fell limp in Chris’ hold. Smiling a little, Chris placed his arms under Ethan’s knees and pulled him up into a bridal-position and took him back into the living room to place him on the couch.

“He came over to help me...” Silence held onto Ethan after that, the father on the brink of sleep. He first pulled his knees up to his chest and held them there, letting his eyes fully rest.

“Ethan, I just need to ask a favour.” Luckily for Chris, Ethan still had the energy to speak back to him.

“Hm?” He hummed, really wanting to sleep.

“We are going to need Rose for testing today.”

Oh boy.

Ethan was nestled next to Heisenberg in the back of the BMW with Rose wide awake bouncing on his leg. At the front was Chris sat in the passenger seat, looking at the front view mirror every few minutes to see his friend drifting off to sleep. When he turned to look at Heisenberg, he just caught him glaring at him. “Keep glaring like that and who knows, maybe your eyes will pop out.”

“Maybe your spine will pop out boulder-punching boy.”

“Will you both shut it, it’s the first thing in a morning.” Ethan had groaned, not wanting to hear anyone’s voice. Just sleep. He just wanted sleep.

“Your fault for not sleeping.” Karl had answered towards him, turning to look at Ethan but was instead met with Rose trying to grab his coat pocket. “What the- hey, your gremlin thing is trying to rob me.” He grassed out as Rose had successfully grabbed a pouch of money out from him. Everyone in the BMW had smirked and turned their heads other directions to hide their humoured faces.

Ethan looked down and smiled softly at his baby girl, going as far as to pat her on the head softly. “That’s it, we only rob from metal man. I’m proud of you Rose.”

“hey!” Karl argued back, pointing a finger at Ethan. “And here I thought you were the going to raise her to be good.” Ethan shrugged in return, gently taking the pouch from Roses’ hand and passing it back to Karl.

“She is doing good, stealing from you.” Karl huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms. Soon though, Rose had followed and did the same thing making everyone realise their laughter they were holding.  

“Oh c’mon!”

The testing wasn't all that bad luckily. However, Ethan refused to sleep whilst his daughter was getting blood samples taken from her as well as x-rays and other shots that a scientist had claimed it was only flu shots. He had his suspicions though. Another test was them pricking her finger, only to watch it heal almost instantly. It seemed Rose had gathered regenerations abilities, just like her father. “And that’s it for today. We may ask her back to see if anything changes as she grows up but for now everything seems to be good and stable. You’re welcomed to take her back home after you have your tests done.”  

Ethan held his daughter in his arms. Her cheeks were a little red due to crying at getting her blood sample taking from her, but it was only for her to cry because her body hadn’t experienced pain like he had. Holding her on his lap with one arm and her frail body leaning against his stomach, Ethan had shrugged his jumper off leaving him in a grey shirt. He placed his arm on a small table in front of him and watched as the scientist dragged a scalpel down his arm, only to watch mould leak from the wound and close it up. “Hm, interesting.” Th scientist mumbled, writing down on his note board and another one following doing the same thing. “You wouldn’t mind if we did a much larger cut would you?” They asked, smiling kindly.

“Be quick please.” Ethan talked, letting his eyes settle on Rose. The scientist seemed very excited to do so. They disappeared out of sight lines before returning with a much larger and sharper tool.  

“You might want to bite on your jumper,” they said as they placed his jumper into Ethan's mouth. Closing his eyes, Ethan howled as he felt the knife slide down his arm, digging much into his skin. For a second, he saw white, only for that to go and his vision came back. He looked down to see how much they just cut him, only to see that the mould had in fact covered the whole of his arm. “It seems to be protecting you. Write that down.” The scientist tried once again to cut through the mould, only to fail this time. “Well, we have all that we need at the moment. Be sure to check in every month for yourself and the child when we need her.”

“You’ll ask me first before going through my child.” Ethan spat out as his jumped fell onto his lap. He was quick to jump of the chair he was sat on and place Rose on it so he could place his jumper on. His hand was still covered in the dark green mould but at this point, he didn’t feel to make a big scene out of it. Pulling his jumper down, Ethan was fast to secure Rose back into his hold and walk out of his testing room. On the way out, he accidently bumped into Moreau.

“O-OH! Ethan...Thank you! Thank you so much. I didn’t know what I was doing then. Please- Please forgive me. I-I'm sorry!” The man called out, tears springing slightly from his eyes as he clasped his hands in a pleading manner in front of himself.

Ethan awkwardly looked at the agents leading Moreau for help. They all raise their arms in defence and watched from a far. Sighing, Ethan looked at Moreau and moved a hand to pat his head. Unluckily for him, it was his mould hand and Moreau saw it. “O-OH! That’s mould, right? Wow, you get cooler each time. I-I wish I was like you! No wonder why little-little brother loves you so much from the start!”

Okay now that caught Ethan off guard even more than the apologies coming from Moreau’s mouth. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.”

“I got to go! But I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” Moreau rushed off, following the agents as they led him away from Ethan. As Moreau was getting further out of sight, Ethan stood his ground alone.

‘Loves me? The heck, like, yeah sure. He’s shown that but loving...Nah, Moreau been watching too many romantic movies.’ He brushed it off, wiggling his fingers in Rose’s face. “I need sleep, that’s what.” He spoke out loud before walking down the same hallways as Moreau. On his way down, he had begun to walk with the Beneveinto group.

“OOoo, it's the father!” Angie squealed, waving enthusiastically at Ethan who walked right next to Lady Beneveinto by the elevator and stair case.

“Yeah yeah, sure. Hey, I have a question?” He asked, looking at Beneviento's veil. She stopped for a second and turned, nodding for him to continue. Angie watched from her shoulder, her eyes staring intensely out of their sockets. “Do you have a name...like a first name?”

“HAhaha! Of course, she does silly! It’s Donna! And you better call her that and nothing else you blondey.” Angie spoke for Donna, crossing her wooden arms over her chest and pointing her finger at him.

“What is it with everyone pointing their fingers at me today,” Ethan mumbled down to Rose before looking up and nodding. “Well, it’s great to meet you Donna. Hopefully our stays close by won’t be a problem in the future. I hope to get a long.”

“Me too,” Her voice was very quiet, nothing compared to Angie’s. At first, Ethan thought he was hearing things but the soft tap of her hand against his shoulder proved to differ. “Goodbye small one,” She whispered down at Rose before walking away, taking the stairs case down.  

For the first time in a while, Ethan didn’t have to force a smile onto his face. It came naturally and relax. Pressing the button on the elevator, the male had stood waiting for the doors to open. As soon as they did though, a sudden force he did not even notice pushed him in and the loud sound of something clicking made him turn, anger seething in his bones. “WHAT THE HE- Heisenberg!” The name fell from his mouth with violence lace within.  

“Hush Ethan, they going to catch us!” He breathed out, pressing himself to the back of the elevator watching as the doors begun to shut.

“Who is they?!” The elevator had fully shut, making Ethan panic. Here he was, in a small space with Karl right next to him and Rose within his arms.  

“Agents, armed people, that boulder guy. Quite a few people actually.” Karl begun to explain, looking at the father who carried an angered look.

“Heisenberg, which button did you press?” He asked, lacing his voice in a fake kindness and a smile dripping with the urges to kill the man in front of him.

“Oh, this one,” Karl hovered his glove hand over the button that said ‘Ground floor’. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he rested his eyes. At least they were heading to the floor he needed. “I was going to press this bright red and shiny one though,” Ethan opened his eyes and watched as Heisenberg had pressed the button that said ‘STOP’ in large letters.

“Karl...”

“Yes?”

“You’re a very dead man.”

#Karl Heisenberg #karlheisenberg #lord heisenberg #lordheisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #ethan x heisenberg #Lord Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #karl hesienberg #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

[firefly-in-darkness]

Deception

Characters →Y/N, Steve Rogers, Jasper Sitwell, Sam Wilson

Summary → Captain America has come out of the ice and SHIELD sends you undercover to find out what he plans to do next.

Word Count → 3.8k

Warnings → 18+, Smut (Oral - fem receiving, unprotected sex - wrap it before you tap it!), Swearing, Angst.

Beta → the wonderful @princessmisery666​ - as always, my mistakes are my own.

A/N → This for @panicfob​​ 900 follower writing challenge - congrats on your milestone lovely and hope you enjoy this story! Heavily inspired by Hercules & Megara’s weak ankles conversation... You can also find the dividers @firefly-graphics​ (just a lil self promo of my side blog!).

You weren’t supposed to sleep with him. You weren’t even supposed to become his friend unless it was necessary. You were supposed to just be his neighbour and report everything back to Sitwell.

You gently unravelled his arm from over your waist, slid to the edge of the bed and fumbled around for your clothes as quietly as possible. Luck was not on your side as your attempt to not disturb the super soldier was thwarted. His body pressed against your back, his large hands glided the straps of your bra back down, the cups dragged against your nipples deliciously. 

Wet open-mouthed kisses were pressed into your shoulder, his soft lips trailed across your skin. Subconsciously, you rolled your head to the side to give him more access. His tongue slipped out and up your neck then he nibbled on your earlobe.

The moan that escaped your lips snapped you back to reality. “As much I’d love to stay. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

His hot breath fanned against your neck as he continued to kiss at the sensitive spot behind your ear and unclipped the bra, “Stay, you only live across the hall.”

You melted back into him, the guilt of spying on him gnawed away at your conscience. But all you wanted was to give in to the temptation, succumb to the desire that had grown in your core and pool into your panties. 

If this is the last time, then I might as well make the most of it. I know I’ve said that fifty times already, but this is the last time I spend the night with Steve Rogers. 

He pulled you back onto the mattress and laid above you, his hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. Steve’s warm tongue slid along your bottom lip as his fingers stroked down your stomach, the light touch roused the pleasure at your core. You moaned against his lips and he didn’t hesitate to brush his tongue against yours before he continued the assault of kisses along your jawline.

He lifted his torso, knelt into the mattress and stared down at your half-naked body. The loss of his lips on your skin and the heated weight of his chest laying over yours had you craving his return. From the light that had to start to glow between the slats of the blind, you could just make out the lust blown icy blue eyes that watched you bite your lip. 

Steve’s fingers skimmed up your legs and then tugged down on your panties, you lifted your hips so that he could pull them away. You heard them fall to the floor, somewhere across the room, all care for leaving forgotten.

Steve parted your thighs and his head dipped to your core and his light stubble brushed against the delicate flesh. He avoided the spot you wanted most, it caused a whimper to fall from your lips. Steve smirked and huffed a laugh at your keening responses to his teasing, his warm breath fanned over your slicked pussy. Seconds later he licked a stripe up your lips, swirled around your clit and sucked at the sensitive spot. 

Your fingers curled around and gripped Steve’s sandy locks, the tug elicited a growl, the vibrations rippled across your skin and deepened your arousal, lifted your hips only to be pushed down into place by his arms wrapped around your thighs.

“Oh, Steve.” You gasped and clutched at the sheet, the pleasure flowed from your core, travelled to curl your toes and flutter your eyelids in ecstasy. 

Steve’s tongue swirled and his lips kissed your sex. You were so overwhelmed by the sensations that you hadn’t noticed one of his hands loosened their grip on your thigh until his fingers nudged at your entrance. You mewled at the combination of tongue and fingers stimulating you higher, it left you breathless in anticipation for more. 

His middle and fourth finger swirled around, lathered up the slick before he edged inside. Your back arched with pleasure from the way his fingers stretched you further and his tongue flicked at your clit. Steve’s fingers curled and stroked against a spot that caused your thighs to clench around his head, he opened them apart again and kissed the inside of your leg.

Steve watched his fingers pump in and out of you; a lopsided grin and then his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He had you right where he wanted you, your climax edged closer and closer. It was the moment his thumb joined the attack on your pussy, he rubbed harshly against your clit, and that pushed you over the precipice of the orgasm. The euphoria washed over you; your back arched as you moaned out expletives and Steve. 

You hissed as Steve didn’t stop, the overstimulation sent you into a further orgasm, the force pushed the back of your head deeper into the pillow. Steve’s ministrations eased as you came down from the high. You slowly gathered your thoughts whilst he knelt above you, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down his legs. His cock slapped against his abdomen; the thick length made your mouth water. 

He lowered back down, his arms caged you in and his hands cupped your cheeks. His lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth whilst his cock teased your entrance.

With a hook of your legs, you flipped him onto his back. His deep chuckle reverberated through you as you slid along his length and soaked him with your slick. You lifted, gripped the base of his cock and eased down onto him. Both of you gasped as he filled you in one swift motion.

As soon as it was announced that you were going to be Captain America’s babysitter the rumours began about what you had done to get the task in the first place. After the first few drop-ins to the office, you begged Sitwell to rearrange the location as you couldn’t handle the gossip or snide comments of being the teacher’s pet or giving blow jobs for missions. 

You always arrived at the pre-arranged location first, usually a coffee shop or library. You made sure to sit in a secluded part with your back to another chair or shelves. Sitwell always sat or stood behind you, asked for a quick update and then disappeared as his coffee order was called out or he found the book he required. 

The coffee shop was a small boutique; the usual off the beaten track place but the moment Sitwell stepped inside to the chime of the bell above the door, it was a different approach. 

He pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, leant back with his legs spread wide. “Spill it.”

You frowned and turned your lip up in a sneer, he attempted to intimidate you and be the man about business. It didn’t work, he’d hardly been in the field and you’d be able to take him out three times over before he knew what was happening.

You blew on the coffee and took a sip before you responded. “There’s nothing to spill. We have gotten closer, but I don’t have any insight into what he plans. In all honesty, I don’t see him as a threat and I’m not sure-.”

Sitwell raised his hand and leant forward, his harsh whisper spat through gritted teeth, “You work for me. Not the other way around. Whether he’s an active member of SHIELD, going rogue or a threat is for me to decide. You’re only here to give me information and if you can’t do that then we might have to end this mission.”

Sitwell shifted in his seat, scanned around the coffee shop and if anyone didn’t suspect him of anything, they did now. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour; you could tell he hadn’t done much undercover work in a long time. It wasn’t like Steve Rogers would be randomly roaming the back streets for this coffee shop.

At his paranoia, you glanced around the coffee shop and scanned the civilians around you; a group of teenage girls gossiped at the sofas in the window, a man put up a poster that you couldn’t read from here and a bunch of businessmen tapped away at their laptops or phones whilst dollar signs glowed in their eyes.

“I understand that sir.” You placed the mug down, lost in how much Steve had begun to mean to you. Sitwell’s accusation of Steve going rogue didn’t sit well with you. “I don’t think he’s who you think he is. He might have been a soldier back in the day, and he might have the serum in his veins but he’s honest and sweet. He just wants to get a grip on this life before starting a new one. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

You frowned at Sitwell; the lack of response had the hairs on the back of your neck raised. 

“Oh Y/N, you say he has no fears or weaknesses but that’s because you haven’t realised that it’s you. You are his weakness.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation and shook your head, “No, you’re wrong-”

The conversation was interrupted by the man that had put up the poster, you accepted the leaflet he offered. You glanced at it; a meeting at a community centre for war veterans. You shoved it in your handbag and looked back at Sitwell.

“Use it to your advantage.” He opened his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table then left.

Sitwell left, you stared into your coffee mug, lost in the froth that lined the rim of the ceramic. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as the weight of the consequences of how far you had taken things with Steve. You were going to break his heart. And your own.

As you wandered through the Waterfront Park and along the Potomac River, Steve recounted another tale of him getting into trouble, with Bucky at his side as always. Laughter erupted from you both and you sat on one of the benches that overlooked the serene water.

“Oh, what a day.” Steve smiled, “Thanks for coming to that art exhibition at the Kreeger.”

You knew you had to be focused, that you had to get as much from Steve as you could; to find out what he was going to do next after he got used to this new modern world. Sitwell counted on you to know whether he’d stick around or if he’d become America’s hero once more.

At that moment your phone’s ringtone interrupted the tranquillity of Steve’s company. You fumbled to get it out of your handbag and noticed the number, you glanced at Steve, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

You walked away with the phone pressed close to your ear, you didn’t want the super soldier’s enhanced hearing to detect the voice on the other end; Sitwell’s unpredicted check call had you on edge.

“You know, for a secret agent, you’re doing a lousy job of staying under the radar.” Sitwell clipped, and you bit at your lip. I’m getting pulled, I just know it. “You need to find out what he plans on doing now.”

“I’ll call you when I have more information.” You sighed, glanced back at Steve with a weak smile then turned your back to him once more.

“The world is not a safe place Agent Y/L/N. If you know someone’s fear, you know them.”

“I’m on it.” You spoke through gritted teeth then hung up the phone.

You spun and walked back to the spot where Steve had remained, your voice strained. “Sorry about that. Family being a nightmare as usual.”

“Hey, no worries, we’ve all got our problems to deal with.” He smiled back at you.

This was an opportunity to open the conversation, you slid up the bench to get closer to him. “Yeah, they’re a bit controlling and even though I know they’re trying to help me make the best out of situations, I’d rather them just cut me some slack.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve’s face flushed and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You weren’t sure he could get any more endearing than this moment, yet, you were playing him. Sure enough, he made you putty in his hands whilst he tore orgasm after orgasm from your body, but when it came to feelings and talking, well this was the arena you were champion of.

“I love my job, being a nurse is amazing and self-fulfilling. The people you help along the way but then some days are just awful, asshole attacks or,” You were bending the truth but your heart swelled at the sight of his fists clenching at the thought of you being harmed, “or there’s a major injury and there’s just nothing you can do to save them. It sucks. And then my father just wants me to get the job done, make quick decisions as if it’s not embedded into my life like it’s a separate thing.”

Steve nodded, his fingers weaved between yours, “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed Y/N. You are one person and looking after yourself is important. Be selfish if you have to.”

You shook your head; real tears began to well in your eyes. No, this is supposed to be me getting to him, how is he doing this?! You used the back of your hand to wipe away the salty dew on your cheeks.

“So does Mr Steve Rogers have any problems that need solving?” You choked on the fake laugh, hoped he didn’t notice the distress. Your body pressed against his and your hand gripped at his thigh, desperately for more information.

“Nope, I’m all good.” Steve grinned and moved off the bench towards the edge of the water. He dropped to a squat and collected a handful of pebbles.

“Wow, America’s Golden Boy is perfect.” You scoffed and rested your chin in the hand propped up on your knee.

“Thanks.” He grinned at you before he turned back and skimmed a rock across the water, but you could see he was looking much further into the distance than the drop of the pebble.

I’ve got this, I can bring the conversation back to his problems, his weaknesses or fears. I can do this, years of training alongside Natasha Romanoff will pay off. You stood beside him, grabbed a collection of pebbles to skim yourself. 

After your fifth failed attempt to get the pebble to bounce more than twice on the surface, your shoulders sagged as you watched Steve’s sprint across the water several times before it disappeared into the depths.

Your skin heated up as he stood behind you, took your wrist in his large hands and guided you with your throw. Your breath caught as his body aligned with yours, his arm moulded along your forearm. The feel of his chest pressed into your back, his fingers linked with yours, it overwhelmed all your senses.

Thoughts were clouded as your mind drifted back to what had happened earlier that morning, amongst his bedsheets; the way he’d pushed your head into the pillow and lifted your hips and lined himself up from behind before he pounded you deep into the mattress.

As you watched the pebble skim across the water, his voice dropped an octave, “Y’know, when I was a kid, I wasn’t like this. I had every ailment going, and I was a scrawny little thing. I was then given this gift, and, well, I did everything to get into the army, so why not be America’s golden boy. Right now, though, I would give anything to be exactly like everybody else.”

“You want to be normal? To be self-centred and deceitful?” You turned around and folded your arms. The guilt of your actions simmered under your skin, ready to burst free onto him in a verbal assault but you kept your composure as you began to walk along the bank once more.

Steve walked beside you, “Some people might be like that but that’s not you.”

“You don’t know me, Steve, how do you know I’m not any of those things?” You stopped; an eyebrow raised to goad him further into the debate. His silence was what you needed, “That’s what I thought.”

“Y/N listen, you are one of the most amazing people I have ever met.” Steve pulled your arms away from their hold, his fingertips ran down your forearms and hooked your hands in his. “I came out of the ice and you were the first person that cared about Steve, not Captain America. When I’m with you, I don’t feel so alone.”

You couldn’t believe the words that tumbled from his lips, your heart hammered against your chest and your fingers trembled in his grip. His words pierced through your ribs and into your lungs, breath stuttered as you tried to reply. 

“It’s better to be alone. Nobody can hurt you.” You whispered.

Steve dipped his head to yours, “I would never hurt you doll.”

Steve placed his lips to yours, a light touch compared to the others you had shared; it was delicate and held so much more than desire. You pulled away and gave Steve a beaming smile. He pulled you closer by the nape of your neck, a chaste kiss pressed to your forehead before he winked and continued the walk around the river with his hand firmly in yours.

Luckily you had dropped Steve’s hand as you turned the corner to search for your keys in your handbag because as you reached the apartment building, Jasper Sitwell stood with another agent outside the entrance. Your heart hammered at the thought of him seeing anything that looked remotely like affectionate gestures that had been made in the park.

Jasper looked straight past you, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and focused on Steve. 

“Back in a minute.” Steve wandered off with your boss, he left you in the lobby as they talked in the parking lot.

You waited, leant against the wall, and thought of what had happened between you and Steve at the waterfront. The sharp pain from earlier had become a dull ache, and as you watched them from afar, you couldn’t help the guilt that continually seeped into your chest. 

Steve was toeing the forbidden line of this becoming more than sex, potentially a relationship. He laid himself bare, put himself out there for you to accept. And, regardless of the mission ending on your own or Sitwell’s decision, you were going to hurt him.

Whilst you pretended to check your phone, another figure caught your eye. A man stood across the street, you had the sinking feeling that you recognised him and that’s when he glanced at you, then back at Steve and Jasper. Your hand darted into your handbag; fingers curled around the Glock as you watched him stroll towards Steve.

“On your left!” the man commented, you watched Steve turn slightly and grin at the man.

You released the gun and straightened up, to watch Jasper nod at the men and walk off without another glance. You returned to the men he had left, they wandered over and you recognised the stranger as the man with the leaflets in the coffee shop. If you remembered him, was it likely that he wouldn’t recognise you? 

Panic bubbled up as they got closer and you could tell that they were more than acquaintances from the laughter. Steve gestured to you, and then the stranger, but you didn’t hear a word as the blood rushed through your head and echoed around your ears.

“Y/N, you okay?” Steve’s hand gripped your arm, a concerned look etched on his features.

“Yeah sure, miles away.” You shook your head and smiled at Steve’s friend; you hope it played off as a daydream. “Sorry, Sam was it?”

The man nodded, a slight grin on his face, “So how do you both know that guy?”

“Both?” Steve frowned.

“Yeah, I recognised your friend from the coffee shop near the community centre. That guy was there too.”

“Y/N, what is he talking about?” Steve no longer held the face of adoration from earlier or the confusion from Sam’s words. Now it had morphed into realisation as to who you were and your betrayal. “You’re one of them?”

You couldn’t find the words, your heart dropped into your stomach. The tears welled in your eyes; you knew you had fucked up and you knew it was wrong to spy on him, but you couldn’t lose him. 

“We need to talk.” You stuttered. “Inside.”

The walk up the stairs remained in silence, you chanced a glance back to Steve, his face was flushed with pain and you could see it glisten in his eyes. Once you reached the corridor to your apartment, you were pushed back against the wall, Steve’s forearm against your throat.

“I can’t believe I trusted you,” Steve whispered angrily.

Sam tugged at his shoulder, “Stop it, Steve, just hear her out man.”

“Why should I? She’s been reporting to SHIELD the entire time. What else is there to know?” He glared back at him, his jaw ticking with anger and not letting go of his grip.

“Please, Steve.” You begged, “Please let me explain.”

Steve released his arm, and moved away from you, straightened out his jacket and ran his hands through his locks, “Fine. Sam stays and we do this in your apartment. I don’t trust mine to not be bugged.”

You nodded and headed to the front door, your hands trembled as you put the key in the lock and pushed it open for them to enter. You followed behind and hoped you could turn this around. That you could tell Steve what you were asked to do and how much you had withheld from Sitwell and SHIELD.

And deep down, you hoped that Steve could forgive you, not now, but maybe at some point.

the end.

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers Fic #Steve Rogers #Captain America x Reader #Captain America Fic #Captain America #Steve Rogers Smut #Captain America Smut #Smut #Angst

[katemarley]

fanfiction: maybe i’d be happy for a while

Fandom: Mó Dào Zǔ Shī /Chén Qíng Lìng/The Untamed Pairing: XiYao Characters: Jīn Guāngyáo, Lán Xīchén, Niè Huáisāng, Niè Míngjué, Jīn Zixuān, Jīn Guāngshàn Rating: T

Summary: The university president makes his illegitimate son an offer he can’t refuse – or can he?

Also available on AO3 (see the link in my profile).

I want to run I want to hide I lie awake, can’t sleep at night Too terrified to do it wrong I just don’t know where I belong Fear holds me down, can hardly breathe —Kingfisher Sky: Through My Eyes

*

Nie Huaisang notices things. Not everything, as he has learned recently, but certainly more than most people, and definitely more than most people notice about Meng Yao.

For once, there is the fact that he suddenly stops typing on the computer and freezes, staring into the void. This is particularly strange because, for all Huaisang knows, Meng Yao has never had difficulty to focus before.

There is also the fact that Meng Yao suddenly needs to wipe his hands on his trousers every once in a while. The last time Huaisang has borrowed a pencil from him, their fingers brushed, and Huaisang needed all his self-restraint not to flinch from the icy touch. Cold, sweaty hands – and Huaisang knows for a fact that Meng Yao’s hands used to be warm and dry mere weeks ago.

There was also that time when Huaisang entered the student union offices unexpectedly and caught Meng Yao at the window, clutching the windowsill with both hands and shivering from tip to toe.

Yes, it is winter.

No, it is not that cold.

Huaisang has asked him then what the matter was, but Meng Yao has only brushed it off: Nothing to worry about; he has a difficult time, but he’s got everything under control.

Huaisang doesn’t believe him, but there’s only so much he can do.

Tell his brother, for example. But Nie Mingjue has already noticed some of the strangeness of Meng Yao’s behaviour, and so the confrontation happens without Huaisang’s doing. He is glad about that when he sees his brother tower above Meng Yao, shouting him down.

“…two mistakes in the union’s accounting!” he yells. “What is up with you, Meng Yao? You’ve never been this distracted before!”

“I’m sorry, but it happens!” Meng Yao says defensively. “I’m quite stressed, so I slipped up. I’d have caught the errors at the end of the month if you hadn’t pointed them out to me now.” Huaisang’s jaw almost drops. He has never heard Meng Yao talk back to Nie Mingjue. Wincing, he watches what will happen next.

“You…” Sure enough, his brother doesn’t let the back talk go that easily. “It happens, he says.” His tone is nasty. “It mustn’t happen!” he yells, leaning forward. “The accounting must always be accurate!” He reaches out to grab Meng Yao by the collar.

But then Lan Xichen is there, Meng Yao’s knight in shining armour. He steps between Huaisang’s brother and Meng Yao, catching Nie Mingjue’s hand.

“Let it go, Mingjue-xiong,” he says calmly. “There is a lot of pressure on him at the moment.” Without turning from Nie Mingjue, he adds: “A-Yao, please let us alone for a moment.”

A-Yao. That should have been a dead giveaway. But Huaisang has had a Lan Xichen-shaped blind spot, it seems.

When Meng Yao has left the room, Lan Xichen puts an arm around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and manoeuvres him back to his chair. They both seem to have forgotten about Huaisang; at least no one asks him to leave the room.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen says in an almost pleading tone, “it seems that his father has finally noticed A-Yao’s presence. Two weeks ago, he was called into the university president’s office, who offered to recognise him as his son in exchange for some work. I don’t know what exactly A-Yao has to do, but Jin Guangshan’s tasks seem to be quite demanding. That means he needs to juggle his university work, his job as secretary of the student union and the work his father has given him all at once. He’s under quite a lot of pressure right now, but I trust him to be able to handle everything eventually. Please bear with him while he has so much to do.”

Nie Mingjue growls, but he sounds placated. Lan Xichen pats his shoulder and gives him a bright smile.

So is all well?

Huaisang can’t get the image of Meng Yao at the window out of his head, shivering all over.

I trust him to be able to handle everything eventually, Lan Xichen has said. It’s just that Huaisang is not so sure.

And then his brother speaks.

“Will he, though?” Nie Mingjue grumbles. “Meng Yao always pushes himself harder than anybody else. He always wants to do everything on his own, and he does not make mistakes. I worry about him.”

In his mind, Huaisang wholeheartedly agrees with his brother. He also hears his unspoken accusation.

Lan Xichen seems to have heard it, too.

“Alright, I’m going to talk to him,” he sighs.

*

Much later, Meng Yao returns to the office to pick up his messenger bag. He freezes when he sees Huaisang, who is still sitting on the sofa.

As always, Huaisang is working on one of his art projects – painting a still life, this time – but the only reason why he hasn’t gone home yet is that he was waiting for Meng Yao.

“My brother thinks you’ve made these accounting errors on purpose,” he says without introduction.

Meng Yao pales. It’s not a giveaway; anyone might pale at such an accusation.

“Lan Xichen told him he’s going to talk to you about it,” he continues. “If I were you, I’d go to Lan Xichen right away.”

“I can’t go to him,” Meng Yao says quietly. Huaisang hears the pain in his voice.

“You can,” he insists. “If there is anyone who would move Heaven and Earth for you, it’s him. He just wants to help you.” Huaisang stares at Meng Yao. “But you have to let him.”

There is a flicker in Meng Yao’s eyes.

Gotcha, Huaisang thinks.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think you can pull yourself out of this one on your own,” he adds fuel to the fire. “There’s no shame in letting him and da-ge help you. Maybe they know a way you can’t think of on your own.”

Meng Yao lowers his lashes.

“I will think about it,” he says quietly.

Huaisang leaves it at that. He knows this is the biggest concession he’ll get.

*

Meng Yao is standing in front of Lan Xichen’s flat, bracing himself to ring the doorbell. He has forced himself to get this far, but now he is losing courage.

Then the entrance door is opening and closing, and he has to ring. They have an agreement to show the neighbours as little of Meng Yao’s visits as they possibly can.

The surprised look on Lan Xichen’s face quickly turns into the kindest smile. Meng Yao feels a familiar lurch in the pit of his stomach. He has read somewhere that your hormones make you stay in love with the same person for about half a year, but they’ve been seeing each other for much longer now and the feeling hasn’t stopped. He wonders if it will ever stop.

It’s not that he is complaining.

Lan Xichen pulls him inside, shuts the door and tilts his head up. Then he captures Meng Yao’s lower lip with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, but it makes heat tingle through Meng Yao’s whole body. He is suddenly afraid they’re going to fuck without further ado – it has happened – but that would be unacceptable this time. Lan Xichen may not want to touch him ever again after what he’s going to tell him.

Ugh. The thought makes his throat tighten.

He breaks away regardless.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He barely recognises his own voice.

“Sit,” says Lan Xichen and navigates him to his sofa. After he is seated, Lan Xichen presses a cup of jasmine tea into his hands. Meng Yao realises it’s tea Lan Xichen has just brewed for himself.

“I can’t accept—”

“You can,” Lan Xichen says firmly. “Take a sip and then tell me what has happened.”

So he does.

*

“Ah, Meng Yao.” Jin Guangshan puts his paperwork aside when he enters. “How are you? Is your job at the student union very stressful?”

“Good morning, Sir.” Meng Yao bows. “I cannot complain. My work is entirely to my satisfaction.”

“Ah, but probably still stressful.” Jin Guangshan takes a piece of paper and studies it. “It says here that you’ve been working at a supermarket, at a bar and at the university library before.” He looks at Meng Yao over the rim of his glasses. “At the same time.”  

“That’s not entirely true. I—”

“Ah, and you still work at the library,” Jin Guangshan continues. He doesn’t seem to have heard Meng Yao.

“Pretty time-consuming, I’d say.” Jin Guangshan shakes his head. “And yet, your grades are excellent.” He nods appreciatively at his computer screen. When he turns it around, Meng Yao sees that it contains a detailed list of all grades he has received in his master’s degree so far.

“I think,” he continues, “it is about time to acknowledge your efforts.”

Meng Yao’s heart thuds in his chest.

“It is a pity that such a talented young economics student should have to earn the money for his accommodations in a bar and in a supermarket. I think the job at the library is not suitable for the university president’s son either.”

Meng Yao stares at him with wide eyes. His heart almost leaps out of his ribcage.

“I think you will be Jin … Guang … yao,” Jin Guangshan says slowly. “Yes, that sounds adequate.”

Meng Yao screams inside. Finally, finally his father is prepared to acknowledge him as his son.

“Working for the student union…” His father brushes over his goatee. “That is appropriate. It will look good on your résumé. However…”  

He pauses. It’s in this moment that Meng Yao realises there will be a terrible catch to Jin Guangshan’s offer.

“Having worked with Nie Mingjue … that will not look so good.”

Oh no. 

“He is far too direct, and I’m afraid several of his ideas do not please me.” Jin Guangshan frowns. “One should think an engineering major would know better than to allocate higher funding to the Fine Arts Department. But I suppose his little brother and best friend have turned his head. And that is not everything…”

Meng Yao has a sudden photographic vision of the 10-point programme Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen have compiled before they ran for the student union. He knows it by heart. Not all of the points are his doing, but every formulation is.  

Jin Guangshan asks him to undo his own work. It makes him feel sick.

But it gets worse.

“It is clear to me,” Jin Guangshan continues, “that Nie Mingjue must leave his position as president of the student union as soon as possible. I believe it would be suitable to expose his gross misappropriation of university funds as quickly as possible.”

Meng Yao blinks. My father is asking me to tamper with the student union funds and frame Nie Mingjue, he realises incredulously.

“Should you need a little incentive…” Jin Guangshan types a password in his computer, and suddenly all Meng Yao’s grades can be altered. He picks one of the modules and clicks into the percentage box. It says “95%”.

He changes it to “50%”.

“How easily it could happen that, by some unlucky accident, you lose all the grades that qualify you for a First Class Honours degree…”

The cursor hovers over the “Confirm” button. Jin Guangshan stares at Meng Yao. Then he clicks “Cancel”.

With an ominous “Think about it,” Meng Yao gets ushered out of the office. The moment the door clicks shut behind him, he sinks to the floor.

*

“So you decided to alter the student union’s accounting,” Lan Xichen says matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Meng Yao confesses. He doesn’t say I saw no other way. He says nothing and awaits Lan Xichen’s judgement.

“Those two accounting errors Mingjue-xiong spotted – were they all you did or is there more?”

Meng Yao closes his eyes. Lan Xichen sounds so kind. He can’t lie.

Of course he can lie. He just makes the decision not to.

“There is more,” he says.

“Can it be reversed?”

“Yes.” This is also true.

Lan Xichen pushes his Macbook towards Meng Yao. “Can you reverse it now?”

Meng Yao freezes. Digs his fingers into his knees. Then he braces himself and takes the laptop.

Lan Xichen sits down next to him. Meng Yao thinks it is to make sure he is actually doing what he said he would. Then Lan Xichen leans against him, buries his head in the crook of his neck and breathes in. Meng Yao feels that little sag in the pit of his stomach again. Suddenly he is very motivated to undo the trap he has begun to set for Nie Mingjue, consequences be damned.

Lan Xichen still wants to touch him. Lan Xichen still trusts him enough not to check what exactly he is doing on the computer.

When he is done, he flips the laptop shut.

“What happens when I actually lose my chance to get a First Class Honours degree?” He hates that his voice wavers as he asks.

Lan Xichen doesn’t answer at once. He is too busy leaving a hickey on Meng Yao’s throat, right below his shirt collar. It’s a dangerous place for a hickey – too far up to remain covered under all circumstances. The idea that he claims it nonetheless makes Meng Yao feel lightheaded.

“We’re going to tell Mingjue-xiong tomorrow,” Lan Xichen says eventually. “Together we will find a way to thwart Jin Guangshan’s plans. Have faith.”

Meng Yao is scared of facing Nie Mingjue, but Lan Xichen seems to have enough faith for two. Somehow that is enough. He tilts up Lan Xichen’s face and kisses him on the lips.

Later on, Lan Xichen carries Meng Yao to bed. They take each other apart with touches and kisses until Meng Yao’s world narrows down to Lan Xichen and Lan Xichen alone. Lan Xichen, who whispers words full of trust and reassurance; who caresses Meng Yao until he feels treacherously safe, but certainly more ready to face the world outside.

*

When he wakes up in the early morning, Meng Yao gets breakfast in bed – steamed buns with black coffee, just the way he likes it.

Lan Xichen only drinks tea. Meng Yao would never have asked him to buy coffee for him, but one day, the coffee maker and the beans were simply there – in the same way that one day, a spare toothbrush set had appeared out of thin air.

He realises what Lan Xichen is doing – how he lays claim to be a growing part of Meng Yao’s life – ever so gently and unassumingly and yet with the determination of someone who has never been prone to fickle changes of mind. Meng Yao can hardly believe that Lan Xichen really means him because Lan Xichen is the heir of the wealthy Lan family and Meng Yao is … well, nobody. Has, in fact, brought it upon himself to remain nobody just because … because …

Yes, he still remembers why. But now he wonders if the sacrifices he has made – for Nie Mingjue, for their common goals – really outweigh the opportunity his father has offered him.

Then Lan Xichen comes back to bed to have breakfast with him. When they have eaten, he starts to kiss the coffee taste from Meng Yao’s lips.

It’s a normal day of the week. Meng Yao has lectures later on. He hardly allows himself to stay with Lan Xichen for the whole night anyway. But this time…

This time…

“I thought you didn’t like coffee,” Meng Yao tries to joke.

“But I like you.” Lan Xichen gazes into Meng Yao’s eyes and oh, he is so kind and beautiful it makes Meng Yao’s heart hurt.

He makes the mistake to wish he could have this every day, for the rest of his life. Nothing prepares him for the visceral burst of pain he feels as he remembers all the reasons why this isn’t a good idea.

Lan Xichen is so good to him. Good for him. Meng Yao knows he probably doesn’t deserve him, but he’ll be damned if he lets that keep him from clinging to every second they have together.

*

Meng Yao hasn’t been able to focus on his studies for two weeks and this day is no different. His macroeconomics teacher is starting to throw worried glances at him. Meng Yao has always been an active participant in her classes, but now he is only staring at his desk.

She doesn’t ask him what the matter is, but he knows it is only a question of time. He realises that he must make a move or he will lose his chance for a First Class Honours degree entirely without his father’s doing.

*

After his last lecture of the day, Meng Yao meets up with Lan Xichen in the corridor. He greets him as politely as always when they are in public, and together they walk to the student union offices.

Nie Mingjue sits behind his desk, working on the computer. His brother, who is practically part of the inventory at this point, sits on the sofa and paints something. He looks up to greet them with a wave of his fan.

Huaisang always seems to have a different fan these days, Meng Yao thinks distractedly. He makes a mental note to talk more about fan painting with him … if casual chats with Nie Huaisang are still possible after the discussion he is about to have with his brother. If he doesn’t get fired immediately from his position as secretary of the student union.

He realises he would miss Huaisang. Meng Yao hadn’t even thought about the possibility of having to cut him out of his life before.

One more reason to go through with it now.

He braces himself and walks to Nie Mingjue’s desk. Nie Mingjue looks up. Frowns at him. Meng Yao swallows the lump that has formed in his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says. “There is something I need to tell you.”

“Is this about the two mistakes you made?” Nie Mingjue’s eyes pierce right through him.

Meng Yao almost loses courage. Then Lan Xichen is beside him, putting his hand between his shoulder blades. The touch calms him enough to carry on.

“They weren’t mistakes.” He hates to hear the waver in his voice.

Nie Mingjue is silent.

“I thought so.”

Bit by bit, he tells Nie Mingjue about his visit to his father’s office. Meng Yao can tell that there are several parts when Nie Mingjue wants to interrupt him. He senses that behind him, Lan Xichen shakes his head. So Nie Mingjue does what Lan Xichen asks of him, just like he has always listened to Lan Xichen’s advice.

It is strange, a part of Meng Yao ponders, how people like Jin Guangshan only ever see Nie Mingjue as the driving force behind the student union. They tend to overlook that in all his gentleness, Lan Xichen is just as determined as his friend. Meng Yao would never make his father’s mistake.

Towards the end of Meng Yao’s narration, Nie Mingjue jumps from his chair and starts prowling the room like a caged tiger.

“So,” Meng Yao asks quietly, “will you fire me?”

“Fire you?” Nie Mingjue stares at him. “Fire you? No. After all, you did the right thing in the end. Though…” He narrows his eyes. “I’ll be watching you from now on, Meng Yao, is that clear?”

“Clear as day.” Meng Yao swallows hard.

“Change all your grades for the worse, huh?” Nie Mingjue growls after more pacing. “Does he really think he’d get through with that?” After a pause for thought, he adds: “There must be some backup mechanism that tracks changes and who made them. There must be.” Then he starts pacing again. And stops.

“We need someone who is good enough with computers to trace changes back to the account that made them.” He looks at Lan Xichen.

“Zixuan-xiong,” Lan Xichen says promptly. Meng Yao turns to stare at him.

“But would he help us?” wonders Nie Mingjue. His eyes are locked with Xichen’s.

“Against his own father?” Lan Xichen holds Nie Mingjue’s gaze, then turns to Meng Yao. “For his brother? I think he would.”

“Shall I ask him?” Nie Mingjue draws the phone from his jacket pocket like a weapon.

“Yes.” Lan Xichen locks eyes with Nie Mingjue again, who promptly taps a number in his phone’s address book.

*

Ten minutes later – Meng Yao can’t believe it is only ten minutes later – Jin Zixuan enters the student union offices. It is the first time Meng Yao sees him from up close. He has always kept a distance from his half-brother, certain that his presence would be unwelcome. Now he notices that Jin Zixuan is almost as tall as Lan Xichen. He has an elegant face with high cheekbones, showed to its best advantage by the elegant, expensive-looking suit he wears. When Meng Yao wants to bow deeply, he stops him – something only Xichen has ever done for him before.

“Mingjue-xiong said there was something you needed to tell me,” Jin Zixuan says, looking directly at Meng Yao. Not at Nie Mingjue; not at Lan Xichen. At him.

So Meng Yao retells his encounter with Jin Guangshan for the third time. Jin Zixuan doesn’t interrupt him, but there is a frown on his face that deepens as the story continues.

“I’m sorry,” he says when Meng Yao has ended. “This attempt at bribery is so perfidious it astonishes even me.” Jin Zixuan’s face hardens. “Maybe he thinks he can do that with an illegitimate child.”

Meng Yao presses his lips together. Lowers his eyes. He has thought the same.

Then someone brushes his arm. He looks up, surprised to find Jin Zixuan has given him an awkward pat.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Jin Zixuan says. “He is … insensitive, sometimes. Well, most of the time.” The fact that Jin Zixuan criticises his own father for him makes it a little better, but Meng Yao takes it to heart anyway.

“What do you suggest?” Lan Xichen asks. “How can we help both A-Yao and Mingjue-xiong?”

“Help them…” Jin Zixuan frowns again. “I don’t know yet…” He pauses. “I need a computer that is connected to the university network. Maybe….” He trails off. “I need to make sure it is possible.”

Meng Yao boots his computer. Jin Zixuan sits on his chair and … logs on with his father’s username and password. Meng Yao turns to Xichen, raising an eyebrow. Lan Xichen’s smile is a little more knowing than most people would believe but at this point, Meng Yao knows him well enough to read him.

You bastard! he thinks. I bet you had the idea to ask him yesterday, but you let me dangle!

Lan Xichen, for his part, seems to be able to read Meng Yao equally well. The smile turns into a smirk that makes Meng Yao’s heart stop before it starts beating twice as fast. He feels his cheekbones flush. Lan Xichen’s smile becomes smug before he lowers his head and breaks eye contact.

“There we are.” Jin Zixuan taps on Meng Yao’s desk, drawing their attention to the computer screen.

Meng Yao looks and sees rows and rows of characters and numbers that mean nothing to him. He exchanges a glance with Lan Xichen, who gives a small shrug.

“What are we seeing here?” asks Meng Yao before it can become awkward.

“That’s my father’s activity log for the grade management software. Wait, let me display the relevant parts of the code in a diagram, then it’ll become clearer…”

Meng Yao watches in fascination how Jin Zixuan copies parts of the code, opens another programme and creates a chart that Meng Yao can actually read.

“These are the accounts my father accessed in the past month,” Jin Zixuan explains nonetheless.

It isn’t grading season, so the list is short. But among the names listed are Nie Mingjue, once, Lan Xichen, once, and Meng Yao, seven times.

“I can also show you what he has done with every single account.” Jin Zixuan clicks back to the code. “Here are his actions. As you can see…” He turns to Meng Yao, only to find him stare uncomprehendingly at the screen. “Well, as you can see”, he addresses Nie Mingjue, who seems the only one able to follow him, “he didn’t do anything with your account. Just looked at the grades, probably.” He marks another part of the code. “Same for Xichen-xiong. But for my brother…” Again, he marks the relevant parts of the code. “The first and second times, he just looked at them. Then he changed one of your grades, actually for the better – that’s the third time – and reset the change on the fourth. The fifth time, he did nothing again.”

Meng Yao begins to recognise patterns. He points to a part of the code. “Is that a date?”

“Yes, that’s the time stamp. Well observed!” It doesn’t sound condescending; Jin Zixuan seems genuinely happy Meng Yao has picked up on part of the code.

“Then that was on the day he called me into his office. The other two were last week and … two days ago.” He looks at Jin Zixuan. “Did he … already…”

“No.” Jin Zixuan gives him a reassuring smile. “He didn’t change anything.” His smile falls. “But he’s probably thinking about it, just like he must have thought about forcing you to do his bidding before actually calling you to him.

“What do you suggest we do?” It’s Lan Xichen again. He is asking all the pragmatic questions; the ones Meng Yao would be asking if he didn’t feel so out of tune with himself right now.

“Meng Yao…” Jin Zixuan stands. Puts his hands on Meng Yao’s shoulders. “You must confront our father directly. I’m sorry, but I see no other way.”

Meng Yao stares at him. He knows he is a people-pleaser. Confronting people has never been his strong suit, let alone confronting people in a position of power. Opening up to Lan Xichen has been hard enough, and he has only managed to confess what he has done to Nie Mingjue because Lan Xichen has backed him up.

“I realise that this isn’t an easy task. But please hear me out.” Jin Zixuan’s eyes are compassionate. Meng Yao wonders what Jin Zixuan sees in his – fear? Cowardice? Whatever it is – Meng Yao nods.

Then Jin Zixuan explains his plan. It is … surprisingly simple. But this, Meng Yao hopes, is exactly why it might work.

*

The next morning, Jin Zixuan picks up Meng Yao in front of his student accommodations. When Meng Yao sees the expensive-looking black saloon car, he wishes he had told him to park a lot further down the road. He is aware of his current position and knows the car will cause comment. Getting accused of trying to sleep his way up – “like mother, like son” – has been one of his deepest fears for ages. Being seen in a car that is far out of his league won’t do anything to quell it.

At least the lowered saloon car takes Lan Xichen out of the equation. As much as humiliating comments about himself hurt, he knows he couldn’t bear it if anyone looked down on Lan Xichen for being with him.

“Hello,” Jin Zixuan greets him as Meng Yao opens the car door. He sounds almost as nervous as Meng Yao feels.

“Hello,” Meng Yao replies through the frog in his throat. Then he is suddenly faced with the problem of a huge picnic hamper on the passenger seat.

“Oh!” Jin Zixuan blushes as he notices the problem. “That’s … you know … my fiancée … anyway, just put it on the back seat.”

Meng Yao does as he is told, then sits down. Jin Zixuan starts driving. It takes a few minutes, but then Meng Yao’s curiosity gets the best of him.

“So … does your fiancée often cook for you?” he asks. He almost does a double-take as a big, happy smile appears on Jin Zixuan’s lips. It transforms his whole face.

“She does!” Jin Zixuan replies, trying and failing to reign in his big smile. “She knows I wouldn’t eat healthy food if she didn’t pre-cook it for me.” He blushes. “Just computer science student things, I guess. Do you like cooking?”

“I do, actually,” replies Meng Yao. “It’s just … I usually cook simpler things. This looks like it’s more elaborate.”

“It’s her famous pork ribs and lotus root soup!” Jin Zixuan says so proudly as if it was his famous pork ribs and lotus root soup. “It’s actually for more than just one person. She noticed most of my friends aren’t big on cooking as well, so she makes enough for us all.”

“Your fiancée must be very kind.” Almost too good to be true, Meng Yao thinks. Just like… Lan Xichen’s smiling face appears before his mind’s eye, and it is enough to make him feel warm and loved. He wonders if Jin Zixuan feels the same when he thinks of his fiancée.

“She is!” The bright smile is back on Jin Zixuan’s face. “May I ask – I hope I’m not overstepping – is there someone in your life, too?”

“There is.” It is out before Meng Yao can catch himself, and that has never happened. He all but shocks himself.

“Someone who is kind as well, I hope?” Jin Zixuan is curious; Meng Yao can sense it.

“Very kind,” he says quietly and is sure his face contorts into a foolish smile. He has never told anyone about Lan Xichen, but now that Jin Zixuan has touched upon the topic, he almost bursts with the urge to shout the enormity of his love out into the world.

“Let that kindness carry you as you stand before our father.” Jin Zixuan’s voice is hoarse. “That’s what I do.”

“That kindness always carries me.”

It’s the truth. Meng Yao hasn’t even known it to be true before he has said the words.

*

When they approach their father’s villa, Jin Zixuan actually stops a block away so Meng Yao can get out of the car unnoticed. Then he drives the rest of the way alone.

Meng Yao starts walking before he can second-guess what he is doing. At this point, there is nothing he wants more than to shirk any encounter with Jin Guangshan. But Jin Zixuan expects him to confront their father. So does Nie Mingjue. Lan Xichen, too…

Meng Yao imagines Lan Xichen right next to him – holding him; taking his hands. He imagines Lan Xichen to think of him in this very moment, and perhaps he really does. Maybe he plays a beautiful melody on his xiao, thinking of Meng Yao.

The image Meng Yao conveys before his mind’s eye is so powerful that he almost believes he could touch it; touch Lan Xichen’s cheekbones…

He is so beautiful and Meng Yao loves him so much.

He can only ever admit this to himself.

Or maybe he could admit it to his brother…

He makes a deal with himself: If Jin Zixuan’s plan succeeds, he will hand his secret to him on a silver platter. He will tell him about Lan Xichen.

This should be a scary prospect. Oddly enough, Meng Yao finds it extremely motivating.

*

The Jin villa is situated on a hill. There is a paved, winding road for cars leading up to it. There are also stairs that lead through a lush garden. It is the faster path for people on foot. Meng Yao knows it intimately well. When he had first come to Jin Guangshan in the hopes of getting recognised as his son, he had been thrown out of the house and rolled down … all the way down…

Meng Yao pushes the memory from his mind. Replaces it with the thought of Lan Xichen playing a melody for him. Then he climbs the stairs a second time. Rings the bell.

“Who is this?” a distorted male voice asks through the intercom.

“This is Meng Yao. I would like to speak with my father.” His voice sounds composed and polite. He is satisfied with it.

There is a pause. Meng Yao waits.

“The master says he will only talk to you if it is important enough.”

“It is important,” says Meng Yao. “I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t extremely important.”

“First floor, second door to the left,” the bodiless voice buzzes with the electric strike. “And do not call him your father.”

Meng Yao opens the door and follows the voice’s instructions. Oddly enough, he feels angry rather than hurt. It is good anger. Cold anger. It clears his mind and pushes the fear away.

He knocks as soon as he is in front of the correct door.

“Come in!” he promptly hears Jin Guangshan’s voice.

“Father.” He opens the door and bows.

Do not call him your father, the voice has said. He will call Jin Guangshan his father because that is who he is.

“Meng Yao.” His father gestures to the chair opposite his desk. Meng Yao takes a seat.

“Let me be frank,” Jin Guangshan begins. “I am disappointed in you. I have been monitoring the student union’s accounts for the past two weeks. Not only did you make but little changes, you even reverted the ones you made. This is not how you will earn yourself the name of Jin Guangyao.”

“Good,” says Meng Yao, “because this isn’t how I want to earn myself a place in this family.”

“What did you say?” Jin Guangshan’s voice is dangerously quiet.

“I said I don’t want to earn myself a place in this family by framing Nie Mingjue.”

“How dare you!” Jin Guangshan leans forward, hands on the desk. Meng Yao is glad there is something between them, shielding him from potential violence. Then his father is able to control himself again. “You really do not value your chance to get a First Class Honours degree enough,” he adds with a glacial smile.

“I do value it,” Meng Yao objects. “Most of all, I value my own abilities to work for this degree. And even if you change all my grades for the worse, I will have earned it. I will prove that I deserve it.”

“Ah yes?” Jin Guangshan asks icily. He walks – prowls – around the desk. “And, pray, how will you go about doing that?”

Meng Yao stands. His hands shake, but he is not scared enough to back down.

“The question is: How will I go about doing that?”

Jin Zixuan is leaning against the doorframe. His arms are crossed before his chest, but in one hand, he holds his phone.

“I’m able to track all changes you make to the grade management programme,” he says. “I will also keep an eye on the grading because I don’t trust you not to bribe my brother’s teachers to give him worse grades. Understood?”

“Outrageous!” Jin Guangshan hisses. “Son! You will not…”

“I will,” Jin Zixuan insists. “I am also prepared to send this little recording to the higher education board.” He taps on his phone and shows Jin Guangshan as seen from the perspective of one of the buttonholes on Meng Yao’s suit coat.

Jin Guangshan whips around to Meng Yao, pulling at his collar.

“You…” Then he turns to Jin Zixuan. “Delete this at once!”

“I will not.” Jin Zixuan says calmly. “Besides, this isn’t the only phone to which this recording was sent. One of the others is Nie Mingjue’s, so be careful what you say about him. And don’t even think of manipulating Yao-Yao’s grades again. I will find you out.” He steps further into the room.

“I think it’s about time you stop trying to frame Nie Mingjue and recognise my brother without all these shenanigans.”

*

After three hours and an excruciating visit to a tailor who kept calling Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – handsome, his brother and him lean against Jin Zixuan’s car, watching the sundown over a lake. They share a bottle of wine – not the cheap stuff but something heady and expensive. Jin Guangyao, who never gets drunk, feels tipsy after just one glass. He doesn’t know if the fuzzy warmth in his stomach is the wine’s doing alone. The fact that his brother’s upper arm brushes comfortably against his shoulder might factor in somehow as well.

“So,” Jin Zixuan says after a while. “The one whose kindness always carries you…”

Jin Guangyao stiffens in fear. Then he drops the bombshell.

“It’s Lan Xichen.” He hates how vulnerable his voice sounds.

“Good,” Jin Zixuan says promptly. “I couldn’t think of a better person.” He bumps against his brother’s shoulder. “Except Jiang Yanli, of course.” Jin Guangyao hears the smile in his voice.

“Your fiancée?”

“My fiancée.” Jin Zixuan laughs. “Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli. We are some happy fools, aren’t we?”

Happy? Jin Guangyao thinks. Am I happy?

He knows all too well that his relationship with Lan Xichen is something he can only tell to a few people. There is too much prejudice surrounding him and his origins, even though he has finally been recognised as a member of the Jin family.

“Speak for yourself,” he mumbles. It is only after the words have left his mouth that he realises he has just called his brother a fool. But Jin Zixuan only grins and bumps his shoulder again.

“Yes, roast me,” he laughs. “I deserve it. I’ve been the biggest fool until A-Li and me got together. Even now, it’s only thanks to her that I’m a reasonably functional human being.”

“You’re a very kind person, too,” says Jin Guangyao, and he means it. “It’s only thanks to you that I have this name…”

“The name!” Suddenly, Jin Zixuan is angry. “He shouldn’t have named you Guangyao. By all means, you should have been Jin Ziyao.”

“It’s alright.” Jin Guangyao lowers his eyes. “I’m not picky. At least I’m a Jin now.”

“You should be. You’d have deserved it.” Jin Zixuan waves the arm that doesn’t brush against his brother’s shoulder. It’s an obvious attempt to distract from soppy feelings.

“And I realise I’m decidedly too drunk to drive,” he adds after a pause. “Let me call us a taxi.” He takes his phone, searches an address and hits speed dial.

“Mingjue-xiong?”

*

It has become quite cold and dark when the headlights of two motorbikes and a sidecar appear on the path to the lake.

“How did it go? How did it go?” Huaisang cries from the sidecar as soon as they stop.

“Quite well.” Jin Zixuan grins and gestures. “Meet Jin Guangyao, who is now officially my brother.”

“And the attempt to frame da-ge…”

“Thwarted, at least for the time being.”

“Good.” Nie Huaisang sighs in relief.

Meanwhile, Lan Xichen has approached Jin Guangyao.

“So,” he says quietly. “You’re Jin Guangyao now. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I still call you A-Yao then?”

Jin Guangyao is suddenly overcome with emotion. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or because of Lan Xichen’s words – probably both.

“You can always, always call me A-Yao!” he exclaims and flings himself against Lan Xichen. Wraps his arms around his neck. Pulls him down for a kiss.

Lan Xichen freezes. Then he kisses back and Jin Guangyao basks in his warmth and tenderness.

Huaisang cheers and claps with his fan.

The headlights are too bright, Jin Guangyao notices as they break the kiss. He can see his brother’s knowing smile, so they can probably all see his blush, too.

Then he meets Nie Mingjue’s gaze. The poor man looks as if he has seen a ghost.

Next to him, Lan Xichen starts laughing. He has a beautiful laugh, kind and pleasant to listen to.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen says between giggles. “Don’t be so surprised! You must have noticed how we look at each other.”

“Yes, but…” Nie Mingjue gestures helplessly. “And office romance! In my office!”

“It’s more likely than you think,” Lan Xichen teases. He wraps his arms around Jin Guangyao’s waist.

Suddenly, foolishly, Jin Guangyao thinks that maybe, maybe he could be happy. At least sometimes; at least for a little while. Perhaps for as long as Lan Xichen will have him, even. Which is hopefully for the rest of his life.

#xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jin zixuan #mdzs #cql #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfiction #kate marley

[taesbetch]

01 | Creatures Of The Night

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut: Vampire!AU

Summary: Creatures of the night, Soul mates, a war between species. You had thought all these things were nothing but folktales. But as the world hidden in plain sight crashes into your day to day life you struggle to keep up. Going from being hunted to the leader of a vampire groups mate, your world is turned upside down and the fight to survive is on. 

Word Count: 3.8k

Next

The sun shone directly in your eyes as you watched you family drive off into the distance. Though the heat lay a blanket of warmth around your skin your heartfelt cold as you relived your mothers final words.

"Try not to call us"

Wow. How absolutely fantastic. Standing outside of your home you sighed. You had 10 days to find a new place and figure out how to survive on your own. Your so-called parental protector had found a new boyfriend, one who had flipped your world upside down. Letting out a noise of frustration you dragged your feet back into your now-empty home. Deciding on a nap.

---

The same feeling as the one prior seeped in as you sat in your classroom, the sun blaring through the glass window. You looked towards the clock, trying to think of an idea but nothing particular came to mind. Watching it tick by slowly you remembered that your mum's boyfriend buried around 20,000 dollars in the forest for the so-called apocalypse. Smiling softly you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, there's no way they remembered to dig it up. It had to still be there. Zoning back into reality your ears adjusted to the girl in front of you, her eyes fixed on you.

"Hey did you hear me!" the girl said snapping in front of your face. 

"Sorry, i missed it” you stated, pushing your current issue to the back of your mind.

"They said to stay clear of the forest, 4 girls dead, they say by a mountain lion due to the bite marks but I find that incredibly weird considering we don't get mountain lions, Reya what do you think?" the girl asked Reya who was staring out the window obviously not paying attention as well. 

You’ve known Reya since before you could even remember. Though the two of you were best friends, Reyes mind was always a hard one too read and it often felt like the gurl held multiple secrets. 

"I think that it's the mountain lions," she said turning towards us. Your heart skipped a beat as her eyes bored into your soul almost as if your thoughts had been spoken out loud.  "So don't go into the forest," she said sternly as the bell rang.

As the class got up packing up with the rest of the class, you continued to look at Reya in shock as her eyes kept burning into yours. Can she read minds?

"Maybe" she said getting up with a shrug. You almost gasped as your eyes followed her movements. 

"Sorry what??" you asked getting up too. You pushed past people in order to catch up with Reya. Just as you both exited the classroom she answered. 

 "I said maybe, as in maybe its mountain lions, no one can be sure though," she said smiling widely before leaving the classroom.

Quickly making your way home you looked up to the sky noticing how quickly the sun was setting. It is winter...You picked up your pace knowing you wouldn't have a lot of time to find the money.  lion smion, there's nothing out there...but still you wanted to be cautious. 

After gathering your things and changing your clothes you quickly walked towards the entrance of the forest. The travel seemed like a lifetime even though it was only located 15 minutes from your house. 

As you got there you looked up at the trees and back towards the city.  You always found it strange how there was just the city and then bam a forest but You’ve never questioned it, and to be honest, no one has needed to. Taking a deep breath you looked at the shovel you stole from your next-door neighbour and began your search. 

remembering that he has said be buried it near a large tree with a knifed X into it. 

As you kept walking the sky started getting darker and the air was getting cooler. The trees seemed to glimmer underneath the moon but there was something spooky about this forest. Before you could take another step you heard rustling in the distance. Crap. You probably should’ve left a lot earlier. 

Your head snapped into the direction of the noise. Was that the mountain lion? Your eyes scanned the empty area as your heartbeat sped up."Hello," you called but it came out more like a terrified wheeze.

 "Well, what do we have here?" 

Once again your head snapped into the direction of the noise. shocked that it was a voice and not a growl.  Your hand came up to your heart, almost like an instinct. As your eyes adjusted your body almost feinted from the amount of work it was doing. With your heartbeat finally leaving your ears your eyes managed to make out a figure in the dark. You could see it was a man and you could make out some of his features but not all of them.

"Oh. Hi you scared me" you said sighing in relief, 

"Oh sweetie he hasn't scared you just yet," another male said gasping once again you turned. this man was a little closer than the other one and you perfectly make out his outfit but as he stood in front of the moon his face was a little hidden. 

"Mmmmmm type O jungkook's favourite. Maybe we should bring her back to him?" another said popping out from the right. Three males. in the middle of the forest. in the middle of the night. You froze as your heart dropped the feeling of unsettlement kicking in. 

"Guys....can you smell that? What rank is it? An ultimate?" another one said as his head turned in different directions. "fuck. We should go" the first one said angrily as they all sighed in frustration.

"I thought they were extinct what the hell," another one said before turning around and disappearing in the shadows. You watched in relief as they all disappeared except one. 

"we'll see you again human" he winked at me before disappearing with the rest of his group.

You blinked a couple of times, your body frozen in place as the wind began blowing harsher against your skin.  What just happened?

"Oi you idiot"

You turned around, this time without fear as the familiar voice interrupted you.  Reya. standing there with her arms crossed angrily she walked forward as your eyes connected. Were people just out in the forest constantly? Is there an event you didn't know about?

"I said not to go into the forest," she said grabbing my arm angrily. “Is this for your mum's boyfriends money? Gosh. is it really worth it ?” she said as she started dragging you back in the direction you came.

I pulled my arm away from hers and stood my ground as she looked at me confused "...They left" you blurted. 

“what do you mean they left?” She asked, her eyes softening. You sighed, a cloud exiting your mouth as the cool air had suddenly become colder.

“Mum. She left with that bitch of a boyfriend. I said i wanted to finish high school here so left. And gave me nothing. I’m losing the house in 10 days Reya. I didn't know what else to do...” You explained. 

Reya stood quietly. she looked at the ground before placing her hands on her hips. 

“so instead of coming to me, you decide the best idea is too rummage through the forest at night?” She asked, her tone soft yet intense. 

“well...I know...We’ve been friends for the longest time, but I’ve never been to your house. I haven't met your mum i jus...I didn't want to intrude. You clearly have stuff going on in your private home life Reya.” You said. 

Reya bite her lip before hugging you tightly. 

“You idiot. I know i have a lot going on. and honestly, I'm sorry that i haven't invited you into this part of my life before its just that its-...well a lot. But my home is ALWAYS open to you y/n. Your my best friend for god's sake” She exclaimed. as she released you from her grip she grabs your hand. 

“You're coming to live with me. You can’t say no” She smiled. 

“Only if your sure...because I’m going to feel hella bad if I’m an inconvenience to you...Do you have room for me?” You asked, your free hand coming to the back of your neck nervously. 

Renya let out a small laugh as she looked at you excitedly. 

“Trust me. We have room.” 

------

Standing in front of a beautiful mansion, your jaw hit the ground. the driveway was lined with small trees guiding the way to the beautiful house. The wood coloured panels and sleek black colour scheme had you drooling a little bit. 

“Yeah, You definitely have room” You whispered, still in shock. 

Walking in the house you gawked at the interior the living room area that connected to the kitchen was gorgeous, to the left a glass wall let you see out to the city. You didn't even realise the house sat above the city until now. 

 "Remee are you rich?" You asked her, still in awe at her big ass place. 

"I guess you could say that. Follow me ill show you to your room!" she said running up these beautiful gold plated stairs. 

"Is this why no one has ever come to your house? Cause you're worried they'll steal something?" you asked following her through the second floor.

She laughed as she opened up a door to a room. 

 "no, I'm not that paranoid. Here's your room. We’ll grab your stuff tomorrow but it's currently 11pm and we’ve got school tomorrow” She said the pain in her eyes when the word school came up very evident. 

“Yikes did you say 11pm?” You asked in shock. The time had really slipped by. 

“I know, kinda crazy. I'll give you a tour of the place tomorrow! The bathroom is through that door there and don't worry ill come get you in the morning. Just rest up and don't worry about your living situation any more. I've got you.” Reya smiled. 

“Thank you...really” You stated. 

as Reya left your new room with a goodbye you took a deep breath. Looking around at your beige and white schemed room you smiled softly. 

You could get used to this. 

However, as you let yourself drift to sleep. Red eyes stared from a tree in the distance and a target had been unknowingly placed on your back. 

-----------------------

Sis, Wake up!”

 You fluttered your eyes open slowly, bright light started invading them causing me to squint. “10 more minutes” you groan as you rolled back under the silky sheets.

“I've been trying to wake you up forever. It's like you were dead!”  Renya said hitting me with pillows.

 “Remee please don’t make me get up, this has been the best sleep of my life” You whined as you tried to fall back into my peaceful slumber. Reya chucked a uniform on the bed hitting you one last time. 

“Well, you can have another great nights sleep when we come back after school. Sis, please don't make me try and convince you to go. I already wanna ditch,” she said happily. 

“ugh, We have to go...” You replied as you attempted to move your body. Keyword...attempting. 

“Now get up you lazy bum! We have to go to school!” she said before exiting my room. You groaned before throwing the sheets off your body, staring at the ceiling. Hearing birds chirp you let yourself have another minute before you threw yourself out of bed. 

---

The class was rioting as the day had just begun. The teacher hadn't arrived to class yet so as the paper was being tossed around and gossip was being spread you took the opportunity too  Finally, the doors handle starts to riggle, The classic old door playing up again. But just by the wiggle, the class knew who it was. 

Everything seemed to stop before everyone rushed towards their seats picking up any rubbish that was in the way and throwing it in the bin, Reya, who was on the other side of the class started jumping over desks just to get to her seat in time. Just as everyone was seated and was acting ‘normal’ the door slide open.

“Class A year 12. You have new students.” She said before entering in, as she walked in the faces coming in behind her looked so familiar it was scary, the seven boys standing in front of the class were so good looking some girls were actually drooling. One of the boys caught my eye, his dark hair and emo aura intrigued you, he caught me staring and smirked before looking next to me to Renya. blushing hardcore you ignored the tense state of your friend. 

As they introduced themselves you watched as Reya nervously played with her fingers, you creased my brows in confusion as she looked at you. Something was clearly bothering her. She tried to smile at you in reassurance but it didn’t work out very well.

“Class would someone please show the boys around before chapel starts,” miss asked, as soon as she said that all the girls in the class shot their hands up except you and Reya. You tried your best to read her but it wasn't working very well. 

“We want her to,” 

Jin, the boy who looked like the oldest one pointed at you. Shouldn't they be in different year levels?

Everyone’s eyes clicked to me, some girls glared at the back of your head as you slowly got up. “Follow me,” You said softly ignoring how all seven boys stared at you as if you were prey. 

walking through the hallways you could hear the boys whispering behind you. The hair stood up on the back of your neck as you pointed to different rooms. explaining what the are. 

 “and this is the spare classroom, we mostly use in for dance class as there aren’t any desks here, and the walls are soundproof,” You explained opening the door and letting them look in.

 “Can you take us inside?” jimin asked as the started to block your exit. “Yer I guess I can,” you said as your heart started beating faster. 

Leading them, you walked them in. 

“so yer it’s a pretty decent roo-“ You started but as soon as you heard the slam of the door closing and the click of the lock, you whipped around faster than you could say ‘what the fuck’. 

The boys all started spreading around the room except Jin who stood at the door with a big as the smirk on his face.

 “Erm…is something wrong?” you asked gulping the saliva that was gathering in your mouth out of nervousness.

“Mmmmmm yes something is a very wrong young one,” Namjoon said as he rested his body against the wall sighing “see, you saw some of us in the forest last night, remember that?” Yoongi asked as he gave a faint smirk.

“Oh…that was you guys? Why were you in the forest? And why is it a problem that I saw you?” you asked in confusion, why are they making such a big deal out of it.

“mmmmmm, maybe she didn’t…’see’ us” taehyung said putting focus on the word see as he scratched his head and looked off into the distance

 “doesn’t matter…I’m hungry,” jungkook said as he stepped closer and closer towards you.

your heart skipped a beat as his piercing gaze looked straight into my soul. A smirk came onto his face before he closed his eyes and took a whiff. 

“My favourite,” he said before opening his eyes, the red of his eyes matched the colour of deep blood. As he smiled at you two fangs diverted your eyes to them causing you to freeze momentarily. 

Gasping you backed up against a wall, He laughed at my obvious fear as the rest of them smirked waiting for the scene to unfold. 

“Do you know what we are?” he asked the word right on the tip of my tongue.

“Y-y-you’re a-a vampire” you whimpered as you clutched the edge of my shirt. 

“See guys! now she knows about us! do you know what happens to humans that find out about us?” he smirked coming closer to you. 

 “I don’t really wanna know to be honest” you whimpered again, looking around for some sort of exit but there was no point, his ‘posse’ had the place surrounded. 

“It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re about to find out” he smirked, opening his mouth wider as his hand held my neck tightly. breathing in you were ready to let out a scream but the front door was pulled open.

Everyone stopped, jungkook’s fangs and eyes disappeared as Reya stood at the doorway. you had never been more grateful to see her in your life than at this moment right now.

 “There you are, why are you guys in here? Shouldn’t your tour be done?” Reya asked, the door still wide open, wasn’t that locked?

You shuffled your feet to move out but jungkook who was in front of you, growled softly under his breath. 

“Y/N, let’s go,” Reya said motioning out the door quickly.

 “What about us? You can’t just leave us alone” taehyung pouted as he swiftly grabbed her hand. Your heart skipped a beat for a second, we need to both get the fuck out of here.

“You’re old enough, I’m sure you can find your way,” she said coldly as she snatched her hand back from his grip. 

“If you want your friend you’re going to have to come in and get her” jungkook said as he gripped my arm tightly pulling me into his rock hard body.

Trying to communicate with her through your eyes you watched in fear as she rolled her eyes her temper clearly boiling.

 “Well?” taehyung asked as everyone looked on. ,s if what was happening was a game. Reya took a breath before walking in straight towards where you were.

Taehyung smiled and slammed the door shut as some of the boys started laughing.

 “not a smart move” jungkook chuckled before his fangs reappeared.

Waiting for an ear-piercing screech you watch on worriedly but your eyes narrowed at the relaxed girl. 

 I started struggling against his grip as Reya walked closer.

“I only like saying things once, so listen closely. You WILL leave her alone, I’ll let you roam around, but if I see one bite mark on her unscarred skin, or one student in this god damn school dead, I will kill you, now let her go” Reya stated, authority laced in her voice.

Jungkook and his companions laughed as he brought you in front of him, holding you still with one arm and removing your hair in front of your neck with the other.

“And what are you, a low power witch, going to do to stop me” he smirked as he brought his fangs closer to my neck.

Tears strolled down my face as you prepared yourself for the pain...

“Remember what I told you,” she said staring him down.

Before his teeth could puncture your neck, his hands dropped from your body and went straight to his head, he screamed loudly, dropping towards the floor. Jin and Suga ran straight too him. Looking at him confused.

“I wouldn’t exactly call me, low rated,” she said grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. Confused, you continued to stare at the group of vampires. 

“Remee, stop please” you whispered tugging on her sleeve, looking down at the pained boy. She glanced at you confused before stopping whatever she was doing.

As jungkook regained himself he glared up at the two of you. scooting a little closer to Remee you tried not to be as scared as they all circled us shooting daggers into our backs.

“so what are you, middle rate? You don’t smell like an ultimate witch” rap monster asked as he examined her. 

“I don’t know, are you willing to find out,” she said glaring at all of them. the tension could be cut with a knife. Your friend was so confident and so unfazed by the blood-sucking boys. 

“Now let us go,” she said turning to jimin who was blocking up from the door. When jimin didn’t move she sighed and with a flick of her hand jimin was flung across the room. As he groaned you watched as some of the boys moved away from Reya. 

“One time everybody, one time,” she said as she led you out of the room.

As Remee dragged you down the corridors you head was spun. The situation not settling well with you. 

 “Remee, what the fuck just happened, their…and you’re…and what the hell!?” I exclaimed clutching my head with my free hand. 

“I’ll explain once we get back to my house,” she said as we exiting school “were ditching?” you asked, Your brain lowkey breaking down at the knowledge that these mythical creatures were real. 

“Yer well I think this situation calls for ditching ya know?” she said as the two of you left school. You tightened your grip on your friend's hand as you knew without her guidance your body wouldn't know how to act. The memory of those red eyes and white fangs burned in your brain as you walked...

What now? Are they going to be after you? 

You looked at Reya who still looked calm and composed and something about it calmed you down. 

You would be okay...hopefully. 

#jungkook vampire au #jungkook vampire series #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts series #bts vampire au #bts stories #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook supernatural #jungkook mate #jungkook soul mate #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #jimin series #namjoon series #jin series #hoseok series #suga series #bts scenario #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan fan fiction #bangtansstories #bangtan smut #kim taehyung #jungkook au #jungkook ff #kpop vampire au

[justkeeptrekkin]

Sharing a bed for the first time and spooning / hugging. Nothing too explicit but a lot of affection and comfort. I have this headcanon but I can't find any good fic about this

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

Hope you enjoy this prompt anon!

***

The neighbours have noticed. The whole street has lost its central heating, the entire place is freezing apart from Aziraphale’s bookshop, and the neighbours have noticed. They aren’t pleased. 

There are many cases in which Aziraphale has used his miracle abilities for selfish reasons, for his own comfort. There’s, of course, the whole situation with those nasty mafia type men wanting to buy his bookshop from him, who he’s… dealt with. There’s also all the customers he persuades not to buy any of the books, gently escorting them from the shop with an angelic smile till they find themselves outside, not knowing how they got there. 

Today, there’s the central heating. It’s very easy, really, to keep the whole shop warm. And he might have been able to fix it for the whole street, but Heaven still aren’t very happy with him about Armageddon and he doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. And, what with the neighbours noticing how toasty his shop is and complaining and causing a fuss, it doesn’t seem worth the trouble. 

So now, he’s lying in his bed, something he rarely uses- it also happens to have a duvet, which is helpful on this particular occasion- he’s wearing three jumpers, and he is still absolutely freezing. Lying in the foetal position beneath the sheets, he weighs up his options. 

As far as he sees it, he only has one. 

That is how, a twenty minute cab ride later, he finds himself at Crowley’s apartment building. After ringing the intercom, it takes a moment for anyone to answer. He dances a little jig on the spot, trying to keep warm, his breath pouring out of him in clouds of steam. 

Then:

“What is it?”

“It’s me- sorry to disturb you, I’m- good Lord, it’s so cold-”

“It’s all this post-not-apocalypse business, angel, it‘s messed with the weather,” Crowley says, without missing a beat. “Come on up.”

The door buzzes, Aziraphale pushes it open, and as soon as he steps inside, he’s amazed by the difference. It’s so warm. It’s the warmest he’s been in hours, and it’s making his skin tingle. The elevator journey up to Crowley’s floor is quick, and as soon as the doors slide open, Aziraphale sees him- leaning against the doorframe, waiting.

“Why didn’t you text me you were coming over,” he grumbles.

“I still don’t like it, Crowley.” Referring to the iPhone that Crowley’s fobbed off on him, which he’s encouraging Aziraphale to use and is failing to do so monumentally. “Every time I try and open up the message thing, it thinks I’m clicking on something called iTunes, and then it starts playing music without warning, and it’s just horrible.”

Crowley steps back to let Aziraphale through. “You’d get the hang of it if you tried. Problem with you, angel, ‘s you’re too stubborn.”

Aziraphale ignores him, as he often does when he’s being insulted like this. Crowley’s flat is deliciously warm, and Aziraphale shrugs off his coat with a contented sigh. 

“What brings you here this fine evening?” Crowley says in a jokingly formal tone. 

“Central heating is buggered,” Aziraphale says, hanging up his coat by the door. He pulls off his scarf, thus shimmying off his bow tie a little, and Crowley appears fascinated by the action. “And you know how hard it is to perform any miracles these days.”

Crowley growls. “I don’t understand-” his whole body slumps with exhaustion and infuriation, “-Why they still won’t leave us alone. Didn’t we scare them enough? Why do they still care? Their plan went to shit, so why? Why?”

“Who knows, dear,” Aziraphale gently drapes the scarf over the coat stand hook, turns to measure Crowley- who’s sloped off to sit at his desk sulkily. Aziraphale watches him from the corridor, continues, “Better not to dwell on these things.”

“Better than being melted with holy water. Or burned with Hellfire.”

“Well, quite.”

Crowley is draped over his chair. Aziraphale stands and lingers. His nose is still cold. Actually, despite it being toasty in here, he thinks it might take a while for his body to reacclimatise. Crowley casts his golden eyes over towards him, where he hangs awkwardly in the sparse room. 

“So you’re coming to mooch off me, are you?”

Aziraphale tuts. “No. I had rather thought that the offer was still open.”

“What offer?”He hesitates.

“The- well. The one you made in Tadfield. On the bench. Before we got the bus to London that was actually for Oxford.”

Something in Crowley’s expression shifts. And something in his shoulders, too- his whole body tenses a little. Like someone who’d been expecting a friend to walk into the room has suddenly found the Queen, asking if she can make herself at home. 

“Right. Yes, right. You- hang on.”

Crowley launches himself from his chair, snaps his fingers, conjures sofas. Not the Spartan, minimalist type either- no, these are soft and tartan and very much Aziraphale’s style. 

“Oh! Lovely. I’ve been telling you for months that you need a proper living room,” Aziraphale notes, rather pleased with how the place looks now. “See how much more homey it is?”

“Right,” Crowley replies, like he’s not really listening. “Um. So, you’re thinking of staying the night then?”

“Ah. Well, if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“Nope. S’fine. All fine, this is fine,” Crowley rushes. “This is fine. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh- OK.”

And Aziraphale marvels at how suddenly flustered he is, spinning round in panicked circles before magicking blankets into existence, fetching a bottle of Rioja from his cupboards, turning side lights on and main lights off so the place looks warmer, less cave-like, and doing one thousand other things at once that makes Aziraphale soften. 

He’s already soft enough, but this is all too endearing for Aziraphale to handle. He’s always taken pleasure from Crowley fussing over him. Right now, the sight of him bustling about the living room- it lifts something inside of him. Something in his chest lifts like bubbles rising to the surface of a still lake.

“Crowley. Crowley,” he repeats, when the demon doesn’t hear him. After the second time, Aziraphale receives a startled expression, brows raised and mouth hanging open a little. Surprised by the interruption. “My dear, you don’t have to do all this. I’m perfectly happy just being here. With.”

With you, he thinks. With you. Just say it, Aziraphale, you coward.

He doesn’t. He closes his mouth, stares at Crowley’s slack expression, then at the wall directly behind him. 

“Thank you,” he eventually says. Adds a nervous smile. “For putting me up.”

“Don’t- don’t thank me, you don’t need to thank me, I offered, remember? Just…” Crowley hovers in the makeshift living room. His lips twist nervously, he stuffs his hands in his barely-there trouser pockets, kicks the sofa. “What is it that changed your mind?”

“How do you mean?”

“About staying over. You said. Back then, you said your side wouldn’t like it. Now?”

Aziraphale thinks about this. He looks above the cold apartment- warm physically, cold emotionally- and then at the sofas that have just been produced. Purely for Aziraphale’s comfort. 

“I’m comfortable with you,” he says quietly, too quietly.

“What?”

“I’m- it’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. Aziraphale’s been chasing after comfort for his whole existence, never really finding it except for in the company of one person. The one person he’s not meant to want to be with. 

But-

“Well, even if you won’t accept my thank you, I’m offering it nonetheless,” Aziraphale ploughs on- Crowley frowns at him, but allows the change in subject. “So it’s there. If you want to accept it.”

After a pause, Crowley’s frown melts, and he shrugs. He collapses on the sofa. He puts on the telly.

“Alright, alright, don’t go on about it. Let’s see if there’s anything less depressing than the news on.”

***

It’s not that the sofa isn’t comfortable. It’s just that Aziraphale feels at a bit of a loose end. 

He’d confidently assured Crowley that he could leave Aziraphale to it and retire for the night. But without his books, and in such a sparse flat, he’s sitting here feeling a little bit of a lemon. 

He’s thought about sleeping. He tried, and it just didn’t seem like he’d drop off. He’s only just got the hang of this whole sleeping business anyway- he had a very successful nap after Armageddon, but it appears that he still needs practice. So, giving up, he’s resorted to looking out of the window and staring at the people down below, walking about Westminster in the cold. After a while even that gets a bit dull, so he sits on the sofa again and turns on the television, puts it on mute so as not to disturb Crowley. 

And, amazingly, he’s still cold. Not because the apartment itself is cold, but because his body is still acclimatising. He sighs. And he thinks, as he stares at the silent television, that he may need a bath to warm up properly.

The sound of the door bursting open makes him jump out of his skin. 

He turns around and looks at the door- it’s open, but no one’s there. “Crowley?”

“I can hear you sighing from all the way in here,” he calls out from his bedroom. “Just get in here.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you could entertain yourself, but you obviously can’t.”

Aziraphale stares about the living room, at a loss. Crowley’s acting as if there isn’t anything remotely intimate about him inviting Aziraphale into his room. Back on that bench in Tadfield, he’d been rather casual then too, offering to let him stay over. Aziraphale had been scandalised and tempted. He’s feeling similarly now. 

This time, though, he’s leaning towards tempted. 

And so, brushing himself off, straightening his cardigan uselessly, he stands up from the sofa and steps uncertainly into Crowley’s room. 

He’s under the covers, laptop leaning against his raised knees. The room is equally sparse, except from a huge piece of modern artwork that- for all that Aziraphale can tell- is simply a large canvas painted black with a little white blob on it. He tilts his head and stares at it for a while. 

“Planning on standing there all night?”

Aziraphale’s attention flits to Crowley. He’s sat there, peering at him over the edge of his laptop screen. Huge, yellow eyes. Watchful- and possibly a little bit guarded. He’s growing his hair out, too- it’s looking more like it did a couple of years ago, half tied up in a messy bun. 

“Sorry?”

“Just. Don’t think standing and watching me from the doorway is going to be much more entertaining than whatever you were doing next door. You. You could.” His word catch in his throat. “You could actually get in.”

“A-ah. Yes.” 

Aziraphale nods to himself, straightens his cardigan out again and walks purposefully towards the bed. When he gets there, he hesitates awkwardly- Crowley watching with wry amusement. He pulls the duvet back and covers himself, knees in the air. Back, uncomfortably, against the railing of the bed. 

“Well done, you managed,” Crowley drawls. 

“Stop it.”

“Just a bed, angel,” he adds, though the tone is too light.

“I don’t use them very often.”

“Yes, but, see, I was under the impression you still knew how they worked. Just then you looked like you’d forgotten the function of a duvet.”

Aziraphale shoots him a look, but Crowley’s doing something on his laptop. He seems pleased with himself.

Aziraphale straightens out his legs, wiggles his toes. 

“It is very warm in here,” Aziraphale admits. “I can see why you like napping so much.”

“Like being warm,” he mumbles, continuing to do something on his laptop that Aziraphale can’t understand. 

“What are you doing?”

Crowley sighs. “You’re so nosy.”

“No I’m- I beg your pardon. I thought you were meant to encourage curiosity, snake?”

He snorts. “I’m catching up on Love Island.”

“What’s Love Island?”

“You…” he wrinkles his nose. “You don’t want to know.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It’s- ha! It’s really not.”

“Oh. Is it one of yours?”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

Crowley looks at him. And there’s a strange expression on his face; strange in that it’s almost childlike. Wide eyed and vulnerable. 

“I can watch it later,” he says, lips barely moving.

“Oh- no, don’t let me stop you-”

“Nah. Nah, you know what, I’ll watch it tomorrow,” he announces too loudly, closes his laptop loudly, drops it on the floor loudly. “Let’s just sit. Sit and talk. When’s the last time we talked? Just sat and talked.”

“I believe we do that almost every day. And have done for a few millennia now.”

“Yeah, but.”

Not like this, Aziraphale thinks, though he’s too scared to acknowledge that thought. No, he ignores it stoically like a dog being offered medicine, wrapped up in ham. He eats around the pill. 

As it turns out, neither of them want to approach whatever direction that conversation was going. So they end up instead talking about nothing. Things that Aziraphale will forget about tomorrow, but are enjoyable in the moment. Eventually, he gives up on leaning against the railing and lies down, and then so does Crowley, until they’re laying side by side. It’s easy to imagine that they’re outside, on some grassy knoll, looking up at the stars. Or the clouds. Heaven. 

“I think I’m only just about warming up, now,” Aziraphale sighs, after an extensive conversation about glacier cherries and which side invented them.

“Only just?” Crowley asks, aghast. “I laid out all those sodding blankets for nothing?”

“No, no, you- you did wonderfully, dear.” Aziraphale doesn’t miss the way Crowley turns his head away and stares at the ceiling with a deep set frown. “I just don’t think my corporeal form is used to being cold for so long. If ever I was cold before, I’d just…”

Aziraphale snaps his fingers. Nothing happens, of course; he’s being careful these days. 

“Being human sounds rubbish, doesn’t it. Being cold all the time. Getting hungry. Doing exams and running out of phone battery.”

“It has its perks.”

“Yeah. Least we get to experience the good stuff.”

Aziraphale has been watching Crowley, lying on his back with his cheek pressed against the pillow. He’s been watching the way his hair is falling out of its loose ties, red curls around his face in tendrils. He also keeps finding little stray red hairs over his own cardigan; proof that this whole sharing-a-bed thing happened, in case he ever forgets (he never will). 

And he thinks of all the things that Crowley has done for him over the millennia. Everything, from the Bastille to books to apocalypses to offering a warm place to stay. He thinks of how much Crowley gives, despite never receiving; thinks of his trial in Hell, and all the cruelty that he’s experienced from the beginning; thinks about how, actually, he understands how that feels. To not be good (or bad) enough, to not be worth the attention, to be treated so coldly. Aziraphale thinks that he understands, in many ways, how Crowley feels- and he thinks of what he can give back, after everything Crowley has done. 

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

It sounds ridiculous when he says it, not like him at all. But he knows that the only way he’ll be able to give Crowley a cuddle is by dressing it up. By making it seem like he’s asking for a favour, rather than giving Crowley what he deserves. Crowley will readily grant Aziraphale a favour, but will bear his fangs at the sight of a compliment. Aziraphale sees all the demon’s insecurities, and it’ll take every trick in the book to get past those defences.

Crowley’s head turns towards him. Eyes darting about his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. So. If- that is, if you’re a willing participant, you could be that body.”

Crowley huffs a laugh. “An offer I can’t refuse.”

At first, it sounds like a joke. The mocking tone is there, but beneath it, there’s sincerity. It’s so genuine and affectionate and intimate- and that feeling returns in his chest, the happy-nervous bubbles rising to the surface. 

“Right,” Aziraphale breathes. Watching the indescribably soft expression on Crowley’s face. “Well, that’s decided then.”

“Suppose it is.”

Now he’s suggested it, though, Aziraphale’s not brave enough to move. Luckily for him, Crowley is. Crowley’s always the braver one of the two, even if he’s technically the bad one. 

And so Crowley lifts up an arm, a gesture for Aziraphale to lay his head on his chest. And he does, after a bit of shuffling. Crowley is bony and sharp, but there’s also an obvious landscape to him that makes it easy for Aziraphale to get comfortable- like a particularly chair shaped rock at the beach. Although it takes him a minute to find the right spot, and Crowley grumbles at him to stop moving and sort yourself out, angel. Eventually, though, they find themselves still. Cuddled up, Crowley’s arms around him The feeling of his chest rising and falling, breath tickling Aziraphale’s forehead. His smell. His hair, too close to be able to focus on properly- just a blur of red. 

Aziraphale can’t believe his luck. 

And at some point, he dozes off. They both do. Aziraphale knows this, because when he wakes up, he finds their roles reversed- they’re lying on their sides, and Crowley’s curled up beneath his chin. Their legs are tangled and so is Aziraphale’s heart. 

He simply lies there. He lies there and brings in Crowley close, holds him. Embraces him, offers him all the softness, all the attention that he deserves. Wraps him up in his arms like he belongs there.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #fic prompt

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip​

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed!  So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’. 

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

[fletchphoenix]

Sweet As Sugar, Right As Rain

Chapter 3 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Yay! Thanks so much for all the support I’ve been receiving on this fic, I’ve enjoyed writing it so so much! It’s just been amazing (considering this is my first time EVER writing a fic so aha, I really appreciate the support!) Enjoy! <3

Word Count : 3809

TW - Strong Language

---------------------------------------  

  Sunlight beamed through the windows, the rays penetrating the temporary shield of his curtains and straight into his eyes. Hugo let out a loud groan and raised his arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light, however his attempts were futile. He resorted to pulling the emerald sheets over his head with a groan. Birds outside had other plans however, singing and tweeting right outside his goddamn window to ensure he couldn’t go back to sleep. Hugo shoved the sheets back in frustration, kicking them off him and letting them fall into a bundle on the floor. “Note to self. Buy some shutters.” he muttered, propping himself up on his elbows and reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table. 

  As everything came into focus, he took a second to look into the mirror. “Holy fucking shit.” he complained. Blonde locks jutted out in every direction imaginable, sticking up unnaturally. “Okay then. Shower time.” he said to no one in particular, shuffling off his bed as it made a painfully loud creak once his weight left it. Squeaking and shuffling sounded from the cage across his room, catching his attention, and he glanced over. A smile quickly took over his face.

  “Olivia! Hey there girl.” he jogged over, sitting at his desk and opening the top drawer of his desk to take out a packet of sunflower seeds. He tipped a few out of the packet, examining them in his hand before placing them in the cage in front of her. She inhaled the seeds, chittering and scurrying around in the cage happily after her breakfast with an energy unlike any other he’d seen before.

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re excited. But I’ve gotta go get ready, sweetheart.” he muttered, moving to stand. He gave in to his urges at her pouty face (could mice even pout? He’d have to google it later) before reaching into her cage with his finger and running a finger over her smooth, golden fur. “Okay, NOW I’ve gotta go.” he told the mouse sternly, pushing the chair away from the desk and moving to his feet. Arms made their way above his head in a long stretch as he made his way through the tiny apartment to his bathroom. 

  He should be grateful, he thought, that Donella was kind enough to let him live alone, but god, this place was less than satisfactory. The window panes were cracked in their frames and never really shut properly - making winters like these with their incessant flurries of snow the worst in the world. Banging and screaming always sounded from above him, with his neighbours being possibly the most dysfunctional couple in the history of romance. The walls were paper thin too - he could hear whenever his frat-boy next door neighbour bought a girl round, dreading whenever he did, and he wasn’t even allowed to keep any real pets! It took MANY hours of seducing the landlord to be allowed to keep Olivia in the apartment with him. And don’t even get him started on the rip-off rent costs. Alas, it was home and he couldn’t bear to live with Donella again. She was a great woman, taking him in when he was young and supporting him, but she was terrible when it came to motherly duties and..it was pointless to expect that from her. 

  The bathroom wasn’t much to brag about, either. A lime mat covered most of the tiled floor with a heater barely peeking out under the mass of towels placed carelessly on top of it. Reaching out, he turned the handle and let the water run, so it could heat up gradually. He tapped his foot as we waited, checking his phone. 11:15am. Why did it feel like he was forgetting something? It was probably something Donella told him to do. She did that sometimes - springing plans onto him out of nowhere. As if he didn’t have a social life at all. So inconsiderate, he mumbled to himself. It didn’t matter anyway, the shower water already at the right temperature. He stripped out of his pyjamas and hopped in.

  After his shower, Hugo finished drying his hair, tied it up and quietly changed into a light yellow shirt, blue jeans and his signature green jacket. He loved that jacket dearly, it being one of the first gifts Donella ever got him that wasn’t second-hand. (“Your clothes look ratty,” she’d said, trying to suppress her soft smile with a hardened expression. “I got you new ones. Maybe now you’ll look even slightly presentable.”) At least she was trying, he’d told himself as he started to fix his hair in the mirror. 

  Once he was fully satisfied, he set his course for the kitchen. In the hall, he passed various framed posters on the walls along with newspapers and small sticky notes with his engineering questions noted down on them. (All green, of course, because what was he, a monster? He had an aesthetic to uphold and he was determined to do so, goddamnit!). Shelves also littered the wall - containing various books on topics like engineering, chemistry, biology and physics. Donella had given him them too, so he had something to read growing up and to entertain himself while she was away on her business trips with her friend, Ulla. Sure, she’d be gone weeks at a time, leaving Hugo with Cyrus to be taken care of, but at least he had someone there to take care of him.

  He trailed his hand to the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open and walking into the room. It was slightly bigger than the other rooms in the apartment - counters along the walls with a small table in the middle. A clock sat on the wall as well. 12:26pm. Why did it still feel like he was forgetting something? A string of curses left his mouth after he, in his distracted state, stubbed his toe on the chair, “Motherfucker! Ow!” he cried out and hopped awkwardly to the coffee machine which was, not surprisingly at all, fern green. 

  Hugo let the machine do its thing, taking the cup of absolute joy after it was done and adding some sugar. Black coffee was his saviour on a morning - especially after he’d had a party the night before. The bitter taste flooded his mouth and tickled his nose, him letting out a content sigh of happiness. This was it. The freedom he’d always wanted. He let the serenity of the moment relax the tension in his shoulders and allowed himself a moment where he could just be alone. 

  The moment was broken by a bleep on his phone.

  “For fuck’s sake..” Hugo muttered as he checked the time again. 12:47pm. Shit, had it really been that long? Oh well..not as if he had anything to do today. His eyes scanned over the text he had received. 

Cyrus : Hey bud. Have a good time on your date today. Remember - Donella needs you at the workshop by 17:00. Don’t be late.

  Shit.

  He’d forgotten. How had he forgotten he was meeting up with Varian? He was such an idiot! He’d scored a date with the most handsome boy on the planet and somehow he’d forgotten! In his panic, Hugo tipped the coffee down the sink and rushed to the door...stubbing his toe again and slipping over. “FUCKING CHAIR!” he yelled and scrambled to his feet, scurrying and sitting on a step to lace up his shoe. His wallet and keys sat on the table by the door, his hand hurriedly scooping them up, shoving them into his pocket and racing out the door.

  Lungs gasped for air and burned as he sprinted down the street, dodging people on his journey to the coffee shop. The sun shining in the sky was deceiving, the bitter winter air biting at the back of his neck. He should’ve bought a scarf. It was too goddamn cold out here - the December airs howling past his ears. He should’ve bought his headphones too. Oh god, he hoped Varian hadn’t bailed on him. 

  He fell through the doorway, gulping at the stares he received as he made his way through the people in the shop in search of one boy in particular with the beautiful blue streak in his raven hair. He stuttered apologies before his eyes found what he was looking for. Making his way over, he began to apologise. “Hey hairstripe, sorry I’m late. I was-”. His words died out as he made his way closer.

  There, in the same booth as before, sat perfection in its finest form. Varian. His azure eyes were focused outside, gazing and half lidded but looking at nothing in particular. His ebony hair blew slightly in the slight breeze created by the fan in the shop, with the blue streaks sticking out against it. Freckled skin had a slight shine to it from the sun’s rays that provided perfect lighting and bringing out his soft features. His cyan sweater complimented the rest of his outfit, the headphones hanging around his neck matching the colour of his sneakers. It was like a movie scene - absolutely perfect. His mouth felt dry as the boy turned his head and gave him an excited smile and Hugo could swear he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of it. 

  “Hugh! Hey!” Varian said, waving his hand and watching Hugo as he moved to sit in the booth opposite him. “It’s fine, you don’t need to apologise. I got here early anyway so I was just listening to some music.” he added onto the end, leaning against the table with a grin on his face. “Love the jacket by the way, really compliments the shirt.” 

  “I-thank you. I could say the same for you though. That sweater really brings out your eyes. And your hair.” he reached out his hand, running the strands between his fingers before pulling his hand away. He let out a chuckle at the sight of Varian’s flushed face, eyes fixated on the younger male as he tucked his hair behind his ear and fiddled with the hem of his shirt stuttering out explanations. “Hairstripe, calm down. It’s just a compliment. Anyway, what do you want? The drink is on me.” 

  “Oh, um -a vanilla latte again. Please.”

  “Don’t miss me too much.” he grinned with a smug expression, laughing when Varian pushed him playfully before walking off to order. He let out a content sigh and glanced back at Varian as he ordered their drinks. The boy in question was playing with his hair as he read a chemistry textbook that he must’ve placed on the table when he left. He looked so beautiful, just sitting there without a care in the world. Hugo could just watch him forever, a red tint starting to build on the tips of his ears and cheeks as he realised just how long he’d been staring. He tore his eyes away from the breathtaking boy near the window and brought his attention back to the barista.

  “Vanilla latte and black coffee for Hugo?” the chestnut haired girl questioned, placing the drinks on the side and allowing Hugo to pick them up. He nodded graciously, flashing her a smile before returning to his seat. Leaving a $5 tip in the jar on the way, he sauntered back to the table with the drinks in hand and a smile on his face. 

  “Lord Varian, your drink has been served by your humble servant. I am forever in your debt.” he laughed and sat down opposite the boy again as he pulled his drink close to his chest and took a sip. Hugo looked out of the window with a smile, eyeing the people walking past in the freezing weather, holding hands with their loved ones and cuddling them close to ward back the December breeze. He wished he could do that with a certain obsidian haired boy sitting across from him reading a chemistry textbook like the adorable nerd he was. “So. How’s your week been? I saw you were in the library yesterday. You did look great by the way.” He smirked and winked in his direction.

  “Oh! It's been fine, Hugh. I do tutoring with Nuru on Wednesdays. We look after the sweetest boy in the world called Yong. He’s seriously the smartest kid I’ve ever met, but he gets so nervous to show it, y’know? And Nuru...god, she’s an amazing girl! Intelligent, yes, but just so mature and caring towards everyone! She’s a sweetheart really. How about you? Why were you there yesterday?” Varian asked quizzically, giving Hugo a little head tilt that made his heart soar. Fuck, he loved this boy. 

  “Me? Oh well, I was just picking up some books and doing some studying. I have an essay due in a few weeks and I just needed to look up some things.” he lied through his teeth. It was TOTALLY not because he wanted to see the other teen again before their date. Nope. No way. Nuh-uh. 

  “If you want me to, I could help you with your-”

  “NO!” He yelled out, leaning forward against the table before flushing red and moving back into his seat, composing himself and tapping his leg rapidly to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, I uh-I think I’ll be fine on my own. Thanks for the offer though.” he chuckled awkwardly, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry...I’m just really awkward.” he apologised, sliding back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. Great. Perfect. Absolutely swell. He’s just embarrassed himself in front of the boy of his dreams like an absolute idiot. If whatever god there was could just strike him dead right now, that would be fan-fucking-tastic-

  A giggle followed by laughter and snorts broke him out of his spiral of self hatred. Varian’s hands wrapped around his wrists and gently lowered them, the most loving smile Hugo had ever seen plastered on his face as he dealt with the aftershocks of his laughing fit. “It’s okay. It was cute.” the boy commented, Hugo’s face twisting into a smile as well before joining him in his fit of laughter. 

  They must’ve looked like a strange pair - two boys laughing so hard they were in tears at a coffee shop in the middle of December, but neither of them cared. They were happy and that was all that mattered. Both took a sip from their coffees as they kept their eyes locked on each other. “Yep.” Varian thought, “Coffee does taste better when I’m drinking it with Hugo.” he concluded. He shuffled over in his booth, allowing Hugo to slide in beside him and look at the textbook to help with his questions. 

  Hugo tried his hardest to ignore how close Varian was, but after a few hours it became harder and harder to focus, with their shoulders pressed against each other and leaning forward with their eyes fixated on the book. A deep red flush developed on his cheeks yet again. Any closer and they’d be…Hugo tried not to focus on that, his gaze directing to Varian’s hand. He slowly and shakily took the younger’s hand in his own.

  Hugo turned his head to look at Varian, the younger boy coincidentally doing the same thing at the same time. Their noses almost touched, but both of them were too lost in the moment to bother pointing out the awkwardness of the situation, with Hugo intertwining their fingers under the table. “Hugo?” the younger whispered. Hugo could feel the tantalizing breath on his lips, intermingling with his own. Just a little closer. He tilted his head, leaning in and..

 His phone rang.

  Hugo snapped back to reality and moved away from Varian, letting go of his hand, much to both boy’s disappointment, and picked up his phone to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Hugo.” Donella’s rough voice replied, and boy howdy, did she sound pissed off. He was in trouble for sure this time. “It's 5pm. Where the hell are you.” she growled through the phone.

  “Shit, Donella I’m sorry. I forgot all about the time. I’ll start heading over now, I promise-”

  “Hurry up then.” she commented before hanging up, leaving no time for discussion. Hugo turned to see Varian - the hurt on his face wounding Hugo’s heart. A kicked puppy would probably look less hurt than the boy did in that moment. And he put that look on his face. He really was the worst wasn’t he? 

  “Hey-write down your address. I’ll pick you up at 5 next Thursday-” he began to say, Varian’s face twisting in confusion before grabbing a napkin and handing it to Hugo. “Alright, I’m sorry to cut this short.” he sighed and gathered his things together. Hugo turned to leave, before he felt a hand grab his wrist and a kiss was placed on his cheek. 

  “Thank you.” Varian looked at the floor, his face flushed red however a smile was still evident on it. Hugo’s mouth felt dry yet again as he froze for a second, a now all too familiar heat covering his face. He nodded in response and headed out the store, where he immediately leant against the wall and placed a hand on his cheek. 

  “Holy fucking shit..” he whispered to himself. “I’m in love with Varian Ruddiger.” He let himself get lost in the moment before another bleep reminded him of where he had to be. Shit. He started sprinting down the street, his path illuminated by streetlights as he passed them with a smile on his face. Well…

Next week was gonna be interesting.

  He opened the door to the workshop Donella ran, passing her henchmen as if they weren’t threatening at all. They fixed their glares onto him - okay yep, he was definitely in trouble for being late. He pushed open the doors, putting on his smug facade as he made his way to Donella’s desk. “Hey Donella, I’m here.” he declared, placing his hands on the desk and leaning against it. “You needed me?”

  “Yes, I did.” she frowned at him and gave him her infamous death stare. He cowered back slightly before regaining his composure again. “I trust this won’t happen again..?” she questioned, a slight smile tugging on her lips at the frantic nod he gave. “Good. Now get to work. We have an important client who requested specifically for you to make his product so..get to it.” 

  He hurriedly left her office, heading to his workspace and pulling on his goggles and gloves. Sheesh, that woman could seem evil sometimes - he bet in her past life, she was probably a supervillain. Maybe in an alternate universe, she was. He let out a breathy chuckle, glancing over the blueprints. Hm. Looked difficult, but he could do it. He set the paper aside and began to work, the incident from the coffee shop still playing on his mind. 

He couldn’t wait to see Varian again.

  Meanwhile, Varian packed his things again and began his walk home. Was Hugo about to...kiss him? Did he seriously feel the same as he did? It made him feel giddy just thinking about the way Hugo’s cold hands felt against his warm ones, the closeness that made his heart pound and ache for more contact, the way Hugo leaned in and tilted his head...wow. Hugo liked him. And he liked Hugo. 

  He pushed open his door and, once again, fed Ruddiger before heading up to his room. The cat purred gratefully and ate before following his master, lounging across his bed as if he owned the place. The audacity of the fat bastard! “Sometimes I wonder why I feed you.” Varian wondered aloud, grinning as the cat meowed back and swatted V’s hand as he tried to pet him. “Ow! Okay! Geez, I get it!” he laughed before reaching over and grabbing his phone to see some texts from Hugo.

Hugo : Sorry for leaving so early, short stuff

Hugo : My mom needed me for something and I completely forgot

Hugo : But hey, next week you’ll have me all to yourself ;)))

  Varian scoffed and looked at Ruddiger, who he swore had a disgusted expression as he read the phone screen. “I know Ruddiger. Absolutely disgraceful, isn’t it?” He chuckled, but..deep down he knew he wasn’t opposed to the idea of having Hugo all to himself...He shut that idea down fast, typing out a sarcastic response as he tried (and massively failed) to feign annoyance.

Varian : You wish I’d want that, you twerp

Hugo : Oh I don’t wish, I know ;)

Hugo : also, V? 

Varian : What is it now, Hugh?

Hugo : Thanks for the kiss. Didn’t get the chance to say that earlier but..thanks

Hugo : Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Mom wants me.

Hugo : See you next week, sweetie <3

Varian : No problem, Hugo. See you next week =)

  Varian set his phone aside and sat up. He completely forgot. He kissed Hugo’s cheek. Oh god, please don’t make it awkward, he internally begged. He didn’t want things to become weird between them. He really...really liked Hugo and just didn’t wanna mess this one up. He changed into his PJ’s and shuffled under the covers, reading through their conversations.

  “Goodnight Ruddiger..” he muttered as he turned off the lights and closed his eyes, trying to drift off to sleep. He sighed in frustration and brought out his phone, turning it on quietly and typing out 3 words. 

Varian : I Love You

  His lips twitched into a frown as he stared at those 3 words. They held so much weight - had the power to change the course of his and Hugo’s relationship as soon as he sent them. He thought back to their meeting. Was he just being friendly? Did he just get distracted? Did Hugo actually like him? A hand reached up to run through his hair. What if he was just misreading the signs? 

  What if Hugo found out? What if he found out about all the terrible things Hugo had done? The people he hurt? How badly he messed up? Varian bit his lip so harshly the metallic taste of blood flooded into his mouth. Hugo would never love someone like that. Someone who did everything that he did. Tears he didn’t even know had developed fell onto his phone screen, to his surprise. He quietly set it down and wiped his eyes. Not tonight, he thought.

  Varian held his finger down, erasing the text and setting his phone aside. He tucked his knees into his chest and looked at the wall. He had to tell him one day. Not now, but one day. He slowly started to drift to sleep, the thought of their date still fresh in his mind and the remnants of a smile on his face.

#varigo #varian x hugo #varian and the seven kingdoms #tangled varian #varian tangled #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo coffee shop au

[wheres-everyone-going-bingo]

Ay, your writing! Is good! Mobster Kaiel here to say I'm talkin in a weird accent fo no reason otha than the fact I wrote ay and it's activated some sorta sleepa agent in me! Can I have some poly Wilford x reader x Yancy in which the bois continuously try to get reader to fall for them only to serenade em? Im soft over errreee!!!!

Late Night Serenade

Pairing: Wilford x Male Reader x Yancy

Warnings: none

—————-

Lifting up my blankets, I slid into them, taking pleasure in the comfort they provided.

“Hey Y/N!” A voice spoke, I yelped, falling out of bed. “Oh! Sorry didn’t mean to startle you” I looked up to be met with Wilford’s hand pulling me back to my feet.

“Wil, what are you doing in my house?” I asked the man in my bedroom

“Well you see, when you were talking to Bing, I may have taken your key and made a mold of it, and used that mold to make a key, and used that key to get into your house” He explained, waving his key around, obviously very proud of his craftsmanship.

“Oh uh okay then… So why are you here?” I rocked on the heels of my feet, looking around the room awkwardly.

“To see you, why else?”

“Uh alright, let me put normal clothes on and we can hang out downstairs” I offered, gesturing to the fact that I was only wearing a pair of boxers.

“Do you have to put normal clothes on, I quite enjoy the view?” Wilford said, making the blood rush to my cheeks. I shooed him out of the room, and told him to wait downstairs.

“Do you have any sugar?” Wilford asked as I descended the stairs.

“No, I don’t think so, why?” I tilted my head, making my way to the couch.

“Just confirming the fact that you had to throw it away cause you sat on it”

“Wilford what do you mean, I sat on-”

“Because you have a sweet ass” He chuckled to himself, joining me on the couch. I look at him wide eyed, trying to decipher whether he’s joking or not. I decided just not to question the man beside me, and faced the tv, flicking through the various movies and shows until we could both agree on something to watch.

Stretching out my arms, I let out a yawn, needing to go to sleep hours ago.

“You tired?” Wilford asked, looking at me concerned

“Yeah, I was going to go to bed a few hours ago but you came over? Why do you look so concerned?” After I said that Wilford jumped from the couch, the sudden movement made me jump.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re a bit jumpy aren’t you. I’ll try to calm down for you” He apologised, taking my hands in his, leading me to my bedroom.

Wilford opened the door, entering, still holding my hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how you have to sleep. Time gets a bit confusing” He rambled, pointing to his head. I walked over to my bed, getting in it. I stared up at the pink moustached man above my bed

“Are you going to leave? I can’t really sleep with you above me” I told him, Wilford immediately apologized, leaving my room. As he left the room my exhaustion took over and I fell asleep, not noticing Wilford turning around to tuck me in and give me a kiss on my forehead before leaving.

----------

I walked through the crowded shopping centre. My eyes skittered from person to person, nervous about the suffocating crowd.

“Y/N, Earth to Y/N’s” I swung around in my panicked state, realising that Yancy was talking to me about something

“Sorry Yance, I zoned out” I nervously laughed, trying to cover up my anxious state. It obviously didn’t work as he gave me a worried look

“Are youse okay?”

“I-uh… not really?” I sighed, glancing around the crowd once more

“What's up with youse? The crowd too bigs for youse?” He asked, as I nodded “Okie, here, have this, it should keep youse safe” He smiled at me, pretending to pull something out of his pocket, revealing it to be his hand. I laughed at his corny antics, taking his hand nonetheless.

Resurfacing from the crowd on the other side of the mall, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Thanks Yancy, I don’t really do crowds” I said, rubbing the back of my neck

“Youse may not do crowds but youse could do me” Yancy said, quickly covering it up with a laugh. I tilted my head, silently questioning the sincerity of that comment. “Sorry Y/N youse just so handsome thats it makes me say things out louds sometimes” Yancy confessed, avoiding eye contact

“Thanks Yance, you’re very handsome too” I smiled, completely oblivious to his flirty intent. Yancy sighed, watching his pick up line go straight over my head.

“So how’s patrol treating you?” I questioned Yancy as we ate some fast food at a greasy table.

“It’s alright, muchs better because I get to see youse stunning face everydays instead of every third sundays for forty minutes” He answered, taking a sip from his fizzy drink.

“I think you mean worse” I chuckled to myself

“No, I’s mean better, youse face is what I’s sees in my best dreams”

“Thanks Yance” I laughed, taking it as nothing more than a friendly compliment.

---------

“I can’t take it anymore! He never takes what I say as flirting!” Wilford complained, doing his usual over pronunciation.

“The Host thinks that maybe Wilford should tell Y/N that Wilford loves him to his face as there is no way to take that as a friendly compliment” Host offered his advice to the crazed man sitting beside him. The door swung open with a loud bang as it his the wall, in the doorway stood Yancy, looking as frustrated as Wilford.

“Youse will not believes how clueless Y/N is” He announced, walking into the room and flopping dramatically onto the couch.

“The Host smiles to himself, already knowing this conversation all too well”

“Hey, who’s else is trying to get Y/N attentions?”

“I am” Wilford admitted in a sing song voice, his tone not matching the serious conversation.

“Hey looks, if youse help me outs with Y/N then we let hims choose between us, no fighting?” Yancy suggested, needing help with his dire situation, just wanting to make his feelings known even if they’re not requited.

After some brainstorming and advice seeking from the other egos, the pair had come up with a plan.

--------

I walked over to my night stand, placing a bottle of water on it. I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard music from outside my window. Confused, I walked over to the windowsill, looking out of it to see Yancy and Wilford at the bottom of my driveway. Before I could ask what the hell they were doing, Wilford started to strum the guitar that he held in his hands.

“I was alone so long

I didn't even know that I was lonely

Out in the cold so long

I didn't even know that I was cold

Turned my collar to the wind

This is how it's always been” Yancy sung, really putting his heart into it. I smiled down at the two men under my window, trying to figure out why they were singing to me.

“All I've ever known is how to hold my own

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you, too” Wilford started to join in, his voice wasn’t as smooth as Yancy’s but you could tell he was trying.

“You take me in your arms

And suddenly there's sunlight all around me

Everything bright and warm-”

“Hey assholes! People are trying to sleep!” My neighbour shouted at Yancy and Wilford, clearly unamused by their loud night antics. I laughed, disappearing from view to unlock my front door.

I gestured for them to come in to continue their musical performance. They entered my home, Wilford starting to strum once more.

“And shining like it never did before

And for a moment I forget

Just how dark and cold it gets” Yancy continued, not at all affected by the fact he was interrupted.

“All I've ever known is how to hold my own

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you

Now I wanna hold you

Hold you close

I don't ever wanna have to let you go”

“Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight

I don't wanna go back to the lonely life

I don't know how or why

Or who am I that I should get to hold you?

But when I saw you all alone against

The skies like I'd known you all along”

“I knew you before we met

And I don't even know you yet

All I know is your someone I have always known”

“All I know is your someone I have always known

And I don't even know you

Now I wanna hold you

Hold you close

I don't ever wanna have to let you go”

“Suddenly the sunlight

Bright and warm

Suddenly I'm holding the world in my arms” Wilford, sung, stumbling over a few lines, implying the fact that it was Yancy’s choice of song, confirmed by the fact that it was from a musical.

“Say that you'll hold me forever

Say that the wind won't change on us

Say that we'll stay with each other

And it will always be like this

I'm gonna hold you forever

The wind will never change on us

As long as we stay with each other

Then it will always be like this” They sang together, trying to stay in harmony, with one not being louder than the other. After they sang the last line they bowed, pretending to catch flowers from the crowd.

“Jeez you guys are old fashioned” I chuckled, the nerves starting to affect the two men in front of me.

“We uh, we just wanted to uh-” Wilford stumbled over his words, waving his hands about in wild gestures, trying to find the words he wanted to say

“We’s wanted to tell youse we’s love youse” Yancy continued for Wilford

“In a romantic way” Wilford added on, determined for me to not take it as a friendly comment. My face started to heat up at the confession, the reality of the situation kicking in.

“You guys… love me?” I questioned, wanting to make sure it wasn’t some kind of cruel prank.

“Yes, that’s why we’s always flirtin with youse” Yancy confirmed, Wilford nodding in agreement.

“Oh my god, I thought this whole time that you were just being friendly. I just didn’t think guys like you could like a guy like me”

“A guy like you? You mean the most breathtakingly divine man in existence?” Wilford spoke, gesturing to me, as if that would reveal to me how he saw me.

“So?” Yancy asked, waiting for an answer

“Oh yeah, uh I love you too” I replied

“Which one?” Wilford enquired

“Both? I love you both” This reply shocked the two men, but soon after they let out a sigh of relief, happy that one of them didn’t have to miss out.

“Good, we’s were thinkin we’s have to make youse choose” Yancy rubbed the back of his neck. I smiled at him shaking my head. I walked over to the pair, giving a peck on the lips of each one.

#markiplier #wilford #yancy #x male reader #male reader #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #who killed markiplier #wkm #ego #egos