#and i was like “grandma susan's side” and she was like “oh yeah”

[ofpd]

there's this tape my grandmother recorded not long before she died and in it she addressed each of her children (who were young children at the time) and i've listened to this tape many times over the years and i remember that there's a lot of meaningful things on it but the one thing that always stands out in my memory is when she says to my dad “you're the smartest little boy i ever knew, but i'd love you even if you were stupid”

[cramajoki]

The Town that was One Block Long - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Escape this Nightmare

I was out the door, heading down the street, looking for my brother and Beatrice. They were standing at the other side of the block, just getting out of a store. Beatrice put her hands on her hips as I approached while George hid behind her.

“There you are, young lady.” She glared at me. 

“Guys! I’m sorry I left, but there’s--” I started.

“Don’t you think you need to apologize to someone?” She gestured towards George.

“Oh…” I had forgotten by now. “George… I’m… I don’t hate you. I sometimes get frustrated with you… but I don’t hate you. And I don’t wish you were never born. I was the one being stupid and irrational… due to stress… but that doesn’t excuse it. It’s… I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

He still hid behind Beatrice, not wanting to look at me. “Yeah, I get that. I shouldn’t have treated you that way… and I get it if you can’t forgive me… but know that I’m sorry.”

George got out from behind Beatrice and slowly started walking towards me. Soon he found himself at me and hugged me. “Thank you, Abby.” 

Beatrice smiled at this. “It’s good to see you make up like this.” She then knelt down to me. “Now Abby, I know you were stressed and all that, but running away from your problems isn’t the way to go. You got it?”

“Yeah.” I said. 

“Alright.” She stood back up. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh yeah, so Mildred… Well, Susan? Whatever her name is. She’s also a witch. Susan has everyone here trapped and is using time travel to harvest their life force, leaving them decaying bodies like the one we found in that apartment.”

“Oh… well, we better tell Charlotte.” Beatrice insisted. 

“Tell me what?” Charlotte walked up behind Beatrice.

“Susan is a witch who has everyone trapped here to harvest their lifeforce.” George repeated. 

“I should’ve guessed.” Charlotte said. 

We all looked around, seeing Susan walking out of the jewelry store. She looked at me. “How did you escape?”

“I don’t know, I just kept trying. Your grandma really encouraged me.” I said. 

“What? That’s impossible.” Susan exclaimed.

“Apparently it’s not.” Charlotte said, walking over to Susan. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

Susan sighed. “Well, since I’m going off to magic jail I guess I can say I’m-- Psyche!” Susan punched Charlotte, disappearing into the air. 

“What happened?” I asked.

“She walked into a pocket universe.” Charlotte explained. “I’ll go after her!”

“Okay, I’ll stay here to take care of the kids.” Beatrice said, turning around. We waited for a second, but began to notice everyone in the town walking towards us.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Hmm…” Beatrice thought for a moment, before turning to see the moustached fellow. “Hey, is this something I’m not aware about?”

“Get out of the way.” The moustached man shoved her aside. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” Beatrice pushed him away from us as more people came closer. Some women grabbed her by the arms, pulling her away. 

“Wait! What’s going on?” Beatrice asked.

“Susan would like to have a word with you.” The moustached man laughed. 

Quickly, I grabbed George and we started running out of town. However, there were a bunch of people in the way, heading right for us. Everywhere we looked there were people. Except one place. That alley.

I ran ahead, towards that old apartment building. Shortly after, hearing the voice of George behind me, tripping. “Abby!”

I turned around quickly, swooping him off the ground, and heading back to the alley. He ran with me as we went through that new fence, and up the stairs. Behind us a thousand people, laughing. 

I grabbed the door, but it seemed to be locked. “Great! George, what color are my eyes?”

“What?” He asked.

“What color are my eyes?” I asked.

“Brown?” He said.

“Great… of course my powers aren’t working while I’m stressed. I’ve got to relax.” I did my best in the situation, breathing in and out. The people were still coming up the stairs.

“Abby!” George yelled.

“I’m trying to calm down, okay?” I said.

Still, the people were coming. “Abby!” George screamed.

I looked at him. “Look. I’m doing my best!”

“Your eyes!” He said, pointing to them.

Quickly I decided to try to open the door, and there it was, opening. Going through, I closed it quickly behind us. But the people were still there.

“What do we do now?” George asked. I couldn’t answer, surely they’d get in eventually? George yelled again. “Abby!”

“I’m thinking! Okay?” I paused for a moment. “Maybe we could climb out the windows?”

“What? Aren’t there more of those people out there?” He asked.

“Well, we’re in a pocket dimension, maybe they only exist on the other side of the door right now? I don’t know.”

With the door beating behind us, we had no other choice. George looked at me, nodding. Soon we headed over to that apartment door. I tried to open it. “Oh come on!”

“What?” He asked.

“It’s not opening!” I told him.

“The other one opened, can’t you open this one?”

“I’m trying, but I have to be calm to use these powers!” I quickly explained as the door kept beating. 

“Well, get calm!” He insisted.

“I’m trying!” I said as my eyes watered up. I did my best to breathe in and out there, focusing on my thoughts. But the door kept banging.

“Abby !” George yelled.

“I’m trying!” I repeated. Trying my best before trying to open the door to the apartment. “It’s not working! Why isn’t it working!”

The door behind us kept beating on and on, before suddenly it stopped. “What was that?” George asked.

“Are my eyes green?” I asked him.

“No.” He said.

“Huh…” Slowly… I walked closer to the door, looking at, curious as to what was behind it. Soon we heard the knob turn.  Quickly, I grabbed my brother and screamed as the door opened up. 

On the other side, though… was our parents. “Well, hey, what’s there to be scared about?” He asked. 

“Dad!” George and I rushed up to hug him, glad to see him again after this nightmare of a day.

“Well, I’m glad to see you too!” He said.

“What’s going on here?” Mom asked.

“Mom!” George and I rushed to her as well. Afterwards, I talked. “It’s a long story, but I’ll explain it later.”

“Is that scary lady still here?” George asked.

“What scary lady?” Dad asked.

“Susan… I mean Mildred.” I explained.

“Who?” Mom asked.

I sighed. “Thank goodness… she’s gone. It’s over.”

“I wouldn’t quite say that.” A voice from lower in the stairs said. Up from it came… my dad… but an older version of him?

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

The man laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Abby! Come on!” The man headed down the steps and soon we all followed him down the steps. Except, the steps didn’t lead to the streets this time… but an underground cave. 

Along the walls laid tons of graffiti for some reason, all with their own designs, some with arrows, other with X’s on them.

“Where…. Are we?” I asked. 

“What’s going on?” My mother was freaking out.

My other dad explained. “This! This is where Abby and I have been traveling for six years now.”

“Six?” I asked. “I’ve been wandering with you in here?”

“Yep. You sure have.” Came a figure leaving one of the tunnels. 

I looked at this all in horror. “No! No! Why won’t this nightmare end?”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

The Baby Project | Julie Molina

Requested: Yes/No

hold on wait because I’ve got something here— julie x fem reader— and like you know how school pairs you up with people for the whole ‘take care of a baby project’ or whatever it’s called— that with Julie molina and like she and reader develop feelings— oh yeah

A/N: This was kinda hard, not gonna lie! Thanks @calamitykaty​ for sharing your ‘experience’ with baby projects in high school lol. Love you! 

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Julie Molina

Song(s) used: Heaven cover by Boyce Avenue 

Warnings: Just a bunch of fluff! 

Words:  2,914

“Julie and y/n.” You perked up at the mention of your name, even more so at the mention of the name of your crush. 

Julie Molina. Los Feliz High’s rising star. She went from not singing a note for a year to opening for Panic! at the Disco at the Orpheum with her hologram band Julie and The Phantoms. You were aware of what she’d gone through with losing her mother and with it, her love for music. For years, you’ve admired her from afar, watching her blossom into this young rockstar that just belonged on the stage with those three cute boys by her side. You’d never even dared utter a word to her, even if your best friend, Amy told you to at least say hi. A star like Julie wouldn’t have the time to even talk to a ‘nobody’ like you, let alone go out on a date with one. 

So, when Mister Adams called out both your names for the baby project for your Child Development class, your insides heated up while your heart started beating faster. Especially when the Latina girl turned around to look at you and give you an acknowledging smile. The world seemed to stop all at once, and it made you wonder if you were even still alive at all. 

“You have the rest of the class to start getting to know your babies and partners and begin thinking of names together. You’re going to make a birth announcement for your child together and it will be the first assignment you’ll be graded on,” mister Adams’ voice droned on about the project, but your mind had already wandered back to Julie. 

She had her head propped up in her hand, her long, elegant fingers disappearing into the mop of curls that beautifully laid over her shoulders. You had always admired how healthy Julie’s locks looked. Her hair was so glossy and clearly taken care of. And her style. Her style was impeccable. Today, she was wearing your favorite outfit of hers. A baby blue, ditsy floral dress with a white T-shirt underneath it and a fuzzy bear coat thrown over it. Paired with her white doodled-on sneakers, it was the prettiest outfit you had ever seen. But your all-time-favorite thing of hers, looks-wise, was the little gap between her teeth. It made her look so innocent and perfectly imperfect. 

“Get to it!” mister Adams clapped his hands together, waking you up from your hazy daydream. Before you can properly register what’s happening, Julie had reached your desk already and taken a seat next to you with her gap-toothed smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted. 

Your hands started to shake as you stumbled over your next words, “Hey. I--I’m y/n.” 

A giggle erupts from Julie’s mouth as she placed her hand on top of yours. For a second, you swore you could feel a spark of electricity going from her hand to yours. Julie didn’t acknowledge it, so you must’ve imagined it, you thought. 

“I know,” she said as mister Adams came over and handed them their baby in the black carrier. “Thank you, mister A.” The forty-something man smiled down at the two of you before making his way to the next duo. 

Julie turned to you, “So, how shall we name this little rascal?” she asked. 

Her golden brown eyes bored into you, expectantly, awaiting a good answer from you. So, your brain slowly started to get into first gear, going back-and-forth on names you’ve always liked. 

Olivia, Clementine, Alexis, Charlie, Lara, Mason, Alex -- uhm… Olivia could be cute. Or Rose! No, not Rose, that’s Julie’s mom’s name. Uhm… 

Your eyes wandered from Julie’s face to her backpack she had put in front of her on the desk. The silver dahlia pin reflected in the artificial light of the classroom, shimmering and tugging at a thought in your brain. “Dahlia,” you blurted out, not even thinking about it twice. 

Julie’s eyes widened slightly before darting over to the little pin on her backpack. A small smile tugged at her lips as her index finger carefully caressed the metal. At first, you thought you’d said something wrong and had the urge to apologize profusely until she looked up and said, “I like that. Dahlias were my mom’s favorite flower.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew the flower had some sort of significance to Julie as  you saw pins on her jackets and backpacks all the time, and even noticed some in the background of her Instagram pictures. But you didn’t know the significance had something to do with her mother. 

“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. My eyes just fell on your backpack and--” Julie’s hand reached for yours again, shutting you up with the beautiful sound of her laugh. 

“Dahlia is perfect, y/n.” 

Chills ran down your spine at the tone of her words. So warm. So comforting. Like a fluffy blanket was being wrapped around you. It melted away any insecurity and nerves and any other scrutinizing thoughts of self-doubt. 

You tore your gaze away from Julie’s before you’d drown in them indefinitely and grabbed a piece of paper from your notebook and a pencil. “So, I was thinking to maybe have a little dahlia as a card for the announcement?” you suggested as your hand skidded across the paper, sketching the outlines of the flower. 

Julie’s eyes widened at how quickly you could put a nearly perfect flower onto a piece of paper. For a moment, she just let you sketch out your ideas, admiring the passion and determination behind your actions. 

“Something like this?” you slid the piece of paper in front of Julie, who picked it up to look at it up close. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes darted across, taking in every single detail you’d managed to get out in such a short amount of time. The decorative letters that spelled out the baby’s name and the details in the flower itself. 

“Y/N,” Julie breathed out, her eyes finally meeting  yours again. “This is gorgeous! You are insanely talented!” she placed the sketch back on the table in front of you. A blush crept to your cheeks as you stared at the grey lines on the white surface.

“I--it’s not perfect,” you shrugged, scratching at the wood of the pencil. “And I’m not half as talented as you are.” You mumbled the words in hopes she wouldn’t even hear them but she definitely did. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the bell ringing. 

“Come over to my place after school?” she suggested as she grabbed her backpack and the mechanic doll in the carrier. “We can brainstorm some more over the baby announcement and arrange a schedule for who’s gonna take her home when and stuff?” You slowly nodded your head, your brain still going over the words that came out of her mouth. 

Julie Molina wanted to see you after school. Julie Molina. You. After school. 

“Okay, cool. See you tonight then. I’ll take Dahlia with me for the day?” 

“Uhm, yeah, sure. See you tonight, Molina.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as flirtily as it did. But it seemed to have some sort of an effect on the Latina girl in front of you as her cheeks tinted a scarlet red. 

Julie had messaged you on Instagram with the address and her number, which you immediately saved to your phone before heading down to the homey two-story house a few blocks away from your own. 

I’m here

You texted her as you stood on the driveway, your bike on the kickstand next to you. The nerves were surging through you as you looked around. Green plants and trees surrounded you as did all the pretty yellow and pink flowers. One of which you recognized: Black Eyed Susan. According to your grandma, they symbolised encouragement and motivation. Which was something your family needed, and Julie’s too after the loss of her mother. 

“Hey, y/n,” Julie greeted as she exited her house through the front door, shutting it behind her, “We’re gonna go to my mom’s studio ‘cause I’ve got band practice after.” She hooked her arm with yours while the other carried the baby doll’s carrier. 

She retreated her arm from yours and used it to pull one of the white doors open, revealing a spacious area filled with instruments, couches and three boys you recognized as the rest of Julie’s band. All three of them looked up from their spots on the couch and armchair with either a pen in their hand and a notebook on their lap or an instrument -- or part of the instrument in the blonde’s case -- in their hands. All looking like deer caught in headlights. 

“Why’s your band here?” you asked, your eyes darting from the musicians to your project partner. Julie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Wait, I heard rumors about them being ghosts, that’s not true is it?” 

A squeaky sound came from all four of them as they looked at each other for help on a good excuse until Julie placed Dahlia on the coffee table near the boys and turned to you, placing her hands on your shoulders. She said, “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

“I promise?” 

Julie sighed, dropping her hands from your shoulders and instead putting them into the pocket of her fuzzy coat. “Then yes, they are ghosts.” Your eyes scanned Julie’s face for any sign of a joke, but you couldn’t detect anything. 

“Weirdly not the strangest thing I have ever heard,” you shrugged as you placed your backpack on a chair near you and dug your notebook out of it. “I hashed out some details for our baby announcement during French class.” 

Confused, Julie glanced at the boys and back at the girl in front of her. “You’re not gonna run away and never come back?” she asked you, which made you stop in your tracks, your fingers between the pages of the book as you were trying to get it open. 

“My grandma is into very spiritual things. So ghost chats are quite familiar to me,” you explained and resumed your movements. 

The three boys got up from their spots, notebooks and instruments left on the cushions, and made their way towards you. 

“I’m Luke,” the brunette with the greenish hazel eyes introduced himself, smiling at you. 

Before you could chime in, the boy next to Luke piped up, raising his finger. “Reggie! Hi!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm before your eyes landed on the blondie last in line, assuming he’d introduce himself too. 

“Alex,” he said with an awkward giggle. 

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n,” you said just as the robotic sound of a cry sounded through the room, indicating Dahlia needed something. “Excuse me.” You pushed past the boys, as they stepped aside so you didn’t have to go through them. 

“She’s my partner for this baby project thing,” Julie explained to the boys. They shot each other a helpless look, wondering if the others are as lost as themselves. “It’s where you have to take care of a mechanic baby doll for a week.” 

Julie walked over to you as you cradled the doll in your arms, trying to get it to stop crying, and the boys followed suit. They were intrigued by this whole baby project ordeal. 

“Have you fed her yet?” you asked Julie when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. 

“Yes, I did. The second I came home,” she replied as she softly tugged at the doll’s shirt she’d put on her. It was an orange long sleeved shirt with a big yellow smiley printed on it. You knew Julie had a sweater similar to this, which is why Julie had chosen to put this one on. 

“Diaper check?” 

“Was doing that when you arrived.” 

The boys watched this interaction like a tennis match, their heads bobbing back and forth. To Alex, it seemed surreal a teacher would put two girls together for a project like this. If this were a thing back in his high school days, he would’ve never been paired with another boy. 

“Why else do babies cry?” you asked whilst racking your brain on possible ideas to make her stop crying. 

Luke sprung into action then and grabbed his six string from the stand behind them, putting the strap around his shoulder. He strummed the instrument a couple of times into a beautiful, familiar melody. 

Julie seemed to recognize it too, because no sooner, her voice floated through the shed. 

“Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more”

Her eyes locked with yours as she sang, a soft smile plastered on her face while you stared back at her with an endeared expression resting on your features. You loved the sound of her voice and you loved the way it was able to calm you down in an instant. Which also seemed to be the case with the robotic baby in your arms whose cries had quieted down. 

Luke’s voice coming in didn’t stop Julie from looking at you either. 

“Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven”

The crying had now completely stopped. A quiet calm resting over the entire studio space as you and Julie kept looking at each other. Of course the boys noticed this and couldn’t withhold the smile finding its way to their lips. 

“Is it me or do they look like a cute family?” Reggie whispered to his best friends. 

He wasn’t wrong. Though neither you and Julie would ever admit it, there was a definite spark between you, and it only grew as the week went on. 

You took turns taking Dahlia home and spent lunches and every other hour possible together with the mechanic doll that had become the vessel for your expression of your love for each other. It became such a routine that by Friday, the two of you dreaded turning Dahlia in. Neither of you wanted it to end. Neither of you knew what was going to happen if you didn’t have Dahlia to take care of together. 

Were you just going to go back to how it was with you admiring Julie from afar and her completely ignoring your existence? Or were you going to stay friends? 

Neither of you knew even though both of you had the same questions. 

“Just ask her out on Friday when you’ve turned Dahlia in, y/n,” Amy said as you sat in French together and she had noticed your sighs of desperation. You looked at her as if she’d just said something really controversial. “Y/N, there's chemistry between the two of you! Have you seen the way she looks at you? That is not how ‘just a project partner’ should look at you!” 

You let Amy’s words sink in your brain as you went on with the rest of your day after French class until the moment of goodbye came around. 

You and Julie handed Dahlia back to mister Adams, along with your entire report you had worked on until two am last night in Julie’s garage, the boys all but helping you out. 

The weight on your shoulders should’ve been lifted now that you’d reached the deadline and could actually hand something in. But it weighed down even harder. Mostly because you were anxious it was going to be the end of you hanging out with Julie. It didn’t have to happen, but you were scared it might. 

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. 

The old saying your grandma always muttered to herself haunted around in your brain as you and Julie made your way towards your desk in the back of the class. Neither of you said anything for a while until you both turned to each other and opened your mouths. 

“I wanna ask you--” / “Can I ask you--”

Your words mingled and lingered in the air as you both giggled at the simultaneousness of your thoughts. 

“You go first,” you said, offering Julie the floor. You couldn’t help but feel anxious yet curious about what she was going to say. 

“Can I ask you if maybe we could like, I don’t know… Study together later tonight?” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise as did the corners of your mouth while a bright pink flushed your cheeks. “I kinda wanted to ask the same thing,” you admitted, which made Julie light up entirely. “So, yes, definitely.” 

You had definitely found yourself on the other side of fear. On the contrary. You had found yourself on cloud nine with flutters in your stomach and clammy hands from the nerves as the date grew closer and closer. 

Crazy how a stupid mechanical doll can bring two unlikely people together.     

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[passivenovember]

Reach Out and Touch Faith.

Harringrove April, Day Sixteen : Nostalgia.

--

Steve knows he’s got a stick up his ass about the whole thing. 

Feels it wiggle around, amused, when he comes home early from work to find Dawn and Billy dancing around in their PJs to the opening chords of Personal Jesus. 

They don’t see him.

Too preoccupied with the music, Dave Gahan’s voice pushing through windows and bursting through walls until Billy’s hips are moving in a way Steve hasn’t seen them do in years. 

And Steve isn’t a betting man, but. 

He knows that if Billy turned and zeroed in, hips moving like that with Dawn headbanging to dark wave like some sort of hybrid, the perfect combination of the two of them, Steve would be unable to rain on their parade.

His first reaction is to unplug the stereo.

And it’s a crime. To cut the Gretsch short like that, right in the middle of such an iconic riff.

Billy turns, out of breath from doing the limbo under Dawn’s black feather boa. “Oh, here we go.” He says fondly.

Steve ignores him, strictly business. “What the hell are you doing to my living room?”

Dawn’s still going. Arms win milling as she hop-scotches her way across the room toward Steve, forehead slick with sweat. 

“I like that song!” She hollers. Right in his ear when she climbs into Steve’s arms like a twelve year old monkey. He sets her down immediately, trying to play it cool.

Dawn and Billy start jumping up and down together, obviously high on adrenaline and Steve feels like shit. For having to be the bad guy all the time. 

He sits gingerly on the couch. Tries to tack on his best let’s have a serious discussion face, even as Dawn and Billy continue humming the chorus together. 

Billy breaks away, pumping his arm. “How sick is that synth track, kiddo?”

“So sick.” Dawn says. She collapses onto the floor, exhausted. “I think I like that better than the one on Dangerous.”

Steve gapes. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

Billy scowls, indignant. “You’re the one who let Aunt Robin sneak in the first album we ever fu--”

"Bill.”

He shuts up, sighing. “Babe. You’re gonna be cool about this, right?”

“I’m cool!” Steve insists, leaning back on the couch. “I’m the coolest, ask anyone.”

Billy grins, cheeks flushing pink. “Really? ‘Cause you’re acting pretty uncool.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” Billy teases. “Coming in and unplugging the stereo like that. Right in the middle of the riff, too.” Billy whistles low, shaking his head. “Gotta be one of the seven sins.”

“What, cutting a Depeche Mode song in half?” Steve deadpans. “I just would’ve preferred she start out with. Like. Speak and Spell. or something.” 

Dawn beams. “What’s that? Can we listen to that one next?”

Billy ignores her, honed in. “Dawn’s twelve now, that’s like. Practically a teenager.”

“Yeah, Dad.” She says smugly. “I’m practically a teenager.”

“Exactly.” Billy triumphs, pasting himself to Steve’s side. “And as a practically-almost-teenager, it’s about time she hears some good music.” 

“Hey, you said good music is whatever makes me feel something,” Dawn accuses, sitting bolt upright. “Good music makes your skin all tingly and your tummy do backflips and your heart--”

“I said real music makes you feel something. I never specified what makes it good.” Billy says smugly. “Everything you’ve heard before today is real music but it’s not good music.”

Steve lets Billy fuse their bodies together, wincing as his arm touches miles of sticky skin. 

Dawn shrugs her shoulders. 

Unbothered.

Unapologetic. 

“What you said before, kiddo, about your heart and your tummy. Does this record make you feel like that?” Steve wonders, and Dawn’s nodding her head before he’s even finished. 

He sighs. “Go get my cassette case, then. We’ve got some work to do.”

--

With her Walkman turned up as high as it will go, muttering along to the words as if in prayer, Dawn grows up before their eyes. 

Two new copies of Violator are purchased before the year is out. Once because it’s played so much the wheels fall off, and again because Joey steals the new one.

Billy gets a phone call from Max the day after it goes missing. “The World Wide Web is an evil, disgusting place.”

Billy snorts. “Pretty sure kids are calling it the Net these days, grandma. Keep up.”

“I don’t want to keep up.” She snaps. “Four years. A whole kindergarten age child ago I force Joey to sit down and listen to my cassettes--”

“Your cassettes?” Billy mumbles, alarmed. “No wonder the kid’s purging himself on Steve’s shit.”

“Oh fuck off. That’s where he heard them?”

Billy plays dumb. 

Max catches on instantly. “He’s been locked in his room, listening to Policy of Truth all day. I just don’t understand what’s so appealing about a bunch of sad boys--”

“Be nice.”

“Do you really think the kids are old enough to listen to that shit, man?” Max sounds like she’s coming apart at the edges. Scattered to the wind. “I mean. He left his room twice. Once to make a sandwich and again to borrow one of my skirts.”

Billy grins. “Ah. So he got his hands on some pictures of Martin Gore, that was fast--”

“He tore the thing to shreds, Billy.”

And Billy doesn’t get what the problem is, many of Joyce’s tattered Sunday skirts hanging in his closet even now. 

He shrugs. “’S more punk that way.”

“God. Name the kid after his freaky uncle and the kid will deliver.” Max retorts miserably. She takes a deep breath. “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“Dunno. Remove the stick from your ass?”

“Ha-ha.” Max spits, but. It sounds like she’s smiling. “Speaking of sticks up asses. Did Steve have a cow?”

Billy shrugs again, wrapping the phone chord around his wrist. “Whole barn, more like. But I think I convinced him.”

“Of what? That the perversion of our youth is okay?”

“No, that the kids are getting older.” Billy says. He doesn’t get it, why he’s the only one in touch with reality. “Joey’s Fifteen, Dawn’ll be thirteen in a couple months. They’re not little kids anymore, Max, they’re teenagers.”

She sighs. “So we’re supposed to let them listen to whatever they want.”

“Within reason. Susan and Neil would’ve bought the barn at full price if we hadn’t snuck around.”

Max makes a noise. “I never listened to--”

“N.W.A?”

“Fuck you, they have an incredible social commentary on the issues faced by disenfranchised people in the--”

“Check mate.”

Max falls silent. And then, glumly, “I hate you for always being right.”

Billy leans against the wall, chuckling. “I’m your big brother. Comes with the territory.”

--

When they get Dawn’s birthday list, only one thing is circled in red. 

Joey and I want to see Depeche Mode live.

Steve wonders if he can make that happen.

[moonlitwings1]

Pumpkin Patch

“That one’s too small, Billy,” Max huffs, turning her head back to focus on the pumpkin in front of her. “You can’t carve on that.”

“The fuck you know about pumpkin sizes?”

“Ms. Cris said it has to have a large enough surface so it’ll be easy to carve.”

“Then get that one,” Billy says, pointing to a large yellow pumpkin. He was getting impatient, it’s been ten minutes now, just waiting around for Max to choose a fucking pumpkin. They’ve been looking at row after row of pumpkins. Not to mention that he’s freezing his ass off. He’s wearing a button down with most of the buttons popped open, so that’s not helping his case, but if he’s going to freeze to death, might as well look hot while doing so. 

Max turns to look at the pumpkin he’s pointing at, and sighs like she’s tired of his shit, which pisses him off immediately. If anyone’s tired of anyone’s shit, it’s him. “That’s the ugliest color, Billy.” She’s not wrong. It was an pasty yellow color. 

“Don’t care. You’ve got 10 seconds to chose a pumpkin or we’re leaving without,” he says, already starting to push past her. 

“Wait! How about this one?” she asks, pointing at the one she was just examining. Without hesitation, he grabs the pumpkin and holds it under his arm like a football. 

“Great. Let’s go.” 

After paying for it, he takes Max by the arm and leads her to the car, hitting the gas before she even closes the door completely. 

“You’re going to help me carve it out, right?” 

His head snaps over to her. “What the fuck? No.”

“Mom said-”

“I don’t care what your mom said. I’m telling you no.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her toss her head up in frustration, banging it against the headrest.

“I’m not allowed to carve it without an adult, Billy!”

“You’re 14. I’m sure you can handle a knife fine.” 

“Tell my mom that!”

He doesn’t bother to reply, choosing to focus on the icy roads ahead of him. Dangerous to speed on, but that’s not going to stop him. He hears her let out a high-pitched noise that sounds awfully like a whine. He can’t help the snort that comes out. This is a dumb thing for her to get frustrated about. 

“Please, Billy. I need it for school tomorrow. I promise it’ll be fun. We can decorate it and stuff. I’ll even give you part of the prize if I win.”

“Prize?”

“Yeah! They give a candy basket each year to the winners. I’ll give you all the chocolates if you help me.” She’s talking faster now that she realizes she’s gotten his attention, only a matter of time before he loses interest. 

“You’ll give me all the chocolates and I don’t have to drive you anywhere for a week if you win.” 

She hesitates at that, mulling it over. “Deal. But you actually have to help me, not just sit there.”

He snorts. “We’ll see.”

-----

They started with gutting the pumpkin first. Billy had pulled a large, white sheet over the table so Susan won’t blow a gasket when they inevitably spill pumpkin guts all over it. 

"Go grab a knife, Max,” he says, watching as she rushes to do what she’s told. It’s amusing watching her scramble for it. He’s pretty sure she’s scared that one wrong move will get him to ditch the project. She’s not wrong. 

He grabs the knife from her and starts carving out the top. Max stands there silently while watching, ready to do anything he says. His little apprentice. Ironic since this is supposed to her project. 

“You know what you’re going to carve this into?” 

Max shuffles her feet. “Um, I have a skull stencil we can use. I wanted to make one that looks like your tattoo.”

He grunts at that, too focused on cutting the top open.

“It doesn’t have a cigarette tho,” she presses on. “I was thinking we could stick one of yours in the middle of it.”

“So you want me to help you with this dumb shit and give you one my cigarettes that I paid for with my own goddamn money?” 

“...Yes?” 

“Not a chance in hell,” he smirks, pulling at the stem. 

“But-”

“Got it open,” he says triumphantly, holding the stem out in front of her. “Go get some ice scream scoops.”

She clambers away and comes back with two in hand along with a bowl. He takes the bowl from her and gets to work, nudging her to do the same. In 10 minutes, they’ve gotten the pumpkin pretty scraped down. 

“Ew. Look at all the guts,” she says, poking at the bowl. 

“Save them. Maybe Susan’ll want to make use of it.”

Max nods. “I’ll get the stencils.”

He’ll let Max do the tracing herself. If he’s being honest, his arm hurts from all that scooping. Getting the top off the pumpkin put strain on his arm. It's harder than it looks, ok? 

He hoists himself up from the rickety chair under him and pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. “I’m going out to smoke,” he mumbles as he passes Max in hallway. He doesn’t wait for her reply before pushing the door open and slipping outside. 

---

“Billy!” he hears Max shout from the inside. “I’m finished!”

Ten minutes pass too fast, he thinks. Sighing, he flicks the cigarette butt onto the driveway below him. He’ll probably get shit for that later. He walks back in to see Max focusing with her tongue sticking out from between her teeth, fixing the messy edges with a marker. He reaches out to ruffle her hair, chuckling when she tries to shove his hand off of her. 

“What’s next, shitbird?” 

“We have to carve it now, dumbass. What do you think?” 

He scowls at her for a long moment before flicking her nose. “Lose the attitude.”

“Ow, Billy!” she whines, rubbing her nose with one hand and pushing him with the other. “That hurt.” Whiney bitch. He didn’t even do it that hard. 

“Hand me the knife.” She gives him a glare before shoving the knife into his hand. He has zero experience in pumpkin carving so this won’t turn out well. Especially since Max didn’t want to help him by choosing an easy design. The skull she had drawn on seems simple enough, but it has way too many teeth to carve individually. He’s not too worried about it though; he’ll just make some adjustments. 

Max sits beside him and watches him, her chin resting on the table. "Do we have candles?” 

“Probably. Why? You can’t bring them to school unless you want to start a fire.”

“I know, but I want to put one inside the pumpkin when halloween actually comes,” she says. “It’ll look spooky to trick or treaters.”

Billy looks up at her. “You’re still allowed to go trick or treating?” Max got grounded a couple days ago for sneaking out when Neil was home. For all his talk about respect and responsibility, he can’t even watch his own step-daughter. 

“No,” she sighs. “I wish. That’s why I wanna win this. So I can still have more candy than all my friends without even going trick-or-treating.”

He stares at her for a moment. There’s no way she’s serious. When she just glares at him harder, eyes squinted, he laughs. “That’s why you want to win? So you can have more candy than all your little friends? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard today.” Sometimes he forgets that Max is just a kid that stresses about dumb kid stuff. 

“’s not stupid,” she mumbles, but it sounds weak. “I just want candy.”

“Couldn’t tell,” he chuckles, bringing his focus back to the task at hand. One wrong move, and it’ll turn into shit. 

----

...many wrong moves later...

“Maybe we could put a hat on to cover it up?”

The pumpkin looked horrifying and not in the intended way. The eyes and nose were ok, a little too boxy, but they weren’t terrible. But the teeth. Oh, the teeth. He could say it was  an artistic choice but even that wouldn’t be able to excuse it. 

“Hat’s not going to do shit to cover up the front, dumbass.”

“Well it’ll distract from...all that,” she says, hands motioning towards the pumpkin. 

“You know, this is your fault for making the stencil so detailed.”

She turns to look at him, mouth agape, indignant. He wishes he could take a picture of that face and frame it. “Wha--my fault?! It’s your fault for not being able to follow the stupid stencil!” 

“Who puts teeth on a jack o'lantern, Max? Jack o'lanterns don’t have teeth. They have fucking gaps in their mouth.” 

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to look like a jack o'lantern. It was supposed to be a skull but you botched it,” she huffs, crossing her arms across her body. “Now it looks like a skull that needs braces...or dentures. You made a grandma skull.”

Normally, he’d see red with an ungrateful, bratty attitude like that, but even he has to agree with her. Laughing, he replies, “True. Ya got me there, but why the fuck did you think I’d be able to carve tiny fucking teeth?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, dropping her arms. “I guess I thought you had potential or whatever.”

“Now why the fuck would you think that?”

She laughs. A genuine one too, and try as he might, he can’t push aside the pride that fills his chest from making her laugh.

She shrugs, “Good question.” 

They sit there in silence for a minute, admiring their monstrosity. Billy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. 

“Go get a piece of tape. If we’re going to have a grandma skull, might as well make it a badass one.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give me a cigarette that you paid for with your own ‘goddamn money,’” she snarks, putting words into air quotes. 

He scowls at her. “You better get that tape quickly before I change my mind.”

She rolls her eyes before leaving in search of tape. Ungrateful brat. She comes rushing back with a piece of tape on her finger that he snatches up. He sticks the cigarette on the lower part of the mouth and tapes it down. Still looks shitty. 

“Wait!” Max says, looking like she just had a lightbulb moment. “I could say this is what happens when you smoke.” 

“Maxine, what the fuck.”

“What? It’ll be a lesson to all the students, and my teachers’ll will be impressed. Isn’t teeth rotting a side affect of smoking? That would work for this. Also, just so you know, rotting teeth isn’t the only side affect. There’s also the risk of bad breath, lung damage, yellowing eyes...” she goes on, counting on her fucking fingers for God’s sake. 

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” 

She grins at it him. “What? I’m just saying how it is. You should quit. Maybe that’ll help your bad breath.” 

Billy scoffs. He does not have bad breath. That little bitch is making shit up, and she didn’t look a bit remorseful. That’ll change soon enough. “You gonna apologize for that?” 

She snorts, “No.”

Ok then. “You better start running, Max.”

“What?”

“Five, four...” Max looks at him in horror, eyes wide. 

“Billy, it was just a joke.”

“Three...”

“I’m sorry?” Well, too late for her apology now. 

He stands up, looking down at his watch for dramatic purposes. “Two...” The count down seems to be working because right as he was about to say one, she sprints off towards the direction of her room. He cackles before chasing after her, but it’s just for show. Her reaction made it worth it. Max is squealing like a little kid, reaching for her door and closing it right before letting out a final high-pitched scream. 

“ASSHOLE,” she yells. 

“SHITBIRD,” he yells back, holding back laughter.

---

The next day, he drives Max to school with the pumpkin held securely in her lap. 

“You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” she laughs. “Have you seen it? It’s too ugly to win.”

“No candy for you then, huh?” 

He sees her shrug from the corner of his eye. “Probably not. But I don’t really care anymore. My friends’ll give me their shitty leftovers.”

“You’re still sharing with me, though. And I don’t have to drive you anywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

----

High school ends 30 minutes before the middle school so that leaves Billy sitting in the car, waiting for Max. He looks at his watch. If he leaves now, he’ll be able to make it to the convenience store and back in about 20 minutes. He wants to pick up some candy. Not for Max. No. Halloween’s tonight. It’s best to be prepared. Neil was probably going to go tell him to pick some up anyways. 

Mind set, he starts up the car and heads off to Melvald’s, grabbing two large packs of candy. The labels listed different types of chocolate. He thinks about Max always begging him to pick up a chocolate bar for her when he goes to get gas. Max likes chocolate...but he’s getting chocolate because it’s popular, not because of her. Everyone likes chocolate, right? He’s sure the trick-or-treaters will be incredibly delighted.  

He tosses the two bags of candy into the backseat before heading off to pick up Max. 

---

“Any luck?” he asks, pushing the passenger side door open from where he’s sitting since Max’s hands are full, holding the pumpkin in one hand and her skateboard in the other. 

“No,” she grumbles, getting into the car, and shutting the door. “Some prissy girl won first place for her stupid princess pumpkin.”

“Sounds lame.” He didn’t expect her to win. That grandma pumpkin was mediocre at best. 

“It was.” She lets out a sigh and tosses her skateboard in the back without looking, pausing when she hears the loud crinkle of plastic. Shit. 

“Is that for me?” she gasps, already turning her body around completely, reaching into the backseat. She’s kneeling on the seat, hunching over the shoulder of it.

Billy swipes at her hands and pushes her back into the seat before she can get her dirty hands on the bags. 

“No,” he says, starting up the car, and pulling away. “They’re for the trick or treaters tonight.”

There definitely weren’t going to be enough trick or treaters to actually take all two giant bags of candy. They don’t live in a very popular neighborhood. 

“Oh, but there’re two bags of candy,” she pouts. 

“So? Dad told me to get two.” Lies. 

“How come we didn’t give out candy last year? I thought Neil said it was the devil’s holiday.” 

Billy snorts. He forgot about that. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? Go ask him.” He prays to whatever God out there that she doesn’t actually go and bug Neil about it. That won’t end well. 

“There’s gonna be leftovers,” she muses. He can feel her staring at him with wide eyes. It’s making him uncomfortable, and he squirms in his seat a little before turning to glare at her.

“And? 

She’s pouting obnoxiously now, giving him a puppy dog look. That shit won’t work on him. “Can I have the leftovers? Please?”

“You still owe me candy,” he says. “I should be the one eating them.” 

“We can split it! 

He pretends to mull it over. “Fine.”

“Yes!” she squeals, triumphant, pumping her fist up in the air, but it hits the car ceiling.

“Watch it, you bitch,” he snaps, but he’s not really mad. He’s just trying to cover up the smile that’s tugging at his lips. This is stupid. He can’t believe he’s smiling over this shit. 

“Ooo, can we get dressed up?”

“Hell fucking no, Maxine. Don’t push it.” 

“But it’s Friday! Neil and Mom will be out on dinner and I have an extra eye-patch. We could be pirates!” 

Ok, being a pirate didn’t sound like the worst idea. It could give him an excuse to walk around shirtless. Plus, he could show off to all the mom’s taking their children trick-or-treating. Maybe Steve’ll come with his gaggle of kids...

“Fine, but I’m not driving you for two weeks now.” 

He laughs when Max lets out a dramatic sigh. Tonight’ll be fun. He expects stomach aches and candy wrappers everywhere. Maybe even smashed pumpkin bits, if she’ll let him. They have an axe in the shed. He could put on a horror show for her. The victim? A grandma pumpkin. 

[platypanthewriter]

Birdwatching for Dummies 2/3

Off this prompt |  Here’s part one!

Billy’s dad turned abruptly to face them as Steve walked him into the kitchen, and Billy stopped in his tracks.  Steve thudded warmly against his side.

“You must be Billy’s...friend,” Neil said, raising his eyebrows like he expected Steve to correct him.

“We have third period together,” Steve said, smiling, yanking his arm from around Billy’s shoulders and offering it to shake. 

“Glad to finally meet a friend of Billy’s,” Neil said, shaking his hand, and Steve glanced down with a flash of a frown, then smiled wide again, and Billy saw both their knuckles go white, squeezing.  “It’s been months since we moved here, and he—”

“Sorry to bug everyone over dinner,” Steve said, redirecting his grin to Susan.  Billy’s dad’s eyes narrowed, but when Steve blinked wide brown eyes back at him, tugging at their hands, Neil let go, and Steve beamed at Susan.  “Thanks so much for feeding me!”

“Steve,” Max hissed, lowering her binoculars to glower over at them.  “You’re alive.”  She flicked a wary glance at Billy, like the rude little asshole she was, and he stared back at her with wide, sarcastic eyes.  

“I am alive,” Steve nodded, bumping his shoulder into Billy’s with a grin.  “I figured out I can bribe him for math help with a trip to the record shop.  He’s gotta get his...spiders and deaf cats out of me first…” he trailed off, squinting, his head cocked, and Billy couldn’t help a snort of sincere laughter.  

“Scorpion or Def Leppard, maybe,” he hissed, turning his head, and then flushing as his breath was right against Steve’s ear.  

“Maybe when you actually teach me math,” Steve muttered back under his breath, grinning, and Billy snickered aloud.

“No sightings of the black-necked Stilt,” Max announced, and Steve squinted at her.  

“...is that…” he thought hard, obviously, taking a breath like he was gonna talk, then frowning again, like a man trying to start a chainsaw by yanking the cord.  “Is that Will’s, uh, the bird Will doesn’t like?”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, turning back to the window, and Billy wondered whether Max’s friend Will didn’t like certain sets of cannibals in particular. 

“Max, did you set the table?” Susan asked, and Steve spun to face her.  “We can get that, ma’am,” he told her, smiling again, and Susan was apparently putty to that smile, because she just laughed, showing him where the silverware was.

Billy saw his dad shift, and stepped back, rolling his eyes internally.  He pulled Steve over to grab the tablecloth and placemats.  

 Steve went to cut a bite of meatloaf, failed to slice through it, and sawed harder with determination, then as Susan started to wilt, just stuffed the whole huge hunk in his mouth.  “Mmm,” he said, beaming, squirrel-cheeked, and she laughed.  “Tastes just like my grandma’s,” he told her, after chugging half a glass of juice, and she blinked, then looked down at her meatloaf, pink-cheeked.

 About halfway through dinner, Max jumped up, staring at the windows, and the tablecloth rucked up, following her jeans.  Billy grabbed for her glass and splashed purple grape juice across Susan’s cloth napkins and tablecloth, and his dad laughed softly, but Steve was on his feet almost before the droplets landed.  He gathered the tablecloth up, handing everyone their plates, and had the whole mess in the sink before Susan had time to react.  

“You have one of those old fat cookbooks that has stuff on getting stains out?” he called from the kitchen.  Susan, Billy’s dad, and Billy all stared at him as he popped back in with a paper towel, scrubbing the last of the juice up from the bare table.  Billy got up and followed him, since Susan was just taking deep, wet breaths, glancing between Neil and Max, and smashing her meatloaf with her fork.

In the kitchen, Steve was opening and closing cupboards, and he slid his hand down Billy’s back to nudge him out of the way.  “Where are the cookbooks,” he mumbled, crouching to look at a lower cupboard, and putting his hand around Billy’s hip to shift him to the side.  He leaned to look in the tiny cupboard over the stove, pulling Billy’s head into his shoulder to get him out of the way.  “I saved a prom dress once, come on, help me out—”

His touches were so thoughtlessly gentle Billy couldn’t even think, he just stepped in the way again, right in front of Steve, who finally stopped and raised his eyebrows.  Billy cleared his throat, laughing.  “...they’re, uh.  H-hallway.  Fuck,” he muttered, turning on his heel to go get the damned thing, instead of forcing Steve to move him out of the way again.  He took a couple deep breaths in the hallway too, like Susan, shaking his head to clear it, and remind him that following Steve’s touches was something his dad was gonna notice.  He groaned into his hands, then grabbed the fattest, oldest-looking cookbook, and stalked back in the kitchen.

He returned to see Steve crouching down to eye-level with the sink, glaring at the purple stains.  “I-it’s for school,” he heard Susan whisper, and he glanced over, tight-shouldered, to see his dad smile, and clench his utensils.

“It was one of your favorite wedding presents,” he said.

“Sorry,” Max said, frozen, clenching her binoculars in both hands.  “Sorry, mom, I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry too,” said Billy’s dad.

Steve was frowning over at them too, and he grabbed the cookbook, narrowing his eyes at the table of contents, then flipping through like a man on a mission for MI6.  “We’ll have this fixed in a jiffy,” he called to Susan, smiling, and Neil raised his eyebrows.  

“It’s just a tablecloth,” Susan whispered, and Neil sat down his fork and knife, pushing his plate away.

Billy leaned in next to Steve to read.  

“Grape juice, grape juice,” Steve mumbled, and Billy found it.

“Vinegar and laundry detergent,” he reported.

“Your wedding present will be just fine, ma’am,” Steve told her, and she laughed with relief, wide-eyed.  

“We-we can eat, then,” she said shakily, and Steve’s hand tightened on Billy’s arm.  

“We better get the stain out fast,” he said apologetically.  “This moron threw juice all over it, he can show me where the laundry soap is.”

“I did not—” Billy hissed at him, and Steve laughed.  

“Yeah, come on, it’s not like anybody did it on purpose, right, just show me the laundry soap.”

Billy led the way to the machines in the garage, and waved at the detergent.  “How come you drug me out here,” he asked, wary, and Steve glanced at him with a frown.  

“Wasn’t gonna leave you in there,” he said, “—your dad looks pissed.  Come on, shit, we didn’t bring—there’s no cup, or anything, we’re morons—”

Billy was still staring at him, his face hot.  “You…” he trailed off, and Steve held his hands out, cupped.  

“Gimme some soap,” he said grimly. 

“...gross,” Billy laughed, startled, but filled Steve’s hands with liquid detergent, and then opened the door for him and walked him back inside.  Billy kept his hands on on Steve's shoulders, steering him around the pile of shoes by the back door, and the chair by the phone, while Steve stared at the soap, trying not to drip.  

Susan helped them find the vinegar while Steve splashed the soap off his hands in the sink, and Billy felt a twinge of guilty warmth seeing his dad alone at the table, pissed off but unable to fault anyone, all because Max apologized to her mom before he’d thought to tell her to.  Max leaned around Steve’s shoulder with her mom on one side, while Billy stood on the other.  Billy wasn’t especially filled with suspense about the tablecloth, but he wasn’t gonna sit down alone with his dad, so he stepped a little closer to Steve’s warm side instead.  

After a while of intense, sudsy scrubbing, Steve held the tablecloth up to the light at arm's-length.  He squinted at it, bringing it close enough that it nearly touched his nose, and then showed it to Max.  “Do you see it?” he whispered intently, and Billy thought he might, so he leaned in too, then realized when he heard Susan muffle a snicker how ridiculous they must look.  Billy and Max both jerked back and away, and Steve beamed at Susan.

She looked like she was trying not to laugh at him, but bit back her smile, taking a close look.  Billy wasn’t sure he’d seen her smile so much ever, and rolled his eyes at Mr. King Popular.  Everything felt like ten degrees warmer with the dickhead around, he thought.

“I think you got it,” Susan said, nodding seriously after a long look.  “It looks cleaner than it ever has.  Thank you, Steve, and Billy,” she told them, and actually sounded a little like she might cry.  

Max nodded, swallowing as Steve dumped it back in the sink and rinsed his hands.  She smacked him in the shoulder, and shot a glance up at Billy, too.  “—seriously, dude, I didn’t even notice.  She—thanks.”  

“It was my ninja powers,” Steve told them, slinging his arm around her shoulders, and Billy's again, pulling him into a quick side hug.  Billy froze to the floor, feeling Steve Harrington all along his body, firm biceps against his back, and Steve had to tug him along back to the table.  

Billy’s dad’s smile was strained.  “...it’s nice to have a young man with such enthusiasm around here,” he said, as they sat down, and Billy clenched his jaw, sawing harder at the now-cold meatloaf.  

Steve glanced between them.  “Not everybody gets that excited about stains, I guess,” he said.  “Want to hear about the prom dress I saved?  My girlfriend was helping her sister get ready for prom—” 

The story was funny.  Billy’s dad looked absolutely sour as the tension fled the table, and Billy nearly spit his awful meatloaf across the table laughing.  Max caught his eye, covering her mouth like she was fighting the same urge.  

Neil narrowed his eyes, and ate.

After dinner and dessert, Susan suggested Steve stay for a board game, and Max groaned.  Neil pulled out Life, and Susan suggested Trivial Pursuits, and Steve laughed.  “I won’t get any of those.”  Billy saw his opportunity to sneak off, but he didn’t take it, just...sat there next to Steve, who kept reaching over to tap Billy’s arm when he explained something, or grinning at him when he got Billy to laugh.

Billy, who had been subjected to hours of his father’s scathing commentary through Life, shrugged.  “There are baseball questions,” he told Steve, who brightened. 

“Max, you can be on my team,” Susan suggested brightly, and Max groaned, slumping down between her mom and Steve.  

“Maybe I wanna be on Steve’s team,” she sighed, and Neil’s head snapped up.  

“You know each other?” he asked, smiling stiffly.

“Sure,” Steve nodded, inspecting the board.  “She needed a ride home, so I got a dinner invite!”

Neil frowned at him, then at the deck of cards, which Billy knew from experience he would be reading aloud, even if it was a question for him.  

Trivial Pursuits was a rout, as usual, with Neil throwing down political facts from before they were born.  Susan started smilier than usual, but slumped a little every time Billy’s dad huffed a laugh at her answers—unless she was right.

Max whooped for her mom, mostly a cheering squad, between running to the window periodically.  She kept turning the back porch light on, and Billy could tell it was pissing his dad off, but he was quiet, mostly, in front of Steve.  

“The aardvark is a nocturnal mammal native to which continent?” Neil asked Susan, and she brightened, but when she opened her mouth to answer, he scoffed, and grabbed another card.  “Typo in that question—”

As he asked another question, Steve reached over and took the last few discards to flip through, frowning.  His eyes narrowed.  Billy’s dad was just finishing a question as Steve half-stood and grabbed the other box of questions.  

Billy’s dad raised an eyebrow.

Steve rifled through the box as Susan took her turn, stuffing cards back in and grabbing different ones, and then read over Billy’s dad, waving him down.  “Mrs. Hargrove!  Max!  I found one,” he said, and Susan winced.  Max raised her eyebrows, glancing between Steve and Billy’s dad.  

“I found a good one,” Steve began, grinning at Max.  “What, ah, what Los Angeles team,” he began, squinting at it, “—beat, uh, Wayne Gretzky's in the game, um, referred to as 'Miracle on Manchester?”

Her grin broadened as she leaned in.  “The Los Angeles Kings!” she yelled, and Susan laughed, hugging her.  Max grabbed the die to roll again.

“‘Um’, I’m not sure, ‘uh’, I’ll allow that, ‘um’, question,” Billy’s dad said, smiling gently, and reached over to tap the cards Steve was discarding.  “You looked through the deck to find questions she’d know the answer to.”

“You looked through to find ones she wouldn’t,” Steve shot back, glaring.  “It’s fair.”

Neil opened his mouth, but nothing came out immediately.  Max glanced between them, and set her jaw.  “So I was right, and we get another turn,” she said, and rolled the die again, elbowing her mom.  Susan ducked her head, glancing at Neil as her hand hovered between the colors for Literature and Science and Nature, and Steve cupped his hands around his mouth.  

“You like to read?” he hissed.

“Sometimes,” she said, laughing uncertainly.  

Steve cupped his hands around his mouth like a dork.  “Pick pink,” he stage-whispered, and Billy watched his dad’s jaw work, but Susan and Max both bit back smiles.  Susan smacked her piece down on the pink space and looked over expectantly.  Steve cleared his throat theatrically, and Max snorted.  “This, um,” he began, “—this best-selling nineteen-eighty, uh, three novel follows the ad-adventures of Charlie, an actress and spy—” 

“The Little Drummer Girl, by John le Carré!” Susan said, smacking the table with both hands in excitement, and Max burst out laughing.  

She leaned into her mom, whispering, “Told you you’d be ready for anything, reading those spy novels!”  

“I am ready for anything,” Susan laughed.

“Hardly literature,” said Neil, and Susan’s smile fell.  

“They’re written by a real spy, though,” Max shot back.  

“They are?  That’s cool,” Steve told them, but Billy’s dad was already reading another question.

Susan got it right, and Steve and Max cheered.  She was on a roll, and she’d picked up two pie pieces by the time she finally hit a question she didn’t know about the insects found in the Order Lepidoptera.  “Nooo!” Max and wailed, leaning into her mom’s shoulder, and Neil turned his attention on Billy.  

He prepared himself to sound like an idiot for a few minutes, and then Steve threw an arm around him again.  “I’ve got some, wait,” Steve said, and he actually hadn’t found basketball stuff, mostly.  It was biology and math and history—stuff out of classes.  Billy knew all of them.  It felt like his shoulders lowered a little every time Steve spoke up, he couldn't help noticing, guiltily, and he saw it in Susan and Max, too.  They looked relaxed.

“...I see you’ve done your homework,” Billy’s dad said, looking at him, and Steve laughed.  

“Yeah, he’s pretty smart,” he said, reading on, and ignoring Billy’s dad, who laughed every single time Steve paused, or reread, or mispronounced a word.  Billy ignored it, listening to the questions, and trying not to get distracted by Steve’s hand on his arm, or his tired grin. 

They weren’t even the absolute dumbest of questions, the ‘what does the table of elements contain’ kind of thing, and every time Steve read one, he nodded, wide-eyed when Billy knew the answer, and didn’t even check the back to see if Billy was right.  “I’m so glad you’re helping me with geometry,” he said fervently, and Billy elbowed him in the gut.

 Steve himself, between questions about literature and politics, usually only got one turn, shaking his head blankly at every single one, so finally Susan waved Neil down.  “Not that one, give him another one,” she said, and Neil stared back at her.  “He’s getting terrible questions,” she said, smiling.  “He’s too young to know that!”  

Steve laughed, leaning so his shoulder bumped Billy’s, his whole body warm against Billy’s side.  “Like I’ll know anyway,” he whispered.  Steve’s head ended up on Billy’s shoulder, once, heavy and warm, while Neil read questions to himself, and answered without checking the back for nearly half an hour.

With the help of Steve reading sports questions to Max, Susan and Max actually gave Neil a run for his money for the last pie.  Billy’s dad didn’t look pleased about that, but he was pleased to win, and to see Steve’s forlorn lack of points.  His smile even looked real as he walked Steve to the door and shook his hand again.  

“Wait, your bag,” Billy said, and Steve blinked.

“In a minute he’ll realize the bag won’t fetch itself,” Billy’s dad said, and Billy rolled his eyes, sauntering off in no particular hurry.  He’d kinda...hoped, he admitted, gritting his teeth, that Steve would want to come back to his room.  

When he returned, his dad was saying, “Apologize to your mother for me,” he told Steve, “—for keeping you out so late,” and Billy was pretty sure he was squishing Steve’s hand again.

Steve nodded, quirking his mouth.  “Yes sir.”

“I’ll come out and have a smoke,” Billy said, shouldering Steve’s bag, and Steve tensed, glancing at Billy’s dad.  He didn’t say anything, though, so Billy followed him out, only to have Steve yank at his bag.  

“Go back inside,” Steve hissed.  “Smoke out your window.”

“I’ll get in trouble,” Billy emphasized, whining a little as he smirked, lighting up.  “I’ll just walk you to your car and go right back inside.”  He took a long pull off the cigarette, feeling himself relax, a little on Steve's behalf, for the first time since Steve had sat down for dinner with the whole Hargrove family.  “Unless you wanna let me smoke in there?  Not in your daddy’s nice car, I bet.”

“Billy—” Steve sighed, and Billy laughed, bumping their shoulders and crossing the street to Steve’s car.

Steve ran after him.  “Billy, get inside,” he hissed.  “Go back inside—”

“Why don’t you come back in,” Billy whispered, turning to drape himself against Steve’s chest, and Steve shoved him back against the car.  It didn’t hurt, there was just this soft thud of Billy’s butt against the driver’s side window, and he laughed, giddy.  “I could watch you again,” Billy said, under his breath, reaching out to cup the hardening lump in Steve’s jeans.  “I know how you like being the center of attention—”

Steve grabbed Billy’s wrists, smacking them down against the roof of his car, but Steve’s knuckles were between Billy’s wrists and the metal, and Billy was nearly dizzy with the confidence of knowing he could do anything, and Steve Harrington would be careful with him.  Instead of yanking himself loose, he let Steve hold both his wrists with one hand, and take Billy’s cigarette with the other.  

Billy shivered a little at the thought of the cigarette meeting his skin, but he was confident it wouldn’t.  “Go back inside,” Steve told him, taking a long drag on Billy’s cigarette, and looking around tiredly.  

“You don’t even have your bat,” Billy reminded him, his voice a little hoarse with how goddamn horny he was for Steve Harrington shoving him around.  

Steve froze.  “Shit.”

“Come around under my window and get it,” Billy told him, and Steve let him go, backing away with a sigh.  He took another deep draw off the cigarette and held it out, and Billy bent to take it in his mouth, his lips brushing Steve’s fingers.  

“Jesus,” Steve whispered, hunching his shoulders, but his mouth quirked in a little smile.  “Get back in there, Hargrove.”

“Make me,” Billy told him, lingering around as he finished his cigarette, and kinda...curious, about the idea of sitting in a car all night with King Steve.  He wondered what Steve would say, round about three in the morning.  

Probably detail exactly how much he wished Billy wasn’t there, Billy thought, remembering how Steve had looked lying on the floor at the Byers' while Billy fucking...beat his head in.  

It was...even better, in a twisted way, that Steve was careful with him after that.  He knew how fucked up Billy was, and he still didn’t let his wrists slam into the edge of the car doors.  Billy’s face was so hot it probably lit the street better than the streetlights.  “...why’re you here, Harrington?” he tried again, as Steve put an arm around him, and walked him back across the street.

“Just keeping an eye out, so Max feels better,” Steve said.  “So she knows her mom and big brother are safe, y’know.”

“She did not haul you here to protect me,” Billy told him, laughing, and Steve pushed him up the sidewalk towards their door.  

“Get the hell inside, Billy,” he said, and Billy staggered towards the door, then turned and grinned at him, sauntering backwards.  Steve sighed, smiling.  “Get me my bat.”

Billy closed the door on him, then bent to watch him walk off through the peephole.  His dad was in his recliner, reading the paper, and he looked over at Billy with his eyebrows raised, then back at the door, and snorted a laugh.  Billy walked faster, his heart thumping as he wondered whether he'd been obvious.

 He turned into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, just in case, before leaning out his window.  Minutes later, a dark shape separated itself from the shadows and Billy heard a knock at the wall.  “Hey,” Steve stage-whispered up.  “You gonna give my bat back?”

He kept looking around to the woods behind him, and Billy bit his lips, his heart thumping.  “...you gonna sleep in your car like a fucking...stalker again?”

“Yes I am,” Steve hissed up at him, his hands cupped around his face.

“Jesus,” Billy groaned, trying not to think about his dad, and how he might react to Billy sneaking around with Steve Harrington.  “Come here,” he said, stretching his arm down, and Steve blinked up.  “...hurry up,” Billy growled, and Max’s window opened.  

“What’s happening,” she hissed, leaning out so her hair hung down below the sill.  

Steve turned to cup his hands around a whisper at her, like the total dork he was.  “I don’t know,” he told her.

“Get up here,” Billy growled as quietly as he could.  “If there’s something...out there,” he said, feeling idiotic, but neither of them laughed, “—it’s safer in here, right?”

Steve looked over at Max.  “...I’d be closer,” he whispered.

“What,” she hissed back.

“Sleepover,” he mouthed.  

“He was gonna sleep in his car,” Billy sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Yeah,” she hissed back.  “What else?  He gonna sleep with you?”

“Shut the hell up, both of you,” Billy snarled, feeling his face heat.  “Get up here, Harrington!”

He nodded, jumping a little to grab Billy’s wrist, and they both pulled until he could grab the windowsill, yanking himself up and over onto Billy’s feet in a series of scrabbling thuds.  

“Jesus,” Max hissed.  “Ssshhh!  God damn.”  

Steve yanked himself upright with Billy’s pants pocket, thumping the wall with his knee, and throwing his arm around Billy’s shoulders again.  Steve was panting in Billy’s ear, and Billy thought he might die of heart failure about an hour in to the night.  

“Sorry,” Steve whispered to Max.  He slumped, too warm, against Billy’s side.

“Be quiet,” Max growled.  “I gotta sneak back out to the living room, let the asshole go to sleep!”

“Why the fuck—” Billy began, startled into his normal voice, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.  

“She’s gotta watch the woods for freaky Hawkins lab shit,” he said, shrugging, and they could both hear Max groan through the window, and next door.  

“Lab shit?” Billy repeated, barely audible, when Steve lifted his hand.  

“Lab shit,” Steve whispered back, too close, and Billy stared at his face, his hair and eyes shining a little in the soft light of the streetlamps.  His lips were wet where he’d licked them.  

Billy swallowed to keep from drooling.  “...lab shit,” he mouthed, and Steve nodded.  Billy could feel his breath.

“I mean, anything really happens, she’ll call the sheriff,” Steve said, shrugging.  “But she was freaking out about her mom—”

“Just her and her mom, right?” Billy laughed, elbowing him.  “Not—”

“Stay inside, Billy,” Steve told him, earnestly, and Billy’s mouth went dry.  He licked his lips, swallowing.  

“...there’s really something out there?” he asked, and Steve grimaced, nodding.

“...what about my dad,” Billy asked, and then realized his voice sounded small.

“I won’t let anything happen to him either,” Steve told him.  “Billy.  I promise.”

Billy nodded, forcing a laugh, and Steve squeezed his shoulder.

“Am I on the floor?  Bed’s kinda small,” he asked, and Billy bit his lips, hard, imagining the Keg-King of Hawkins High stretched out beside him in his twin-sized bed.  Steve raised his eyebrows slowly, looking back at him, and opened his mouth.

Billy cut him off in a rush, his skin prickling with a cold sweat as he imagined his dad opening the door on him and Steve, and being found.  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he muttered.

“That’s dumb,” Steve said, yanking his shirt over his head so his muscles worked under his skin in the warm, yellow light of the streetlamps through Billy’s window.  He undid his jeans, bending to step out of them so his ass waved at just the height of Billy’s hand, and then folded the black shape of the denim, and his shirt, over his bag.  “I can’t make you sleep on the floor in your own room...don’t you have a fan in here?” he asked, sighing, standing mostly naked in Billy’s bedroom, and Billy forced his feet to move away from Steve’s warm skin.  It was an effort, walking away to click the fan on.

His bed creaked as Steve climbed in, scooting over against the wall.  Billy’s bed already smelled like Steve Harrington, he knew—he’d have spent the night jerking it even with Steve snoring in his car where he belonged—but there had to be some kinda line, Harrington wasn’t gonna just lie there and listen to him yanking his dick.  Billy bit his lips together, tugging his shirt tails out of his jeans.  

“Gonna go take a shower,” he whispered, tossing his shirt on the floor.

“...just go to sleep,” Steve groaned, sounding halfway there, and Billy huffed a laugh, watching King Steve Harrington’s shoulders move as he breathed, and the length of his legs sticking out from the sheets.  

“...gonna shower first,” Billy said, stalking off to the bathroom.  He barely had the door closed before he was squeezing the base of his dick, his other hand fumbling with the slide lock.  He staggered over to sit back on the toilet, trying not to think about King Steve Harrington’s sleepy voice, and what his skin would taste like where the sweat ran down his neck.  

Billy took a few deep breaths, and reached over to turn the shower on, pushing his pants down and kicking them off.  His boxers weren’t too sticky yet, and he kicked them at the doorknob as he climbed in, stumbling in his urgency to lather his hand up.  

As soon as he got his hand around his cock—finally—his knees nearly buckled with relief, like he’d been waiting weeks instead of having the hottest jerkoff session of his life that same afternoon.  He closed his eyes, concentrating on the wet slide of his hand over his dick, and the way Steve’s head had fallen back as he came, his breath shuddering.  

Billy didn’t try to make it last—he didn’t want to keep his dad up with the noise of the shower, and have him come ask why Billy was prowling the house in the middle of the night—or have Steve laugh at him, knowing exactly what he’d been doing.  

When he wandered back in his room, tossing his clothes behind the door, Steve was already asleep, and Billy wandered over to the window, feeling the breeze over the water droplets on his skin.  Steve was sprawled along half the bed.  He’d kicked the blanket off, so the only thing covering him was the sheet over part of his ass.  

With his skivvies covered, he looked naked, Billy thought, swallowing saliva.  He’d left room for Billy, if neither of them moved—and as Steve snored softly, his head partly under the pillow, his arm folded awkwardly against the wall, it seemed likely he’d just lie there like a coma patient.  Billy almost wished he hadn’t jacked off in the shower.  The thought of sitting on the floor as he stroked himself like a creep, watching Steve Harrington sleep, had his dick twitching in his boxers.

Then he heard his dad and Susan’s door open, and threw himself down on the bed next to Steve, yanking the blanket over them.  His heart slammed in his chest.  Steve rolled, mumbling, and his knees brushed Billy’s hip, but the boards in front of Billy’s door didn’t squeak.  

The light from the streetlamp lit the ceiling in a long swath, and Billy stared up at it, trying to steady his breathing.  Harrington’s knees were warm, and Billy squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about earlier—Steve’s arm squeezing him close, or sitting on him, or brushing gentle fingers through his hair and up the back of his head.  

Steve had touched his shoulder as he asked Billy to pass the little plastic pie slices for the game.  He’d grinned over at Billy when Susan suggested ice cream—like Billy had had anything to do with it—and then Max had stared at them, because there Billy was, smiling at Harrington’s delight over Rocky Road as he hummed and swayed happily in his seat.

Steve mumbled again next to him, squirming away from the blanket and the wall, and into Billy.  His wrist was against Billy’s side, and then he kicked a foot up and dropped it over Billy’s ankle.  Billy sighed, feeling his dick firm back up in his boxers.  He was just thinking it was gonna be a long, hard night, when the back of Steve’s knuckles brushed the side of his thigh, over his silk boxers.  And then did it again.  

“...soffffft,” Steve mumbled, probably, his mouth half full of pillow.  He stroked the back of his hand along Billy’s hip, scooting closer.  

“Steve, wake up,” Billy whispered, as warm fingers cupped the side of his waist.  “Steve.”

“Mmng,” Steve said, throwing his whole leg over Billy, right on top of his stomach so Billy ooofed, and Steve’s foot dangled off the edge of the bed.  His elbows dug into Billy’s side, and Billy tried not to wake the whole house snickering.  

“Wake up, asshole,” he hissed.  “...Harrington.  Steve.”

“Mmmmnnn...fine,” Steve groaned, scooting back, and Billy started to breathe a sigh of relief, but King Steve wasn’t done with him yet.  The next second he had Billy around the waist, yanking him closer so Billy’s ass was nestled against Steve’s lap.  Against his cock, Billy realized, feeling the hot length of it through his boxers, rubbing along his thighs.  He took a shaky, startled breath, staring at the wall blankly.  

Steve’s hand slid down around Billy’s ass in his silk boxers, stroking and kneading the muscle as Billy bit back a grunt, trying not to come in his pants for the second time in the same day.  He couldn’t help shifting back, into it, just—letting Steve’s cock run up against his butt and thighs.

He was mostly in shock, waiting for Steve’s hands to slide off his silk boxers onto his hairy legs, or reach down and find his whole trunk of emphatically male junk, but then Steve nuzzled against the back of his neck.  He brushed Billy’s hair aside, pressing open-mouthed kisses over his bruises, and the places where his dad’s nails had dug into his skin.  

Billy took rapid breaths, trembling, as he registered that Steve definitely didn’t know who he was in bed with.  “Stop,” he hissed, swallowing.  “Harrington!  Stop—”

Steve’s hand slid up Billy’s side, but then he stopped, and Billy waited, holding his breath.  Steve pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning over Billy’s face, and blinking blearily in the dim light.  He cleared his throat, yawning, and rested his chin in the crook of Billy’s neck.  “...you d’wanna make out?” he asked, slurring his words, and Billy paused, thinking of what he must have sounded like, after the concussion, his face swollen from Billy’s fists.

“...what,” Billy whispered, his whole body tingling at the warmth of Steve’s behind him.  “Y-you knew it was me?  Holy shit, Harrington—”

Steve sighed, squirming sleepily, but not really squirming away.  “Shit.  Yeah.  Shit,” he muttered, reaching behind him to toss the blanket off the bed entirely, and pushed himself up on his elbow.  “Shit.  S’ry.  I thought—”

“No, wait, wait, what the fuck, no,” Billy hissed, tucking his ankle behind him, around Steve’s leg, and reaching back to grab his arm.  “What—you can grope my ass all you want,” he whispered.  “Why—why the fuck—the hell d’you want, Harrington,” he hissed, bewildered.

“Thought that was obvious,” Steve snickered, leaning in to breathe against the back of Billy’s neck, and he shivered.  

“You remember I beat your face in, right,” Billy asked, laughing unevenly, loud in the silent house and Steve reached around and clapped a hand over his mouth.  

“Sssshhh,” he breathed over Billy’s ear, and he nodded.  

“I just woke you up ‘cause I thought you thought I was some...bitch.”  Billy’s voice cracked, and Harrington stilled, then settled behind him again, sliding his fingers down Billy’s arm and side.  

“You are,” Steve hissed back flatly, and Billy snickered.  “...figured that’s why you wanted me in here,” Steve admitted softly, in Billy’s ear.  “Fuck around some more.  Can’t keep your hands off this, right?” he whispered, and Billy laughed again, grimacing, and squirming back so Steve’s cock rubbed right up between his ass cheeks.  He bit back a moan, so turned on it felt like the world was tilting, a little, like all the blood and nerves in his body were following Steve’s fingertips around on his skin.  He shuddered as Steve’s knuckles brushed the inside of his thigh.  “Why else you following me around?” Steve asked.

“You know it, pretty boy,” Billy mumbled, and then muffled a yell in his arm as Steve bit down on the muscle between his neck and his shoulder.  It didn’t hurt, really, because Harrington was careful.  “...fuck you,” Billy panted.

“I don’t think you’re getting that lucky,” Steve whispered back, and they both snickered, rocking against each other.  Billy felt like he was melting with Steve’s mouth hot and lingering against his neck, Steve’s fingers trailing down his stomach into his boxers to grasp his cock, and Steve’s own cock rubbing against Billy’s ass, making it clear Steve Harrington wanted him.  Billy stalled out again at Steve’s hand on his dick, like it was just—just something straight guys did, slide their hands into another man’s boxer shorts in their sleep.  

“...lemme get my boxers off,” Billy whispered.  “Fuck my thighs.”  He moaned deep in his throat as Steve’s rough thumb rubbed over the tip of his dick, squishing the liquid around.  

“Yeah, okay,” Steve panted.  “Okay, where—the lotion—”

“Where we left it,” Billy mumbled into his arms.  He tried not to think about his dad being home—right down the hall—and what he’d do if he caught Billy sneaking a dude in his room to fuck his thighs.  Steve wandered back over with the lotion and unscrewed the cap, standing next to the bed.  He was just as pink-cheeked as he’d been in P. E., panting a little as he stripped off his underwear, and Billy stared, wondering how far was too far.  

Would it be too far to reach out, too much, if he slid his knuckles down Steve Harrington’s thigh, he wondered, watching.  Squeezed his ass cheek, maybe, the way he’d squeezed Billy’s—would that have Steve finally drawing back?  He’d laugh uncomfortably, maybe.  Look away from Billy’s whole front half, Billy thought, smirking against his forearms.  It was probably good it was dark, so Harrington could barely tell how male he was from the back.  Lotion splurted and glooped down Steve’s hand, and he bit his upper lip so he looked like a bulldog.

Billy wanted to kiss it.

Steve held his handful of lotion out to Billy, who blinked, then propped himself up a little on his elbow to push his boxers down.  Steve crawled around behind him, wrapping warm around his whole body, and he slid his arm under where Billy’d propped himself up on the bed, pulling Billy tight against his chest.  He was too hot, in June, even with the fan, but Billy leaned back into him, ignoring the sweat trickling into his hair.  

“Don’t you want your own back,” Billy grunted, greasing himself up.  “Gave you a fucking concussion, right?  You got me right where you want me, now?”

Steve went still, and Billy could feel all his own muscles drawing tight, waiting for Steve to dish something out.  Not fists, Billy thought, still squirming a little, with his ass against Steve’s cock.  Maybe some hard-hitting truths.

“...you’d probably be into that, huh,” Steve snorted, and Billy’s eyes stung—with sweat, mostly.  

His throat burned.  “Yeah,” he whispered.  “Shove me around some more.”  The thought of being found reared its head again, and Billy wondered, swallowing, if Steve would do anything, if his dad found them, and...reacted.  If Steve would—would stop it, take Billy away, somewhere—not because he wanted to, but because he was Steve.

“What d’you wanna hear while 'm fucking you,” Steve asked him, startling him out of his train of thought, like that was just a thing people said.  Billy wondered what Steve’s girlfriends had wanted to hear.  He imagined Steve railing Nancy Wheeler, all the while saying shit like ‘You’ve won the Nobel for physics’ or ‘Congrats on your Pulitzer,’ and he started giggling so hard, silently, that he couldn’t breathe.  

Steve’s cock slid in between his thighs, slippery, hard, and hot, and Billy swallowed back a whine, locking his ankles together to make his thighs tighter.  Steve grunted softly against his neck, then breathed “—What d’you want me to say, Billy,” into the curls behind his ear where his skin was still bruised, and Billy shuddered against him.

“Anything you want,” Billy whispered, overwhelmed tears leaking across the bridge of his nose, and rolling down to drip on the bed.  “Fuck, jesus, just move.”  

“No, shit, you’re shaking,” Steve said, a little too loud, and then he muffled his face in the back of Billy’s head, hugging him a little too tightly with the arm against the mattress.  His other arm slid up and down the soft skin of Billy’s side and between his thigh and his cock, just—soothing him.  “Whaddaya need,” he whispered against the scabs Billy’s dad’s nails had left.  “Tell me what you need, Billy.”

“Don’t say anything,” Billy finally whispered, his head aching as he imagined the shit Steve might just—say, truths Billy desperately did not want to hear.  “Don’t—don't say anything, please, just—nothing, just fuck me, don’t—”

Steve opened his mouth, took a breath, and then just nodded, his hips bucking his cock between Billy’s legs even as he grabbed Billy’s dick.  Billy bit back a groan, sandwiched between Steve Harrington’s cock and his hand, and slowly relaxed, when all Steve did against his neck was breathe.  As they got closer, Steve grunted against his hair, then started pressing sloppy kisses under Billy’s ear, and down the side of his neck.  His hips slapped against Billy’s ass, and the bed creaked, a loud series of squeaks that halted kinda slowly, because they didn’t realize right away and halt their mesmerized, half-awake fucking, and also Billy’s rickety bed swayed under them for several seconds after.

“Shit,” Steve breathed, after nearly a whole minute of perfect stillness.  “What, um.  What would your dad do,” he whispered against Billy’s neck, “—if he found us?  Like this?”

Billy’s voice cracked as he muffled a laugh, shuddering.  “...probably like I did to you.  Only no Max there with a mystery drug, right.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbled, against the skin under Billy’s ear.  He pressed a kiss there, and Billy squirmed, his face heating further.  

“...just gotta be quiet,” Billy told him, and Steve’s arm tightened around him.  

“Jesus...should—” Steve panted, “—should I fuck you on the floor?”

“Just as loud,” Billy whispered.  His chest and shoulder were glistening with sweat, and he shivered as the fan passed over them, shifting his hips so his cock rubbed against Steve’s thumb.  

“Dammit,” Steve said, lifting his head, and blowing Billy’s hair out of his face.  He lifted his hand off Billy’s dick—Billy hissed in complaint—and rubbed his face off in the crook of his elbow.  “I’ve got hair in my mouth,” he whispered across Billy’s ear, and Billy elbowed him, then softened at another kiss to his neck.  

“So are we just jacking off, or what,” Billy sighed.  Steve groaned against Billy’s neck.  He sounded petulant, and Billy laughed into his own bicep to muffle the noise.  “...okay,” Billy whispered, shifting just enough away that Steve’s cock slipped from between his thighs, and he could roll over.  He scooted down the bed, keeping his eyes off Steve’s face, and dropped on his side with Steve’s hard, lotion-shiny dick level with his lips.  

Steve went completely still, making a soft noise in his throat like he was trying to swallow a dog toy squeaker as Billy slipped his lips over the Steve Harrington King Cock, and Billy’s eyes watered as he tried not to laugh.  The lotion tasted gross, fruity and somehow dry in his mouth, but his lips stretched satisfyingly around firm, hot skin.  He reached up and grabbed Steve’s hand, shoving it into his hair, and pulled off for a second to pant, and talk.  “Move my head, not the bed,” he whispered, and Steve stroked his hair.  He didn’t jerk his hips forward or shove Billy’s face onto his cock, though, so Billy tried to speed up on his own.

He wasn’t all that used to having cock in his mouth.  Not as much as he’d like to be, he thought, as his eyes watered, and his throat clenched trying not to gag, and Steve Harrington’s fingers sank into his curls.  

“...you feel so good, jesus,” Harrington whispered, and Billy twitched, a little.  “Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up,” he muttered quickly, his thumb stroking the back of Billy’s neck.  Even with his mouth full of cock, Billy’s cheeks and ears were heating more because of the gentle fingers on his head and neck, and Steve’s soft, cut-off “—mm,”s and swallowed grunts.  

Steve smelled good, even, because of the nice soap he had even in his locker at school, sweaty as he was.  Steve’s smell was already familiar from that afternoon, and Steve’s arm around Billy all evening.  Billy almost wished he could go back in time and tell himself he’ll let you.  You don’t have to hurt him, he’ll let you touch, he’ll be gentle, don't hurt him.

He pulled off to cough, burying the sounds of his choking against Steve’s thigh, as Steve curled around him.  “...I think maybe you’re not queer enough to take my dick,” Steve whispered, snickering.  Billy punched his leg, then again in the same spot, muffling his laughter against Steve’s thigh and cock so his cheek got sticky with his own spit.  

Steve grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together, patting Billy’s hair with his free hand like Billy was a pet.  Steve skritched behind his ears, and Billy laughed harder.  His eyes were still watering from choking, and he drew a shaky breath before hissing, “I’m not a cat, Harrington.”

“You sure act like one,” Steve hissed back.  “Growling like crazy under a deck!”

Annoyingly, like every time Steve Harrington touched him, it felt good.  Billy narrowed his eyes, and grabbed Steve’s dick again with the hand he wasn’t holding.  Billy sank his lips just down to where they met his fingers, and stroked the King Harrington Cock with both.  Steve moaned almost inaudibly, his head thumping down onto the bed, and Billy hummed smugly.  

Like listening to music so loud his brain couldn’t do anything else, or lifting weights until all he could think of was his burning muscles, sucking cock took up Billy’s whole brain.  He could only kind of breathe, and he was nestled between Steve’s legs, and Steve’s fingers were just...soothing on Billy’s head.  Some girlfriend must’ve threatened to break Steve’s fingers sometime, Billy suspected.  When Billy sucked hard, Steve’s feet twitched, and he bit back noises, but his fingers stayed careful stroking through Billy’s hair.  

He came without warning, and Billy managed to mostly not make any louder noises than he was already.  Steve only took a couple slow, shuddery breaths before he rolled onto his back.  Billy coughed into the mattress, slowly registering Steve’s hand still in his hair.  “Okay,” Steve mumbled, and Billy told him to shush. 

He reached down with his spit-covered hand to wrap it around his own dick, letting Steve just keep holding the other one until he remembered to let go.

“Okay,” Steve whispered, nodding.  His eyes fluttered shut, but then he shook his head determinedly, and tugged at Billy’s arm.  “Up,” he whispered.

“Kinda busy,” Billy whispered back, but Steve tugged harder, so Billy scooted up, and Steve scooted down, and slid his hands around Billy’s ass, pulling him close enough that Billy’s cock bumped right up into Steve Harrington’s mouth, and Billy nearly came on the spot.

“Holy fuck,” he said aloud, flatly, and Steve started laughing so hard he had to pull off Billy’s cock to cover his snickering.  Billy couldn’t help it, he smacked the side of Steve’s head, lightly.  “Who’s queer enough now, hotshot,” he hissed, feeling his heartbeat through the skin of his whole upper body.

“Sssssh!” Steve hissed back, running his knuckles, gently, up and down Billy’s ass and thigh.  “Don’t make me fight your dad, jesus.  Ssshhhh.”

Billy snorted, his eyes blurring at the idea of his dad yanking him off the bed, and punching him, over and over and over.  He made a weird snuffly noise, shivering, and Steve yanked him down into a kiss, stroking his hair.  

“Ssh, ssh,” he whispered, kissing Billy, tongue and all, when Billy hadn’t even rinsed the jizz out of his mouth.  Steve didn’t seem to care, cradling Billy’s head in his hands and licking deeper, and Billy squirmed in as close as he could.  

“...god, maybe cannibals aren’t so bad,” he mumbled, yanking Steve’s head back in as he started to pull away.  

“What,” Steve said, sounding disturbed.

“Got you in my bed,” Billy mumbled, rolling half on top of King Steve Harrington, and grinning down.  He licked his lips.

“I-I don’t think that’s what eat me out means—” Steve started, and Billy kissed him again, taking probably the only chance he’d get to taste all of Steve Harrington, his mouth—still talking—his jaw, salty after two makeout sessions in June heat, and his neck, where his voice went breathy as Billy sucked at tender skin.  

“...shut up,” Billy whispered, sitting up and swinging a leg over Steve.  

Steve tensed, and grabbed Billy’s hands, holding them out.  “Wait, fuck, no,” he hissed, but Billy just let him, leaning in to lap at the muscles in Steve’s neck.  

“Just—lemme just—” Billy whispered, mostly ignoring his dick dribbling all over King Steve’s stomach.  He concentrated on sucking a whole constellation of hickies down Steve Harrington’s neck that Billy would be able to appreciate in classes for days.  

“...what are you doing,” Steve asked, huffing a kind of strangled laugh, and Billy kissed him again, humming into it.  It turned into kind of a groan as Steve relaxed his arms, a little, not letting go, but folding his arms around Billy, their fingers twined, so Billy’s arms were folded behind his own back.

The motion let Billy’s chest thump down onto Steve’s, Billy’s achingly hard dick pressed against Steve’s hardening one, and Billy squirmed, muffling his laugh against Steve’s throat.  “You’re kinda confused, aren’t you, Harrington,” he whispered.  “Lemme tell you ‘bout the birds and the bees—”

“You’re confusing,” Steve whispered back.  “What d’you even want—”

“This,” Billy breathed.  “—’n so do you, Harrington, letting me touch you—god—”

“Shut up,” Steve sighed, and Billy snorted a laugh.  He lifted his head to stare down at the muscles and stubble on the man in his bed—awkwardly, since he couldn’t use his arms.  Steve glared up at him, at first, then smiled, a little, when Billy licked his lips.  He smirked when Billy ducked his head to mouth along the clean line of Harrington’s jaw, and laughed softly as Billy squirmed up and kissed him again.  

Billy finally worked his hands free, tugging as Steve’s hands loosened, and Steve muffled his laughter as Billy explored all of him.  Billy stroked his whole body, sucking everywhere Steve’s skin looked soft until his grin was even softer, and his face felt hot against Billy’s fingers.  “...what are you doing,” he mumbled again, as Billy buried his face in Steve’s muscled, sweaty thighs.  

“Whatever you’ll let me,” he whispered back, lifting his head, and then lowering it again to kiss sloppily down Steve’s thigh.  He jacked himself off almost as an afterthought, sliding Steve’s hardening cock over his tongue for the second time that night. 

[oneshots-heaven]

“Time Out for a Movie Star “ - Part 3

Even after a week of being at your grandmother’s farm, you still hadn’t fully warmed up to idea of having Chris there. After a heated argument between the two of you, which added to your shared dislike, your grandmother advises you to spend some time with him. 

Because sometimes the only way to truly understand someone is to spend time alone with them. 

Warning: cursing, mention of absent parent, otherwise very innocent Chris Evans x Reader Part THREE of the TOFAMS series

“My parents are overloading me with their unconditional love, that it makes me wanna go back and spent the rest of the summer in our small dorm.”

You chuckled at the desperate words of your roommate, who had perhaps the greatest and most loving parents on the planet yet was constantly whining about them. “Oh, please, it can’t be that bad. They just missed you, you know.”

“Believe me, it’s bad. They act like I’m studying aboard, instead of two hours away from home.” Ash complained. “Anyways, enough of my whining. How’s your summer? I still can’t believe you chose spending time at your Nan’s over going to LA. I wish I had an aunt like yours.”

Ashleigh was the only of your college friends who knew anything beyond the needed basics about you, which included your infamous aunt. That actually came about because Ash was a noisy-ass bitch and found out about it after a few Google tries. She knew that you didn’t like talking about Susan and would most definitely not asking her about some stupid Hollywood gossip Ash always begged for.

Right before the summer, she and you were studying for your last exams as Su called, asking if you’d like to spend the summer in California, which you kindly declined, much to the shock of your roommate.

“I like spending time here. It’s my home, unlike LA. Imagine me there, that’d be ridiculous.”

You heard Ash sigh on the other side of the line, “Maybe you’re right. At least, there are cute cowboys around, right?”

The dull noise of the front door of your grandma’s house pulled you out of the conversation as you glanced up from your notebook, seeing how Chris walked out of the house. His appearance left you stunned. Just days ago, he had been wearing a pricy designer polo shirt and trousers, signaling everyone that he wasn’t from around here. Now it looked like he found the right fit for his new role as ‘cowboy’, wearing a pair of wrangler jeans that hung low on his hips and a slight unbuttoned henley shirt.

And he looked flawless in it, that bugged you the most.

“Yeah, there is,” you said, still having your gaze fixed on him. Seconds and a high-pitched squealing sound from Ash later, you realized what you just had said. “I mean, no. No, there’s no one interesting here. Just the horses, my Nan, dad and me.”

“Yeah sure,” Ash laughed, unconvinced. You were doomed.

”I have to hang up. I’ll call you soon—“

She gasped, before saying, “Have fun with your cowboy. Tell me every spicy detail later.“

Rolling your eyes, you simply replied before you hung up, “Yeah, thanks.“

Listening to the footsteps, you pushed your phone into the back pocket of your jeans as Chris entered the stable. Quietly, you laid aside your notebook and moved over to the banister, watching him from above. While his clothes now looked like he belonged here, the way he put new hay into the feeder was revealing the opposite.

It left you wondering how long it must take an actor to adapt to his role good enough that he can portray it convincingly. Until he was easily able to pretend to be someone entirely different. Just like a few days ago at the market when he held your hand in his and caressed your cheek lovingly in front of Brandon, creating the illusion that he and you were something more than just forced acquaintances.  Those small gestures had caused a thundering feeling against your chest—your heart beating viciously. You’d blamed it on the sudden nervousness as you hadn’t known what he was trying to do, and the starvation of someone else’s touch. That was what hit you the most. It had been so long since you shared such an innocent yet imitate moment. To know that it was all pretend verged dangerously on the edge of getting hurt.

To let people like Chris get any closer was dangerous, it was their job to pretend, and you had a bad feeling that he was doing that all along.

“I know you’re up there,” he suddenly said, without turning around to truly acknowledge your presence. “I can literally feel your eyes burning into my back.”

Oh shit.

“It’s not my fault.” you defended yourself, appearing from behind the banister. “You look like a fool.”

Chris held in, almost as if he was thinking about a clever comeback line, however seconds later, he resumed to stuff hay into the last feeders. To simply ignore you was one way to turn around a conversation, especially a way to make you feel like the mean one.

Sighting deeply, you grabbed your notebook and went down the wood ladder. You didn’t mean to upset him with a silly comment like that, it was merely a coverup for your excessive staring. He didn’t need to know that you were overthinking the damned moment where he touched your cheek.

For a brief moment, you thought about apologizing to him, but the words stay stuck in your mouth as he turned around, and his cold gaze met yours.

A good actor knew exactly how to awake the right feelings to make their audience feel the wanted emotion. And wasn’t he one of the best actors there was today?

“Take the wheelbarrow next time. It’ll be easier and won’t leave such a mess on the floor.” you said almost monotony, not wanting to let him hear how insecure he could make you feel.

“Thanks, will do.”

You nodded, realizing that this was not only your cue to leave him alone, but also how tightly you held onto your notebook. It was better to get out each other’s way, just like you had planned from the beginning. Holding hands, even rubbing your thumb over one’s backhand, was a romantic comedy move. He surely had done that hundreds of times, it was nothing to overthink.

It was just that—nothing.

As you were about to leave, his voice resounded in the empty stable. “Did that guy contact you?”

Let loose, God dammit. He wouldn’t mess with your head, not on your account.

“You mean Brandon?” you questioned, just to be sure.

“If that’s his name,” he replied, finishing the last feeder, turning around to you. “Did he?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, you frowned. “Why—no, actually, that’s none of your business.”

Chris chuckled, crossing his, admittedly, well-trained arms in front of his chest. “Well, it is now after I was involved in your drama, and if you want to keep up an act.”

An act?

Mouth agape, trying to sort your thoughts, you lastly replied,  “I don’t want to keep up an act. That was stupid to begin with.”  

“But it worked, didn’t it? You saw the look on his face yourself, and for as long as I’m here, you can use me as an excuse—”

“I don’t want you as an excuse,” you interrupted him. He appeared to be the stunned one now, loosing his crossed arms. As soon as you saw his face lightened up, mouth twitching to a grin, you shut it down. “I don’t want to use you as anything. I don’t need to play pretend.”

The grin disappeared as quick as it had appeared. “Why not?”

“Because unlike people like you, I don’t play with other people’s emotions. I’ll just have to tell Brandon to leave me alone, that’s—”

“Let me guess, you’ve already done that, and it didn’t work.” he interrupted you back as he made a step forward to you. “That boy seems head over heels for you. Unless he’s told straight off or has someone to rival with, I highly doubt that he’ll leave you alone.”  

Your heart made treacherous leap at the thought of Chris being someone to rival with for your favor. Of him being someone who wanted you. And that crossed the line you’d set for yourself.

You didn’t need him to act like your boyfriend, you didn’t need him to get any closer to you than necessary. Soon the whining would start, soon he would curse this place and think of himself as someone superior. Soon he would finally give up and leave his place for good, begging your aunt to let him fly back to his beloved Los Angeles. All you wanted from him was to be gone.

“So what? Why do you even care?” you hissed, stepping toward him defensively. “Let it be my problem, I don’t need you to cause any more problems. I don’t need you in any way, and I don’t want you in any way. In fact, I just want you to fucking leave.”

Chris’ amused behavior was gone with the wind that your brutal words caused. His eyes looked wiped out of any joy. “Got it.” he said as he turned away from you, leaving you feeling ruthless back alone in the stable.

Maybe he wasn’t playing the villain in this story, maybe you were.

“What’s with the sad smile on your face, honey?”

You stood in the kitchen next to your grandma, helping her bake her infamous apple pie.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, not meaning it at all, and instead concentrated on cutting the apple in the perfect shape. All day long, your argument with Chris had ghosted through your head, plaguing you with a guilty conscience. He had his way of making you feel guilty over the things you say, yet he also had his way of making you say such things in the first place.

The silence of your grandmother was irritating you. Usually, she wouldn’t quit bugging you until you’d give in and finally say what’s on your mind, but this time she kept quiet. Maybe that was for the best. Talking even more about him wouldn’t help banning him out of your head.

“I had an argument with Chris this morning.”

A heartfelt laughter left her mouth. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Open mouthed, unable to say anything in reply, you glanced at her.

“Oh dear,” she said as she saw your face, putting aside the mixer. “I knew you would have trouble with that guy. It doesn’t surprise me to hear that you’ve been fighting already. I know what you see in him.”

“No, you don’t.” you told her off.

The corners of your granny’s mouth twitched in sympathy. “Y/N, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you. But maybe you should take it easy on him. He’s not at fault. How about you take the wind out of it a bit, take him for a ride and apologize?”  

If there was one person who was always right, it was your grandma, but you had a hard time believing that she was right this time, too. You felt torn inside, split in-between being the person your father raised who owned up to their mistakes and the one who knew better from the past. You hated this unsettled state of mind. It was a bland mess that made everything worse.

“It won’t kill you to say sorry, my dear.”

But it might.

The one who actually looked like a fool this day was yourself. Standing ten solid minutes on the front porch, trying to gather some guts to go through with your apology. From afar, you watched Chris cleaning out the stable, yet again, looking slightly overwhelming by the mass of it. This was perhaps his first time doing that, so why blame him. Unlike others, he was at least trying.

“Oh, fuck it,” you breathed, getting in motion. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it was a necessary argument over a stupid thing to which now a simple apology followed. Nothing crazy, and yet you’d rather like to turn on your heels and go back to the house.

All your hopes of him noticing you on the way were thrown overboard, he ignored you. Even when you stood almost right next to him, he still ignored you. Maybe he did it on purpose. As it seemed, he was the master of making you feel stupid.

You cleared your throat loudly, trying to get his attention before you would then dive into your prepared monologue. Not prepared due to nervousness but rather to not get into another argument with him before you finished your guilt-ridden apology. Nevertheless, you already failed at the first step—getting his attention because he was still given you none of it.  

Arms dropping, you groaned, “Oh c’mon, you’re really mad at me?”

This now was in fact catching his attention. Within seconds, he stopped sweeping the hay-filled floor, holding onto the broom as he stared at you. Was he for real?

“Ok fine, be mad but let me apologize for a moment.”

“I’m not mad at you.” he stated, catching you off-guard.

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

Chris stretched over to lean the broom against the stable wall. As his arm drew out, his muscle showed off, instantly drawing your attention to it. Sometimes, in your weak moments, you were still someone who appreciated the sight of good muscle. Ignoring the fact that you were distracted by that small movement, you shook your head and concentrated back on his face.

“Because you made it very clear that you don’t want me around, so I kept my distance.”

That was not the answer you’d expected, but one you were pleasantly surprised with, although it made the entire apologizing process harder for you. He wasn’t wrong, you did want him to keep his distance as you still thought of it as the better option—to get out each other’s way. The guilt, however, had ridden up to a mountain.

“Alright, that’s good with me.” you said, taking a breather. “For what it’s worth, I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have leashed out on you like that, I could’ve said it in a nicer way.”

Knocking his chin up, he eyed you for a moment, then nodded and said, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

You nodded, too, in response, clapping your hands together. Ready to chicken out of your grandma’s original idea as the entire apology thing went smoother than you’d expected it to be. Given the outrageous talent he had, he still made you feel bad, even after your apology. Almost as if you’d kicked a puppy and could never forgive yourself. It was horrible, hair-pulling-annoying.

“Do you wanna go for a ride?” you asked, cursing yourself in your thoughts.

“A ride?”

“Yes,” you replied, quickly adding, “like on a horse, I meant.”

“I know what you meant,” he laughed so deep that it almost unlocked a grin of yours, too. “But what’s up with the sudden motivation to hang out with me? Or is that part of your apology?”

Hands on your hips, you looked at him. “You know, it was just an offer. I can turn around and leave you alone again—”

He smiled, interrupting you, “No, let’s go.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Meeting his glance, you saw an unsure look on the face of the Hollywood star after you had explained him how to properly saddle a horse. It ended up being the most chaotic scenario you could possibly imagine as he didn’t seem quite fond of horses.

“To be honest, horses were never my kind of animals.” he confirmed your suspicion.

So, this could either turn into some great fun or a big mess, but you were kind of excited to give this a try.

“Don’t worry, Frankie is the kindest horse on the planet.” you told him, correcting the saddle one last time before you grabbed the reins again to hold him in place.

A flash of memories, déjà-vu-like, rushed through your head. Forcing a smile on your lips, you pushed those memories to the back of your mind, gesturing to the stirrups. “These are the stirrups, hold onto here and put your left foot in it, and then you just need a little bounce to get up. But given how tall you are, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Chris held in for a moment, overlooking the situation as he nodded a few times, priming himself to get on that horse swiftly. He did as he was told, swinging himself up in one go.

“See, that wasn’t too hard.” you smiled, patting Frankie gently on his neck. “Here, you can hold onto the reins. Frankie will follow Willow by himself, so you just have to keep yourself sat in that saddle.”

He sat there, mounted on Frankie, the biggest horse in the stable, wearing your father’s old hat, making him appear like a picture-perfect cowboy. As you held up the reins for him to take over, his hand brushed the back of yours, sending shivers down your spine. Glancing up, you met his awaiting gaze. “So, where’re we going?”

You stepped over to Willow, your own horse, and swung yourself up on the saddle. “Let me surprise you.” you said, steering Willow toward the endless sea of landscape behind the farm.

Your heartbeat skipped as you spoke out those confident words. No matter how hard you tried to avoid it, this was the disastrous line between the past and future that you couldn’t seem to tear away from. And it scared the shit out of you. You wouldn’t let him know, as nothing will happen and, in few weeks, he will be back in Los Angeles and your paths will go apart again. You’ll have your peace and he’ll have his career back, all as it supposed to be.

That’s what will happen, nothing else.

“Come on, Chris,” you called out, riding away through your Gram’s fields toward the forest.

Looking back to him, you saw trotting around with Frankie, struggling to catch up to Willow’s speed. You slowed her down, whistling loudly enough for Frankie to hear. Chris’ face lightened up in sudden panic as his horse neighed in response, following your command.

As soon as Frankie and he had caught up, you rode together along the forest edge, slowing down every once in a while, to enjoy the warming sunshine. His body started to relax over time, the tight hold on the reins loosed up, becoming less stiff, which Frankie seemed to notice too as he started to listen to Chris’ commands. With every passing second, he became more confident going along the movements. You raced against each other over the fields, taking in the sun, and for once this past week, you let your guards down and fully enjoyed the moment.

Miles away from your grandmother’s farm, you had reached your favorite part of this town, hidden behind the densely grown trees.

“Where are we?” Chris asked as you slowed down the horses, coming to a halt.

Jumping down from the saddle, you took the reins in your hands, explaining, “We made a short stop. Let the two get some water and rest before we ride back.”

Signaling him to hand over Frankie’s reins, you held him in place for Chris to get off safely before leading them with you through the forest. From afar, you could hear water splash. What only a handful of people knew and cared about was the old water spring, long forgotten at the end of the forest. The spring ended in a natural pond, following into a small river that flowed past the town. Your dad and you came here every summer, enjoying the cold water on hot days, while letting the horses get some rest in the shadow. You connected many happy childhood memories to this place, it may be your favorite spot in the entire world.

You felt sillily gracious taking Chris here, believing he would enjoy it as much as you always did. Stopping the horses, you patted them on their neck, looking over to Chris just in the right moment to catch how stunned he looked at the pond in front of him. A part of you felt pleased seeing him like this place.

Unable to hide the sudden victorious grin, you said, “Taken by the look on your face, you seem impressed.”

Letting the horse’s grass on their own, you joined Chris again, nudging his shoulder with your own, nodding into the direction of the pond. He stepped forward hesitantly, exploring the place further. The pond was spacious and deep enough to dive in, catching the sunlight through the high tree crowns.

“This is incredible,” he breathed, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he stepped onto the rocks that neared the pond.

The way how he stood there, high up, the sunlight hit him perfectly. Drawing the illusion as if he was Captain America in real life, because objectively speaking, he seemed too good to be true. The white henley he wore stretched nicely over his board chest, while the teared-up jeans hung low on his smaller hips, hugging his strong legs just right. You didn’t know what exactly it was that was so mesmerizing about him, he just was.

You shook your head, thinking out loud. “What is it about you, Hollywood people, and always looking perfect, no matter the occasion?”

The frown on his face knitted his forehead. Chris stepped down from the rocks, coming back to the same level as you. “We don’t,” he argued.

“Yes, you do,” you said. “You looked like a real-life Captain America up there.”

Chris clocked his head to the side, unable to cover up the hint of surprise. “You know my movies?”

“It’s hard not to know any Marvel movie these days.”

“Wouldn’t have surprised me, if you didn’t,” he answered, honestly, smile dropping from his face. “But believe me, we, Hollywood people, aren’t perfect at all.”

The words laid on your tongue, wanting to argue that it was hard to believe when he looked like all someone could’ve ever asked for. However, it was more than obvious that he didn’t think of himself as that and had no interest in deepening that conversation.

As you wanted to offer changing the topic, he came before you, saying, “How about a swim?”

“What?” was the last thing you could exclaim before you felt his arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, pushing you over to the water.

“Hold up, movie star. Stop!” you yelled, turning in his arms, right against his chest to push yourself out of his grip. With a self-assured grin on his face, he edged you closer to the pond. “No, no, please, don’t!”

“Too late,” he hummed, trying to give you one last push as your fingers clawed into his shirt, pulling you flushed against him, catching him off-guard. “Please,” you begged, “let me at least take my shoes and hat off.”

His arms loosened around you, just like your fingers let go of his henley, until he held them up defensively. “You got five seconds, or else I’ll throw you in with your shoes on.”

With narrowed eyes, you backed off, “You wouldn’t dare. Also, if I get in, you get in as well. I didn’t bring you here to stand around.”

His signature bright smile returned, replacing the sad mimic, making your stomach loop. “You know, you could’ve just said back at the farm that you wanted to see me shirtless.” he teased you.

You opened your mouth, searching for words to sass back, but nothing came to your mind. Instead, you pulled off your shoes, stuffing your socks in them, and put your hat aside, looking at Chris. His eyes gleamed daringly, he liked a good tease to get someone worked up, but you wouldn’t let him win this one.

“Go, take it off,” you said, putting on an innocent yet also daring tone, nodding to his henley. “Or are you scared?”

Chris scoffed, breaking the eye contact as he shook his head. “No, not scared,” he replied, actually grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it in one swift movement over his head, exposing his well-defined, slightly tanned chest.

Oh.

Eyes widened, heat shooting up your cheeks, setting all of you on fire, you stared at his naked chest in disbelief. “Okay,” you breathed, catching yourself out of trance, turning away, “didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

A wholehearted laugh came from Chris as he clutched his hand over his left chest area. Glancing through your careful spread fingers, you caught him doing so. “You always do that when you laugh.” you shared your latest analysis of him.

“Do what?”

“You know,” you said, imitating his apparent signature movement. “Grabbing your, like, left boob when you laugh.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “you do. A lot.”

He stepped closer to you. “I don’t, and if you say that one more time, I will throw you in the water. Without any remorse, you hear me?”

“You wouldn’t.”

And like an idiot, you offered him a sweet, sweet challenge that he wouldn’t let past. It dawned on you as quick as you had said the words out loud, suspecting the worst coming. With fearful eyes, you turned on your heels and tried to run, however, he was quick to catch up. His arms slung right underneath your knees and back, scooping you off the ground in a tumbling move. A shriek escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing heavy against it.

Your startled gaze met his. Once more, he and you had leveled up, this was the most touch that had happened between you, and it felt electric. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of nature surrounding you and the firm beats of your hearts. No words, only simplistic silence. An avalanche of confusing feelings came down to your heart, ready to sallow it at any time. As if Chris felt the dawning avalanche too, he broke the silence, whispering softly, “Ready to get wet?”

Before you could argue, you felt the cool water of the pond surrounding you.

You gasped after air as you reached back the surface, brushing your wet hair out of your face to look at the guilty traitor. Chris stood calmly, with a satisfied grin on his face, with his hands in his jeans pockets on the heightened rocks, looking down at you.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Better believe it,” he simply smiled.

Asshole.

“So, what, do I have to drag you or are you coming down here by yourself?”

“Although I’d paid to see you try get me in the water, it probably take an hour and it’s hot, so I’m going in by myself.”

Without any hesitation, without any shyness, Chris’ hands moved to his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. Like a voyeur, you watched him pull off his jeans, leaving him only cladded in the branded underwear to left little to imagination. To your luck, he was equally quick to jump right next to you into the pond, the water splashing around you.

As he came back up for air, the corners of his mouth tucked to a sincere smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

Climbing out of the water, you laid down on the flat side of the large rocks, feeling how warmed up they were from the sun. You closed your eyes, listening to birds chirping, the wind brushing past the trees and the water sweeping against the rocks. There couldn’t be something better than this, this was so much better than the noise of busy traffic, honking cars and loud conversations.

There was something special about watching the nature around you come to peace in the evening. Everything would feel a little slower, a little more nostalgic. Almost as if time didn’t exist.

You believed that people like your roommate, Ash, or Chris would never be able to truly understand the magic of living here. They would probably never feel the same freedom and peace like you did, you felt sorry for everyone who didn’t. Perhaps now, lying on those stones, you understood why your aunt thought of your hometown as the perfect place to escape.

Looking sideways, you watched Chris swim his last rounds in the pond. As much as you didn’t want him here, you still hoped he would find his own sort of peace. That some of this magic would follow him home.

He had never told you why Susan had really sent him here. All of what you knew came from mean-spirited gossip pages that didn’t seem trust-worthy. But who were you kidding? He and you had spoken longer than five minutes before your words got equally mean. You actually knew nothing about him, and the bad thing was, you were too intrigued for your own good to find out.

Chris crossed the pond one last time, holding onto one of the rocks to pull himself out of the water. You moved a little to the side, making some space to laying in the sun, too. Silently, he accepted your offer.

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s really nice.” he muttered after a while.

“Glad you liked it.”

The silence mercilessly swallowed any chance of a proper conversation, and you weren’t sure if you liked that or not. A week ago, you would have been glad if he minded his own business. Hell, even this morning, you would have been glad if he had done that. Yet, you had broken your own rules by bringing him to the one place you loved the most. The pond felt like a safe space to you, showing him this place meant a good step forward, so it wouldn’t hurt being a little nicer to him, would it?

His head turned, just as you were about to say something, meeting your gaze. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards before he looked up to the sky, closing his eyes and tucking an arm behind his head to rest on. “Go ahead, just ask.”

You frowned, pushing yourself upwards on your elbows. “How did you—”

“When you’re in the industry long enough, you know every gaze, especially the one if someone wants to know something.” he simply, almost coldly explained.

You pressed your lips together, holding in. Within the span of his career, he had been probably asked hundred thousand of questions—insightful ones, fun ones, meaningful ones, and for sure a lot that were none of the interviewer’s business. The thought of being placed in the same category of those people felt shameful.

Chris said nothing, still awaiting your question, and although you’d rather not ask him anything, you couldn’t bare much more silence. “Do you get ask a lot of questions?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many,” he replied, shortly but in a professional tone.

His tone was stern but still polite enough. If he had concluded a smile at the end of his answer, people would have surely called him charismatic.

It took him a while to notice that he wasn’t contributing much to your weak attempt of having an actual conversation with him. “Interviews are actually my least favorite part about my job. I just—“ his voice gave in for a moment, “I just feel out of control in those situations. There’s no limit, no shame, to their questions and most often, you feel almost violated at the end of the day. Many don’t see the person behind the famous image, they don’t respect me or my privacy.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to do the same.” you said, sincerely.

Chris turned his head in your direction, still shielding his eyes from the sun. “I know you don’t.”

Your heartbeat got stuck in your throat, feeling awfully in awe of his eyes that you couldn’t turn away from. “You know what I don’t get?” you asked him. “Despite those nasty intruding people, you seem to love your job and be somewhat well-grounded. Although you may hate to be here, you never once complained about doing any work for my Gram. Why the hell did Susan sent you here?”

He breathed in, breaking the eye contact once more. It was one of those ‘none of your business’ questions, you felt it. But you wanted to hear the real reason from him and not from a gossip news page on the internet.

“Susan had enough reasons to ban me anywhere. One being that I’m far from being well-grounded. I used to,” he started to explain, “but things aren’t all perfect and pretty in Hollywood. That’s only a perception. There’s so much shit going on behind closed doors, where nobody sees you. So much shit that you’d never show any camera that’s waiting at the front doors for you.”

You silently listened to him, trying to leave him room to tell you anything he was willing to as you fed the sudden desire in your heart to know him.

“There’s this immense pressure to be perfect at all times, to always better yourself, to—fuck, just be the absolute best. When I found my footing in the industry, I always told myself I’d never fall into that rabbit hole. Even after I did my fifth Marvel movie, on top of whole world, I still told myself that. But at that point, I was already failing. It slowly creeps up on you, like you don’t realize that you’re changing and becoming this narcissistic and frantic version of yourself until it’s too late. That’s the poison of the industry, sooner or later, it will drug anyone, even the most resistant ones.”

It was no surprise to you how poisonous the movie industry was. You knew that Hollywood was the home of money, betrayal and sex. Somehow, it never crossed your mind that someone like him could get caught in that. He seemed so strong-minded, almost like nothing could bring him from his path, but now you knew that wasn’t true.

He sat up, leaning with his arms on his angled legs. “Once you realize that you’re not yourself anymore, it’s almost impossible not to spiral. I put Susan through hell for staying me throughout all the shit I’d done. I really did, until she said she couldn’t do it anymore. She wouldn’t watch me destroy myself like I did. Either I go and get my shit back together or she would leave. And to be honest with you, if she ever leaves, then I’ve got no one left.”

“Why? What about your family? They wouldn’t let you down, would they?”

He chuckled, sadly, almost ironically. “I don’t know if they would. They don’t even know half of the shit I’ve done, Susan made sure of that. I don’t see them very often, but whenever I did, I tried to be the version of myself I once was. The boy they loved, and not the fucked-up person I’ve become.”

After all what had happened in your own life, you couldn’t imagine ever pretend or lie to your father. He was your best friend, the only person you knew who would never leave. You eyed Chris from the side. Underneath this immortal famed image of him was a person burdened by their own struggles and fulfilled with hopelessness.

“Susan wouldn’t let you down.” you said, knowing it was the truth.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“But I am,” you said, also sitting up. “She sent you here, to the place she holds dearest in her heart. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t think you were worth it.”

Chris turned his head to you. “Do you think I’m worth it?”

For a moment, you were left with nothing to answer. His question caught in a state of possibly letting him in too much and keeping him out again. He didn’t turn his gaze away from you. You saw the kindness in his eyes, as much as the hurting. Maybe he wasn’t what you projected onto him.

“You are.”

His eyes were still on you, flickering from your eyes down to your lips, and for a brief moment, there was this possibility. A tingling sensation in your stomach followed the creeping shiver that trailed down your arms. As the seconds drew out, feeling longer than they actually were, you were scared of what could happen, yet so eager to find out.

As if your eyes told him what was going on inside your head, he backed up slightly, ending this hushed possibility. A moment that you couldn’t quite define, one that scared you. Letting your guards down scared you, but at same time, letting him in didn’t feel wrong either.

“You know what?” he suddenly said, disrupting your trance-like state.

You looked back at him, still sitting on the rocks, as he swung his legs to tangle in the pond.

“You’re like a pretty book in foreign language that I don’t know, but that I’m dying to read.”

There it was again, the sudden rush floating through your entire body.

“What?” was the only thing you were able to say, chuckling unsure. No one had ever said such thing to you. Maybe because out of anyone else’s mouth, it would’ve sounded ridiculous but out of Chris’, it did sound like a genuine compliment.

Chris cooled down his legs by hauling handfuls of water over them, turning to you. “Whenever I look at you, I never know if you hate me or if you don’t.”

You frowned. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

You held in, understanding why he would think that. So far, you hadn’t been showing yourself from your best side, especially toward him. But hate was such a cruel, big word. “No, I don’t.”

“See,” he said, nodding, as he leaned down on his arms. “I did not know that. You’re hard to read, yet so nosy yourself.”

In disbelief, you gasped and gave him a push against his shoulder, not even throwing off his balance in the slightest. “I’m not nosy!”

Chris laughed. “That’s such a lie, you totally are. You’ve made me tell you so much about me, while I was thinking you might hate me, and I know nothing about you, besides that you study psychology at the UT.”

You were stunned that he actually remembered that, given that you had only mentioned it quickly before you had cut off the topic. “There’s not much to tell,” you defended yourself.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well,” you mumbled, crawling across the rock to sit down next to him, equally putting your legs back in the pond. “You better believe it because there’s truly nothing grand to tell.”

“Why are you so scared to let get to know you?” he questioned, all serious now. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you looked at him. The corners of his mouth went up a little, offering you a comforting smile. Maybe he had lied about not being able to read you because he had caught you red-handed.

“I am not scared,” you replied, lying through your teeth, which he instantly recognized, given you a look.

“Like I said, there’s not much to tell and I am not scared to let you get to know me. I just—”

“You just don’t want me to get to know you?”

You pressed your lips together. Minutes ago, you were actually enjoying this afternoon in the sun. You were even enjoying Chris’ company and now, he’d gotten you all uncomfortable. Right into a situation you would normally run from. Nevertheless, you still sat there with him, not moving an inch to get away.

“What do you wanna know?” you, instead, asked him.

Your offer seemed to catch him off guard, perhaps he hadn’t thought you’d give in. He took his time, exchanging a short glance with you. Just with this one look, you knew he was trying to think of the right question as this may was his only chance.

“Why do you study psychology?” he decided. “And I mean, the real reason. You don’t seem the type of person who decides for a major just because it seemed ambitious.”  

What a way to hit straight home.

You breathed, “Remember when I said you were somewhat decent? I take that back.”

“Oh, come on!”

Those puppy-like eyes of him were hard to resist, and you didn’t like that. As much as the fact that you were actually warming up to him in a dangerous pace. So easily that you couldn’t be an ass now and push him away once again.

“You really had to ask that question, huh?” you mumbled. “I mean, fine, it’s not like you wouldn’t find out about this if you stay here any longer.”

Your cryptic speaking led to confusion written all over his face and yet, he decided to stay quiet. His silence wasn’t pushing, it was rather accepting what he would get. And if that was nothing, he seemed to be okay with that, too.

“I don’t even know how to start this,” you started, giving yourself the little push over the edge of your fearsomeness. “Look, I grew up in Tennessee. My parents met during college there, and my mom got pregnant with me in their junior year. Not necessarily how they’d imagined their lives at that age, but they’ve managed. They always did. When they finished college, they decided it would be easier to live nearby my Gram to have her help raise me.”

Inhaling, you bite back the incoming hot tears at the memories of how things used to be. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry in front of Chris.

“They were the greatest team you could imagine. Like the entire world could go against them and nothing would break them apart. I didn’t know anyone else who were so made for one another like my parents were.” you told him, your voice breaking off at the end. “But things aren’t meant to last forever. Someday, they are just over, and that day can hit you out of nowhere.”

No tears.

No fucking tears in front of him.

“She left us,” you said, and even after all these years, those words were still so hard to say. “She just left her ten-year-old child, her entire family, without any word of explanation. Just went her way without looking back once, only threatening us with legal actions if we’d tried to contact her. I’ve spent years trying to understand her. To understand how you can suddenly stop loving someone and just leave. Even to this day, I still try to understand. That’s why I study psychology. I just want to know how someone can do such thing.”

You breathed in deeply, trying to collect yourself from the incoming rush of anger and overwhelming sadness. While most moments in your life, especially those on your Grandma’s farm, felt like the brightest sun, remembering your mother was like a cloudy sky.

Sometimes you wished it was easier to talk about her, but the truth was that you’d thought you knew your mother knew well, while in reality, you apparently hadn’t known her at all. The warm, loving image of her with what you grew up with was destroyed by her leaving your father and you behind, topping it with the audacity to not even explain to her kid why. Just like the rumors surrounding her did. And years would go by, things wouldn’t change, and you would still be wondering if you were the reason of her leaving.

“I’m sorry.”

You laughed falsely, pretending you weren’t hurt. “For what? It’s not like it’s your fault.”

Not his, exactly.

“Yeah,” he hushed, “but for what it’s worth, I’m still sorry. No one should be left by a loved one, wondering if they’re at fault and being kept from finding any closure, whatsoever.”

You slightly frowned at me, not knowing what to say. You had no idea who he really was, but one thing you knew for sure by now—he always knows the right thing to say.

Chris looked upon to you, first time that your gazes truly met for more than a short moment. And right then, time seemed to slow down, while your heart raced against the thousand thoughts in your head. His gaze dropped, once again, from your eyes noticeably down to your lips, leaving your throat anxiously dry.

An earthshaking feeling overcame you, so big, so fearful, so powerful. Some wild, confused part of you wanted this. This peace that his lips promised you. But the voice of doubt and fear was louder than your desire. You backed up, brushing your semi-wet hair behind your ears as you turned away. Grabbing your clothes, you put them back on in time-speed.

“We should go.“ you said, closing your eyes in awkwardness. “I still need to do some preparations for Granny’s birthday.“

You turned back around to him, seeing how he still sat on the rocks, looking slightly disappointed. You ignored any incoming feelings and instead made the horse ready to ride back, believing that Chris would take the hint to get ready.

“I didn’t know that her birthday was coming up. When is it?“ he asked politely, yet quietly.

You bite your lip, handing him over Frankie’s rein as soon as he was clothed. “This Saturday, it’s her 80th.“

Chris’s mouth corner went up for a second, smiling sympathetically, although he knew as soon as you did that this sudden small talk between the two of you was painful enough. “Planned something big?“

“No, not really,“ you answered, swinging yourself up your horse’s back.

“Why not? Shouldn’t she have a big party? I think she would like that, there are so many people who I believe would love to party with her. And you only get the 80th once.“

You smiled unsure. “You think so?“

Chris returned the smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.“

You nodded, gulping unnoticeably before you gave your horse the sight to move.

You’ve never found any closure with your mother because she never gave it to you. Just like you didn’t give yourself the answer to your undeniable feelings that you would rather leave behind at the pond.

TO BE CONTINUED

[slashscowboyboots]

Reptiles & Rogues: Loaded Like a Freight Train (Part 1)

Have I finished my High School GNR fics? HELL NO!  Did I start another series? YOU BET YOUR ASS!  Is it as long as a book? SHIT YEAH WHY NOT?

Tag list: @malibubarbievince​ @ace-is-back-and-he-told-you-so​ @fanofnightz​ @sunshinesuska​ @sodalitefully​

Warnings: Public intoxication, the occasional cuss word, brief allusion to whiskey dick, wanting to grope a stranger’s fine ass (it’s about GNR people, they ain’t the church choir-see the above gif)

Notes: This is the first installment of a series, and the character Susan is based on the wonderful @sunshinesuska​ (if you aren’t following her or her writing blog @izzysdenimjacket​ you are really missing out, what a talent)

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

He was gorgeous.

And as he swayed all over the stage, you realized he was hammered.  Immaculately graceful and stunning, but he was completely FUBAR.

It was the first time you’d ever seen your friend Slash’s band Guns N’Roses play.  You’d met him when he stopped by the reptile rescue center where you worked, a beacon of tranquility on a busy city block.  With his impressive mane of curls and top hat, Slash definitely stood out amongst the normal gawkers and the classes of schoolchildren who came by to line up and hold Ralph the 8 foot red-tailed boa out to his full length.

The charming guitarist showed up frequently, leaving the newspaper stand 2 doors down where he where he worked (mostly gabbing on the phone) to come in and coo and smile at every animal in the place, large or small, knowing more about reptiles than any book or herpetologist.

He’d taken such a shine to the ancient tegu lizard Fats that he’d begged you to let him take him home for a weekend, and the fact that was against Dr. Mark’s policies (the veterinarian owned the facility and therefore made the rules) completely broke your heart.  You knew the geriatric and corpulent old tegu returned Slash’s affection, and would probably enjoy a couple of days having a devoted dad who treated him so tenderly.

You’d even visited Slash’s place and met Clyde, and it just blew you away that this scruffy looking guy owned a for-real anaconda.  AN ANACONDA.  You’d never seen one before; they didn’t get rescued because they were so irascible people didn’t keep them as pets, but here was Slash, holding up a placid green and yellow noodle like it was normal to do this kind of thing every day.

Slash was a deeply cherished friend, nothing more (he had a raging crush on a lab tech named Susan he’d met when he took his Grandma Ola in for bloodwork, and your didn’t meet too many guys with your head down shoveling reptile shit), a welcome human voice amid the silent creatures, and when he’d asked you to come out and see his band play, you couldn’t tell him no.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re LOUD.”

Well, it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard of the Germs.

So had you headed down the Strip, X t-shirt and black ripped jeans on.  You’d even made somewhat of an effort with your hair, teasing your curls out and lacquering them in place.

Alright, dude, here I am.

And you had witnessed the most amazing band you’d ever seen tear through their set in a state of shock.  That sweet, soft spoken buddy of yours was bare chested and sweaty, his head thrown back, effortlessly making his Les Paul cry the most beautiful tears.  But as much as you loved watching Slash play, someone else onstage had your full attention.

He was pale, tall and thin, with long black hair, skintight black t-shirt and jeans, beating the everloving hell out of a defenseless white guitar.  He wove over and shouted something intelligible into the microphone, then wobbled his way to the other side of the stage.  The most beautiful creature you’d ever seen, and, just your luck, he was snake-turds drunk.

After the show, the band milled around the bar.  Slash introduced you to them all, and you discovered Hot Stuff went by the nom de punk Izzy Stradlin (how charming).  He’d indifferently nodded at you and went back to slurping greedily out of a red solo cup.

Slash was soon detained by an appreciative female fan.  He grinned at you in wonderment, exclaiming, “Holy shit, Y/N, you’re like my lucky charm.  Susan’s here and she wants to talk to me.”  You looked over at her, radiant with her own beautiful curls and top hat, and gently wished him good luck.

With your adrenaline wearing off and everyone preoccupied with drinking and hooking up, you decided to head home.  Although you had a day off tomorrow (to get your hairs did), the Sunset Strip was never your scene.

You made it back over to Slash to say goodbye.  Susan was seated in his lap, her head buried against his neck

“Bye, Slash.  Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem.  Hey, since your like the only sober person here, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Okay?”

“Can you make sure Izzy gets home?”

IZZY?  The really hot guy?

“Yeah, he’s a mess tonight, and I trust you not take advantage of him.”

Oh rilly?

Slash smirked, like he’d just read your mind.

You sighed.  “Where does he live?” but Slash was already joined at the lips with his pretty new girlfriend.

Where even is Izzy? you thought as you scanned the bar.  Your stomach lurched when you thought about peeling him off of some trashy thing and trying to wrestle his drunk ass into your car.

Let’s hope he goes quietly.

To your immense relief, he wasn’t eating some chick’s face (or anything else), just parked on a chair outside of the men’s room, his head thrown back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Uh, Izzy?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Y/N.  I met you earlier. I’m Slash’s friend.”

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“I’m here to take you home.”

A filthy smirk slithered across his face.  “You’re about an hour too late for that, honey.”

“No!” you snapped, "Slash asked me to make sure you got home all right.”

He didn’t speak, but slowly stood up without argument, wildly unsteady on his feet.  Instinct had you throwing your arms around his slender waist, and his hands held onto your shoulders as you guided him to your car.

Once the two of you were inside, you asked him, “Where do you live?” but he had passed out with his head against the passenger side window.

After you buckled him in, you glanced down at his skintight jeans.  While the thought of feeling in his back pockets for a wallet containing a driver’s license definitely held some appeal, groping a drunken stranger’s ass  was something you just weren’t willing to do.  Not tonight, even if the ass in question was pretty admirable.  

Not that you’d been staring.  Just looking out for a defenseless individual.

So, were you going to drive around till an abode shouted, “Here’s Izzy’s place!” or he sobered up, whichever came first?  Or were you going to take him home with you?  One glance over at his perfect profile and one out-loud groan later, you had your answer.

Getting Izzy out of your car wasn’t difficult (gravity had helped).  Getting him up the steps to your apartment was a challenge, though, and unlocking the door with him in your arms and leaning on you had been quite the feat.

You shoved him inside to keep from dropping him (to be so damn skinny he sure was heavy), and the two of you finally made it to your couch.

He was completely conked out, no help at all, so you picked up his feet and laid him longways, fetching a pillow to place under his head.  Asleep in the dim light, you thought he looked like a fallen angel, then got a good whiff of the cheap booze he’d been guzzling and immediately reconsidered.  Then you noticed again how tightly his clothes were fitting him and realized you really needed to wash your face and get to bed.  NOW.

[letsnotdoanything]

‘’Morning Coffee’’

Sorry I’m so late, I wasn’t home since friday and didn’t have much time to write...

However, I hope you’ll enjoy this late valentines day special!

Pairing: Bobby x Reader

Genre: Fluff (ofc, what else lol); 

Song: iKON - My Type (if you want to request something similar, send me an ask with an idol and the name of their song!) 

Words: 1.3K

You tied the strings of your light brown apron and started to grind the coffee beans immediately after. It was a Saturday morning, which meant that as soon as the clock would hit nine, customers would start coming in to begin their day with the best coffee in town and a side of freshly baked bagels or croissants.

You were working part-time in a caffé near the university you studied in. You thankfully didn't have anything scheduled for weekends, so you decided to allocate it to something useful for a change. This has led you to this small and cozy place ran by an adorable old lady named Susan. She was so sweet, the warmth radiating from her made you feel like a little girl visiting her loving grandma. You and all of your co-workers were calling her by name and fully trusted her; you knew that you can always turn to her with any issue.

You looked at the clock, which showed that it was 9:01 am, and smiled a little. You went to the front door to open it, letting in the warm spring breeze.

You could feel that it was going to be a good day, and nothing nor no one could ruin it. Even that annoying hipster Modern Art major who always ordered a half-sugar decaf latte with almond milk, whipped cream, and spices, and then rushed you because "he was already late". Especially not him.

A sound of the bell, which signalized that the first customer of that day just came, made you jump. However, you showed your professional (yet honest) smile and waved. "Good morning, what can I get for you?"

__________________________________________

After a long week of listening, writing, reading and studying, it was finally Saturday - time to take your mind of work and go out with friends, or, like Jiwon, sleep in and enjoy the free time by laying on the couch in your PJs.

Everything went as usual; after coming out of his bathroom he went straight to the kitchen to make himself a cup of hot, fragrant coffee to start his day. He poured filtered water into the coffee maker, put a pod inside and then clicked the power button. 

Nothing happened, so he pressed it once more. And again. 

"Why isn't it working?" He murmured under his breath, looking at the machine from different sides to see if everything was in place. "Ah, there it is," Jiwon said when he noticed the empty socket on the wall. He plugged in the cable and pushed the button again, happy that his weekend was saved and he could enjoy this sunny weekend morning. 

Or at least that's what he thought. 

"Oh, come on!" He slammed his hand on the wooden counter, what he immediately regretted after sharp pain spread through. He held it close to his chest and sighed, knowing that he had to go out if he wanted his morning coffee. Great.

________________________________________________

Going down the street, Jiwon kept wondering - why are all these people outside at this hour? Like, guys, it's Saturday. 

"Maybe their coffee maker is broken too?" He thought. "That's a lesson for all of us - don't trust machines with important things, like coffee."

Luckily, there were a lot of restaurants and caffés near his campus, so it didn't take long until he stepped inside one of those. It warmly welcomed him with the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon, creamy walls and light brown sofas encouraged him to come further in. There were various kinds of coffee in the menu - black, Irish, flavored and more, so he decided to go a little fancier than the traditional flat white. "Let's go with a latte. But with caramel syrup? Or hazelnut? Oh, maybe-’’

"Hello, what can I get for you?"

He looked towards the source of this voice and almost let out a gasp when his gaze met with yours. Your green eyes were perfectly enhanced by your long, dark hair and subtle makeup while your pink lips formed a friendly smile, exposing a straight row of pearly white teeth.

Jiwon shook his head when he realized that he drifted away with his thoughts when one of the customers behind him tapped his arm, a little annoyed by his delaying.

"Uhm, y-yeah, can I get a... large caramel latte?" This sudden shyness got him surprised, he has always been a rather confident and bubbly person. He looked at you more closely when you typed the order on the cash register; you looked his age, were you studying at the same university? How come he's never seen you there? He sure would remember passing by someone so pretty.

"Is that all? Maybe you would want to try our banana bread? It's fresh out of the oven."

Jiwon's mind was still somewhere beyond the clouds when he responded, not really aware of the words coming out of his mouth - "Anything you want..."

He saw your confused expression and snapped back to reality, eyes wide open. "I-I mean, yeah, s-sure."

Seeing the other customer's impatient looks, you decided to let it go and quickly finish the order. After receiving the amount due you suggested for him to sit down beside the nearby table, where you would bring his order when it's ready.

"Dude, what's up with you?" Jiwon thought when he was already seated down. He's never been this awkward around anyone, even that girl he had a huge crush on in the 5th grade.

Well, maybe it was a sign that he should have gone outside instead of spending every Saturday watching documentaries in an old, dirty t-shirt?

He looked in your direction just when you picked up the tray filled with different beverages and started to give them out, walking around the little room.

Your sneakers under your thin ankles

A perfect harmony with your denim skinny jeans

Under your slightly big cardigan

Your falling, long, straight hair is so pretty

Jiwon's gaze drifted from your body to the window when you started to move towards him, only one glass and one plate left on the tray. He bit his lip nervously, trying to figure out how to rebuild from that poor first impression.

You soon approached him and placed the drink and food he ordered on the table, smiling politely.

Oh, oh, your delicate smile

Oh, oh, your eyes when you look at me

There is no flaw anywhere

There’s no time to be bored, you’re perfect

The boy smiled back, surprisingly confident, what encouraged him to take a step further and chat up. This time though, in order not to seem like a lost puppy, he thought over what he should say. He analyzed every pick-up line he learned during high school days and when he finally chose the right one, he looked up to see that you were not there.

Jiwon ran his eyes through the small caffé and spotted you standing back at the counter; a sight left his mouth as he placed his chin on his hand. 

"You coward." He ridiculed his actions, feeling disappointed by his lack of confidence. He looked at the glass in front of him; he had already forgotten about the coffee he ordered and even the reason he came here - the broken coffee machine. His mood dropped even more when he realized that he would have to purchase a new one, which was a pretty big thing for an average student's wallet.

"If we're talking about money..." Jiwon thought and picked up the receipt from under the small plate with banana bread. He didn't even pay attention to the prices when the only thing on his mind was an adorable waitress, who ditched him in the end anyway. "5 bucks for coffee? Geez, are they making it from molten gold or something?"

Then, an odd shape shined through the thin paper he held in his hand. He turned it around and saw a short note written on its back. 

‘‘If I only knew earlier, I would have broken that damn coffee machine a long time ago.”

You’re my type X

111-222-33

- Y/N

The translation is not mine!

[thelastspeecher]

King Stansort AU - Burying the Hatchet

This turned out MUCH longer than I planned, but I got going and couldn’t stop.  This was a scene that was a long time coming.  After Ford pissed Stan off to the point that Stan kicked him out of the castle and sent him back to the States (as written up here), Ford got followed by an enemy of the crown.  When Ford arrived in Gravity Falls, said enemy of the crown kidnapped him.  Ford managed to escape.  And as for what happens next...read to find out.

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              The bell over the door jingled as Ford stepped into the diner.  He immediately caught sight of Stan; he was the only customer in the restaurant.  Guilt abruptly washed over him as he remembered the events of the night before.

              “Ford, oh fuck, oh fuck, I didn’t mean- shit, are you okay?” Stan asked, standing over Ford.  Ford looked up at his brother.

              “Yes, no thanks to you,” he spat venomously.  In the faint moonlight trickling through the forest understory, he couldn’t quite make out Stan’s face.  But he relished in the mental image of Stan finally looking guilty for how he’d treated Ford.  “Why on earth did you punch me?”

              “In my defense, you punched me first.”  Stan held out a hand.  Ford ignored it, pushing himself up and standing after more effort than he’d expected. Stan’s outstretched hand fell to his side.

              “Yes, because you grabbed my shoulder while I was fleeing my captors!”  The adrenaline that had been surging through him moments ago built up again.  “Captors that likely targeted me because of you!”

              “…You’re right,” Stan said after a moment.  “They went after you because of me.  I’m...I’m sorry, Sixer.  I was too pissed at you to realize you could be in danger after people seeing you at the castle.  At least, I didn’t realize it until after your plane left.”  Stan idly kicked at the ground.  “It’s basic safety.  If you’ve spent time at the castle, you need protection for a while until people sorta forget you know the royal family.  And you spent two weeks there.”

              “No shit, I needed some form of protection,” Ford snapped.  “Or at least a heads-up!”

              “Look, the cops and some of the guards I brought with me are combing the woods. They’ll find whoever kidnapped you.”

              “Great.  Good for them.”  Ford stomped away.  Stan followed.

              “Ford, I’ve got a car-”

              “I don’t care,” Ford snarled, spinning around to face Stan.  Stan took a step back, surprised by Ford’s anger. “I don’t care that you have a car that can take me home, I don’t care that you came here to check on me, I don’t care that your guards are trying to find my captors, I don’t care about any of it at all.  Why should I? You clearly don’t.”

              “That’s not-”

              “It’s true!” Ford insisted.  “You don’t care about me.  Neither does Fiddleford.  Why else would I have been shipped back to Oregon without fanfare or basic protection?” He felt himself wobble slightly. Stan stepped closer.

              “C’mon, Ford, you’re dead on your feet, let me help you back to your place, okay? We can talk about this after you’ve slept off the jet lag and kidnapping,” Stan said calmly.  Ford laughed, but the sound had no humor in it.

              “That’s rich!  No, Stanley, we won’t be talking about this.  Not at all.  Never.” Ford turned away from Stan, but before he could continue walking home, the world went dark.

              Ford hovered by the door uncertainly.

              I said awful things to Stan last night.  Why would he be willing to talk to me?  Sitting at the counter, Stan finally turned around.  He waved at Ford with a hand holding a large burger.

              “There you are!  I wondered if you saw my note,” Stan called.  The scene was achingly familiar.  It was like they were back in high school eating at their favorite diner. Ford made his way to Stan.  Stan patted the seat next to him.  “Sit down.”  Ford did as he was told.  Stan took an enormous bite out of his burger.  His eyes rolled to the back of his head.  “Ugh, this is so fucking good,” he said.  Ford’s mouth quirked in a half-smile at Stan’s behavior.  Stan wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then froze.

              “Aw, shit,” he muttered.  He set his burger down.  “Great.” He took off his jacket and set it on the counter.  “I forgot for a second that I was wearing nice clothes,” Stan said quietly.  He stared at the ceiling.  “After all, last time I was in an American diner, I was homeless.” Ford’s faint smile vanished.

              Right.  We’re not in high school.  Stan’s a husband and father.  And a king consort.  Ford looked down at the menu resting in front of him on the counter.

              “Get whatever you want, by the way,” Stan said.  “I’m buyin’.”

              “I- I can’t-” Ford started.  “It wouldn’t be right.”

              “How come?”

              “I…”  Ford took a breath and looked up at Stan.  “I was awful to you last night.  I don’t deserve your generosity.”  Stan glanced away.

              “Yeah, well, I fucked up too, so…And money’s not a problem for me, okay?”

              “Stanley, I really-” Ford started.  Stan held up a hand.

              “Hey, Susie!” he called.  The waitress that always seemed to be working at the diner poked her head out of the kitchen.

              “Yes, handsome?” she asked.

              “How’s about another one of these-”  Stan held up his burger.  “-for my brother?”

              “You got it!” Susan chirped.  She vanished into the kitchen again.

              “Stan-”

              “You need to eat.  Kidnapping makes you hungry.  I know.”

              “You-”  Ford stared at Stan.  “Have you been kidnapped?” he asked.  Stan didn’t meet his eyes.  “Stan.”

              “Look.  There’s-” Stan shook his head.  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”  He glanced at Ford.  “I’m…glad you decided to meet me.”

              “Of course.  It’s the least I could do, after screaming at you when you were trying to help.”  Ford swallowed.  “That being said, thank you for leaving the note, rather than waiting at my house.  I doubt I would have responded well.”

              “Yeah, that’s what Angie said,” Stan said idly.  He took another bite of his burger, chewed, and swallowed.  “I called her after you passed out and I brought you home.  Told her I was gonna wait until you woke up.  She lost her shit about that.  Said you needed space.”

              “She was right.  You married a very wise woman.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan grinned. “She’s outta my league.”  Ford stared at his twin.  He didn’t know where Stan had ended up staying the night, but he was still dressed in tailored, nice clothes, his hair still tied back neatly.

              This feels familiar.  A plate with a burger and fries was placed in front of him.  Ford switched to staring at the food.  And yet, it feels painfully strange.  This is how things used to be, but not really.  Stan didn’t second-guess ordering a second meal for me.  He’s not prepping a speech on how it should be free for us.  And he’s dressed like- like…

              “…like royalty,” Ford whispered.

              “What’d you say?” Stan asked, his mouth full.

              “Nothing.”

              “Hmm.”  Stan pushed Ford’s plate closer to him.  “Eat.”

              “I’m not-”

              “I have two kids, Sixer.  Do you really want me to use the same tricks on you that I use when Danny and Daisy won’t eat?”

              “…Fine,” Ford mumbled reluctantly.  They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ford reluctantly nibbling at his burger and Stan inhaling his.  When Stan finished his burger, he licked his fingers in an exaggerated manner and belched loudly.  Ford rolled his eyes.  “You take a man out of New Jersey, but you’ll never take the New Jersey out of the man. Even if you put him in a castle.”

              “Yep!” Stan said cheerfully.  He leaned against the counter and played with a straw wrapper.  His eyes were soft and calm, not harsh like they had been for the entirety of Ford’s stay in Lirone.  He seemed far more relaxed now.

              Is it because he feels like a fish out of water there?  Or just because I visited at a stressful time?

              “By the way, Ford, normally, I don’t yell at guests, even if they piss me off,” Stan said, as though he had read Ford’s mind.  “It’s just…”  His face clouded over.  “It’s been rough.  I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that I’m worried the guy who went after Angie will try to go after the girls.”  Ford thought back to the first day he had arrived in Lirone.  He’d seen Daisy running gleefully across the castle’s lawn, not a care in the world, while Stan chased her, visibly terrified.

              “I understand,” Ford said softly.  He pushed his burger away.  “I- I’d like it if you could tell the girls-”

              “I’m a king, not a messenger,” Stan said.  He idly spun his wedding band.  “You got something you wanna say to Danny and Daisy, you tell them yourself.”

              “I can’t.”

              “Why not?”

              “Because-”  Ford looked down at the counter, trying to muster up courage.  “I won’t visit them anymore.”

              “What?!”  There was a loud crash.  Ford looked over.  Stan had fallen off his stool.  A guard approached.  Stan held up a hand.  “Chill, Yves. I can handle this.”  The guard reluctantly stepped away.  Stan got back on his stool to gape at Ford.  “Sixer, you don’t hate them or somethin’, do you?”

              “No!  No. Far from it.  I care very deeply for them.  I just…we should resume what we have done for the last ten years.  No contact.  I can’t distract you from your new life.”

              “You haven’t-”

              “You’re a king consort, with a wounded reigning queen as a wife and two young daughters.  Yet you flew across the Atlantic after me.”

              “Angie’s got a big family.  They’re helping with her responsibilities and making sure she rests.”

              “Yes, but-”

              “I didn’t have any guests at my wedding,” Stan said quietly.  He resumed spinning his wedding band.  “I- Angie had half the country, it felt like.  But I couldn’t think of anyone to invite.  I was- Angie’s folks, they told me I didn’t need to talk to my family if I didn’t want to.  And I didn’t.  I really didn’t.  But it still sucked.  I couldn’t help- I couldn’t help but think about how we joked that I was gonna marry Carla McCorkle, and you’d be my best man, and-”  Stan closed his eyes.  “Don’t get me wrong.  It was one of the happiest days of my life.  But it still felt- it still felt wrong.  You weren’t my best man.”

              “Stanley-”

              “And when my daughters were born- I was so happy.  But I couldn’t stop thinking that they’d always be two uncles and a grandma short.”  Stan took a shaky breath.  “I have a family in Lirone.  The royal family took me in like one of their own.  I married the youngest daughter.  I have two kids.  But I- I can’t pretend I don’t have another family here, in the States.  I especially can’t pretend that now.”

              “I really fucked things up,” Ford mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “You were happy-”

              “Clean out your big-ass ears, Sixer,” Stan said.  “I was happy.  But I wasn’t as happy as I coulda been.  Yeah, most of your visit, I was pissed at you.  But when I wasn’t, it was- I didn’t realize before how much I missed you. And you’re really good with Danny and Daisy.  They gave you a nickname.”

              “They did?”

              “Yeah.  It’s, um…” Stan furrowed his brow in concentration. “Unkel Paroles.”

              “What does that mean?”

              “‘Uncle Words’.”  Stan grinned half-heartedly at Ford.  “They like hearing all the big words you use.  And they think it’s funny as hell that, even though you know so many big words in English, you don’t know a lick of Lironian.”  Ford managed a small smile.  “We’ve got shit to work through.  We’ve both fucked up a million times.  There are probably ten or twenty hatchets we’ve gotta bury.”  Ford’s smile grew a bit bigger.  “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.  If I’ve learned anything from all the diplomacy classes I took with the royal family, it’s that when things are shittiest, that’s when you work the hardest to fix it.”

              “Wise words.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan’s grin turned smug.  “I got myself a royal education.  I’m full of wise words.”

              “Not as many as your wife, I’m guessing.”

              “…You’re right.”  Stan punched Ford on the shoulder.  “Speaking of my wife, you’ve barely met her!  Once we catch the assassin and things cool down a bit, you’ve gotta visit again, okay?  She’ll blow your socks off, I guarantee it.  She’s fucking great.”

              “I have no doubts about that,” Ford replied.  Stan grinned again.  Static sounded over a nearby guard’s radio.

              “Got it,” the guard said.  He approached Stan.  “Your majesty, it’s best if we leave soon.  Locals are beginning to get suspicious, and we don’t want to attract attention, since this isn’t a scheduled visit.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan looked down at his empty plate sadly.  “You’re right.  And I don’t wanna leave Angie and the girls for too long.”  He looked back up.  “Hey, Susie, think you could make me five burgers and fries to go?”

              “You got it!” came the shout from the kitchen.  Ford frowned at Stan.

              “Why do you need so many burgers?  You live in a castle with professional, high-class chefs.”

              “Yeah, and none of them know how to make a proper burger.”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “They always put shit like micro-greens or saffron or aioli on it. I don’t want a fancy sandwich, I want a slab of meat on a bun and you have to put your own damn condiments on. It’s been ages since I’ve had a real, American burger.  So I’m bringing home one each for Angie and the girls, and an extra one for me.”

              “That’s four.”

              “The fifth’s to give to the head chef so he knows what I mean when I ask for a burger in the future,” Stan replied firmly.  Ford chuckled.

              “I never thought that the food would be a downside of living in high society, but you make a fair point.”

              “You’re damn right.  I bet even after I tell Philippe – the head chef – that this is what a burger really is, he’ll still give me something with quark on it.”  Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford.  “Maybe I should escape to the States more often.”

              “If you do, I’ll be more than happy to host you and your family,” Ford said. “I have a question, though.”

              “If it’s about security-”

              “No, it’s…what is quark?”

              “Oh, it’s some weird cheese that the McGuckets love.  Not my kinda thing, though.”  Five to-go boxes were placed on the counter in front of Stan.  “Thanks, Susie.”

              “No problem, hotshot,” Susan said with a wink.  Stan dug out his wallet and placed some cash on the counter.  He jerked his head in the direction of the door. Ford followed him outside.  Stan slung an arm around Ford’s shoulders.

              “Tell ya what.  Next time you visit, you can have all the quark you want.”

              “And I can go to the Royal Archives?” Ford asked.  Stan stiffened.  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Ford fibbed quickly.  Stan laughed.

              “Geez, don’t scare me like that.”  He winked at Ford.  “I gotta head home.  How do you feel about getting a call from the girls later?  They were pretty upset they didn’t get to say goodbye.”

              “As long as you’re paying for the international fee, I’m more than happy to talk to them,” Ford replied.  Stan punched Ford’s shoulder playfully before being ushered away by his bodyguards. Ford watched them leave.

              What on earth is in the Royal Archives that the royal family is so secretive about?  No, Stanford, drop it.  Focus on something else.  Like the rekindling of your relationship with your twin brother.  Ford turned away and began to walk back home.  Maybe your relationship with Fiddleford will get better as well, now that everything’s out in the open.  A faint smile hovered around Ford’s lips.  That would be wonderful.

[matrixaffiliate]

Salient

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Now that Patient and it's 5K+ word chapters are done, Salient gets weekly updates! See you all Saturday, Sept 7th!

Chapter 6

Al had spent all morning Saturday powering through his homework. He managed to finish it all and get a bit ahead before noon, then he moved from school work to cleaning his flat again. He finished cleaning it, then cleaned it a second time, and then realized he didn't have anything planned for the date yet.

And in his panic, he could only think of one thing he wanted to do. But it felt weird and on that same wavelength as stalking her had.

Al wanted to watch Ellie paint.

Not in a creepy way! He reasoned in his head.

There's something about seeing someone doing what they love, in their element, that absolutely fascinated Al. He reasoned it probably started with watching his parents have Seeker scrimmages over the back lawn when he was little. It was only reinforced on the rare occasion he got to watch his dad work on new defense spells, and the consistent opportunity to watch his mum write her articles. You can see a whole new side of a person when you watch them doing their passion, and Al was keen to see every side of Ellie she might be willing to show him.

He passed his phone back and forth between his hands, trying to convince himself to just have her come over and watch Star Wars or some other safe and semi-normal date activity. But his mind was obsessing and Al couldn't get it to stop.

"Just text her and ask," he told himself. "Worst that happens is she says no."

Or calls Mum.

Shite.

Al took a deep breath. He was overreacting. He just needed to approach the question in a not creepy way. Word it better. He could do that.

He opened his text messages

Al: Hi Ellie. I'm excited to see you :) What do you think of starting out our date by letting me see some of your other pieces? I'd love to see something you're working on right now.

He read the text twenty times before finally hitting send. He wanted to be sure it didn't sound like he was being weird because he usually came off as weird...at least that's what a lot of people had told him.

He agonized about that a bit while he waited for his phone to chime with her response.

After an eternity of five minutes, it did.

Ellie: Sure, I know just the one to show you too! See you in thirty minutes?

Al let out an explosive breath. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but he had somehow managed to not come off as a stalker, and he felt like flying.

Al: Can't wait. See you in thirty.

Al managed to sit still all of thirty seconds before he started to fidget. In order to keep himself from stress cleaning (again), and to make some attempt at clearing his mind, he decided to go on a long walk before walking to Ellie's.

The walk was good. It threatened to rain but thankfully didn't. And Al managed to push his mind over to other things like his experiments and classes. So by the time he was standing in front of Ellie's door, Al felt halfway normal again.

Then Ellie opened the door.

Damn this woman was hell-bent on doing him in. Or maybe he just needed to grow accustomed to her in clothes other than her work clothes? He liked the implications of the second option.

"Hi!" She grinned up at him and Al wasted no time in closing the distance between them to kiss her.

Kissing Ellie was its own kind of magic and Al loved it. It was the kind of magic that trickled down his spine and quieted his mind. It was the kind of magic that made charms and transfiguration feel like parlor tricks and sleight of hand.

"Hi," he whispered against her when she pulled back to take a deep breath.

"Hi," she giggled, "Want to come in?"

He nodded against her forehead, "Only a lot."

She reached down and took his hand and winked at him. "Then follow me, Mr. Potter."

Al swallowed, he kind of liked how she said Potter, like each letter deserved to be said. But it still put his mind on his parents. "Mr. Potter is my dad, El."

"It's you too, silly," Ellie laughed as she led him up the steps.

"Yeah, but I think of my dad when I hear it." Al looked around as she led him through another door and into her aunt and uncle's sitting room.

"Well, then remind yourself that it's me saying it and not anyone else." She winked at him as she pulled him up another staircase.

"That helps," Al chuckled as his nose picked up the smell of something odd.

Ellie led him down a narrow corridor and opened a door to what had to be her room.

There was a large table that took up the majority of the small space littered with paint splatters and three table easels each holding a half-finished canvas. A folding chair was similarly covered in paint. Tubs were under the table full of paint tubes and canvases - both finished and new. The only other piece of furniture in the tight space was her small bed pushed up against the other wall, and Al was sure he noticed paint stains on her pillowcase.

He also realized the smell had been coming from her room.

"Is that the paint I smell?" He noticed her room didn't have a window, which he didn't think suited her at all.

"The varnish, actually," she picked up her wand from her bed and sent a wave of fresh air around them. "I just finished varnishing this one." She pointed to an open tub under the table where a painting of a dock reaching into a body of water sat.

"It's beautiful," Al grinned, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

"But you wanted to see something I was working on," she moved to the easels on the table.

Al nodded and came to stand beside her. It was only then that he noticed the three canvases had the same color scheme.

"I can't tell what it's going to be, but are they a set?"

Ellie nodded, "They're a set, and they're in the ugly stage right now."

"Ugly stage?" Al laughed as he wrapped a hand around her waist.

Ellie leaned into him and Al grinned like an idiot. "Some mediums look beautiful from start to finish, like watercolor. Others, like acrylic, look awful for the first eighty percent of the painting before they start to look like something might be salvageable, and it isn't until the last ten percent or so that the painting looks beautiful."

Al chuckled, "So these are acrylic?"

Ellie nodded against his shoulder.

"Do you only paint in acrylic?"

"No, those books," she pointed to a tub under the table, "are all the watercolors I've done since I moved here." She pointed to another tub, "And these are all oil paintings."

"What about those three tubs?" Al pointed to the last three tubs big enough for paintings.

"Those are acrylic paintings."

"So you obviously prefer acrylic," Al chuckled.

Ellie smiled up at him, "I guess I do."

Al held her gaze for a moment, loving that her smile was directed at him.

"So what will these three be?"

Ellie's smile went just a touch sad, "They're home."

"St. John's?" Al pulled her a bit closer, determined to ease the sadness out of her smile.

"And all around the island. My dad and my grandma have a special connection with the land and nature. They took Mum and me all around Newfoundland while I was growing up."

"I bet it was brilliant."

Ellie sighed, looking back at the three canvases. "It's the best sort of magic."

Al held her, not sure how to dissolve the melancholy that had fallen so quickly. Ellie reached out and touched the closest canvas, and Al had an idea.

"Why not finish them?"

"Oh, Al, that'll take me a few hours." Ellie laughed.

"Alright," he pulled her chair out for her and threw his coat on her bed. "This is better than sitting on my couch watching Star Wars together."

"You, you really want to watch me paint? I warn you I'm no Bob Ross."

Al chuckled, "I have no idea who that is, but I honestly believe he can't paint half as well as you do."

"Al," Ellie hedged, looking uncertain.

He pulled her into him and kissed her softly before pulling back a fraction, "Paint, El."

"Do I earn kisses for finishing paintings," she murmured against him before pushing forward and kissing him again.

"You don't earn kisses, El," he smiled, "you get to experience how much will power I have at not simply kissing you all day, every day."

Ellie laughed, her broad smile breaking their kiss completely.

"Now paint," Al grinned and sat on her bed to remove his shoes.

Ellie was nervous at first, her movements jerky and she fumbled with brushes and paint. But Al grinned when her brush hit paint. Her very posture changed as she zoned in, painting through this 'ugly stage'. And Al sat on her bed and watched as she worked. It was amazing to see how masterfully she handled her materials. Moving between the three canvases with each bright color she squeezed out of white tubes smeared in paint. He zoned in with her, mesmerized as the images began to break through the paintings.

Al nearly jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on the door.

"Eliza," a vaguely familiar voice called out.

Al watched Ellie as she came out of her trance, looking much like a little girl being woken early from a nap.

"Yes, Aunt Susan?" Ellie didn't sound like herself, and Al frowned.

The door opened and the woman who'd been his waitress the day Ellie had been set up in the gallery came in.

"Eliza," she paused, "oh dear girl, please tell me you did not make this poor boy sit here and watch you paint."

Al felt outraged at Susan's words and opened his mouth to say so but Ellie beat him to speaking.

"We, I, he wanted to see what home looked like."

"And you have plenty of pictures on your phone, I'm sure." Susan shook her head. "I'm going to throw some dinner together, will the two of you be joining us?"

"No," Al spoke before Ellie could. "I've made other arrangements."

Susan squinted at him, "Oh, you're the boy who asked after Ellie a few days ago."

"That's me," Manners be damned. Al wanted to erect a brick wall between this woman and Ellie.

"Thanks, Aunt Susan," Al turned to see Ellie had returned the paintings.

"Of course, dear," Susan smiled at her back before turning and closing the door.

Al stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to gain control of his indignance.

"She means well," Ellie's voice seemed to seep into his anger like a stream of cold mountain water. "She thinks I'm too caught up in my art to see the real world, and that I'll end up alone and a starving artist."

Al moved from the bed to Ellie's side before kneeling next to her folding chair.

"You see the world better than she does because of your art." He ran his fingers against the paint on her hand. "I won't lie, I kind of want to yell at your aunt right now."

She laughed and leaned down to kiss him. Al would have sacrificed both knees for her to keep kissing him right there, but eventually, she pulled back.

"Thank you."

"Do you want to eat now and finish these after dinner or finish these now and eat later?" Al pressed his forehead against hers.

She glanced at her palette before looking back at him.

"Food now is good. I'm basically out of paint on my palette so I'm not going to be wasting anything. And we don't have to come back and have me paint. We can do something you like too."

Al pressed forward and kissed her briefly. "Please never think I don't like watching you do what you love."

She grinned, "I'd like to see what you love too."

Al smiled, "What's your calendar look like this week? I can always do with an extra evening experimenting."

Ellie brought a paint-smeared hand up to his face. "How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds perfect," and he kissed her.

[chewie-redbird]

Family Business (Preview)

Author : chewie-redbird

Word Count : 1,748

Warnings : none......corporate backstabbing? maybe.....idk

Summary : (Y/N) West returns to her home city of Vancouver, where she will attend her family’s company, W&Y International, Board meeting. There she is taking over as CEO from her Grandma Darlene McMurray. She was forced into exile as her life wasn’t safe and due to Board pressuring Darlene to do so as (Y/N) was deemed a “corporate issue”. Returning to pull the rug out from the Board, Darlene hands the company to Ken West, who hands it to his sister Angel, who is (Y/N)’s mom. Now as the new CEO, (Y/N), she has to find out why the Board threatened her live? Why they didn’t want her in the company? Who else is involved with this conspiracy to take over her family’s company?

Characters : OC Characters names are based off my real family.

A/N : Uh this was a dream inspired from a variety if shows. I know this probably sucks as it was quickly just typed out and well yeah. Just wanna know if y’all be interested? I’m also currently writing another story too so......yeah......

Sun high in the sky, nice and clear with the rays shining in the beautiful boardroom with floor length windows making the phantom white marble floor sparkle. The big black and gold marble table is surrounded by nineteen black office chairs with one bright red chair at the head of the table. People in amazing suits and dresses sit at the table, discussing between each other about things and people. Then all of a sudden en elder woman in a blue pantsuit strolls in with a man and a woman behind her.

“I see everyone who is here has made it. Good, let’s begin” the elder woman states as she sits in the red chair as the two people stand by her sides,

“So we are here today so I can announce…..” the boss lady was saying when a twenty-two year-old comes rushing in late,

“Sorry, jetlagged, slept past my alarm” the young man sits down besides another young guy towards furthest from the red chair,

“As I was saying, I called all of you here today so I can announce who will be my successor and become head of this empire that my mother built and I kept and expand while others fell”

“Uh we are one person short, we’re missing…..” the young man speaks up but gets a Miranda Priestly glare from the lady at the head of the table,

“Jared shut up, you weren’t here but Grandma Dar and he-who-shall-not-be-named had a falling out and he is in South America in exile now” the young man next to Jared West whispers to him,

“Never even dare think to say his name in my presence ever again” the lady declares as her face twists in hatred at the mere thought of that person,

“Moving on” the lady in the red chair who’s name is Darlene McMurry states while down at the entrance, a pair of black and red 'Prive' Open Toe Louboutin Pumps walk through the front doors and head to the elevators,

“I have decided to step down as Head of this company and name Ken West as my successor” Darlene announces to the group of people as the woman walks past the front desk ignoring a receptionist and gets into a elevator.

The receptionist finally sees the woman as the doors close, she runs back to the desk and calls up to the twenty-fifth floor.

“Hey Klare, how’s it going down on the front desk?” a woman’s voice comes through,

“Jamie, you gotta listen very clearly. She’s back! The bitch has returned home!” Klare the receptionist says with worry as Jamie’s face falls as she sits up straighter,

“What? When? Where? Why?” Jamie starts to shoot off questions at her friend,

“Jamie! She just went up the elevator! She’s going to your floor!” Klare says as Jamie whips her head as the elevator dings singling it’s arrival.

“Jamie? Jamie you there?” Kalre asks as Jamie freezes as the black Louboutin pumps walk out revealing a young woman in a black Long Sleeve Off the Shoulder Asymmetrical Dress by Victoria Beckham, Ruthenium 61mm Aviator Sunglasses by Marc Jacobs and holding a Cabata Calfskin Leather Tote by Christian Louboutin. Her ears were adorned by Châtelaine Pavé Diamond Bezel 18K Gold Statement Drop Earrings, her necklace is a ruby ‘Châtelaine' Pendant Necklace with Diamonds, her right hand ring finger ring is a ruby ‘Wheaton' Petite Ring with Semiprecious Stone & Diamonds and her bracelet on her left wrist is a ruby ‘Albion' Bracelet with Diamonds and 18K Gold which were all made by David Yurman.

“Hello Jamie, they in the boardroom?” the woman in Louboutins asked while turning to walk away,

“Do you think she knows?” Klare asks through the phone as the woman stops, turns to look back at Jamie and lowers the aviators,

“Oh and I know what you did to me” the woman says as she sends the receptionist a spine-chilling smile then walks away.

“So as we sign these forms, I officially hand over the company over to you” Darlene states as she sings her signature as well as the older gentleman named Ken sings his signature officially taking over the company.

Everyone is cheering as the doors open to reveal the woman in Louboutins walks in and everyone is shocked. No one daring to speak as they look back and forth between the young woman and Darlene, waiting to see who speaks first.

“Well, hello everyone. Did you miss me?” the woman smiles taking off her aviators walking to the table,

“What are you doing here (Y/N), you’re supposed to be in Rio” Darlene says with a hint of anger as some others send a glare towards the young woman,

“Well this is a Board meeting isn’t it? And I am a part of the Board still as I am family. Besides I am here to congratulate my dear Uncle in officially taking over the company after all.” (Y/N) replies as she moves to hug Ken,

“Technically yes…..but we thought you wouldn’t be able to make it due to you being out of the country and all” a twenty-six year old African American in a black button up and knee length skirt explains,

“But yet you could inform my cousin Jared who is stationed in Tokyo but not me? Oh well, it’s great I had some urgent business meeting in town with David Industries about our shipping isn’t it Veronica?” (Y/N) sends her a sweet smile that has underlying hatred to it which is returned.

“If this meeting is done, we shall adjeering until the next Board meeting!” a forty-eight Asian woman in a purple button up, black suit jacket and purple pants and black flats says,

“Actually there is one small thing” (Y/N) explains making the ones who got up to sit back down,

“What is it?” a fifty-two caucasian man in dark brown suit asks,

“Well...there will be a new person as Head of this company but it’s not my Uncle Ken” (Y/N),

“What?! What are you talking about? Who?” the elder man in dark brown questions,

“Me” (Y/N) simply says as she is given glares from Veronica, the elder woman in purple, the elder man in dark brown and a few others.

“You can’t take this company! You don’t have the money nor the legal right to claim as the Head!” Veronica laughs as the others do,

“True. But it can be given to me” (Y/N) smirks as the Board members stop laughing in confusion,

“Uncle, please sign here” (Y/N) points to form after she took if out of a folder that her assistant gave her,

“What are you doing? He can’t hand you the company….you’re not his child!” the elder woman in purple demands,

“Again true Susan, but in the bylaws, if a Head of the company wishes to step down he or she can hand it over to their sibling. Which is my Mom Angel” (Y/N) explains as a forty year-old woman in red suit jacket and black button up with red pants stands up from her seat next to where Ken was sitting.

“And then after she signs her name, she’ll be the new Head of this company. But like her dear brother, she doesn’t want to run this company. So, you know what that means” (Y/N) reveals as she flips her hair as she waits for her mom to sign the new forms,

“You can’t do this! We will not stand for this! We won’t let you!” the elder man in dark brown stands in defiance and anger,

“Sit down Robert! You are talking with the new CEO of W&Y International! Now if you wish to go against your CEO and violate your contract with us, please, continue!” (Y/N) commands as Robert glares at you and the others but sits down in a huff.

“Now since that’s all done, I am pleased to say, as your new CEO I vow to lead this company into a new age of prosperity” (Y/N) announces to the Board,

“If that’s all, meeting adjourned until the next Board meeting!” (Y/N) states as everyone gets up again, (Y/N) sits in the red chair and spins to look out the windows.

Veronica, Susan, Robert and other Board members enter the elevator,

“How the hell did she find out about the meeting?” Robert asks angrily,

“I don’t know, but as she is the new CEO, it will be that much harder to get rid of her now!” Susan explains annoyed,

“Do you think she knows it was us who tried to get rid if her?” Veronica questions,

“Let us pray she doesn’t….otherwise we are all in trouble” Robert states as they all agree as the elevator closes.

“So we know how high this goes up now” (Y/N) tells still looking outside as Darlene comes in to the reflection beside her,

“Robert, Susan and Veronica…..I can’t believe they would turn on me. I brought them into our company and this is how they treat us!” Darlene mutters pissed off,

“I don’t know….they seemed a little bit more scared then angry…..there’s more here then we know” (Y/N) says looking back at her grandma,

“I’m sorry for exiling you to Brazil…..” Darlene was gonna apologize,

“No, don’t. I was under attack from the Board as we now know. It wasn’t safe for me to return unless I became the CEO. For some reason they don’t want me here or in control of this company. And I am gonna find out why. This is our family’s company! Our family’s legacy to the world and I’m not gonna let some corrupt Board ruin that! We will take them down together….as a family” (Y/N) turns around and sees Ken, Angel, Jared and the rest of her family still there as she smiles at them.

“Oh and one more thing…..” (Y/N) taps the phone on the table,

“Th-Th...This is Jamie” Jamie states nervously,

“Jamie darling. You’re fired! Clear out of my building” (Y/N) replies smiling,

“Ok” Kamie says sadly,

“Oh and Jamie, tell your friend Klaire downstairs she’s fired too! Thanks, have a nice day!” (Y/N) states while smiling and hangs up.

“2 Pawns down, a unknown number of them left” (Y/N) says sighing as she stands to look back out the window into the beautiful city of Vancouver.

@daydreamingfairy @mummybear @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @obrosey-af @rememberstilinski @mysterysiria @dylanobemineforever @spxderbarnes @blueraindrops @mf-despair-queen @hayley-noelle-salvatore19 @twilightparker @dumbass-stilinski @roscoeknows @totesem

[capricxs]

i do not want, but crave the k askjfsjask

idk but it’s some type of k

james always waits until they’re all passed out to begin opening. it’s all chaos, though. everyone opens and once and he watches laney open her’s. he’s leaning in close to see the paper pull back to show a box of chocolates. she coos and looks up to his mom and gives her a polite, and warm thank you. she nods back, as if it was her pleasure to give laney such a gift. he knows she just didn’t want laney to be left out.

“if you forget to take those home i will eat them.” he leans in to whisper to her. “i’m just letting you know now.”

she scoffs, hitting his chest. “no way, i’m not forgetting these. i’m eating them when i get home.”

“you know what’s a fool proof way of not forgetting them tonight?” he grins.

“what?” she looks up at him.

his fingers finger the back of her neck, rubbing over the chain resting against her skin. “you stay here.”

she looks around, her cheeks getting a bit pink. “your parents are staying though, right?”

he shakes his head. “my dad gifted my mom with a hotel night stay in the city. they’re leaving after dessert.”

laney can’t help but let a small smile slip from her lips as she looks down form the box. “yeah, sure. you could probably use some help cleaning anyways.”

“yeah, that’s a good reason.” he grins.

“romeo! open you presents.” susan shouts at him and he rolls his eyes, his cheeks turning pink.

so he does. he thanks his grandparents for the book, and his parents for the sweater which he will probably wear soon. he gets the gift of an old fergie album from don, which he says is the greatest gift of all. he doesn’t own a fucking cd player and he’ll never touch it but jokes on don because he loves fergie.

he hears laney laugh with the rest of the family during jokes, and the watch the kids open their presents and jump with excitement when they see the new toys they got from their uncle, or their grandparents, or when they get a book from great grandma and grandpa, which makes james smile. as they watch, he can’t stop running his thumb over the chain on the back of her neck. it feels good, knowing it’s there. knowing he’s hanging on her neck like that. he catches her rub the pendant between her fingers at one point. when she notices he’s watching her, her cheeks turn pink and she puts her hand back down. he couldn’t keep his grin hidden no matter how hard he bit down on his lip.

maybe he was right in his comment. maybe waiting is dumb. because really, when will things be better? sure, he was right in saying no to laney that first time, but it’s been over a year now and no one makes him feel stronger than laney, so why shouldn’t he be making this happen? his mom got his hesitance but she also said that she trusted him. and his biggest fear? the possibility that someone gets hurt so bad that someone relapses? well isn’t that just as much a possibility now?

“thank you, uncle jamie!” glenn, who is only a year younger than sam, rushes up to him and he has to pull his arm away from laney, so he can hug him back when his small arms wrap around him.

“you’re very welcome, kid.” he grins, patting his back when his pulls away. once he rushes back to take a look at his new toy, james rests his back against the couch, but he holds himself back from touching her, feeling like he was caught in the act.

it was long after presents that the youngest kids were getting cranky. a couple of his cousins has to leave, so james made sure to send them home with some pie as they did. he left laney in the living room to fend for herself, where he had a feeling his family just might eat her alive. he was right, because when he peaked around the corner to see what was happening, his cousin mary was sitting right next to her, looking at the necklace on her and grinning wide. he went back into the kitchen before his face got too red and he finished packing up dessert and handed them to his cousins as the pulled him in, telling him how much they loved him and how proud they were. he smiles, saying the same back to them, and he starts dishing up the rest, the room just a big more quiet with a few people gone.

they all sat in his living room, eating their dessert and talking even more.

“james.” laney says quietly, and he tilts his head to look at her, chewing his pie. “here.” she swipes her finger across the edge of his lips, then pulling her finger to her mouth to lick off the sugar, “you’re good now.” she smiles, and he swears her might just tackle her now.

“i’ve never been so excited to clean with you.” he says, still holding her gaze, but mostly looking at her lips.

she bites her lips, and nods. “yeah, me too.”

he finally looks away from her, jumping into a conversation with one of his uncles and cousins. it’s all banter and he even hears laney chime in, which makes him smile. he hopes she feels a bit more comfortable here. he wants nothing more than for his family to become a part of her life. 

eventually, family starts to trickle out. some have to go to other sides of the family, his autn is taking grandma and grandpa home so her family leaves with all of them collectively. his parents have their bags packed and are ready to head to their special night away. they come up to james as they’re at the door, his mom giving laney a hug and telling her it was so nice to meet her, and she hopes to see her again soon. james walks them to the door, giving them tight hugs and exchanging i love you’s and we’re so proud of you. james just tells them to send him pictures of the hotel and not to have too much fun. it makes his dad laugh and he makes some sort of innuendo that james pretends he didn’t hear.

when he comes back he finds laney talking to one of the little ones, looking at the toy she’d gotten for christmas, and laney trying to help open it from it’s intense packaging. he smiles, leaning against one of the walls and just taking in how good she looks in the picture. she looks like she’s meant to be here.

“hey, man, we’re heading out.” don says, clasping a hand onto his partner, ken’s back. “we’re having a thing in a couple weeks, you two should come.”

“what’s a thing?” james says carefully, eyeing the both of them. don is only a couple years older than james, but ken and don have been together since they met in college. ken’s family isn’t too keen on the relationship, so he comes to most family gatherings. 

“well i’d say it’s a fancy party but i’m sure it’s got nothing on your fancy parties.” ken lets out a sigh. “oh how i would dream to party with decaprio.”

“i never—-”

“don’t say it, james. in my mind you partied with him and i want to keep it that way.”

james purses his lips and nods. “so i don’t need to break out my tux kind of fancy.”

“no.” don shakes his head. “you look like a fine dining party no matter where you’re going to i’m not worried about you. there’s just going to be some food and drinks— we’ll make sure we’ve got stuff for you guys, we found some really great soda when we traveled out to the midwest, so we like… bought cases of them and took it back.”

“what are we celebrating?” james raises an eyebrow.

the two look at each other and press their lips together. james squints but it only takes a few moments before his eyes widen. “oh shit—!”

“shh, keep your fucking mouth shut.” don steps forward. “we didn’t want to make christmas about us, so we’re telling everyone later.”

“why didn’t you tell me, you assholes.” james hits don in the chest.

“he literally popped the question two days ago, i knew you were going to be neck deep in this, i thought i’d say it now. we’re going to have everyone over later.” 

ken pokes out a finger. “if you tell darlene i’ll personally come here and kill you.”

james’ mouth hangs open. “you want me to not tell my own mother?”

“not your secret to tell.” don shakes his head.

james visibly pouts and stomps his foot a little. “fine. but i’m telling laney.”

“well she’s invited too, so i hope you would. it’d be a very big surprise to come to find out she’s going to an engagement party.”

james sighs, his lips curling into a smile. he pulls the two of them into a hug, holding them tightly. “i’m so happy for you guys. i love weddings so much.” he whispers. 

they hug him back and ken lets out a laugh. “good, we’re getting married just for you.”

“i know.” he says muffled. he pulls away, patting their shoulders. “well i’ll let you tow go. you probably have lots of planning to do. if you need to borrow anything i… really went out for decorations and i’m happy to share.”

“well keep it in mind, thanks. take care, man.” they part their ways and james shuts the door behind them. susan and morris and their kids are the only ones left at that point. laney sits on the floor with kara as they play with her new toy. he strolls back in, sitting on the couch to watch them all wind down.

“jesus christ— fuck!” laney calls out from the kitchen and james stops the vaccum in the livingroom, resting it beside the garbage bags of wrapping paper and toy packaging. he runs into the kitchen, looking and laney staring at her top. “i got ham juice on it!” she pouts.

“take it off now, we’ll get it soaking.” he holds out his hand. she stares at him for a moment, blinking at the request. “time is of the essence, laney, the faster we get it soaking the quicker it comes out. take one of my shirts in the room.” she stares at him for another few moments. he sighs, putting his hand over his eyes. “there.” he feels ehr shirt rest in his hand and her footsteps lead to the bedroom, where the door clicks shut and he moves to his laundry closet where he grabs the stain remover and moves to the bathroom, turning on the water and filling the sink so he can pour the stain remover on the shirt and let it soak, hopefully taking care of it.

“are you alright, though, laney?” he comes out of the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“yeah i’m okay.” she says. 

he presses his hand to the doorknob, and he feels out the silence. “may i come in?”

“uhm…” she pauses. “yeah, sure.” 

he twists the knob and enters the bedroom, seeing her standing there, one of his white tees hanging off of her frame. she’s holding something in her hands, looking down at a frame. he comes to stand beside her, looking at the picture. “ah, for graduation, all brady wanted was to go to disney land. i don’t know why, but he was really excited about it.” next to him stands brady, with the classic mickey mouse hat, and balloon. the eighteen year old beams, and james stands next to him with some sweet treat and a dimply smile. his parents hold them tightly, beaming with the kind of proud parent glow. “he had such a good time. i think he just wanted to be a kid for a day before he had to go off and be an adult for the rest of his life.” he smiles faintly. “he really committed to that. somewhere i have a picture of him with goofy and donald.”

laney laughs, and then it fades off. “i would have loved to meet him.”

“he would have loved to meet you, too. he probably would have swept you off your feet and you would have left me for him.” he laughs. “he was much more charming than me.”

“not possible.” laney shakes her head.

“oh, it’s very possible. he was so cool. like the coolest guy in school. like he was charming and flirty and had just a pinch of asshole that made him exciting like brady was the guy.” james takes the picture from her hands to look at it. “he was a fun person, and a really good brother.” he presses his lips to the side. he feels laney’s hand reach up to his shoulder, her face pressing into his arm. 

“he’s be proud of you.” she says.

“i know.” james nods. he would have disappointed brady, too. but he knows where he stands now, brady would be proud. he sets the picture down, turning to face laney. “i means a lot to me that you came today. i know christmas isn’t at all your thing.” 

“i had a really good time.” she grins. “it means a lot you wanted me here.”

“of course i did.” he reaches up, brushing away her hair.

“i should finish the dishes, huh.” she says. “i tried to pick a shirt that mattered the least, i hope this one is okay, in case i get more ham juice on it.”

“well i would say it doesn’t matter, but it looks so good on you it just might.” he smirks, reaching to tug at the hem of the fabric. “you should wear my stuff more.”

she hums, pulling away from his grasp to leave the room, going back into the kitchen. he watches her move, feeling the confidence in her wake and he knows it’s going to be a tough night.

cleaning was a breeze. they put on some music and both their voices filled the apartment as they sung along. finally james joined her in the kitchen where he put dishes away and she started a second load into the dishwasher. it was nice, simple. he put his hands on her waist whenever he moved past her. then there was the one moment where one his older song came on and he took laney by the waist, swaying her around to the music, holding her hand tight and dipping her back and feeding off of her giggles. 

he was back to radiating. standing there in the kitchen alongside her as their hands got clammy from washing all the dishes, their mouths hurting from laughing and smiling so much. the apartment was back to being clean and he offered if she wanted to watch a movie, eating the rest of the leftover dessert. she agreed, so he got himself changed out of his christmas clothes and into something comfier, taking the paper plates into the living room, putting on some garbage christmas movie on netflix. sitting down beside her, he sets the plate in her lap and it’s not long before her body leans into his. 

“this movies sucks.” she says after about twenty minutes.

“took you that long to notice, huh?” he’s setting their paper plates on the coffee table, pulling his feet back.

“i’m not very entertained.” she says.

“me either.” his fingers reach forward to rub the back of her neck, feeling over the chain. 

“james,” laney starts.

“yes, laney?” he smirks, looking at her. she’s got her eyes forward on the screen. he can feel her a bit tense under his touch, but he waits.

“waiting is dumb.” she says.

“i agree.” he reaches to cup the back of her neck and in unison, their heads turn completely and she’s grabbing fists of his shirt, their mouths finally meeting. it’s open and hot and needy. she’s warm, he lips are soft and full and he doesn’t stop. he’s not going to pull away. he keeps kissing her. keeps kissing her until she feels her tongue tease against his and he’s getting up from the couch so he can crawl over her.

everything. all of it. it’s been a year of so much back and forth and all this teasing and standing on the edge and lustful dreams and romantic fantasies and all of it comes down to this. he’s pushing her back against the couch, reaching behind her to free her hair from the tie, letting it spill around her as he kissing her more. he’s biting her lip, holding her tightly, letting his hand run over every part of her. he feels her breast over her shirt and the moan he earns only has him kissing her more. he’s kissing her deeper, faster, more urgently. it’s an overwhelming feeling of wanting everything all at once, and so much of it. 

she’s got her fingers tangled in his hair and nothing’s felt better than when she whispers his name, half out of breath. he sees her with her eyes half open and her cheeks flushed, lips puffy. he keeps going back for more. their kisses keep meeting halfway and they’re both desperate for it. clawing at each other to get closer, for more intimacy. he’s reaching under her shirt to feel her shirt, feeling her tones stomach, feeling the underwire of her bra. before he can make any moves, she’s tugging and he leans back to pull away at his shirt, his skin and all his tattoos exposed her in a different context. he stays there for a moment, looking down at her, out of breath, hair in a halo around her glowing face. her shirt tugged at and disheveled. but she’s smiling. her finger tips reaching up to his stomach. “you’re so beautiful.” she says softly, less as a discovery but the way you say about your favorite art piece.

he sighs, leaning back down to take her face in his hands and kiss her again. her back arches, pressing into his. he’s already half hard, and wonders if she can feel it through her jeans. “laney,” he purrs. his hands move to push her shirt over her chest, until she leans up a bit to throw it off completely. her skin is so smooth and delicate and he watches her chest raise and fall quickly. he lowers himself, pressing kisses to her neck, biting gently in places. her fingers go back to his hair, pulling just a bit the moment he sinks his teeth into her skin. but then he’s further down and reaches her breasts, where he kisses and nips along the hem of her bra. she huffs, feeling his hand reach up to feel her other breast. she’s leaning up again, reaching behind her to undo the clasp and shrug off the material. he thought he was hasty to touch her, but she was just as hasty to feel him.

his lips, his tongue, his teeth. every bit of him feels her. he listened to her sounds and reactions and did what she likes, and avoided what she didn’t. he melted the way she said his name through her moans. she begged for more. he wanted nothing more than to give it to her. he slides further down his hands running over high thighs, still covered by her pants. his eyes look up at laney, and she’s still breathing thick, her fingers brushing back his curls and she nods. without another thought, he’s unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them away from her feet, throwing them on the ground and kissing his way up her thighs, nipping at the soft skin inside and listening to her whimper and beg. he can feel her heat, and how wet she is through her panties. he wishes he could keep teasing for longer; drag it out over the rest of the night, but james wanted to know what she sounded like when he makes her cum. 

[1dimagineclub]

Liam Imagine

** IMAGINE REQUEST: Hi love your account!!! I was wondering if u could make a one shot with Liam. Um… I guess the scenario could be in which Liam meets your family for the first time…your whole family.**

“Family Matters“ 

When Liam Payne looks at you with those eyes so big and hopeful, it’s hard to turn down anything he’s asking you.  

He’d figured out that it was easy to get you to say yes to a lot of things if he just looked at you like that—calling in sick to work, having a movie night at home instead of going out (even though you’d had your outfit planned since two days ago), and, probably your least favorite, letting him decide where to eat for dinner.  Again.

That isn’t to say you don’t have your own little ways of getting him to agree to things; a bat of your eyelashes, a pout of your lips, or, when desperate times call for desperate measures, a low cut top that reveals just enough skin when you bend over to innocently pick up the remote that you’d “accidently” dropped in front of him.  He was onto you and your little tricks.

That was just how your relationship had always been. So when Liam had looked up from his phone at you last week with a beaming smile and those damn eyes, you’d braced yourself for the worst.

Before you even let him talk, you sighed, mumbling out a quick, “What do you want now?”

He had laughed and rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing, nothing.  I just got a text from your mum.”

You remember your heart had stopped beating. What the hell did that mean? Liam and your mom got on like best friends from the minute he’d first met her.  It was a relief at first, but undeniably annoying when he came over because they would just talk and talk and talk for what felt like hours. One thing you’d always admired about Liam, however, was the way he was able to absolutely destroy you in your bedroom to the point where your legs were still shaking and you struggled to walk, and then five minutes later you’d find him exchanging health food recipes with your mother in the kitchen, with her none the wiser about what had just transpired. He was irritatingly charming with everyone he encountered, of that much you were very sure.  Still, you couldn’t get over the fact that he and your mom were actually… friends?  Did they text often?

He must’ve noticed the look on your face because he chuckled again.  You asked, “What did she have to say?”

“She invited me to your “family reunion” next Friday.  Thinks its time I meet everyone.”

You’d panicked.  Immediately you let out a loud string of “no’s” and shook your head.  He only continued to laugh, waiting until you were done to ask why you were so against it.  “You ashamed of me or sumfin?”

“No,” you’d replied back, because that was in fact the opposite of what you were. You weren’t ashamed of anyone in this equation actually.  It was just that your family was so big and crazy and… loud.  They were loud as hell when you were all together, and what if that turned Liam off to the idea of combining your families one day?

Although, you had known that this day would come. If you ever wanted to marry Liam, you knew he was going to have to meet your family eventually.  However, you’d just hoped it would be much further down the line at like, the wedding.  Or even after the wedding.  Or maybe never.

You loved Liam.  You loved your family.  You’d just never really imagined them altogether in one room.

Of course he kept pushing the issue, asking why you didn’t want him there.  So when you reluctantly responded and told him the truth—that you were scared he would hate them—he only smiled and pulled you into his chest.

“M’not gonna hate ‘em.  I could never.  They made you.”  You could see the cogs turning in his head at that last sentence.  “Well… I mean, they didn’t make you. Your mum and dad did.  But they made your mum and dad so I guess relatively they made you.  And they make you happy.  They’re a part of you.”  He’d paused only briefly to kiss the crown of your head.  “And anyway, they love you.  And I love you.  So we already have something in common, yeah?  We’ll get along fine.”

And when you’d turned your head to look up at him, he was looking at you with those damn stupid eyes.  You were struck for a moment, because it looked genuine.  Like he actually really wanted to meet your family. He was being so nice, and you knew he was right, plus those stupid, stupid eyes….

“Alright fine,” you’d huffed out.  “You can come to my family reunion.” He beamed like you’d never seen before, and although the soft kisses he peppered all over your face in gratitude should’ve made you feel better, they only made you more scared.

Today, you’re in the kitchen helping prepare side dishes with all the women and female cousins.  The men are out back drinking and barbecuing, and the kids are running around chasing one another. Liam is going to arrive at any minute and you could not be more terrified.

Everyone had been teasing you all day long.  You’d taken their comments in stride, of course, but it was nerve-wracking.  Like being interrogated. You knew it was out of love for you (and out of sheer excitement at the fact that a celebrity was coming over and could potentially be joining the family one day?), but you sincerely hoped that the comments would stop once he arrived.

“Does he make a lot of money?”  

“How serious is the relationship?”  

“Didn’t they just release a new album?” 

“I like that one song… what is it called?  ‘Things That Make You Beautiful?’” 

“How did you two meet? You weren’t a groupie, were you?  Those are just awful.”  

“I once camped out in the lobby of Bon Jovi’s hotel for a whole night before they told me he wasn’t actually there.  Tragic.” The questions, comments, and stories (that admittedly make you giggle) just keep coming, and you answer them as best as you can.  “We’re fairly serious about the relationship.” 

“It’s called ‘What Makes You Beautiful’, grandma.”  

“No, I was not a groupie.”  

It isn’t until your mother pokes her head out from behind the refrigerator and holds out a bottle of barbecue sauce that the questions finally seem to die down.  “Will you take this out to your dad, please?”

You agree, because it gives you something to do while you wait for Liam to arrive. He’d told you he was running a little bit late but that he would be there as soon as he could.  It wasn’t a problem, but it did make you more anxious.

You push open the door to the yard and it’s a completely different atmosphere.  The heat is sweltering—the kind of hot air that makes it uncomfortable to breathe. The condensation on the side of the cold beer bottles matches the sweat dripping from your little cousins as they chase each other around and it grosses you out.   You wrinkle up your nose absentmindedly and try not to think about how bad it’s gonna smell in your house later when everyone comes inside.  

Your dad stands by the grill, laughing and talking with his brother in law and someone else, and he’s poking something around on the fire.  He raises the beer bottle to his lips and sees you instantly.  He reaches out a hand for the barbecue sauce.  “Hey, (Y/N).  I was just about to go get that.  You read my mind.”

The minute you approach him, you see who this “someone else” is.  You had no idea he’d even arrived yet but there he is—Liam in all his tall, gangly glory.  He smiles at you.  “Hi, babe!” He reaches out an arm to pull you into his side for a hug.

“Hey!” He can instantly sense your confusion as he presses his lips to your forehead.

“Sorry I didn’t text ya,” he says. “I got here and the party was started.  I was gonna come find ya.”

Your dad beams at you.  “(Y/N), I was just introducing Liam to everyone.  We were having a very manly talk.”

Liam snorts. “Manly indeed.”  He turns to you, a gleam in his eye.  “I didn’t know your family was into classic old films.”

You giggle. “Do you know who my parents are?  Of course they are.”

He smiles, and then suddenly makes a face. “Oh! Almost forgot.”  He walks over to the little coffee table on your porch and picks up a bottle of wine.  “This is for your mum.  Where’s she at?”

“She’s inside.  Here, I’ll take it!”  That was just like Liam.  Always so sweet.  Always thinking of everyone else.

“No, no, it’s good. Let me!  I wanna see her.  And meet everyone else.”  He raises a hand in your father’s direction.  “Nice talking to you.  We’ll run into each other later I’m sure.”  

“Yeah definitely!”  Liam turns to go into the house, keeping a hand on your back. Force of habit, you suppose, that he has to be touching you every time he’s in public.  It isn’t something he realizes he does, you think. Once, you’d asked him about it because you had assumed it was a nervous habit. You thought he just wanted to be touching you because secretly he didn’t like crowds all that much.  (Not a very far off guess either.  Crowds had never been his favorite things, you’d learned.) But he said it was just to keep you two together, and to show you off proudly. To tell the world “She’s mine” and all that.  Of course, after that sweet confession was made he just had to throw in a dirty joke about touching you in other ways under the table later that night, and you’d blushed and slapped his arm even though you’d actually wanted him to…

But that’s beside the point.

You turn to glance at your father one last time before disappearing into the house, and he flashes you a thumbs up and a nod. Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief.  Liam had made a good impression on these people at least.

As soon as you and Liam enter the house, everyone goes silent.  The older women stare at you expectantly, with the corners of their lips turned up in a way that tells Liam they were just talking about him.  Your Aunt Susan lets out a quiet giggle that does not go unnoticed.  Your seventeen- year-old cousin Nicole (coincidentally a Niall girl since day one) straightens up in her seat, nervously stroking her hair.

Liam clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath.  “Hello, everyone.  I’m Liam.”

And then they go right back to talking—everyone at once.  It doesn’t so much sound like individual voices as much as one giant buzzing noise.  

And for some reason, though you’ll never know how he manages to do it, Liam answers everyone’s questions.  

“Yes ma’am.”  

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”  

“No, I’ve never heard of that.”  

“I’m 25.” 

“We met through a friend.”  You stand there awe-stricken at the fact that your boyfriend is juggling all of these people and talking to them all at once.  It’s like any other performance for him, and he does it so damn well that you can’t help but beam proudly at him.

“This one can’t stop talking about you!” your grandma says, nodding her head in your direction.  Instantly, your cheeks go crimson because why in God’s name is that a necessary thing to say?   Okay, sure, maybe you did talk about him a lot but it was only when someone else brought him up first or when you had a funny story to tell that just so happened to involve him.  Or when someone asked you a question about him.  Or when he had done something so damn sweet you just had to tell someone before your insides burst.  Or when—

Your aunt cuts off your thoughts.  “Oh gosh, isn’t that the truth?  You must be pretty good to this girl.”

You can literally feel Liam’s gaze on your face and it actually burns. His dimple is deep enough to get lost in and you have to resist the urge to poke it like you normally do. You roll your eyes a bit, chewing on the inside of your lip and hoping someone says something else.

“Yeah?” Liam asks, not looking away from you. “Well she’s good to me.  M’crazy about her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the women all coo and “aw” at frequency only dolphins could hear.  You let out a nervous giggle and you know that Liam senses what you’re feeling.   He’s too much of a little shit to do anything about it though, because he likes seeing you all giggly and nervous and red.  Says it’s “damn cute” and wants you to stay that way forever.  

Your mom comes to your rescue even though she’s completely oblivious to your embarrassment.  “What’s this?”  She reaches down to Liam’s free hand and takes the bottle of wine from it.

“Oh, s’for you.  Sorry for showin’ up late.  And sorry for not bringing more.”

“You didn’t have to bring it at all!” your mom says. “But you know I will never turn down wine.  Thank you, Liam.”

He nods.  “Of course.”  He glances down at you with a smug smile that says ‘See? Everything is fine.’  You shake your head at him, amazed at what a charming little cheese-ball he can be. Then again, there was rarely ever a time that he wasn’t being a charming little cheese-ball.  This family reunion was no exception.

It doesn’t take much longer until Liam is chatting up a storm with everyone.  They all seem to have settled down with their teasing, which is wonderful.  In fact, they seem to have almost forgotten that you’re even there all together.  You watch from your seat at the counter beside your cousin as Liam buzzes around, comparing recipes and telling jokes and stories and laughing as if he has been apart of this family his whole life.  He only briefly glances over his shoulder at you every now and again to smile or wink, and your heart flutters with pride at how good he’s being.  Not that you weren’t expecting him to be good. But this, you were not expecting.

This cheerful guy who knows everything about baking the cake for after dinner (he did, after all, use to work in a bakery.  He’d mentioned that three times now).   This guy who told stories that had the whole room hanging on every word he spoke while he carefully stirred around the mashed potatoes so your mom wouldn’t have to.  This guy who talked about you like you were God’s gift to the earth, and listened intently to every story from your childhood—even if you’d rather it not be shared with him.  You could not love him any more than you did in this moment.

You’re almost disappointed when your dad pops in from the backyard and shouts, “Sorry to bother you, but can I steal Liam for a minute?”

“He was just getting to the good part of the story!” your aunt calls back, and Liam chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says.  He puts his hand up as if swearing an oath. “I promise I’ll finish it later.  I’m all yours once he’s done with me”

He turns to go, but not without stopping at your seat and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.   With a sweet smile, he disappears out the door on the heels of your father.

As soon as the door closes behind him, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you.  You don’t even want to turn to look at them, but you have nowhere else to look.  So you sigh and look first at your mother, hoping that she’ll sense that you don’t want to be bombarded with more questions and comments.

It doesn’t work.  Your grandma is the first to speak.   “Oh my goodness, I think he is just lovely.”  Which is a relief but at the same time, doesn’t mean much coming from the woman who’s told every boy you’ve known in your lifetime to “take care of my grandbaby or I’ll kill you.”  Hell, she’d even threatened the guy who played your stage husband in your high school play.   A kind gesture, yes, but an aggravating one to say the least. Liam was bound to get the threatening speech by the end of the night.

“I agree,” your aunt chimes in.  “And you can see how much he loves you.”

Your cousin, Sara lets out all the air she’s been holding in her lungs for the past fifteen minutes.  “Oh my GOD, he’s cute,” she says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard her talk since she got here.  “Seriously, he’s even better in person.”

You giggle.  “Thank you, guys.  I know it really means a lot to him that you wanted him here.“  You reach for your glass of water because you hadn’t realized that all those nerves were making you thirsty.

“Of course!” your aunt replies.  “Why wouldn’t we?”

Another aunt who, admittedly, you don’t know the name of (she was someone’s like, third wife or something who no one actually really knew anything about other than she was loud and proud and here in your kitchen) wiggles her eyebrows.  “Yeah, especially if he’s gonna be part of the family one day.  Do we hear wedding bells in the very near future?”

You nearly choke on your water, and you let out a little sputtering cough.  “Uh… that’s not… I mean, we haven’t really… he’s only 25… I—” You aren’t quite how to answer this question in front of a room full of gossipy ladies.  Sure they had your best interest at heart, and they were only trying to make fun conversation, but you and Liam are so young for God’s sake.  You knew you wanted to marry him, but in the very near future? Couldn’t you at least, like, graduate college first?

Your mom senses your distress and laughs lightly. “Let’s not push it, Denise.”  Denise.  That’s her name.  Dammit Denise. “She’s so young and we’re just happy she finally found someone.”

“True,” your grandma speaks up.  “We all thought she was going to be single forever.” They all giggle, and you let out a nervous little giggle as well.  What was that supposed to mean?

You are literally saved by the bell when the oven timer beeps, signaling it’s just about time to eat.  The ladies abandon all gossip and teasing remarks and bustle around once more to get everything together.  Ten minutes later, you find yourself seated beside Liam on the couch with a plate overflowing with food. Dinner is fantastic, of course, and many adults are enjoying Liam’s bottle of wine. Liam is still talking and laughing with ease, and it’s amazing how easily he is flowing from one topic to the next.  Needless to say, he fits into this family far better than you could’ve ever hoped.

After dinner, when everyone is sitting with droopy eyes and full tummies, a small crowd slowly migrates out to the backyard. Liam, you’re assuming, is apart of that crowd because, once you come back from dropping your dish off in the sink, he’s disappeared.  You don’t know whether to be happy or upset.  You’d invited Liam to this as your sort of “date” and yet you’d hardly gotten to spend any time with him.  Which was fine, because at least you knew everyone liked him.  But between the women needing your assistance and the men talking to him about… well, everything, you’ve barely been able to say more than two sentences to him.

When the dishes are washed and everyone is settled once more, you take the opportunity to go find him.  It doesn’t take long once you step outside.  Though the sun is setting, the air is still hot. The men and a few of their wives are sitting around the porch drinking various alcoholic beverages and talking about work.  They all greet you cheerfully, but don’t really deter from their conversation.  

You step off of your porch and onto the grass where the little kids are still playing.  And there, you see him.  Running around and giggling just like he’s one of them.   He’s tied his hair up into a bun at the back of his head, but he didn’t use as much care as he normally does because a few strands whip at his cheeks as he runs. His laugh echoes and mixes in with the younger children’s and the sounds are so adorable they make you want to explode.  

They seem to be playing a game of tag, with Liam being “it.”  You know he’s taking it easy on them because his long legs could move him much faster than he’s currently running.  And because you know that he could take one step in their four steps.   Finally, he catches up to your four-year-old cousin Hannah and, in one swift motion, scoops her up in his arms.  He spins her around and yells like a monster, with her squealing and giggling like a crazy person.  It’s all too damn cute; Liam with children has always been one of your weaknesses that he’s never known about.  It makes you realize what a great father he’s going to be someday, and GOD how you hope it’ll be your kids he’s fathering.

He sees you mid spin and laughs, slowing down. It takes him a minute to get his balance and to get his brain to stop spinning, but once he seems steady on his feet again, he puts Hannah back on the ground and walks to you with a smile on his face.   He glances over his shoulder at the little kids, who now all seem disappointed that their new “cousin Liam” (as you’d later learn was what they were so affectionately calling him) was done playing. “Gimme a sec.”  He smiles back at you.  “Hi, my love.”

When he reaches you, he takes both of your hands in his and pulls you into him for a quick kiss, earning a chorus of “eeeewwwww” from the little kids. You giggle into the kiss, but don’t pay attention to them.  When you pull away, you speak.  “Looks like you’re a hit.”

“Yeah, they won’t let me go,” he chuckles.  “But I love it.  I’m having fun.  Just miss bein’ around you.”

“My whole family loves you, Liam.  I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

“Yeah, well, I love them just as much.”  Before any other words can be exchanged, one of the little monsters— Hannah’s six-year-old brother Josh— runs up and leaps up onto Liam’s back, causing him to emit a loud “oof” and almost topple over. He regains himself quickly, hopping a bit to adjust the kid on his back, before chuckling.  “Heeeey. What are you doing?”

“Play with us!” Josh yells, kicking his legs a bit and almost hitting you.

You giggle and take a step back as Liam attempts to stop his kicking.  “I will, I will! Just have to talk to (Y/N) for a bit, yeah? I miss her.”

“Don’t you guys live together?” comes another raspy little voice.  Your other baby cousins—Dalton, Lea, Callie, and Hannah—have all appeared at Liam’s feet, blinking up at you with big wide eyes.

You and Liam exchange a glance before you speak. “Not… really. I have my own apartment and so does Liam.  We just… hang out a lot.”

“You guys are dating, right?” It’s Lea, the ever-shy one with the cutest little lisp, who speaks.  

You smile, reaching down to brush her hair behind her ear.  “Yes ma’am.”

“Yuuuuck,” Josh groans.  

“It’s not yucky!” Hannah shouts back.  “It’s nice.”  She blinks up at you.  “Do you guys like… kiss and stuff?”

It’s an innocent question but your cheeks still go a bit red.  You look at Liam, who’s wearing a tongue-in-cheek smirk and looking everywhere but your eyes.  You let out a puff of air.  “Uh…”

“No,” Liam says, very seriously all of a sudden. “Of course not.  Don’t you know that girls have cooties?”

“Cooties aren’t real,” says Callie. She always has been the practical one of the family, even when she was a baby.  Now, at eight, you can see she hasn’t changed.

Liam doesn’t budge.  “Are too,” he retorts.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes huh.”

“Nuh UH!”

You giggle, and little Hannah cuts off their argument.  “Cooties aren’t real because mommy and daddy kiss each other and they don’t have cooties.”

“That’s because they’re married, Hannah.” Liam sounds like he’s given this some thought, and you laugh at his serious tone.  “You can only kiss when you’re married.”

“Nuh UH! I just saw you and (Y/N) kiss!”

Lea gasps.  “Are you and (Y/N) getting married?”

You and Liam look at each other, wanting so badly for the other to say something that’ll get them off this subject.  “Uh,” Liam laughs.  “Probably someday.”

“Really?!”

All three little girls look up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, and you furrow your eyebrows. It’s your turn to say something.  “Um.  I mean… yeah.  Probably.  Someday. Not like, soon or anything but—“

“Can I be the flower girl?” Callie asks.

“You’re too old to be the flower girl,” Lea says.

“Nuh uh, flower girls can be whatever age they want to be, huh (Y/N)?”

“What about the ring bear?” asks Josh, squirming around excitedly on Liam’s back.

“Can I be the ring bear?”

“I wanna be the ring bear!” Dalton yells.

“It’s ring bearer, guys,” Callie says with a roll of her eyes.

While all the little kids discuss your future wedding, you notice Liam hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.  You blink nervously for a moment before offering him an apologetic smile.

His nose wrinkles up and suddenly he’s squatting down to put Josh on the ground. He’s eye level with all of them now. “You guys can be whatever you want to be,” he says.  “Hey, we’ll even let you plan the wedding, yeah?  But I have to tell you, that day won’t be for a while.  Don’t get all excited now.”

“Do you love (Y/N)?” Lea asks, batting her long eyelashes at Liam.

Liam smiles up at you with his lips pressed tightly together.  He nods. “I do.”

The three little girls immediately let out a chorus of sighs.  “How romantic,” Hannah says, and you giggle because at four-years-old, “romantic” is probably the biggest vocabulary word she knows how to use.

Liam stands up, his knees popping a bit until he’s once again towering over you. “(Y/N), I have to use the little boy’s room,” he says quietly. You giggle, taking his hand.  

“Right on,” you mumble back.  You turn to the kids once again.  “Listen, we’ll be right back, okay?”

They shout back their approval and you lead Liam up to the house.  The people on the porch greet Liam enthusiastically but still never deter from their conversation, much to Liam’s liking.  Apparently, no one had left him alone all day so he hadn’t even had time to ask where the bathroom was.  Your poor little social butterfly.

You lead him through the house, dodging in and out of people and their conversations.  The poor thing feels almost guilty that he can’t stop to talk to them all.  But at this point he feels like his bladder is a ticking time bomb that can’t wait much longer, something he announces to you as you pull him through the living room.  You let out another giggle and a “ew, Liam” before approaching the guest bathroom towards the front of the house.

To your dismay, the minute you knock on the closed door, you hear a voice from inside call out, “Just a minute!”  

You turn to your boyfriend.  “Think you can wait a minute?”  He shakes his head, eyes wide and you roll your eyes.  “You’re really gonna make me do this?”

“Do what?” he asks, but you don’t answer him. You’re already pulling him up the stairs behind you in the direction you’d hoped you’d never have to take him… your childhood bedroom.

It wasn’t that there was anything particularly terrible about it.  It was just that the last time you’d lived here was in high school.  All through college you either lived on campus or in your own apartment, so clearly this place hasn’t been updated in quite some time.

You reach the closed door (second on the left) and let out a sigh.  “Liam before you go in here just know that… I haven’t been up here in awhile.  So it’s probably… embarrassing… and—“

“(Y/N), I love you.  I really do.  But if I don’t get to the bathroom in the next ten seconds I am going to actually explode.”

You giggle, pushing open the door and letting him inside.  He runs immediately to the tiny bathroom connected to your bedroom and closes the door. Meanwhile, you step into the room and take this time to really admire it.  You close the door behind you so no one knows you’re up here and thinks they can use this bathroom (it is still, technically your room and is therefore off limits).  

The room is exactly how you remembered it. When you’d lived here in high school, you didn’t really care what you had in here.  Posters of bands hang all over the walls, your stuffed animals line the shelves above your old twin size bed, and there, poorly hidden by a chair, is the stain from the time you’d snuck a bottle of wine up here with your friends and accidentally spilled it all over the carpet.  You giggle at the memory.  It had been so serious to you back then.

You sit on the edge of the bed, but soon give in to your temptation and allow yourself to lie backwards. You’re so tired. All the tension from being so nervous all day has really gathered in your shoulders, and God a massage would feel so good. (Perhaps something to bring up tonight when you get to Liam’s, you think.) You’ve been on your feet all day, and you hadn’t even realized they were hurting until right now. You’re about to close your eyes when you realize what you’re looking at.

On the ceiling hangs a poster of Zac Efron in his High School Musical era and you actually laugh out loud.  Why had you put that up there?

About a minute later, Liam comes out of the bedroom to find you lying there and he smiles to himself.  He looks around the room, too, taking in the pieces of your past like its some big secret you’d kept hidden away this whole time. Technically, you had kept it hidden away.  

He comes and towers over you and you smile up at him.  He’s not looking at you, however.  He’s instead looking up to where your eyes just were moments ago.  His eyebrow quirks up as his hand comes to absentmindedly stroke his chin.  After a moment of silent observation, he nods.  “He’s cute.”

You giggle, sitting up.  “What can I say?  I’ve always had good taste in men.”

He laughs, plopping down beside you on the bed and cupping a hand behind your neck to bring your face closer.  Without any type of warning, he presses a soft, deep, still smiley kiss to your lips, and after a few moments of him sucking on your bottom lip, you sigh into his mouth.  This was exactly what you needed right now.  

He pulls away, smiling at you.  “I love you, (Y/N).  And I love your family a lot.  All of ‘em.”

You bite at your lip, wanting to shout for joy. “Seriously?”

He nods.  “Seriously.  I could not be happier to be here with you right now.”   He presses another quick kiss to your lips before continuing. “Although… it has been kinda tough being away from you all day.”

“I know,” you say, looking down.  “I’m sorry.”

“No, no! No need to be sorry.   Your family is great.  Talking to them is great. I’m not complaining. “  He smirks suddenly, the infamous dimple making its appearance. “Plus, I get you all to myself tonight when we leave.”  He leans forward to kiss along your jawline.

You turn your head, granting him easier access to your neck.  You can’t help it.  You let out a hum of contentment as his lips travel lower, and it takes everything in you not to allow your now fluttering eyelashes to close.  “Well,” you say quietly,  “you have me all to yourself right now.”

You can feel the smirk deepen against your neck. “That I do,” he says, immediately followed by another kiss.  “But. I don’t want to keep you from your family.”  His lips are now fastened to your collarbone, making it clear that yes, actually, he does want to keep you from your family.

You turn your head and push your forehead to his. “They’re not gonna mind.  They don’t even notice we’re gone.”

It doesn’t take any more than that.   Immediately, he pushes you back on the bed. It���s a bit of an awkward shuffle, but the two of you manage to crawl higher up on the bed so that you aren’t hanging off the edge.  (Well, Liam will be hanging off the edge regardless.  It was so damn tiny.)

The bed creaks loudly under you, but neither of you seem to mind.  You’re too busy trying not to just lose all control to rip his clothes off, and he’s too busy letting his lips get lost in the dip between your neck and your shoulder.  Clearly he’d been waiting for this all day.

Your skirt has ridden completely up, and Liam uses that to his advantage.  While one hand fumbles with the buttons at the top of your dress, the other hand reaches down to your thigh.  He rubs lightly up and down, going higher each time like the little tease he is. You shift a bit so that maybe he’ll get the hint, but all you get in response is another creak of the bed.

This time Liam laughs, though he never removes his lips from your neck.  “Loud bed,” he muses.  “Have to be more careful.”  You feel almost paralyzed underneath him because what he’s doing feels so damn good, and he hasn’t even kissed anywhere lower than your chest yet. He shifts so that he’s basically on top of you and begins grinding his hips against yours. The ever-growing bulge is hitting just where you want it to and fuck it feels so good you want to cry out.  

Your nose wrinkles up as you smile, a soft moan just on the verge of escaping.  “God, Liam,” you speak in a near whisper.  “Fuck.”

“M’not even doing anything yet,” he teases, because that stupid boy knows damn well what he’s doing to you. He reaches down to rub over the fabric of your underwear and you’re about to curse again, when a knock comes at the door.

You both instantly freeze, locking eyes in sheer panic.  When a soft little “Liam?” is heard in none other than Hannah’s voice, you let out a breath.

“Um, he’s in the bathroom,” you call out, still frozen.

“(Y/N)?” asks Hannah, more confused now.  “Are you guys both in there?”  She jiggles the doorknob and you thank God in heaven that you’d locked it.

“Um, yeah,” you say.  “Only because… I had to… show him where it was.”

An evil little grin spreads across Liam’s face suddenly and he ducks his head to fasten his lips to your neck once more.

“Liam,” you hiss.

Hannah continues outside the door.  “How much longer do you think he’s gonna be?”

“Um,” you say, and Liam literally snorts because your voice cracks when he bites down.  “I’m not really sure, sweetie.  Probably not that much longer.”

“Oh….” Hannah says.  “Well, okay.  I’m just gonna wait for him out here then.”

“NO,” you yell out, almost too quickly.  It’s partly because of Hannah’s declaration of her patience, but mostly because Liam has now moved your bra and is kissing your exposed breast and holy shit, what is it that he’s trying to do here?  

The bed creaks and Hannah speaks again.  “Was that the bed?”

Liam laughs quietly once again, and you know he’s doing this purely for his own entertainment.  “N-No,” you stutter.  “It wasn’t.”

“It sounded like a bed.”  The doorknob jiggles again.  “Why is the door locked?”

You let out an exasperated sigh as Liam sucks lightly at the skin of your chest. “Sweetheart, please.  Can you just go back out and play again?  Liam will be back in a little bit.”

“How long is a little bit?”

Liam sighs, pulling away and smiling apologetically. “This is pointless. My people need me,” he whispers, kissing lightly at your nose before crawling off the bed.

“Wait,” you hiss out quietly.  “You’re just gonna… leave me here?  You’re not even gonna finish what you started?”

“Who are you talking to?” Hannah calls.

Liam clears his throat.  “It’s me, love. Hold on. I’m coming.”

You raise your eyebrow, clearly a little bit ticked.  “Well, you could be coming if we weren’t being cock-blocked by a four-year-old.”

Liam laughs. “Cheeky.”  He reaches down to—ehem—adjust himself before going to quickly wash his hands and fix his hair in the mirror. “Like you said,” he says quietly before opening the door.  “I’ll have you all to myself tonight when we get back to my place, yeah?”  He gives you a quick wink before opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

He closes the door behind him, which gives you enough time to straighten up a bit and saves you from having to look your cousin in the eye while your skirt was halfway off.  When you do finally decide to leave the room, Liam and Hannah are long gone.  Dammit.

You rejoin your mother and the other women in the living room, and you’re glad no one questions it further when you tell them you just had to show him where the upstairs bathroom is.  Out of the window you can see him sitting on the porch, little Hannah curled up on his lap.  One of his hands strokes lazily through her curls while the other holds a beer bottle that someone (probably your dad) had given him.  You let out a sigh.  He was right.   You would finally get to be alone with him for the whole night as soon as you left here. You could stand a few more hours without him.

Those few hours go by slow as molasses until finally, the crowd has significantly shrunk in size.  You and Liam make the decision to leave and after saying your goodbyes to everyone left at the party, you climb into his car.

There are a few moments of silence as he pulls out of your driveway and onto the road.  Probably because you’re shocked at how well that went.  You glance over at Liam who’s completely focused on the road, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell with pride.  You ‘re so damn lucky.

Liam smiles, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?” he asks.

You reach up to poke the dimple, something you’d been resisting all night.  “Nothing. Just… proud of you.  Proud that you’re mine.”  You adjust your seatbelt to lean across the center console and press a kiss to his cheek.  “You did so good today.”

This time, he does steal a quick glance at you before speaking.  “I said it a million times and I’ll say it a million more: I love your family.  I wanna be around ‘em all the time.  When’s the next family reunion?”

You giggle.  “Well the family reunion thing usually happens once every summer, so, unfortunately, you’ll have to wait.  But every year for Christmas we do something with Hannah’s family.”

Liam’s eyebrows quirk up at this.  “Yeah?  I love that little girl.”

You giggle.  “She loves you, too.  We’ve never seen her warm up to someone so quickly before.”

“When we’re married, let’s have a little girl just like her.”  

Your heart actually stops right then and there at his use of the world “when.”  He wants it to happen just as much as badly as you do, and he wants to have a little girl with you.  You bite at your lip, trying to find the right thing to say back to that, but all you can come up with is a quiet “Okay.”

He smiles at you, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh.  “I love you, (Y/N).  I really mean that.  I love you. And I love your family.  And I really hope to spend the rest of my life with you.  And with your family.”

You giggle.  “I love you, too, Liam.  And they love you.  I can’t tell you how huge that is.”

Instead of speaking, Liam takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips to kiss.   It feels like everything he meant to say was in that kiss, and if you thought you couldn’t be more in love with him than you were earlier, you were definitely wrong.  

You think back to what your Aunt Denise said about marriage and how nervous it had made you, but now… well, it just seemed silly. It wasn’t nerve-wracking at all really. It was so simple. So obvious.  Of course you want to marry Liam.  Even if you are young, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the luckiest girl on the planet, and you could not be happier to be his.

[rainberryfae]

Oh dear, I'm so dumb ahahhahah! I've never used tumblr before, I created this account only for contacting you, and knowing that I could forget to put the anonymous I called it a random name instead of my Twitter account so I could still remain anonymous ahahahahhah. I feel like scooby-doo where in some episodes they tied the monster up and then there was no one or it was just a robot and they hadn't found the real criminal ahahahhahah. 

Also thank you, yesterday I was feeling even worse but today I am better thank you, a little bit tired but better and I would gladly cuddle with you on a sofa with tea, I love tea🥺 How are you sweetie?

Yeah I've ridden for about eleven years now and don't worry sometimes I find it scaring too, now the horse the I ride is a little bit fearful and when she hears or see something different she gets scared so I have to be careful but I absolutely love her, she is the sweetest horse I've ever met, she loves cuddles so much, some time ago I found her laying in her box and I spent a little bit of time with her like this, just chilling in her box and cuddling. She also loves food so much, the other day she tried to steal my bag because there was food in there ahahahah.

When I'll take my driver licence I will, I couldn't before because the closest shelter to me is not reachable with public means so I'll have to wait but next month I'll do the theory exam so in a few months I will be able.

I understand you, I don't live in a big city fortunately but I don't live in a very green area so moments in nature are a blessing. I'm lucky because I have a little garden and I love listening to music or studying there, especially during spring or summer.

I don't have a favourite genre when it comes to music but my favourite artists are Louis, Zayn and Little Mix, I also love Mika and I listen to some italian music too (I'm from Italy), when it comes to books my favourite one is called "Chosen by a Horse" by Susan Richards, it's really sad and it makes me cry everytime but I love it so much. My favourite movie... I don't know I like watching movie sometimes but I don't think I have a favourite, I don't know there is nothing coming to my mind... what about you? What are you favourite books? Movies? Artists/songs?

I have never died my hair, I would like to die them lilac but I would never do that, I like my dark blonde colour and I am too scared, but I love died hair, I remember you said you have your hair pink, that's so cool😍😍 OMG pink is so cool!

Also I would love to help you with your chapters, ask me away anything and I will help you, wow you write? I am every day always more amazed by you, you surprise me every time😍

I hope you have a good day love, I can't wait to talk to you again and sorry again if I haven't talked to you yesterday🥺💙💙 *giant hug for you*

That is how I felt! Or like, when you open a gift box to find another gift box or bag inside.

I hope this week we have better days my love, I really hope we do.

I’m starting classes this week and I am excited for some of my courses but nervous. I didn’t have the best experience last year, even more during the end of the fall semester since I had to cope with prepare for exams, submit assignments and projects, all while trying to grieve my grandma’s passin away.

She and I were very close. Even now after some months, it’s still hard.

I’ve been always very fearful due to my moms paranoia, always afraid of the rides at the fair, of motorcycles, horses, climbing trees or just overall heights. Ironically, my mom did broke her nose riding a motorbike when she was young, and fell from a horse while partying and almost broke her hip 5 years ago.

Your horse though, sounds amazing, I would be up for feeding her and cuddling, and even brush her hair. What kind of food do they eat? I’ve only see them get fed apples and carrots in movies. Does she have a name? 🥺

Of course your favorite book would be titled that! you are so cute, wait did you ever saw a tv show called Saddle Club? I don’t remember much about it but I wanted to call you saddle ___ (I don’t know what your pronoun is) I’ll stick with saddle pal/lad for now 🥺 The only thing I have engraved in my mind about that show was their song “Hello World” because it was the first song I learned in English. Well that one, and - this is what dreams are made of- from the Lizzie McGuire movie.

I actually made a bingo with some of my favorite movies a while ago, let me know how many you got/seen!

Artists... I love Bea Miller, Rina Sawayama, Kiana Lede, Hozier, Lorde, Khalid, Tom Odell, Taylor, Harry, Niall and Zayn’s music too (besides Louis ofc)!

I have dyed my hair all colours I believe. Currently is just a loud magenta pink 😅

My favourite authors are a Spanish poet that goes by the name Loreto Sesma and an author from Uruguay named Eduardo Galeano. All of her poetry and most of his books/ essays are my favourites, I apologise if you were expecting a tittle in particular but I truly can’t choose.

Okidoki, now more questions for you Valentine! do you believe in ghost, or demons? Some kind of Heaven/Paradise/Afterlife/nothing? What 5 words would you use to describe yourself? What scents do you like?

Side note before I say goodbye for today: I fixed my curiouscat account issues, so if you’d like to continue this remaining week in there, let me know. I mostly go into tumblr from my pc so maybe it could be easy for both of us to do this in cc:

https://curiouscat.qa/wildimples

I leave you the link and a big kiss, have a nice Monday 🌼🌿🥨

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Playthings- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,716

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Upon walking in the room, you dropped your duffel bag, dropped Dean’s, grabbed the box, took his hand, and walked over to Sam’s room. When you walked inside, Sam was already taking out papers about this place. 

“Look, I was hoping we would able to look at these videos. I know we have a case right now but I think it might ease the tension a little bit, you know?” You said with a smile, setting the box down on the table where Sam was working. 

“Not right now, Y/N, we have work to do.” Sam said, not looking at you. 

“Come on, Sam, just for a few minutes and then we can stick our noses back in this case.” You said but you were cut off by Sam. 

“Y/N, look, people are dying and we can’t afford to sit around looking at some home movies.” Sam said, looking up at you. You swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“Maybe another time, then.” You whispered, taking the box in your arms and walking out of his room. You knew he was upset but you didn’t expect this from Sam at all. You walked into your room and looked down, trying not to get emotional over something like this. 

The walls were thin so you heard Dean arguing with Sam over what just happened. You sighed when you heard the door open to your room. 

“Look, you know he’s under a lot of stress right now.” Dean said, putting his hands on your waist. 

“I know,” You whispered. “I just thought it would be nice to take out mind off things. I mean, your mom is in these videos. I just thought that maybe he might want to watch them.” 

“We will watch them. Let’s just get through a few days here and then we will see how Sam is doing, okay? If not Sam, then I will definitely watch them.” Dean said, pressing his lips to your cheek. You turned around in his arms and you got on your toes, pressing your lips to his. 

He tightened his grip on your waist and brought you closer, kissing you deeper. You moaned in the kiss, trying to get closer to him. Your arms waved around his neck, your fingers playing with the short hairs but his neck. 

Your mouth opened to invite his tongue in but before he could touch yours, there was a knock on the wall no doubt by Sam. 

“Come in here, guys.” You heard Sam say, his voice muffled. 

“Damn it. We will continue this tonight.” Dean muttered, pulling away a little. 

“I meant what I said earlier. I think purple would look great on me, no?” You smirked, turning swiftly and walking out of the room but not before you heard the strangled groan come from Dean. You giggled to yourself as you walked into Sam’s room. 

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I just can’t be distracted right now.” Sam said, looking at you. 

“I know. What have you got?” You asked, changing the subject really quickly. Dean walked back into the room and shut the door, going to your side. 

“We have two victims here one being Joan Edison who was forty-three and a realtor who was handling the sale of the hotel. The other one being Larry Williams who was moving some things out to Goodwill.” Sam said, looking at the papers. 

“Well, there’s a connection between the two. I mean, they both had something to do with shutting this place down.” You said, looking at Dean who nodded. 

“Yeah, maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back.” Sam suggested, thinking. 

“So, who do you think the witch doctor is?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“No, she’s the one selling.” You said. 

“So, who, then? Sherwin?” Dean named another suspect. 

“I have no idea. Maybe we should poke around and see what we can find out.” You said. 

“Great idea.” Sam said with a tight smile, getting up from the table. You took the lead, walking down the hallway what your rooms were on. You looked at the pictures on the wall and as strange as they were to look at, you didn’t think they weren’t worth anything. 

“Hey, check this out, more hoodoo.” Sam said, stopping to look at an urn in the hallway. You saw that this urn had the same exact markings as the one outside. You walked away from the men and looked at a couple of closed doors. One of them was marked ‘Private’. 

“Hey, check this out,” You said. Sam and Dean walked to you and stared at the door with you. “I’m hoping whatever is behind here tells us a lot about what is going wrong.”

“One way to find out.” Dean said, knocking on the door. The door opened immediately by Susan who looked a little frazzled.

“Hi. Everything okay with your room?” She asked. 

“Yeah, everything is perfect, thank you.” You said politely. 

“Well, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of packing.” She said with a smile. She opened the door a little wider and you saw the room covered with antique dolls. 

“Hey,” Dean said, looking past her, trying to think of a way to get into the room.

“Are those antique dolls? Because this one, he's got a major doll collection back home. Right, Sam? Huh?” 

You smirked as Sam shot Dean a bitch face. Instead of going for the girl in the group, he had to target Sam. You had to pick your own fun when hunting. You rarely got it and this is how you had fun. 

“Big time.” Sam said, taking one for the team. 

“Right, do you think we can come in a take a look around?” Dean asked with a charming smile. 

“I don’t know…” Susan said, unsure of herself. 

“Please? I mean, he loves them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's always dressing them up in these little tiny outfits and, um, you'd make his day. She would, right Sam?” Dean said, getting a kick out of embarrassing his brother. You snickered and put your head on Sam’s arm to stifle it but he shoved you off. 

“Yes, very true.” Sam said, looking as if he was going to kill someone. 

“Okay, sure, come on in.” Susan said, walking further in the room. Dean smirked as he walked in first and you laughed a little louder, looking up at Sam. 

“Oh, come on, Sam, it’s funny. You playing with dolls.” You said with a wide smile. 

“Shut up.” Sam said, walking inside. You giggled and followed him, looking around the dim room. 

“Wow, this is a lot of dolls. I mean, they're nice, you know. Not super creepy at all.”  Dean said, looking around the room. 

“Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value.” Susan said with a smile. You looked around the room and noticed an exact replica of the hotel but as a doll house. 

“Wow, is this the hotel?” You asked, pointing to the house. 

“Yes, ma’am, exact replica.” You frowned and bent down when you noticed a broken doll. Your eyes widened when you saw its head had been twisted all the way around, much like how a man here, died.

“His head got twisted around. What happened to it?” You asked, looking at Susan. 

“Tyler, probably.” Susan said, putting the blame on her daughter. Speaking of, Tyler came rushing into the room with a pout on her face. 

“Mommy! Maggie’s being mean!” 

“Tell her I said to play nice.” Susan said. You frowned, noticing the way she said that sentence. It was like she was sick and tired of Tyler playing games but at this point, she is just going to go along with it. 

“Hey Tyler, I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?” Sam said, taking the doll from you. 

“I didn’t break it, I found it like that.” She said.

“Oh, well, maybe Maggie did it then?” Sam asked the child. 

“No, neither of us did, Grandma would be mad if we broke her dolls.” 

“Tyler, honey, grandma wouldn’t be mad.” Susan said with a sigh. 

“Grandma?” You asked, looking at Susan. 

“Grandma Rose. These were all her toys.” 

“Oh, huh, where is she now?” Dean asked. 

“She’s up her room.” Tyler answered for Susan. 

“Do you think we can speak with her? I mean, she has an incredible doll collection.” Dean said but he got cut off by Susan. 

“No,” She said suddenly. You were suspicious at how quickly she answered that. “I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors.” 

“Right, well, thank you so much for showing us this room but I think we should be going.” You said, looking at Sam and Dean who nodded. 

“You’re welcome.” Susan said, Tyler moving out of the way so you could exit. You walked into the hallway and looked at the brothers, biting your lip. 

“Okay, that wasn’t suspicious at all. Did you hear the way Susan talked about Maggie? It’s not like how you would talk about your kid, I’ll tell you that.” You said in a hushed voice. 

“So, what do you think about the dolls and the hoodoo? You think this mysterious shut-in grandma could be doing it?” Dean asked, walking back to the room. 

“I have no idea but dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo like curses and binding spells.” Sam said. 

“Then I think we might have found our witch doctor. Y/N and I will see what we can dig up on Grandma and you go online to check obits, freak accidents and anything else that might give away that she killed anyone else.” Dean instructed. 

“Fine.” Sam said, opening his door. 

“Don’t go surfing porn, dude, I mean it.” Dean teased as Sam slammed the door in his face. 

“Well, let’s go, sweetheart.” Dean said, walking down the hall. You had a different idea. Ever since he mentioned that he loved Daphne, you have been wanting to fuck him. Now, here is your chance.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1  @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967 @essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest @stay-in--place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx @mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn @emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie @kristendansmith @milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl @codyshany316 @pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin @seninjakitey @flyonlittlewinchester